We were walking in Gamla Stan, Stockholm's 14th century Old Town, on a Sunday with crowds of other tourists. The buildings were beautiful, lime washed in shades of red and ocher. Occasional squares opened up centered on equestrian statues with sea gulls roosting on their heads. My mother and I, both weavers, looked into any shop with textiles, handweaving, or modern design. We saw inspiration at every turn of the steeply angled streets. Alleys featured graffiti angels. Miraculously, I found I could speak Swedish.

Young and old people rode bicycles all over the city. There were freshly colored lime-green bicycles for tourists to borrow. The streets were light at all hours, and never empty of people.

We were charmed by an ornate cylindrical booth, which we saw, that was a little street privy. At first a curiosity, but later in the day, an attractive destination. I urged my mother to give it a try. She was in and out right away. Some people passing by regarded us with looks of pity.  Apparently, the convenience was only for men.

We have to use the Swedish kroner or currency, not the Euro. 100 Kr would buy us a foccacia and a cup of coffee, which seemed like a lot, but actually wasn't. The great bargain was that the off-season in Scandinavia is summertime. Hotel prices were about half the winter rate, and always included the huge breakfast, which carried us through most of the day. Those breakfasts: fresh breads, sweet rolls, fruit salad with melon and citrus, fresh berry salad, muesli, cereals, dried fruits, nuts, marmalades, cheese and sliced meat platters, crackers, cucumbers and tomatoes, peppers, onions, eggs, sausages, salmon, pickled herring, coffee, tea, juices and fresh fruit. . .