As I stepped on to the train to Fredericia, I was overtaken by a stream of Danish teenagers – so many that everyone else had to stand for the 3 hour journey. Rushing for the next train to Copenhagen, I made sure to get a seat and found myself at a table with two German ladies who spoke perfect English (as everyone in Scandinavia seems to) so we chatted away as they pulled out their immaculate, super healthy packed lunch. I was then roped into helping carry an Iraqi-American woman’s suitcase (in addidtion to my three bags) to the airport, where we caught the train to Sweden. The border police were on high alert after Brussels so every train was delayed, but they were the friendliest and chattiest police I have every met. Eventually, I arrived in Stockholm at midnight.

The following morning I went outside and was blinded by the sunshine reflected from the water. The roads were full of scarily fit joggers and people on strange fitness devices that I don’t even know what to call. In the old town, the Gamla Stan, the streets were narrow and colourful; the main street was completely touristy with toy reindeers and viking shops, but as soon as you stepped off into any of the alleyways or quieter streets, the town seemed deserted and was full of wonderful little shops with beautifully designed window displays.

I happened to pass the Royal Palace just before noon and a crowd was gathering, so I went along to watch the guards change. They weren’t even on time and I couldn’t see a thing, but everyone else was excited and people were clambering all over the place to get a better view. Finally, we heard a faint drumbeat and marching footsteps getting louder, and a full military band came into sight (on the phone screen in front of me at least). The soldiers, mostly fat women, shouted at each other with their bayonets waving around, then I got bored and wandered off to find some kanelbulle. Sweden is horrifically expensive. An iceberg lettuce in a supermarket cost £4. If it weren’t for this, Stockholm would be perfect!