I almost spent about four times as much on this trip because I was going to use the same service that planned our trip to Egypt. There is great value in having a full-scale travel agency plan your trip, but for us, price is an object. We travel quite a lot and for long periods of time. We can’t afford to use a comprehensive guide for everything we do. Besides, I don’t feel like every destination requires their assistance, and I could get a little annoyed with having to hang out with some dude I don’t know for days on end.

I know many people might think that a trip to Singapore, Cambodia, Vietnam, and Taiwan would require a travel agency to coordinate it, just because those countries are so different from the US. However, cultural and historical elements aren’t super-intriguing to me, or as storied as some others, like Egypt. Additionally, they’re not as confusing or vast to navigate. We would definitely need a travel agent to plan a vacation to India, for example. But I didn’t feel like this was a trip with great depth. It was a see-the-highlights adventure. We’d need guides periodically but not every single day, and we wouldn’t need a car to follow us everywhere. I could handle it.

           Here’s what I recommend doing:

1.       Use your hotel concierge to find guides.

Good hotels are tied in with the tourism industry, and they can connect you with a good local tour company to show you the sights. Sometimes, you can find the concierge’s email address on the hotel website. Other times, you’ll need to email the reservation department to get that contact info. I admit that sometimes, I use TripAdvisor or Google to find our guides, but if I want to make things easy on myself, I let the concierge handle it. That’s what I did for our tours on this trip, and it worked out very well, even with something as complicated as our Angkor Wat tour, where we had to be picked up and dropped off, plus go on the tour, all in the span of about four hours.

2.       Use Blacklane for cars to and from the airport.

Blacklane is an amazing app that connects travelers with companies that provide transportation in big, nice cars. You could use a ridesharing app, but the Blacklane drivers come in and hold a sign for you as you exit baggage claim. They help with the luggage, and they just provide better service. The price isn’t much different from Uber, either. In fact, I think it’s a little cheaper sometimes.

3.       Find out what the ridesharing apps are for the countries you’re visiting.

We learned that Uber has no presence in Singapore, Vietnam, or Cambodia. They’re all on the Grab app. And Grab is really good. We could use it to get cars in Singapore, tuk-tuks in Cambodia, and even motorcycles in Vietnam.

4.       Don’t trust TripAdvisor for restaurant recommendations.

I don’t know what’s happened to TripAdvisor. It once was a community of dedicated, serious travelers who wanted to share their experiences Now, it’s more of a haphazard, pop-in review site. The only time I take the reviews seriously are for private tour guides. Those have consistently worked out well for us.

5.       Use Google Maps to get an idea of the good restaurants/shops in the area.

I find that locals and real travelers write reviews on Google. I’m sure some are planted, but if a restaurant has 1,000 reviews that are mostly positive, that’s promising. We generally just pull up Google Maps for wherever we’re standing, and we see what’s around us. We did that for massages, coffee shops, pho stands, etc. It’s been very reliable.

6.       Factor in some kid activities!

Josephine counts on having more to do than just scamp around a city or sit in a hotel room. She wants to play. In Cambodia, that was tough. We wound up going to the gym and doing a HIIT workout together. She thought that was fun. But you usually can find exhibits or activities for kids in each place you visit. For example, in Singapore, they had an immersive Disney movie experience. That wound up being a bust for us because the show got canceled at the last minute due to technical difficulties, but it sounded fun to Josephine. In Spain, there are giant playgrounds where she can run around like a loon. In Italy, she can play carnival games in the Piazza Navona. Those little fun-for-fun’s-sake activities make a huge difference in her demeanor.

7.       Bring a stroller for as long as you can!

We know we’re aging out of the stroller. We think we can make it another 2 years… maybe? The stroller is so clutch for holding water and coats and purchases – and Josephine when she gets tired. We just check it through to our final destination and get it with the luggage. We store it most of the trip in the hotel luggage area, but we pull it out when we’re going to be spending a lot of time on our feet, which Jamil and I love to do because we get to see more of the city. It’s really not a hassle. It’s so helpful!

8.       Packing suggestions for your family:

• Stock your medicine bag; see your pediatrician, if you need to.

We always pack basic meds, like Dimetapp, Children’s Benadryl, Motrin, Tylenol, etc. I also like to pack Prevacid, in case I get heartburn, Advil Cold & Sinus, NyQuil, and the adult versions of Motrin and Tylenol. On this trip, we happened to see the pediatrician because Josephine was feeling a little under the weather. She suggested that we include cortisone cream, antibiotic band-aids, and two prescription meds, Azithromycin and Zofran, to the bag. Azithromycin is a strong antibiotic that takes care of everything from sinus infections to E. Coli. Zofran quells nausea. We only got those meds for Josephine, and she didn’t wind up needing those two, but she did need the cortisone cream because she got a pretty nasty mosquito bite on her eyebrow. On the contrary, Jamil would have benefited from some adult versions of those meds because he got E. Coli in Cambodia and wound up having to see a doctor in Vietnam to get antibiotics.

• Bring mosquito repellant

Like it or not, dengue fever and chikungunya are active ailments in many Asian countries. When you go to the zoo in Singapore, Angkor Wat in Cambodia, or the Mekong Delta in Vietnam, wear some DEET. I was terrified when Josephine got that bug bite on her eyebrow. Dengue fever is usually survivable, but it’s miserable. Definitely would have put a stiff end to our trip.

• Order helper chopsticks, like the ones seen here: https://everythingchopsticks.com/Panda-Childrens-Helper-Chopsticks.html

Whether your kids are enthusiastic about chopsticks or not, there are some places where you just don’t feel comfortable asking for a fork, so you need a solution. I ordered the helper chopsticks in advance for Josephine and let her practice on them. There are a variety of versions, some with finger placement grips, but Josephine preferred this simplified set. We had her use them at home for a few days, picking things up and eating easy things, like pieces of steak (not slippery). At first, she used the full set because the chopsticks are short and easier to manipulate, but then she started to put the silicon connector on the chopsticks at restaurants. In the end, she got to be such a pro that she removed the silicon altogether and just used the adult chopsticks!

• Bring water-resistant (or waterproof) shoes

It just so happened that I gave Josephine Doc Marten’s for Christmas, and we threw them in the bag because they were cute and fun. She needed them multiple times in Singapore because we were at the end of the monsoon season, and she wore them after rain showers in Taipei. Doc Marten’s are also so cute that they can wear them when they dress up or down, so I think I’ll always include a pair on our travels from here on out. There’s no drawback to having them. Wet feet are so lame.

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Author: Jessica Givens

When my dad fell and injured himself on our Thanksgiving trip, we had to make abrupt changes to our Christmas vacation plans. Originally, we were scheduled to leave for Asia on December 17 and return on January 7, spending 12 days in Vietnam, several nights in Singapore, and several more in Taipei. Our new trip would begin on December 25, departing at 11:30PM after Christmas revelry, and would conclude on January 10.

I had booked our tickets through American Express Platinum, something I never do, because I thought it would provide me with some additional security for this rather large voyage. When I went to change the tickets, I couldn’t complete the transaction online. I had to call Amex and wait an eternity to get a representative to make the changes. I was irritated at some of the terms of the ticket. First, even though my new tickets were substantially less expensive, I would get no credit with the airline. Second, they wanted to charge me an additional $1300 for the privilege of changing the ticket. However, I was in no position to bargain, so although I balked, I agreed to the terms.

After that call, I logged into my Amex travel account to verify that I’d done everything on my end to change my tickets. On the home page, it still said the original travel dates, but when I clicked on the link to see my reservation, the new dates appeared. Everything looked zen. I rebooked all of our hotels, tours, and connecting flights, and then turned my attention to my father, who needed to have his quadriceps tendon reattached.

Around midnight on December 17, I realized I hadn’t yet booked a car to take us from the airport to our hotel in Singapore, where we’d spend the first few nights of our trip. I went onto the Blacklane app, which I always use for quality transportation to and from airports abroad, and it asked for my flight number. On Gmail, I searched “Singapore” to retrieve my reservation info, and the first message that popped up was from American Express. It had come in at 2:45AM (call it the night of December 16 or the wee hours of December 17). The subject read, “Your booking has been canceled.” What, what? My heart started pounding, and I said, “Oh, my God, Jamil, Amex canceled our flight to Singapore!”

I spent the next three hours on the phone with American Express, trying to rectify the mishap.

The representatives explained that the person I authorized to make the changes never processed the change fee on the card, which I didn’t notice because of all the other chaos going on in my life. Consequently, although American Express had changed our flights on my home page, the new tickets had never been issued. The representatives apologized and accepted responsibility, but they also explained that our flight plan was no longer available. We could get to Taipei, where we’d planned to lay over, but the flight to Singapore was completely full. Moreover, every flight American Express had access to book between Taipei and Singapore was sold out between December 25 and January 2!!

Immediately, I started searching on Kayak for flights. There was literally ONE flight left. It was on a new Taiwanese luxury carrier, called Starlux, and they only had first class, not business. It was $9300 for three tickets to make the one-way trip between Taipei and Singapore. I was still on the phone with Amex, and I told them I’d found a flight that worked, but that they’d need to reimburse me for that massive charge. And while they couldn’t promise I’d get a refund for the purchase, they said they’d file a case right then on my behalf, and they felt it would likely be resolved in my favor. Nervously, I confirmed the payment and prayed for the best.

I have to say that the flight between Taipei and Singapore – that unexpected first-class experience – was incredible. Starlux Airlines is quite a carrier. We had gorgeous, huge seats, and Josephine and I were able to enclose our seats in a private, two-person suite. We had massive televisions with all kinds of movies and great Wi-Fi. We had amazing service and wonderful food. Not only that, but because we were in first class, Starlux sent representatives to usher us through immigration and ensured that our bags made it safely from EVA Airways (the airline we took from Houston to Taipei) onto the Starlux flight. They even showed us pictures to reassure us that all was well with our bags and drove us on little carts through the airport. We felt like rockstar VIPs.

And, all’s well that ends well! I received a message from American Express the day after we arrived in Singapore, saying that they’d issued a credit to the account! Still, American Express probably added about 9,000 gray hairs to my head that night.

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Author: Jessica Givens

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Thanksgiving has always been the most important holiday for our family. In 47 years, I can only remember 2-3 times when my dad’s side of the family didn’t get together at my parents’ house. This year, with my mom’s passing, we all felt like we should go somewhere else, so we planned to go to Watercolor. Our house was still under construction (will be for the foreseeable future, given how slowly work gets done at the beach), and we needed to be there to move furniture and get things into final shape for the renovation.

Our side of the family would fly down on November 20, a Monday morning, and we would stay until November 27. You cannot imagine how popular a destination that region of Florida has become. Once you’ve got your flights settled for a busy holiday weekend like Thanksgiving, there’s no going back. There just aren’t any open seats.

We had an amazing time on Monday and Tuesday. My dad’s brother and family rented a home right near ours, and we had an incredible dinner at Café 30a on Monday night. Café 30a was hands-down my mom’s favorite restaurant in the area. She loved the old Southern vibe, and she loved the food. So it felt right to have a huge party of family eating there together during our first holiday without her. The next night, Jamil and I went out with my cousins to Ambrosia while my dad, uncle, and aunt watched the kids. We had martinis and oysters, shrimp cocktails and steaks. We laughed and renewed our sense of camaraderie, something that  I needed more than ever since I’ve lost my mom.

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With those two great nights under our belts, we felt optimistic about the entire week, and on Wednesday, we got out of our comfort zones by taking my dad on a bike ride for the first time in a long time. We have an adult trike that I bought just for him. He loved it so much that he was talking about buying one for the house in Houston to get more exercise. Later, he and Jamil played tennis, and although my dad was VERY rusty, he had SO much fun. On a high, we set out to make a run to Target. I think that’s where we were going, at least. It’s all a blur of euphoria now.

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As my dad made his way out of our house, the door to the screened porch hit him in the knee. I will never know if that’s what caused his injury or if the shock caused him to fall, which caused his injury. All I know is that within minutes, he went from up and running to lying flat on his back in the driveway, screaming, “My KNEE!”

It was clearly bad, especially for an 82-year-old, but let me begin by saying that there were blessings at play when my dad hurt himself.

First, Jamil was right behind him, and he caught my dad as he fell. My dad didn’t hit his head. He didn’t cut himself. He didn’t break a bone. That was my mom looking out.

Second, it happened on Wednesday BEFORE Thanksgiving. If it had happened Thursday or Friday, or even over the weekend, nothing would have been open; we would have had to go to the emergency room.

Third, it happened at 2:30PM, and our physician’s office in Houston had not yet closed for the holiday weekend. The doctor, who happens to be both a primary care doctor AND a certified sports medicine specialist, called right back and set an appointment for my father immediately upon his return, which was amazing. Furthermore, the urgent care by our house had not yet shut down; it would be open until 4:00. We made it just in time for the sweet staff at Doc Smiley’s to give him a quick x-ray, confirm that nothing appeared to be severely broken, but warned us that from what they could tell, he’d ruptured his quadriceps tendon. That sounded grim. It’s a pretty big, pretty necessary muscle… But real treatment could wait until we returned to Houston.

Fourth, it happened while we were all in Florida together. In Florida, we have a bedroom on the first floor, so there was no issue with him needing to go up the stairs. Additionally, we were all staying in the same house, so we could run up and down and all around to help my dad whenever and however he needed. If we’d been at home, we might not have understood the level of care he needed; he might have even convinced us he didn’t need us to stay with him.

Fifth, my mom wasn’t around to see the accident happen. She lived in dire fear of my father falling. I think she would have had a heart attack and died right there. Then, who KNOWS when my dad would have been able to get surgery?

So, as awful of a scenario as it was to have my father in pain and helpless, it was, in many ways, the best way for that scenario to happen.

It also gave me an opportunity to identify what my dad would need when we returned home. In the time we were together, I lined up a company to install bars in his bathrooms and to reorient his door hinges to allow a walker or wheelchair to pass through. We also arranged for a caregiver to stay with him to help him go to and from the bathroom and lined up an RN service to use if he needed surgery.

Also, the accident happened on November 25, the DAY BEFORE our most expensive hotel reservation for our Christmas vacation became nonrefundable. Even without an official diagnosis, I could tell by looking at my dad that a trip to Vietnam on December 17 was probably off the table, and I decided to cancel the reservation preemptively. If it turned out he could go, we’d just pay for more expensive rooms and say words of thanks to the uazniverse for letting him accompany us. The cancellation went through just hours before the deadline.

I’m sure this sounds like a nightmare of a trip, and in many ways it was. However, it was also pretty freaking amazing. It reminded us of what a champ my dad is. Despite the pain and inconvenience, my dad gutted up every day, got dressed, and participated in life. He continued to work at his little spot in the dining room. He joined the family at each dinner. He hung out at Thanksgiving dinner. Was he, himself, difficult? Absolutely, but that had nothing to do with the injury; that’s just who he is. And we still love traveling with him. We love him, always.

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Author: Jessica Givens

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Shortly after my mom passed away in August of 2023, Jamil and I left town with some friends for a long Labor Day weekend. I felt terrible about leaving my dad because my mom had barely been cremated by then, and we were still in the process of planning her funeral. But we’d promised Josephine’s friends that we would get away with them, and an important part of bringing up an only child is forging those friendships, so they learn how to act like normal humans. Please don’t be offended. I am an only child myself. I was totally NOT normal because my parents didn’t really connect with my peers’ parents, and all of their friends had children a decade earlier. I know what I was missing, and my mom agreed. It was just a crummy situation – one I’m fortunate enough not to have to deal with myself because Josephine’s friends have amazing parents that Jamil and I absolutely love.

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On that trip, Jamil took my dad to play golf twice, which my dad hadn’t done in so long because my mom had been unable to play. We drank wine and did a puzzle. We measured the kitchen for the renovation and took down our giant curtains. My dad oversaw it all. It was nothing like having my mom there. Nothing like it. But it was good to be with him. And it was informative about what our new multigenerational travel experiences would be like – different, easier in some ways because my mom was rather demanding, but harder in others because she always buffered his craziness. In any event, I came home feeling good about our trips to come.

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Nothing prepared me for what would happen on our next trip together. To be continued in next week’s post…

Author: Jessica Givens

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Restaurants in Stockholm

We had a definite advantage in our Stockholm restaurant search. Our friend, Johan, whom I mentioned in an earlier post, spends a ton of time in Sweden. His family has a home in Stockholm. He knows the food there. Additionally, another friend, Elizabeth, spent a month there for work and fell in love with the city. She also knows the food there. Most of our meals were based on their recommendations.

Dinner Spots:

1. Veranda

Because we were all so tired, we decided to keep the first meal easy. We made a reservation at the Veranda restaurant at the Grand Hotel, which was well known for serving a traditional smorgasbord dinner. Yes, that is a real thing, a classy take on a Golden Corral experience in many ways (if Golden Corral served eight varieties of pickled herring).

I’m mentioning the smorgasbord because I think you just have to do it once if you’re in Sweden. It’s traditional. It’s elaborate. It’s enormous. And, apparently, Veranda is really the best place in town to do it.

As for the food, there were highs and lows. I think herring is an acquired taste, and I simply haven’t acquired it. But there were all types of salads and cured meats, including some of the most spectacular smoked salmon I’ve ever tried. There were warm dishes of lamb, chicken, beef, fish — you name it. We got our first introduction to Swedish potatoes (tiny, peeled new potatoes, laced with butter and sprinkled with dill). Josephine fell madly in love with those potatoes; she literally ate them all over Sweden and Denmark and is still talking about them. 

So, while I’m pretty sure we’re not the best buffet candidates around, we had a wonderful time.

2. Pelikan

Pelikan is a bastion of classic Swedish cuisine. It’s the go-to for incredible meatballs, steamed cod, potato dumplings, and so forth. Eating there, you sort of feel like you’ve stepped back in time. It’s a super old restaurant. Although the current structure has stood for just 110 years or so, which isn’t crazy, Pelikan as an eatery dates back to 1664, when it was a pub and wine cellar. Even today, you can feel the vintage quality of the establishment. 

The menu is so hearty and traditional that you’re transported to a time when people didn’t know what carbs were, and the waitstaff is so adept at juggling the heavy, cast-iron pans that bear most of the meaty entrees that you can imagine they’ve been working there for centuries. The cocktail menu is also notably traditional, offering such aperitifs as a Sidecar, a Vesper martini, and a Negroni. No fancy G&Ts or cosmos in this joint. And the martinis were excellent.

The food was also great, if maybe a bit like lead in the stomach later in the evening. Johan told us to order the toast Skagen, a very typical Swedish dish, comprised of teeny-tiny shrimp, mayonnaise, and bleakfish roe. What’s a bleakfish? I didn’t know, either — had to look it up. It’s just a little silver swimmer, nothing to write home about, but the Swedes love it on toast. Anyway, I’m not a fan of mayo, but I thought the toast was very good; Jamil loved it. We also ordered the meatballs because, as it turns out, Swedish meatballs are even more popular in Sweden than they were at 1970s potlucks. Pelikan has clearly perfected the recipe because they were fabulous. Who knew that a few gooseberries could pack such a punch?! We ordered a few other things, as well, like the pork knuckle, the venison, and the potato dumplings. Everything was delicious. It’s not stuff you can eat every day, but it’s a must-visit when you come to Stockholm if you want to understand Swedish comfort food.

3. Riche

This was the best dinner we had in Stockholm. Riche is super hip, so hip that we couldn’t get a reservation on our own. Thankfully, the concierge at the Grand has a little pull, and we got a primetime spot and a great table. Everything about Riche is cool, from the art to the cocktails to the appetizer and entree selections, but it wasn’t so hip that Josephine didn’t feel welcome. And don’t let its hipness fool you! Riche is over 100 years old. It’s a true institution of Stockholm’s culinary culture, serving celebrities, politicians, hipsters, and wayward tourists.

We ordered a whole host of things because the menu was so alluring. We started with the white asparagus appetizer, which blew our minds. We didn’t know it was white asparagus season, and let me tell you, this white asparagus bears no resemblance to anything you’ve had in the past. We’ve had white asparagus all over Spain. It’s always canned or jarred. I always wish that it would taste wonderful, but it never does. Well, it’s canned or jarred in Spain because it’s a long way from Sweden and Denmark to Spain, and I don’t think white asparagus travels well. In Sweden and Denmark, the white asparagus is crisp and delectable. It’s got the mildest of asparagus flavors. It marries well with practically any sauce. At Riche, it was served in a buttery sauce, topped with toasted, slivered almonds and chervil, among other microgreens. We all loved it so much that we continued to order it every time it was on a menu — always with great results.

We also got a steak tartare that’s a staple at Riche, and Josephine tried her first escargots. Laden with finely shredded Parmigiano Reggiano and dollops of creme fraiche, the meat was fresh and flavorful. I think I’ve always sold Sweden short on beef, but I have no idea why. They’ve got more claim to the cow than Americans do, considering the cow only arrived in America in the 15th century, while it’s been grazing in European pastures for millennia. As for the escargots, I can’t say it topped many I’ve had in the States or France, and I wish I could have given Josephine a more decadent intro to snails. She didn’t hate it, but she didn’t ask for another.

Our entrees were all fabulous — Jamil got a halibut, and I shared a vegetarian risotto with Josephine. Everything was cooked and seasoned perfectly. Then, we enjoyed the after-dinner aquavit, served in a bowl of crushed ice — the perfect digestif. 

Don’t miss Riche!

4. Astoria

Astoria was another one of Johan’s recommendations because his very discerning mother loves it. I could see why. It’s super cool.

We sat in the bar area of the restaurant because I stupidly canceled our reservation and then had second thoughts. By the time I got back on the website to rebook, the table was gone. Note to you: don’t let a reservation at Brasserie Astoria go. So we sat in the uber chic bar area. There was a pretty skillful DJ who played a mix of yacht rock and pop. There was lush greenery dripping from the ceiling. There were beautiful people everywhere. 

The drinks and food were quite good, especially the truffle pizza we ordered for Josephine. That’s always her pick if it’s on the menu. I also got mussels because I cannot resist seafood when I’m near the water in a cold climate. It’s always so fresh. The rest of the meal wasn’t terribly memorable, but I’d still recommend it. The service was solid, and it’s an easy walk from the Grand Hotel, right in the shopping district of Ostermalm. Overall, a winner.

Lunch Spots:

1. Lisa Elmqvist

This is another classic spot in Stockholm. Lisa Elmqvist is located inside the pristine Saluhall of Ostermalm. It’s essentially one of those quintessential European markets with various vendors of seafood, meats, cheeses, vegetables, fruits — you name it — only the Ostermalm Saluhall is kind of obscenely clean. Yes, that’s a thing. There aren’t any peculiar odors; there are no flies. There are no seeds, wrappers, or napkins on the floor. If anything can serve as a symbol of the difference between Scandinavia and Southern Europe, it’s the Ostermalm Saluhall. This place is literally gorgeous and spotless and amazing.

Lisa Elmqvist is kind of a crowning gem for the Saluhall. Like Pelikan and Riche, Lisa Elmqvist is a deeply entrenched Stockholm establishment, serving the highest quality seafood in the city for over 100 years. It even provides seafood to the Royal Palace. That’s about as great a compliment as a fish shop can get!

Per usual, we tried an array of things. We ordered the petite shrimp that we’d soon learn were practically culinary mascots of Denmark and Sweden. They were a bit challenging to peel, given their tininess, but we got the job done, and they were excellent. Sadly, even shrimp that delicious and sweet couldn’t sway Josephine from her staunch, anti-shrimp position. She turned up her nose at them. We also had to try the salty cold-water oysters, which were clean and delicious, but I can’t help but miss Gulf oysters, which are rarely fishy. 

For main courses, Jamil got the smoked eel with scrambled eggs and rye toast, which he adored, and I got the poached salmon plate to share with Josephine, as well as a bowl of Josephine’s prized new potatoes with dill. Again, the food was fabulous, if more than we could really consume. 

As I type this now, I wish I could just have one more bite of that salmon. Why did I leave it on my plate? Surely, my stomach could have stretched a centimeter more!

2. Strandhaxan 

This was such an unexpected lunch win. I really couldn’t believe it. It’s right by the bridge as you walk off the island where all the museums are, on the banks of the canal. It looked like a pretty crappy sandwich shop, but Josephine was starving and irritated, so we had to stop. She couldn’t wait another minute. The menu here is tiny. Just a few sandwiches, including what the restaurant claims is the best grilled cheese in the world. It really might be! We got that and a prosciutto sandwich and prayed for the best. It was such a happy surprise. And the atmosphere was beyond lovely. Everyone was out and about, reveling in the beautiful, sunny warmth of summer. There was so much vibrance and activity that it’s hard to imagine that it’s shrouded in cold and dark for most of the year. If you’re at the ABBA Museum or the Vasa Museum, definitely check this place out for lunch. It’s all good here!

3. Mahalo

We also stumbled upon Mahalo, a bustling, hole-in-the-wall vegan eatery. As it turns out, Sundays are pretty slow in Stockholm. A lot of restaurants are closed. Almost all the shops are closed. It’s like another world. 

Since everything was closed, we set out to explore Sodermalm, the hipster island in Stockholm, where Lisbeth Salander lives in the Stiegg Larssen books. I’d read about a flea market there that looked cool, and a big park where Josephine could run around. Along the way, we started looking for restaurants for lunch, and this was one of the few places that were open. 

I’m so glad we found it! Josephine craves Asian noodles and adores tofu. I knew she would jump at the chance to eat the Mahalo “Knivsoder,” described as “glass noodles with fresh herbs, red cabbage and carrot served with fried tofu, peanut sauce, avocado, mango, cilantro and peanut sprinkle.” And she did. Jamil was psyched about the Peas and Love dish, which included falafel, hummus, eggplant, and a bunch of salad-type goodies. I went for the baked oatmeal with oatmilk and puffed quinoa. We felt great about ourselves as we walked out of there — nothing heavy or grimy about that meal.

I believe the restaurant has two locations. It’s an excellent stop for a healthy lunch, and with all the butter, cream, potatoes, and so forth that you may eat in Sweden, your heart will thank you for the opportunity to reset.

Author: Jessica Givens

Stockholm’s Many Museums

Stockholm has so many museums! And on top of that, the city itself is practically a museum, considering the well preserved old town (The Gamla Stan) and the impressive, fifteenth-century Royal Palace. Stockholm has never been bombed in war, unlike so many of its European neighbors, and seeing its picturesque, timeless buildings made me wonder yet again what London or Frankfurt would look like if world wars hadn’t ravaged their historical centers. 

Aside from the ABBA Museum, the museums that were at the top of our list for Stockholm were the Vasa, the Nobel, and Gustav III’s Museum of Antiquities. We hit all of them the third day we were in Stockholm, and they were all awesome. I’ll share what we learned and felt about each one.

1. The Vasa Museum –

Before we went to Sweden, we reached out to our old student/good friend Johan, whose father is Swedish to the core, and asked what we should do and eat in Stockholm. (More on the eating later…) The Vasa Museum was at the top of his list of must-see attractions, but he warned us that the Vasa itself was something of an embarrassment for the Swedes. We soon learned why.

The Vasa was a ship that set sail in March of 1628. Phenomenally elaborate, intricately carved, and gigantic, the Vasa was intended to be a symbol of the Swedish navy’s glory. When constructed, the ship glowed with vibrant paint, showing depictions of the Swedish royal family. It carried a record-breaking 64 bronze cannons, enough to instill terror in the heart of every Dane who dared approach it (Sweden and Denmark are eternal enemies, FYI). Truly, the Vasa would have been a crowning achievement for any monarch, and certainly for any shipbuilder. Except that it wasn’t seaworthy…It was only designed for 32 cannons, but hubris got the better of men, who went with the “more is more” approach. 

The Vasa sank within minutes of its maiden launch, killing about thirty passengers and shocking the crowd that stood on the shore. However, because of the peculiar, oxygen-poor chemistry of the Baltic, there were few worms and pests to consume the wreckage, so the Vasa avoided the fate of most wooden ships that rest on the bottom of the sea. 

Today, you can visit the Vasa, which was hauled from the sea about fifty years ago, in a museum built especially to house its corpse. In addition to the massive structure of the boat itself, there are skeletons on view, which enjoyed the same preservation as the Vasa. Archaeologists have done an excellent/horrific job of reconstructing what they imagine the skeletons would have looked like during their heyday, and wax mock-ups of those unfortunate souls line the bottom floor of the museum.

Josephine wasn’t as into the Vasa as I expected. She mainly liked the skeletons. Maybe that’s because it was just a colossal boat, while the skeletons were real, ghoulish bones. But I think it was because we had the crappiest guide ever. 

While I normally line up a guide in each locale based on extensive research, I don’t always have time to expend that effort. I have had success all over the world with companies that match area guides with tourists looking for expert insight. I’ve used Tours by Locals; I’ve used Get Your Guide; I’ve used Viator. They’ve all produced decent guides; some better than others. Well, this time, Get Your Guide did me wrong. We got the biggest dingbat tour guide on record. She didn’t tell us one thing of interest. She didn’t know any details about the Vasa or about its origins. She took us to the museum and had us watch the museum’s film about the ship! That was a first for me. 

Thankfully, Josephine fell and skinned her knee shortly after the visit to the Vasa, so we cut the tour short. Yes, I’m thankful for an injury… 

So the lesson here is, do your research. Find a good guide. Otherwise, you’ll want to gouge out your own eyes.

2. The Nobel Prize Museum

Wow. Alfred Nobel. What a dude. Made an incalculable fortune in dynamite. Had no children. Left pretty much all he’d ever made to create the Nobel Prize. It’s hard to imagine how much good has been prompted by the quest for that accolade and how much has been celebrated by its award. 

The Nobel Prize Museum was a bit less grand than the name might first insinuate, but it’s still eminently charming. It’s in a stately old building, formerly the stock exchange, located on a beautiful square in the Gamla Stan (the Old Town). Inside, you’ll find all manner of artifacts from past Nobel laureates. I didn’t take pictures of anything, and now I’m regretful of that because there are cool tidbits about such towering figures as Marie Curie, Watson & Crick, Malala, etc. There are also movies about lesser known laureates and interactive stations to learn more about their accomplishments.

Josephine wasn’t super jazzed about the exhibits. She likes the idea of science, but she still thinks it’s just mixing liquids together and making explosions. She likes literature, but we’re not to Nobel Prize winning stories just yet. She likes peace… Anyway, it wasn’t her jam until we found the kids’ sections of the museum. They have a little theater, where she created a puppet show, and they had a science section where she got to smell different chemicals and rank them in order of preference. Overall, it was a really fun stop. She could have spent more time than we allowed her. I’m not sure it’s an A+ experience for every child, but it was perfect for our girl, who needs just a pinprick of stimulation to let her imagination run wild.

3. Gustav III’s Museum of Antiquities

Anyone who really knows me knows of my deep, abiding love of all things ancient. It turns out, King Gustav III of Sweden shared that love! He was King in the latter half of the eighteenth century, not long after Italian would-be archaeologists started digging in earnest at Pompeii (that began in 1748). 

On a tour of Rome in 1784, Gustav III became enamored of the marbles in the Vatican, and he set out to accumulate his own collection of ancient sculptures. By the time of his assassination in 1792, Gustav had acquired all manner of sculptures, including busts of Roman emperors, like Tiberius and Nero, and other important figures, like Brutus and Lepidus. I’m sure the busts have been compared with other representations of those historical luminaries, so they’re likely accurate, but I also imagine Gustav would have been an easy guy to fool. He was pretty obsessed, so much so that he traveled around Europe in disguise, seeking out sculptures as the Count of Haga, rather than as the King of Sweden. Crazy.

I love looking at ancient busts, whether they are assigned the proper identities or not. I just like seeing a millennia-old visage and staring into its eyes. So that hall of busts was pretty great for me.

Josephine was more interested in the Gallery of Muses, which has statutes of all nine muses. Forget the fact that they’re likely not statues of muses, but rather a hodgepodge of muse-y looking statues. The hall itself is quite impressive in its black-and-white starkness. It’s quiet and relaxing. I’m sure Gustav harbored great plans of kicking back with a glass of wine and musing over his muses. Sadly, he died of a gunshot wound inflicted at a masquerade ball. Shortly after his death, Gustav’s glorious gallery was opened to the public, becoming Sweden’s first public art museum. Would Gustav have approved? We’ll never know.

Author: Jessica Givens

Before visiting Stockholm, my only real interaction with the city was through Stieg Larsson’s The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo trilogy. I had no idea the city was an archipelago, a series of islands connected by ferries. It’s sort of like Venice (and I had like five people tell me Stockholm is the Venice of the North), but the Venetian vaporettos are tourist attractions — anything but cheap — while the ferries in Stockholm are basically buses. They’re not romantic; they’re practical. And there’s something charming about the humdrummery of rapid mass transportation on the water. We took quite a few ferries while we were there because they were so convenient.

Despite the ease of jumping on a ferry, we also felt compelled to do an actual boat tour. After doing quite a bit of research, I decided to do the Under the Bridges boat tour. In hindsight, I can’t believe I selected that one. The reviews were super sketchy. I just didn’t see any others that were of an agreeable length. I didn’t want to spend an entire day on a boat. What if Josephine got restless? What if I got bored? I knew from the get-go that I wasn’t going to like a group tour boat. It’s absolutely not my jam. But I also didn’t want the pressure of having to look entertained when I thought I might not be. And so we did the Under the Bridges tour, which departed from the dock in front of our hotel.

As we took our seats at a little booth in the boat, I knew it was bound to be an iffy experience. We had little headphones at our seats to listen to a pre-recorded lecture about the city, which we could tune to pretty much any language on Earth. I wasn’t keen on putting community headphones in my ears under any circumstances, and when I gave it a shot, the static nearly blew my eardrums. I decided just to watch the scenery and guess what I was seeing. Besides, I wasn’t just there for myself. I was there because I knew Josephine would love the polished wooden boat, and she’d love gliding under the 12 bridges through the various locks. 

In the end, while it wasn’t the boat tour of my dreams, it introduced me to my favorite part of Stockholm: the allotment gardens. All over the city are what appear to be little versions of Tolkien’s Shire. The hillsides are dotted with picturesque cottages, surrounded by tiny fruit and vegetable gardens. The allotment gardens are over 100 years old, and they were created to give city dwellers a piece of the countryside. Apparently, today, there’s an extremely long waitlist to even be considered to purchase one, and from the ones we passed on boat and on foot, we could tell they were beautifully cared for. People had set out little tables and chairs for dining al fresco; they had little places to cook and wash dishes. I’m sure some people even sleep out there in good weather. I couldn’t help but feel a twinge of envy for those bucolic getaways.

When we later hiked through some of the allotment gardens on the hipster island of Sodermalm, Josephine pretended we were in a world of Hansel and Gretel. That’s how far away from civilization it seems. And I wouldn’t have known to look for them if it hadn’t been for that boat tour. So, if you go to Stockholm, do a boat tour. But do a private one!

Author: Jessica Givens

Our most recent trip to Europe was more haphazardly thrown together than any I can conjure in recent memory. I didn’t arrange any elaborate tours. I barely read about any restaurants. I knew practically none of the history of any place we visited. Essentially, I just used the advice of my friend Rae, who said, “Go to Denmark!” as a launchpad to assemble cursory travel plans and haul our tiny family across the proverbial pond. 

At first, I planned for Sweden and Denmark, with a night in Helsinki tossed in, just so we could cross Finland off the list. However, when we got to Stockholm, I found an unusual quaintness — a small big city-ness (or was it a large small town-iness?) — that welcomed us with open arms, and I simply didn’t want to leave. 

In Stockholm, we stayed at the Grand Hotel, a classic, where Nobel laureates and their families have stayed for over a century when in Stockholm to receive their prizes. It’s very stately, with a beautiful lobby and excellent service. It’s also perfectly located on a little harbor, just across from the Royal Palace and the House of Parliament, right where boats launch to take tourists on cruises through the city’s many canals or to ferry visitors and residents to various sites on the city’s different islands. 

When we arrived at the hotel, our room wasn’t quite ready, so we had to wait on the pier out front for a while. As we cashed in the free hot chocolate/coffee vouchers the hotel had so thoughtfully given us, a cool, but not cold, breeze ruffled our hair, even as a summery sun beat down on our heads and shoulders. I realized in that moment that we’d picked the right place to visit, a city whose summer was Houston’s winter.

As an aside, I was further convinced we’d made the right choice when I split my newly shellacked middle fingernail and saw there was no way I’d make it two weeks without a visit to a nail salon. In Spain, I’ve struggled time and time again to get a decent manicure. I mean, STRUGGLED. I mean, the shellac peeled off all ten of my nails in a matter of hours. In Florida, I’ve had my nails turn into a comedy show. Think lumps and bumps where smooth polish should be. I feared Sweden might be the same, but I had to risk it. My hangnail was too unbearable to ignore and too gigantic to handle on my own. So, I googled nail salons near my hotel, and I landed on what turned out to be the most fabulous salon I’ve seen in ages — Nail Democracy. The sweet ladies there ushered me right in, sans appointment. They did their best to match my quirky green polish, so I could just fix that wrecked middle finger, rather than squander valuable time on a full manicure. And within minutes, I was back out on the road in Ostermalm, pounding the pavement back to Josephine and Jamil. If you’re ever in a nail bind on vacation in Europe, I hope it’ll be in Sweden. 

But back to our first day in Stockholm! 

I wanted to make each moment last in Sweden because we only had a few nights there. Fortunately, Stockholm is loaded with museums, many of which are a short walk from the Grand Hotel. One of those museums happens to be dedicated to ABBA, whose music flows through so many of my memories. I knew the lyrics to the Super Trouper album before I could read; I can still sing the entire Chess soundtrack by heart. And since Josephine was a tiny baby, my mom has sung Dancing Queen to her, Josephine the Dancing Queen. So that seemed like the perfect place to spend our first afternoon in Stockholm, a place that could hold our interest despite our zombified state after the long flight over. 

The ABBA museum was really the perfect stop. I learned more about Bjorn, Benny, Agnetha, and Frida than I ever wanted to know, from their humble beginnings to their post-ABBA careers. We saw their original costumes. We belted Take a Chance on Me in a mock sound booth. We touched their actual mixer. We took pictures with their eerily good wax figures. While a weird tribute in some ways, the museum was really fun, and Josephine absolutely loved it. By the time we made the trek back to the hotel, we all felt like we’d made maximum use of our first day, and I felt confident Josephine would sleep like a baby. 

Author: Jessica Givens

There are some activities that I’m sure make aliens scratch their heads and marvel at the stupidity of humans. Chicken races, gambling, skydiving… Skiing also probably makes its way onto that list, too. We wrap ourselves in clothes that ALMOST keep out the cold, ride on glorified swing sets up beyond the clouds, and strap unwieldy sticks to our feet and hands. Then, we stare directly down a cliffside, swallow hard, and turn those awkward sticks towards the village below.

Every time I take that plunge, I oscillate wildly between ecstasy and terror. But as soon as I reach the bottom, I shimmy back over to the nearest lift and ride back up to the very tippy-top – because it’s just SO fun. I presume many of you know the feeling. And then there’s the après ski…And the camaraderie, especially when you go with a group of friends, musing late into the night about aches and pains, powder and ice.

One of my earliest memories of traveling with my parents is of clambering into a giant rental car in Denver (not sure how giant it really was since that was way before SUVs). Rays of morning sunlight were just beginning to poke through dark winter clouds. Just before we entered I-20, we saw an orange sign, advertising fresh donuts. We pulled over, and our family friend, Pete, went in. He came out with a pile of bear claws and cinnamon twists. My memories of laughing and joking on the way to Aspen are forever permeated by the smell of fresh pastries.

I want Josephine to have similar memories. I want her to experience those same thrills. But I also want her to do it safely, and I think that it’s so much easier to learn to ski as a child than as an adult. So, three times in the past two winters, we’ve loaded up the ski gear and gone to Colorado.

Our first trip was to Aspen with my lifelong best friend, Jennifer, and her family. She has a son who’s just a few months older than Josephine, and I thought we could teach them to ski by dropping them off at ski school. After all, that’s how I learned to ski, right? Or maybe it wasn’t…Imprinted in my mind is a vivid nightmare of failed attempts at pizza and french fries and of certain death as I drifted towards the edge of the trail, too unskilled to change my trajectory. Would the ski instructors have noticed my absence? We’ll never know, but Josephine had roughly the same outcome. She did five days of Snowmass ski school and learned basically nothing.

This year, we decided to do things differently. Our friends told us what we’d erred in the past; we needed to bite the cost bullet and put Josephine in private lessons, and that we’d see marked changes in a matter of hours. So we headed to Beaver Creek, which has a family-friendly reputation, where I skied when it first opened in like 1982 on another family trip with friends.

From the moment we met up with her ski instructor, Jay, I had a good feeling. And by the end of the day, she was taking lifts to the top of the mountain and coming down on trails through the trees. By the end of the long weekend, she was skiing greens with no worries and blues with only minor trepidation.

For spring break, we were able to link up with some of our closest friends from Houston and go back to Beaver Creek, where we spent another week and put Josephine in even more lessons. It was absolutely phenomenal to see Josephine cruise down the mountain with her pals and even better to cook, laugh, and play cards with their parents.

I feel certain that it will become an annual pilgrimage for us, taking Josephine to ski with a group of families and enjoying the trip on so many levels. I also feel confident that Josephine is building skills that will last a lifetime. She will be comfortable going on ski trips with friends in college and beyond, and I won’t have to fret nonstop that she’s going to get hurt. (Josephine is no risk-taker; she’s scared of your basic playground slide.) And the shared enjoyment of a sport will give us another way to connect with our child as she gets older. Maybe even in the gloomy times, when she thinks we’re the downright worst, she’ll still have fun strapping on skis, navigating moguls, and gliding through powder with us.