Light and Dark in Stockholm

Stockholm is at its darkest in November. Before the snow falls the days are very short, and it feels dark all the time. Once the snow comes, the darkness is lit up. I was there at its darkest. On top of the long nights it was also raining constantly so even in the daytime it felt dark, the streets were empty and the cobblestones glistened menacingly in the yellow street lights. I couldn't help feeling I was in the middle of a Nordic crime drama.

It was my first trip, so as soon as I'd dropped off my suitcase I wanted to explore. I headed for the old town, Gamla Stan. With hindsight I was lucky. It was completely deserted. At the time I wished for sunshine, people, and animation. I got dark, cold, echoing streets. The only footsteps were mine.  There was no map, no guide, no one to ask, I had no idea what I was looking at. I could just peek out from my rain hood and soak in the atmosphere. The camera got rained on, and rain drops created strange effects on the lens.


I found an open restaurant and went in for a bowl of utterly delicious fish soup. Restored and warm I set off again to walk around the whole island. Islands of light spilled out from the occasional shop window. A covered alley way to my right led down to the dock side. The cobblestones were slippery and uneven  underfoot and I had to look at my feet.


There were shops full of knitwear, clogs, hat and gloves, and wooden toys. There was a 'hard rock' shop with Dracula t-shirts and fluorescent green tights. I came to a square which would have been busy in the daytime, but now was deserted except for an empty taxi cab waiting. Further on was a shop full of model sailing ships and brass navigation instruments. I started to feel lucky to get to immerse myself in the feeling of the old streets, with so few reminders of modern life to distract.

Eventually I came out by the quayside. Now the wind really hit me and the rain lashed across me. I looked over at other islands, other parts of the city, bridges and modern buildings reflecting blue, purple and yellow lights across the black water. 


I passed a very large solid-looking building to my left which turned out later to be the royal palace, but just looked very dark to me. I kept the water to my right, noticed gulls following the current, wheeling and coming back in circles. It was eerie to see their white shapes keeping close to the surface of the water, the blackness seeming to pull them along.

Strings of lights on Norrbro

Up ahead was a bridge lit up with strings of white lights, the first real brightness I'd seen that evening. The lights shone on the dark waters and despite the rain, I dawdled to take in the gulls, the lights and the old bridges. A group of young men came by talking - in the silence they seemed loud, but not threatening.

Helgeandsholmen island, Stockholm

The next day I was staying in Lidingo, a wooded island on the outskirts of Stockholm. We woke up to the first of the year's snowfall. Not much for Sweden - only a couple of centimeters. But that's all it needed to turn the darkness into light.

The woods around the Lidingo Hotel with fresh snow