There is no time to tour Stockholm (another elegant old city of interesting architecture, museums, and wonderful shops), but I appreciate the fact that the transfer to the train station is smooth and fast. This is our tightest connection on the trip and it had me a little nervous, so I am grateful to have plenty of time to sit on the platform, take in the limited scenery I can, and wait for our train to arrive.
The train itself is clean enough inside, but filthy outside, the scenery almost obscured by dirt and grit. (Thus no scenery pictures from the train.)
We have one transfer, which goes smoothly. (Always a concern when dealing with luggage and my father’s limited ability to manage long walks and stairs. By now I have become very good at locating elevators and being aggressive enough to get us on them in a timely fashion.)
Then it is on to Falkenberg and our cousins.
As we arrive, cousin Kerstin appears on the platform as if by magic, an angel arriving at our carriage door so quickly that handing the luggage down to her is seamless.
There is no time for hugs until the train begins to pull away, but already it feels good to be here again.