We let Hannah sleep in a bit, trying to head off any travel barfing since that’s what tends to happen if she doesn’t get enough sleep first. Since we decided not to take the airport shuttle bus after all, we had a little more time for finishing up our packing and pet-care. Unfortunately, our coffee maker decided to give up the ghost that morning, so I had to start our international trip uncaffeinated. The horror!
We drove to Karlsruhe-Baden airport, located a little south of Karlsruhe and just a hop over the Rhine away from France. It took about an hour and a half to get there from here, just a little longer than expected, but still faster than traveling with the shuttle. We parked in the farthest, cheapest lot and dragged our stuff over to the terminal. Hannah said that the clack-clack of her suitcase rolling over the bricked sidewalk sounded like a pony.
We ate some lunch in the terminal, and let me tell you, the options are very, very limited. As in one rather expensive mini-cafeteria. Hannah had pizza, her first slice of the trip, but not the last slice she didn’t like. The child is very picky about her pizza.
When it was time to check in, I could have strangled my darling husband. Since we got the super-cheap airfare—0 Euros + 50 each in fees—he didn’t want to pony up for checked luggage—10 Euros per bag each way. Ok, that is a bit steep if we wanted to check all our bags, but for just one? Since we were forced to only have carry-ons, we couldn’t have anything like shampoo or shower gel, which are liquids. Only, it doesn’t say that ANYWHERE on the Ryanair web site, because I checked multiple times. I only found that out at the airport, after I had packed a new bottle of shampoo and a new bottle of shower gel, which I then had to throw away. John didn’t pack soap because he had planned to just use whatever was at the hotel. Anyhow, I was finally able to laugh about it, but only after imagining the feel of my hands around his neck a couple of times.
One nice-ish feature at the airport was an outdoor waiting area. Of course, you are only about 100 yards from the planes at that point, so when one takes off, it is rather loud, but the sun was out and the snack bar had coffee and ice cream, so we were happy enough to sit outside by the planes.
There is no assigned seating on Ryanair, meaning it is each man for himself when it is time to board. Hannah wanted us to get in line early, but once we actually get to the airport, I tend to not want to be stressed out anymore, so I dragged my heels about getting in line. It’s not like they were going to leave without us. Of course, then we couldn’t sit together. Hannah and I found seats across the aisle from each other, and John sat about 10 rows in front of us. But we all got there in one piece.
Then we took a shuttle bus into Stockholm proper from Skavsta Airport. It got full, and Hannah wanted me to sit with her, so John sat across the aisle from us. Hannah pointed out how sad it was that John had to sit with a stranger on his birthday. That’s when it hit me that I hadn’t wished him a happy birthday yet. At like 5 pm. Worst. wife. ever.
The bus is not without its amusements, though, even when one is racked with guilt. John and I giggled over a passing truck: Fluckinger Transport. That’ll catch your attention when you see it out of the corner of your eye. There was a girl a few seats up with a tattoo in beautiful script across the back of her neck: “Nothing lasts, but nothing is lost.” The logic was lost on me.
Hannah declared she was hungry—not surprising, considering that our plane landed at 5—but she wanted something American, say, spare ribs. Yes, because Stockholm is just teeming with American barbecue joints.
Hannah teased John that she could see blueberry bushes in the woods along the road, from the bus window, which I doubt, but we all definitely saw a beautiful rainbow—sometimes doubled—for about two-thirds of the drive into Stockholm.
Driving into Stockholm was kind of weird, because we spotted several German businesses along the way: Bauhaus and Hornbach, sort of German Home Depots; Media Markt; and Lidl, a discounter supermarket. It’s not too uneven a trade, because Germany is awash in IKEAs and H&Ms.
The bus terminal is located at the Central Station, which intersects with the subway system, so once we arrived we were able to quickly take care of getting some Swedish money (Kronor, not Euros) and tickets to take the subway into the right part of Stockholm.
After riding this escalator about 2 or 3 stories up to ground level, we realized we didn’t have explicit directions to our hotel.
*sigh* The joys of traveling. Finally we found a map for that neighborhood and realized we had gotten off the subway one stop too early. So we trooped back down the escalator—and it felt very creepy, what with the dark red walls and all—and checked out the station while we waited for the next subway train.
Here’s what Solna must have looked like when it was still just a village.
Here’s a stuffed moose, because nothing says downtown Stockholm like taxidermy.
Finally, we made it to Näckrosen station and their much more soothing decor.
From there, it was a 5-minute walk to our hotel. We had simple directions for getting in after hours, and there was a (terribly overpriced) Chinese restaurant nearby for our first dinner. Hannah wanted to sit near the fish tank with koi, but she totally did not like the way they would swarm in one corner occasionally and make the water sploosh. Creepy!
Then we went back to the hotel and went to bed.
Edited to add: Before we went to bed, John told Hannah, "If we take you to Gröna Lund [an amusement park] tomorrow, you can't whine the rest of the trip while we do other stuff."
Answered Hannah: "Let's do it on the last day, then."
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