Masked Intruder, Stockholm, Monday, Sept. 8
I leave for home tomorrow, Sept. 9, so today was a free day. My friend Ulrika and I drove up yesterday because she wanted the car for a retreat she was going on with other 1st and 2nd year students in her Deaconess course.
We arrived last night after 8, after a long car ride. She showed me around –good thing, because we had very little time this a.m. to say goodbye. But first, I have to write about our intruder last night.
The school allows distance students to board, giving them space in music practice rooms. It's basically a room with a bed, piano, and amp. It's located in a basement off a long cement reinforced hallway. Sort of like the basement of a gym. We're across from bathrooms, sauna, and shower. The door handle has a keypad on it.
When we were about to go to bed, Ulrika asked me, Should I lock the door? There's a tumbler, which I'm not sure if it overrides the key code. One can also use a key. Anyway, she didn't turn the lock. I was about to say, maybe lock it, I mean the basement was creepy and echoey and perfect for a madman. But we didn't, and went to bed.
In the middle of the night a man with a dark mask opened the door. Ulrika saw him and quickly turned on her light. He ran away.
All I heard was the door squeak open and assumed it was her taking a pee. I got up too since she was up and the squeaky door was already open. She was out in the hallway as if looking for someone. I still didn't get what had happened–and came back to bed and slept. This a.m. she told me and I was truly freaked out. Ulrika simply said: I'm reporting this.
Apparently the administration is also freaked out and will review CCTV for the person; they have a suspicion. Yipes!
She drove me to the commuter train station and told me what to do. It dawned on me: This is good bye. For maybe another 7 years, who knows?!
We hugged. She left. I bought a ticket for the train.
I decided to go to Gamala stan, Old Town. I've been there twice before and it is cool, but after awhile it all looked the same. Same souvenirs, same buns, ice creams, fancy cafes. After wandering for a couple hours, I headed over to another island – and got a map at Tourist Information, where the woman told me where to walk. Somehow I missed the actual rose gardens, if there were any. It mostly seemed wild, beautiful Baltic Sea views, woods, sculptures, but not what I'd call a formal garden. She said in the Rosegal (spelling) there were lots of cafes. Not open, she should've added.
I did about a 2-hour walk and then intentionally got off the gravel paths for the road with the tram line. Outside the Skakeen entrance, the folk museum, very nice but $26 per person, I found a kiosk selling grilled items and ordered fish and chips.
Heading back I passed the tourist trap: Abba Museum and The Museum of Wrecks (presumably shipwrecks). Plus, a few other museums (all sounding like a stretch), the Viking museum and the museum of Scandinavian drinking.
I was sort of done. The last day of any trip, but especially an overseas one, you just are so ready to go home. I headed to the train station and got an idea of where to catch my Flix bus tomorrow a.m. that'll take me to the airport. I found the commuter train (this is Stockholm Central) so very busy. I went to the ticket booth, told them where I wanted to go, that I'm a senior, and wanted to pay cash. The man behind the counter had no patience for me. Twice he asked me to tap my card. And twice I told him, cash. Then I asked how much. He said, Madam, I've already told you three times if you would listen. Sheesh. Okay. Whatever. He sort of rattled me. I asked what platform and he gave me exactly half the info–if I were going the opposite direction. I finally found the proper platform (needed to take escalator up one level) for my direction of travel. Got on board, sat down, and panicked. It'd been a long day of walking in hottish sun, a nighttime intruder freak out story . . . well, anyway, I had no idea where I was supposed to get off. I'd forgotten. I asked my seat mate: Where's the stop for Bromma? It hadn't shown up on the lite up board, but she showed me on the train car, a diagram of all the stops, I recognized Brommaplan. That's it! Thanks! Crisis averted.
I'm back at the school. I've done early check-in, calmed down with a hot tea and bun, and will go back inside to the student kitchen to eat my salad before going down to the dungeon where my room is.
Tonight no Ulrika, just me. I'm gonna lock the door.*
We arrived last night after 8, after a long car ride. She showed me around –good thing, because we had very little time this a.m. to say goodbye. But first, I have to write about our intruder last night.
The school allows distance students to board, giving them space in music practice rooms. It's basically a room with a bed, piano, and amp. It's located in a basement off a long cement reinforced hallway. Sort of like the basement of a gym. We're across from bathrooms, sauna, and shower. The door handle has a keypad on it.
When we were about to go to bed, Ulrika asked me, Should I lock the door? There's a tumbler, which I'm not sure if it overrides the key code. One can also use a key. Anyway, she didn't turn the lock. I was about to say, maybe lock it, I mean the basement was creepy and echoey and perfect for a madman. But we didn't, and went to bed.
In the middle of the night a man with a dark mask opened the door. Ulrika saw him and quickly turned on her light. He ran away.
All I heard was the door squeak open and assumed it was her taking a pee. I got up too since she was up and the squeaky door was already open. She was out in the hallway as if looking for someone. I still didn't get what had happened–and came back to bed and slept. This a.m. she told me and I was truly freaked out. Ulrika simply said: I'm reporting this.
Apparently the administration is also freaked out and will review CCTV for the person; they have a suspicion. Yipes!
She drove me to the commuter train station and told me what to do. It dawned on me: This is good bye. For maybe another 7 years, who knows?!
We hugged. She left. I bought a ticket for the train.
I decided to go to Gamala stan, Old Town. I've been there twice before and it is cool, but after awhile it all looked the same. Same souvenirs, same buns, ice creams, fancy cafes. After wandering for a couple hours, I headed over to another island – and got a map at Tourist Information, where the woman told me where to walk. Somehow I missed the actual rose gardens, if there were any. It mostly seemed wild, beautiful Baltic Sea views, woods, sculptures, but not what I'd call a formal garden. She said in the Rosegal (spelling) there were lots of cafes. Not open, she should've added.
I did about a 2-hour walk and then intentionally got off the gravel paths for the road with the tram line. Outside the Skakeen entrance, the folk museum, very nice but $26 per person, I found a kiosk selling grilled items and ordered fish and chips.
Heading back I passed the tourist trap: Abba Museum and The Museum of Wrecks (presumably shipwrecks). Plus, a few other museums (all sounding like a stretch), the Viking museum and the museum of Scandinavian drinking.
I was sort of done. The last day of any trip, but especially an overseas one, you just are so ready to go home. I headed to the train station and got an idea of where to catch my Flix bus tomorrow a.m. that'll take me to the airport. I found the commuter train (this is Stockholm Central) so very busy. I went to the ticket booth, told them where I wanted to go, that I'm a senior, and wanted to pay cash. The man behind the counter had no patience for me. Twice he asked me to tap my card. And twice I told him, cash. Then I asked how much. He said, Madam, I've already told you three times if you would listen. Sheesh. Okay. Whatever. He sort of rattled me. I asked what platform and he gave me exactly half the info–if I were going the opposite direction. I finally found the proper platform (needed to take escalator up one level) for my direction of travel. Got on board, sat down, and panicked. It'd been a long day of walking in hottish sun, a nighttime intruder freak out story . . . well, anyway, I had no idea where I was supposed to get off. I'd forgotten. I asked my seat mate: Where's the stop for Bromma? It hadn't shown up on the lite up board, but she showed me on the train car, a diagram of all the stops, I recognized Brommaplan. That's it! Thanks! Crisis averted.
I'm back at the school. I've done early check-in, calmed down with a hot tea and bun, and will go back inside to the student kitchen to eat my salad before going down to the dungeon where my room is.
Tonight no Ulrika, just me. I'm gonna lock the door.*
To be clear the door was LOCKED--the intruder must've had the code to key pad. Also an administrator stopped by to say they had him on camera, He has a bob to click in--but hides his eyes as well as wearing a mask to remain anonymous.
The statue "The Lady Working for Peace in the World" by sculptor Peter Linde
 entrance to Royal Djugarden |
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