One of my greatest travel moments was a Sunday morning in Stockholm, Sweeden. I was backpacking through Europe and found myself at the train station in Stockholm (a lovely work of art in and of itself, all brick and point work), with not a penny to my name and no way to get any more money until the banks opened on Monday morning (this was before there were ATM's on every corner). To top it off I was ravenously hungary, not having eaten since breakfast the previous morning.
So there I was, stalking about, waiting for a train that wasn't going to leave for another six hours, not a crumb of food to be had and my stomach growling like a living thing - with claws.
Well, there I was sitting on a bench, trying desperately to concentrate on Hitchiker's Guide to the Galaxy (So Long and Thanks for all the Fish to be exact), while ignoring the beast within, when a voice in my ear says:
"Anyone who can read Douglas Adams on a Sunday morning with a straight face needs someone to talk to."
I looked up and there was this absolute god of a man standing next to my bench, he looked like he had walked off the cover of one of those men's fitness magazines, 5-o'clock shadow (at 7a.m mind you), a T-shirt that clung to...well, I'll spare you the details. Suffice it to say that I was struck dumb - briefly.
This vision and I walked down to a small cafe open in the station, he treated me to breakfast (and later lunch) and we talked non-stop for the entire six hours - about life, the univers, and, well, everything.
I never saw him again,
But I never forgot Sweeden either!![]()



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