In the early days of summer, I found myself settling in for a stay in Sweden. This wasn't a spur-of-the-moment escape from Japan's sweltering heat, but rather a long journey conceived vaguely the previous winter. As a somewhat contrary traveler, I’d only ever braved the Nordic countries during the depths of winter. This time, I felt compelled to finally experience Sweden's famously brief but beautiful summer firsthand. What follows is the story of that journey, taking me through the capital, Stockholm, and deep into the Arctic Circle at Abisko National Park.
Arlanda Airport
Our flight path must have crossed the Gulf of Bothnia. Through the window, the intricate tapestry of southern Sweden—a mosaic of forests and lakes—began to unfold below. Stockholm's Arlanda International Airport wasn't entirely unfamiliar; I’d landed here unexpectedly several times before. Back in the 1990s, direct flights from Japan to Western Europe sometimes fell short of their destination due to weather or weight restrictions, requiring sudden refueling stops at Arlanda. I seemed to have a knack for being on those irregular flights. It was usually winter then. While impatiently waiting for refueling, anxious about the delay, I’d inevitably find myself captivated by the view from the window: the terminal and surrounding forest shimmering under a blanket of white snow. There was a profound sense of travel's quiet joy in those moments. Now, finally, I was returning to Stockholm in summer.
The plane touched down. Outside, aircraft from SAS and Norwegian Air Shuttle stood neatly parked, framed by woods vibrant with summer green. It was a stark, yet welcome, contrast to the winter scenes etched in my memory—a tranquil, vividly colored tableau. Inside the terminal, while not exceptionally large or new, everything felt cohesive and sophisticated. The interiors, signage, colors, and details spoke of that distinct Nordic design philosophy: simple, striking, and functional.
The immigration hall was a diverse mix: local-looking Nordic types, people with Middle Eastern features, and East Asian travelers like myself. The atmosphere was relaxed, filled with a palpable sense of relief and arrival, rather than tension.
In the arrivals lobby, I instinctively sought to acquire some Swedish Krona in cash. But finding an ATM for credit card cash advances or a currency exchange desk proved challenging. At the information counter, a friendly staff member smiled, "You won't need cash if you have a credit card, you know." Unconvinced—surely some cash was essential for emergencies, a traveler's basic security blanket—I brushed off her advice and exchanged 10,000 Japanese Yen, receiving 780 Krona.
To reach the city center, I opted for the Arlanda Express high-speed train. Pricier than the bus or local trains, yes, but it delivered me swiftly and comfortably to Stockholm Central Station. Stepping outside, the air felt like early summer, yet the sunlight filtering down seemed softer, almost autumnal—a reminder of our high latitude, 59 degrees north.
At the hotel reception, I greeted the staff with a cheerful "Hej, Hej!" and received the same warm greeting in return. "Hej" (pronounced much like the informal English "Hey") is the ubiquitous Swedish greeting, instantly fostering a sense of friendliness, even with strangers.
My room embodied the principles of functional design: uncluttered, with calming colors and an air of sparkling cleanliness. The absence of excessive ornamentation felt incredibly comfortable—a truly welcoming environment for a weary traveler.
Gazing out the window, I saw the city bathed in light. It was past 9:00 PM, yet the sky looked like early evening. Though tired from the arrival day, the knowledge that sunset wasn't until nearly 11:00 PM brought the term "midnight sun" to mind, perversely waking me up. How do people here avoid chronic sleep deprivation? I drew the thick curtains tight and closed my eyes.
Walking Stockholm
The following days were spent exploring Stockholm on foot. The main sights—Gamla Stan (the Old Town) with its Royal Palace, and other central attractions—are easily navigable using the network of metro, buses, and ferries. Purchasing an SL card, a travel pass similar to transport cards in other major cities, is highly recommended. A 72-hour card cost around 3500 JPY (roughly $25-30 USD) and proved invaluable for its convenience.
Stockholm is, simply put, photogenic. Streets lined with dignified buildings overflow with greenery, punctuated by ample parks and public spaces. Though the roads wind irregularly, the city never feels cluttered, thanks perhaps to the generous street widths and thoughtful architecture. Cleanliness seems to be the norm.
Above all, Stockholm is a city built on water. Comprising over 14 islands, waterways—rivers, canals, the lake, the sea—are everywhere. Turn a corner, and a cobblestone slope might lead directly to the water's edge, revealing a palace seemingly floating on the opposite bank. As you stand mesmerized, a seagull might drift lazily past at eye level. It's a city of captivating contrasts: part inland metropolis, part seaside town, part refreshing highland retreat.
The people, a diverse populace, carry an air of calm and contentment. It’s not just the visual appeal of individual elements; the entire urban space feels harmoniously composed, as if orchestrated by a master designer crafting a living artwork titled "Stockholm."
I wandered through Gamla Stan, visited the Royal Palace, spent time at the Vasa Museum, explored the trendy SoFo district on Södermalm, and lingered in Fotografiska, the photography museum. Each venue preserves history, culture, and art, yet simultaneously pulses with a modern, forward-looking energy. Stockholm isn't just a city preserved in amber; it's a living, breathing urban space connecting past, present, and future.
When weary legs beckoned,
taking a break (休憩 – kyūkei) was non-negotiable, especially in Sweden, home of "Fika." This cherished tradition involves taking several breaks a day for coffee and pastries. More than just a coffee break, Fika is a cultural institution practiced everywhere—offices, schools—providing moments for people from all walks of life to connect and communicate. Cafes and parks perfectly suited for Fika abound throughout the city.
Incidentally, Stockholm boasts safe, drinkable tap water—a rarity in major cities and a boon for travelers. It eliminates the need to buy bottled water and provides the quiet comfort of knowing a basic necessity is always readily available. The water itself is refreshingly neutral. Equally impressive was the widespread availability of free, high-speed Wi-Fi, often accessible without registration, reaching a level of connectivity that often eliminates the need for travel routers or local SIMs. Had I ever encountered a city with such seamless infrastructure for visitors?
Few would argue that Stockholm ranks among the world's most comfortable capitals for travelers. During my stay, meals were generally healthy—neither overly fancy nor excessively large—with Nordic cuisine's focus on fresh, natural flavors proving particularly appealing. While known for being expensive, the overall cost wasn't dramatically higher than other major Western cities. In fact, the typical 10% tipping guideline in restaurants felt modest compared to elsewhere.
Convenience stores like Pressbyrån and 7-Eleven are ubiquitous, offering almost everything one might find in their Japanese counterparts (including SL cards and tourist SIMs). It was then I realized the 780 Krona I’d exchanged upon arrival remained entirely untouched. Every single expense, from shops and restaurants to a 10 Krona charge for a mall restroom, had been payable by credit card. Some establishments even displayed "CASH FREE" signs. The woman at the airport information desk had been absolutely right.
After several days, the initial urge to sightsee waned, replaced by leisurely hours spent lingering in parks and cafes. This downtime felt incredibly pleasant. Experience has taught me that a truly great city is one where you feel comfortable simply being, without needing constant activity. Early summer Stockholm epitomized this. The gentle climate, the unhurried streets, the diverse yet reserved people, the near-perfect visual harmony, the delicious coffee and food… What more could a traveler ask for?
North via the Arctic Circle Train
A new day brought a change of scene. From Stockholm Central Station, I boarded an SJ (Swedish Railways) train bound for Abisko, a town nestled deep within the Arctic Circle. The overnight sleeper train, departing at 6:00 PM, bore the evocative name "Arctic Circle Train."
Its final destination was Narvik, Norway. The route traced the western coast of the Gulf of Bothnia northward before turning northwest into the interior, heading towards Swedish Lapland. The journey to Abisko, just shy of the Norwegian border, covered approximately 1300 kilometers (about 800 miles) and would take around 18 hours.
I shared a six-berth compartment with a young Danish couple. Conversation was minimal, yet an easy, unspoken understanding prevailed—a mutual respect among travelers that required no overt display. Everyone on this train seemed like a seasoned voyager.
The train rolled north past the historic city of Uppsala, but darkness refused to fall. Nevertheless, around 9:00 PM, a natural rhythm took over. Seats converted into beds, thick curtains were drawn tight, and sleep came, aided by the gentle vibrations and sway of the train.
I awoke shortly before 5:00 AM the next morning. We were gliding through dense forest. Sunrise had occurred around 2:00 AM, and the world outside was already awash in morning light. The endless green of the trees, the deep blue of the sky, and the occasional glint of a lake created a stunning panorama. The forest felt ancient and vast, though the trees seemed somewhat slender—a characteristic, perhaps, of far-northern vegetation. Enveloped by this unique wilderness, a profound sense of having truly journeyed far washed over me.
Hiking the King's Trail in the National Park
We arrived at Abisko Turiststation just before noon. Many passengers disembarked here, the majority, like myself, clad in trekking gear.
This station sits within Abisko National Park and serves as a key access point for the Kungsleden, or "King's Trail," a legendary hiking path stretching for hundreds of kilometers. After dropping my luggage at the park's accommodation, I eagerly set out for a lighter trek. The trail offered ups and downs but no strenuous mountaineering, winding through pristine Arctic wilderness alongside rivers and through forests. We were at latitude 68° North, well inside the Arctic Circle (defined as 66.5°N and above)—the land of the true midnight sun. On this particular day, sunset was technically at 12:15 AM, and sunrise at 1:09 AM. Even during that brief 54-minute "night," the sky never fully darkened.
Many hikers take advantage of this perpetual daylight for night treks. I spent several days exploring the park, feeling the immense power of Lapland's ancient, untamed nature seep into my bones.
The rivers flowed sometimes fiercely, sometimes gently, shaped solely by natural forces. In a hollowed-out crevice among riverside rocks, I watched a stone, perhaps half a meter across, endlessly spinning in place, perpetually washed by the swirling current. Eons of friction had polished both the hollow and the stone's surface to a metallic sheen. A passing trekker murmured, "Perhaps it's been spinning here for centuries, untouched by human hands…" Whether true or not, the display of nature's power and the sheer scale of time was humbling.
Abisko attracts a diverse crowd enjoying the Arctic summer. While visitors came from across Europe, Swedes seemed most numerous. Sweden embraces "Allemansrätten," the Right of Public Access, guaranteeing everyone the freedom to roam, hike, camp, and forage responsibly in nature. Exploring forests and lakes, picking mushrooms and berries—these are considered national rights. Witnessing Abisko's natural wealth, it was easy to understand why Swedes cherish this land so deeply.
Amidst this primeval environment, pondering Earth's vastness and the flow of time, I recalled news reports about major tech companies establishing server farms in northern Sweden. The nation's robust IT infrastructure, strong information security, and naturally cool climate apparently make it ideal for housing vast amounts of data. Indeed, the free public Wi-Fi here was, unsurprisingly, incredibly fast. It was a fascinating glimpse into modern Sweden: a land of both vast wilderness and cutting-edge technology.
Although "escaping the heat" wasn't my trip's primary goal, the persistent warmth made me forget such notions entirely. Daytime temperatures often neared 30°C (around 86°F), and occasional rain brought humidity. Trekking induced sweat, and the strong sun felt intense on the skin—more like temperate weather than Arctic. A nearby museum exhibit starkly illustrated this: photographs documented the complete disappearance of a local glacier. The signs of a changing climate were unmistakable, even here.
Despite the heat, exploring Abisko's forests and absorbing the overwhelming grandeur and beauty of its nature was profoundly rewarding. As I checked out, a taciturn staff member looked me in the eye and said quietly, "It's truly special here in winter. You should come back." Hearing that, how could I possibly resist returning?
Luleå and the Flight Back South
The next leg involved heading to Luleå, a city on the northern coast of the Gulf of Bothnia, before flying back to Stockholm. The journey from Abisko involved SJ trains and buses. The landscape remained dominated by forests, but the roads, wherever we went, were impressively wide and well-maintained.
After passing the Arctic Circle marker monument, we arrived in Luleå, a charming and beautiful city of just under 50,000 people, historically a significant transport hub.
At the hotel, a newspaper headline caught my eye: severe wildfires were raging across northern Sweden, fueled by what was being called the worst heatwave in 250 years. The ecological impact, the article noted, was potentially immense. I couldn't help but wonder about those IT server farms. While the accuracy of a 250-year-old thermometer might be questionable, it was clear I’d stumbled into a historically hot summer. The intense heat I felt in Abisko hadn't been my imagination; it was indeed abnormal.
In Luleå, which has the feel of an old town, I visited the Gammelstad Church Town, a remarkably preserved traditional Swedish church village and UNESCO World Heritage site. Here too, water—sea and rivers—shaped the landscape and daily life. The image of the harbor at dawn, leading out into the vast Gulf of Bothnia, remains vividly etched in my memory: a water surface so perfectly still it resembled a flawless mirror.
From Luleå Airport—proudly operating on 100% green energy amidst the surrounding forest—I boarded a Norwegian Air Shuttle flight. This burgeoning low-cost carrier, hailed by some and criticized by others for its service levels and labor practices, departed on time. The flight itself was unremarkable—functional, with few frills beyond free Wi-Fi—carrying us quietly southward. The sheer simplicity made me wonder, somewhat cynically, if Nordic domestic airlines prioritize their essential winter lifeline role so much that they dial back efforts during the pleasant summer months. Then again, I recalled a Widerøe pilot telling me years ago at Scandinavia's northernmost airport, "Arctic air service truly proves its worth in winter." Perhaps my cynical thought wasn't entirely off base. Lost in these musings, the plane landed smoothly back on the tarmac at Arlanda.
Lingering Thoughts
So, what to do with the remaining week or so before flying home? This year's weather meant the trip hadn't exactly been a cool escape. Yet, the longer I spent here, the more the unique essence of the Nordic region, and Sweden in particular, seemed to permeate my being, creating a profound sense of well-being. It felt dangerously easy to believe I was somehow "called" to this land. Was there any way to make this journey last forever? Dreaming such impossible dreams is, after all, one of the exquisite joys of travel.