Norrköping And Sodermalm
Aug. 13th, 2018 10:59 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
lupestripeNorrköping is known as "Sweden's Manchester" and it's not hard to see why - the city was very much at the forefront of the industrial revolution in the country, with a number of factory buildings flanking the banks of the Motala ström. Most of these have since become heritage sites, with the Strykjärnet arguably being the most striking. However, what really grabbed me was the water system that had been put in place to power the industry in the area, with a huge man-made powerful weir stretching metres across the river. It's workings of towering steel were still visible and indeed you could walk on grated walkways to get to the heart of the engineering. The raw power behind this wall of water was incredible and when combined with the towering brick buildings of former factories, it was rather humbling. They looked pretty magical in the summer sun and we enjoyed getting lost in their environs. Today, this is the civic quarter and the famous Museum of Work, one of Sweden's finest, is contained within one of them, but alas we only really had two hours in Norrköping so we didn't really get opportunity to peer inside.
We had visited the former industrial area last as our primary aim was the Brewdog bar. This was in the eastern side of the city, the opposite side to where the industry had been, but with a population of just 100,000, the place wasn't particularly big. Indeed, we were surprised that Brewdog had opted to open a bar there at all, it being Sweden's eighth biggest city by population, but it seemed to be popular and its opening three weeks ago was incredibly convenient on our 'This is 40' quest. We arrived at the bar via the cobbled Drottninggatan, down which trams amble once in a while. This must be one of the city's oldest streets and it is lined with neat shops of varying colours. This is one of the first avenues you meet upon disembarking at the station as after you walk through a modest park and across the river, you are suddenly upon it. The imposing Grand Hotel on the left-hand side as you walk from the station almost guards the main thoroughfare but once you pass this, you are in for a treat as the imposing City Hall is just behind it. Nestled on a square alongside a rather dinky church and an odd impressionist iron statue of a man on top of a fountain, it's huge presence was simply awesome. It was this surprise, so quickly, that really made me fall in love with the city and this feeling of affection only continued as we ambled around.
Having taken in these main sights, which I would argue are the main ones in the city, we headed over to Brewdog. Situated on a new square beneath a modern apartment complex, it's a rather odd place for a Brewdog bar. We had timed it just right, what with the bar opening at 4pm, and soon we grabbed a beer and claimed our 38th stamp, opting to sit outside on the deckchairs in the sun. This was a pleasant way to wile away some time, although the scenery left little to be desired, it being a cobbled square surrounded by non-descript buildings. Still, speaking to the barman, he told us that the bar had been quite popular thus far, largely because there was nothing else like it in the city. I do hope this continues. After our drink, which really only took us about fifteen minutes to imbibe, we retraced our steps back to Drottninggatan, crossed over it and found the river, along which we walked to the aforementioned industrial quarter. We spent a little time here, emerging out of the other end just in time to see the concrete theatre on its periphery. This had seen us do a loop through the industrial complex and back into the city centre, just in time for us to have a slow shifty back to the train station. I would have loved to have spent more time in this charming city, but alas we had very little time due to previous arrangements. However, it was a delight having just visited at all - I had never even heard of the place in early July and yet, when Brewdog opened a bar there, I found myself going. My brother (and indeed others) may poo-poo our Brewdog escapades but they have enabled us to see places we hadn't yet seen.
While we had enjoyed the hefty seats, huge legroom and free tea and coffee (which the nice conductor told us about) of first class on the way down, on the train back to Stockholm we were stuck in standard. The main reasons for this was cost - it was less value for money on the way back for some reason - plus I wanted to see what a Swedish train was like for day to day travel. As it turned out, somewhat cramped, as Wolfie and I were separated on different tables despite having consecutive ticket numbers. In front of me was an elderly gentleman who had splayed his legs into my area, meaning it was all a little uncomfortable. Halfway through, therefore, Wolfie and I decided to go to the buffet car to get some bottles of beer, with us sitting in the rather darling diner which, with its red leather uplostery, had a 1950s diner vibe about it. We grabbed some local crisps and chatted over our beers, which were not that unreasonably priced compared to Sweden's standards. We ended up staying in the buffet car until we were kicked out by the staff, with us only having to endure the final fifteen minutes back at our seats. It was deceptive though as our stop was called a good ten minutes before we actually arrived, I guess because we were running late and it was an automated thing. Indeed, we had been about ten to fifteen minutes late coming down too, which made me wonder about the quality of the Swedish rail network. Still, we got back into Södra station - which is where all trains are terminating right now due to improvement works at Central - only a few minutes late and having briefed our furry friends of our delay, there was no new rush to get to our destination.
We were now in the Sodermalm district, which is where Brewdog had opened their second bar in Stockholm. This was about a twenty minute walk from the station so we embarked upon it with little delay, arriving about five minutes before the first furry we were due to meet. We grabbed a beer and or 39th stamp, deciding to sit at a table in the far left corner. Oddity swung by shortly afterwards, while Staghorne told us that he was running slightly later. He did have an American professor staying with him who turned out to be based in Liverpool, and he had requested earlier in the day whether he could join us. We were happy to consent, but as it turned out, he had trouble finding us, largely because he had gone to the Kungsholmen bar rather than the one in Sodermalm. Staghorne, who I had met at Nordic Fuzzcon in 2014, arrived shortly after 7:30pm and after fraught conversations with his friends, it was agreed we would wait in Brewdog for him to arrive. He having got on the wrong bus only made our wait longer, but we were enjoying some local beers and neither Oddity or Staghorne seemed to mind staying in Brewdog too much despite neither one of them drinking. Still, with stomachs rumbling, we really needed to get food so after a quick search on Google for good local vegetarian restaurants, one called Chutney came up. Staghorne knew the name and said it was good, so we decided to finish our drinks in Brewdog and shamble up there, agreeing to meet Staghorne's friend there instead. This we did, with him arriving ten minutes after we arrived and soon we were tucking into some of the most delightful curry I have ever had. I opted for a sweet potato daal with rice alongside another curry in what was known as a 'mix'. For just under £10, it was an exceptionally good value meal and I really enjoyed our time in this quaint little place. We spent most of our time just chatting about things - our plan to move to Sweden and my opposition to Brexit mainly - and even 'Strong and Stable, Puppy Table' came up which was a tweet I must have written in the run-up to last year's General Election. I am surprised it had something of a legacy.
We had pushed the service time somewhat at Chutney, with us ordering twenty minutes before it closed at 9pm, so we had to leave rather hastily once we had finished our food. With opinion undecided as to where we go next, we decided to walk towards the main Metro and Overground stations and see what we could see. There were few coffee shops open and our friends not drinking narrowed options further, although in the end, we did just go to a bar on one of the main squares as it was a warm evening and we just wanted to sit outside. This was a very nice way to end our evening as it was a rather chilled affair. We swapped details with Staghorne's friend and all vowed to chat again at EF in just over a week's time, making the goodbyes not particularly painful. Everyone headed off at around 10:45pm, what with it being a worknight and all, but it was a pleasure to spend time with people with whom we don't get to spend much time generally. It was also great for them to meet with us and show us around their city, even if it was part of Stockholm with which they weren't overly familiar. Still, we left happy, having achieved an awful lot during the day and we even managed to squeeze a nightcap in at the Kungsholmen Brewdog bar, where we met the same staff to whom we had spoken the night before, which was a pleasant way to round off the evening.
We didn't want a late night, largely due to the alcohol prices but also because we had a relatively early start the next morning. Our flight to Brussels was leaving Bromma Airport at 12:45pm, meaning we had to be there two hours earlier and thus awake at a reasonable hour. Still, we did not have to get up as early as initially planned as due to a Ryanair pilots' strike, our first flight had been cancelled. This saw me having to scrabble to get another flight quickly, with me opting for the only real alternative - Brussels Airlines. I had never flown with them before and despite being £65 more expensive each than the Ryanair flight, the advantage was that they flew out of and into far more convenient airports. Indeed, the taxi ride to Bromma barely took ten minutes, which in a way was a shame as he was the friendliest taxi driver I have ever encountered. Conversation switched to Brexit pretty quickly as I told him we were looking to move, and he was incredibly empathetic. Bromma, meanwhile, is a small airport with relatively little to do, but at least there is a small cafe where we could get some crisps and a beer. Brussels Airlines themselves, mind, were rather good and definitely a step up from Ryanair. You still had to pay for food and drink, but there was more legroom and flying into Brussels' main airport meant using a skybridge, which saved faffing on buses to the terminal building. It also meant that getting into Brussels city centre was far more convenient, with a direct train service taking fifteen minutes to hit downtown.
On the train, I realised pretty quickly that we were passing through Brussels Centraal station (where Brewdog is) before getting to Brussels Midi/Zuid (where our hotel was). With a little time before we needed to head over to Ghent to meet Mr Evans, another furry, I thought it was prudent to do the main thing we had come to the Belgian capital to do - visit Brewdog. This saw us get off the train at Centraal station and head over the road to the towering white building opposite, which houses the Brewdog bar. On our way, we saw a lady storming off after having an impassioned row with her partner, only to sit down on a bollard on the opposite side of the square alone. He went up to her, she hurled yet more abuse back at him, and he consquently buggered off, leaving her. I have no idea if this argument was ever resolved but the Gallic flair was interesting to observe. In the bar meanwhile we got to sample a tasty Belgian brew and the staff were incredibly impressed when we told them that this was our 40th bar and we had thus hit our target. It was one of those moments when I questioned what was the purpose of it all, amidst the euphoria of actually hitting our goal. It had taken us 19 weeks to reach 40 bars - 36 in the UK and four internationally - and we had seen many interesting cities along the way. We had done it as cost-effectively as possible - with some having been gotten on a Wolfie work trip and all London bars secured at the time we were doing the anti-Brexit march. A few were local, while we combined Bristol with JFTW, which we were going to anyway. We had also gotten a bank holiday trip to Scotland out of it, including visiting the brewery, and had met a number of furry friends along the way - Raven in Cardiff, Tungro in Reading and Yunas in Southampton - so it had been quite an adventure. Sat in this roomy bar, which with its terrace and shuffleboards (not to mention wolf cartoons detailing the brewing process) is one of my favourites, with the sun streaming in through the window with the words 'Brussels Centraal' on the station entrance opposite, we reflected on where we were and what we had achieved. It was a good feeling, a satisfying one, and now we could say we had achieved our goal. And with this done, we could now get cracking with seeing what else Belgium had to offer.
We had visited the former industrial area last as our primary aim was the Brewdog bar. This was in the eastern side of the city, the opposite side to where the industry had been, but with a population of just 100,000, the place wasn't particularly big. Indeed, we were surprised that Brewdog had opted to open a bar there at all, it being Sweden's eighth biggest city by population, but it seemed to be popular and its opening three weeks ago was incredibly convenient on our 'This is 40' quest. We arrived at the bar via the cobbled Drottninggatan, down which trams amble once in a while. This must be one of the city's oldest streets and it is lined with neat shops of varying colours. This is one of the first avenues you meet upon disembarking at the station as after you walk through a modest park and across the river, you are suddenly upon it. The imposing Grand Hotel on the left-hand side as you walk from the station almost guards the main thoroughfare but once you pass this, you are in for a treat as the imposing City Hall is just behind it. Nestled on a square alongside a rather dinky church and an odd impressionist iron statue of a man on top of a fountain, it's huge presence was simply awesome. It was this surprise, so quickly, that really made me fall in love with the city and this feeling of affection only continued as we ambled around.
Having taken in these main sights, which I would argue are the main ones in the city, we headed over to Brewdog. Situated on a new square beneath a modern apartment complex, it's a rather odd place for a Brewdog bar. We had timed it just right, what with the bar opening at 4pm, and soon we grabbed a beer and claimed our 38th stamp, opting to sit outside on the deckchairs in the sun. This was a pleasant way to wile away some time, although the scenery left little to be desired, it being a cobbled square surrounded by non-descript buildings. Still, speaking to the barman, he told us that the bar had been quite popular thus far, largely because there was nothing else like it in the city. I do hope this continues. After our drink, which really only took us about fifteen minutes to imbibe, we retraced our steps back to Drottninggatan, crossed over it and found the river, along which we walked to the aforementioned industrial quarter. We spent a little time here, emerging out of the other end just in time to see the concrete theatre on its periphery. This had seen us do a loop through the industrial complex and back into the city centre, just in time for us to have a slow shifty back to the train station. I would have loved to have spent more time in this charming city, but alas we had very little time due to previous arrangements. However, it was a delight having just visited at all - I had never even heard of the place in early July and yet, when Brewdog opened a bar there, I found myself going. My brother (and indeed others) may poo-poo our Brewdog escapades but they have enabled us to see places we hadn't yet seen.
While we had enjoyed the hefty seats, huge legroom and free tea and coffee (which the nice conductor told us about) of first class on the way down, on the train back to Stockholm we were stuck in standard. The main reasons for this was cost - it was less value for money on the way back for some reason - plus I wanted to see what a Swedish train was like for day to day travel. As it turned out, somewhat cramped, as Wolfie and I were separated on different tables despite having consecutive ticket numbers. In front of me was an elderly gentleman who had splayed his legs into my area, meaning it was all a little uncomfortable. Halfway through, therefore, Wolfie and I decided to go to the buffet car to get some bottles of beer, with us sitting in the rather darling diner which, with its red leather uplostery, had a 1950s diner vibe about it. We grabbed some local crisps and chatted over our beers, which were not that unreasonably priced compared to Sweden's standards. We ended up staying in the buffet car until we were kicked out by the staff, with us only having to endure the final fifteen minutes back at our seats. It was deceptive though as our stop was called a good ten minutes before we actually arrived, I guess because we were running late and it was an automated thing. Indeed, we had been about ten to fifteen minutes late coming down too, which made me wonder about the quality of the Swedish rail network. Still, we got back into Södra station - which is where all trains are terminating right now due to improvement works at Central - only a few minutes late and having briefed our furry friends of our delay, there was no new rush to get to our destination.
We were now in the Sodermalm district, which is where Brewdog had opened their second bar in Stockholm. This was about a twenty minute walk from the station so we embarked upon it with little delay, arriving about five minutes before the first furry we were due to meet. We grabbed a beer and or 39th stamp, deciding to sit at a table in the far left corner. Oddity swung by shortly afterwards, while Staghorne told us that he was running slightly later. He did have an American professor staying with him who turned out to be based in Liverpool, and he had requested earlier in the day whether he could join us. We were happy to consent, but as it turned out, he had trouble finding us, largely because he had gone to the Kungsholmen bar rather than the one in Sodermalm. Staghorne, who I had met at Nordic Fuzzcon in 2014, arrived shortly after 7:30pm and after fraught conversations with his friends, it was agreed we would wait in Brewdog for him to arrive. He having got on the wrong bus only made our wait longer, but we were enjoying some local beers and neither Oddity or Staghorne seemed to mind staying in Brewdog too much despite neither one of them drinking. Still, with stomachs rumbling, we really needed to get food so after a quick search on Google for good local vegetarian restaurants, one called Chutney came up. Staghorne knew the name and said it was good, so we decided to finish our drinks in Brewdog and shamble up there, agreeing to meet Staghorne's friend there instead. This we did, with him arriving ten minutes after we arrived and soon we were tucking into some of the most delightful curry I have ever had. I opted for a sweet potato daal with rice alongside another curry in what was known as a 'mix'. For just under £10, it was an exceptionally good value meal and I really enjoyed our time in this quaint little place. We spent most of our time just chatting about things - our plan to move to Sweden and my opposition to Brexit mainly - and even 'Strong and Stable, Puppy Table' came up which was a tweet I must have written in the run-up to last year's General Election. I am surprised it had something of a legacy.
We had pushed the service time somewhat at Chutney, with us ordering twenty minutes before it closed at 9pm, so we had to leave rather hastily once we had finished our food. With opinion undecided as to where we go next, we decided to walk towards the main Metro and Overground stations and see what we could see. There were few coffee shops open and our friends not drinking narrowed options further, although in the end, we did just go to a bar on one of the main squares as it was a warm evening and we just wanted to sit outside. This was a very nice way to end our evening as it was a rather chilled affair. We swapped details with Staghorne's friend and all vowed to chat again at EF in just over a week's time, making the goodbyes not particularly painful. Everyone headed off at around 10:45pm, what with it being a worknight and all, but it was a pleasure to spend time with people with whom we don't get to spend much time generally. It was also great for them to meet with us and show us around their city, even if it was part of Stockholm with which they weren't overly familiar. Still, we left happy, having achieved an awful lot during the day and we even managed to squeeze a nightcap in at the Kungsholmen Brewdog bar, where we met the same staff to whom we had spoken the night before, which was a pleasant way to round off the evening.
We didn't want a late night, largely due to the alcohol prices but also because we had a relatively early start the next morning. Our flight to Brussels was leaving Bromma Airport at 12:45pm, meaning we had to be there two hours earlier and thus awake at a reasonable hour. Still, we did not have to get up as early as initially planned as due to a Ryanair pilots' strike, our first flight had been cancelled. This saw me having to scrabble to get another flight quickly, with me opting for the only real alternative - Brussels Airlines. I had never flown with them before and despite being £65 more expensive each than the Ryanair flight, the advantage was that they flew out of and into far more convenient airports. Indeed, the taxi ride to Bromma barely took ten minutes, which in a way was a shame as he was the friendliest taxi driver I have ever encountered. Conversation switched to Brexit pretty quickly as I told him we were looking to move, and he was incredibly empathetic. Bromma, meanwhile, is a small airport with relatively little to do, but at least there is a small cafe where we could get some crisps and a beer. Brussels Airlines themselves, mind, were rather good and definitely a step up from Ryanair. You still had to pay for food and drink, but there was more legroom and flying into Brussels' main airport meant using a skybridge, which saved faffing on buses to the terminal building. It also meant that getting into Brussels city centre was far more convenient, with a direct train service taking fifteen minutes to hit downtown.
On the train, I realised pretty quickly that we were passing through Brussels Centraal station (where Brewdog is) before getting to Brussels Midi/Zuid (where our hotel was). With a little time before we needed to head over to Ghent to meet Mr Evans, another furry, I thought it was prudent to do the main thing we had come to the Belgian capital to do - visit Brewdog. This saw us get off the train at Centraal station and head over the road to the towering white building opposite, which houses the Brewdog bar. On our way, we saw a lady storming off after having an impassioned row with her partner, only to sit down on a bollard on the opposite side of the square alone. He went up to her, she hurled yet more abuse back at him, and he consquently buggered off, leaving her. I have no idea if this argument was ever resolved but the Gallic flair was interesting to observe. In the bar meanwhile we got to sample a tasty Belgian brew and the staff were incredibly impressed when we told them that this was our 40th bar and we had thus hit our target. It was one of those moments when I questioned what was the purpose of it all, amidst the euphoria of actually hitting our goal. It had taken us 19 weeks to reach 40 bars - 36 in the UK and four internationally - and we had seen many interesting cities along the way. We had done it as cost-effectively as possible - with some having been gotten on a Wolfie work trip and all London bars secured at the time we were doing the anti-Brexit march. A few were local, while we combined Bristol with JFTW, which we were going to anyway. We had also gotten a bank holiday trip to Scotland out of it, including visiting the brewery, and had met a number of furry friends along the way - Raven in Cardiff, Tungro in Reading and Yunas in Southampton - so it had been quite an adventure. Sat in this roomy bar, which with its terrace and shuffleboards (not to mention wolf cartoons detailing the brewing process) is one of my favourites, with the sun streaming in through the window with the words 'Brussels Centraal' on the station entrance opposite, we reflected on where we were and what we had achieved. It was a good feeling, a satisfying one, and now we could say we had achieved our goal. And with this done, we could now get cracking with seeing what else Belgium had to offer.
