Oh, Stockholm city, how I love thee.

So, coming home was interesting. In Sweden we have a saying: “borta bra men hemma bäst”. Away is good, but home is best. I find it to be quite true.

As I’ve just been to USA, and as I’m not a fan of the people leading the country at the moment, coming home felt a bit like coming home to a bit more sanity. No offence to the American population, it’s just that some things that go on over there can make the country look a bit… goofy… from afar. Like the results of the latest election, for example.

Of course, a few days back I sat in a café on drottninggatan (queen street) here in the heart of Stockholm, when some lunatic decided to steal a truck and race down along the street, hitting as many people as possible on the way. Killing four people so far, as I’m writing this.

I was just getting some more vanilla sauce for my raspberry pie, when there was a loud noise that made the whole population of the café react as one. My first thought was that a small bomb had gone off. Me and my friend ran out. My friend joined a little group of people who tried to help a little boy who had gotten hit and flown head first into a glass wall. I looked up and down the street, taking it all in. When the ambulance came I joined in trying to wave them to where the boy and his mother lay, but there were people grouping around injured, dying or dead people both further up the road and way further down.

As we were told to leave the area all the public transportation was shut down and all the cabs were busy. The rumors of shootings around the city was keeping us standing still and cooped up. These rumors weren’t true, though. We stayed where we were, trying to follow the latest news and get in contact with our loved ones.

So maybe there is no sane place.

 It’s beautiful, though. And it’s still home.

‘Til next time.