It almost seems more like a dream now, more than a memory - sparkling lakes lined with pines and medieval streets bathed in neon and LED. Then again, it seemed like a dream even then, even as I breathed the heady Scandinavian air.

I had lived most of my life in Manila's outskirts; Stockholm was literally a world away. I had come at the invitation of Ms. Rachel Hansen to assist with organizing a major gathering of Filipinos in Europe and I had the good fortune to be her house guest for the better part of two months. Home was a quiet suburb in the north end of the city, where modern residential developments dissolved seamlessly into the lush green parklands of the Royal Djurgarden. The city center was about half an hour away on foot, two hours or more if you let yourself get lost. On the far end of a footpath lined with oaks, there is a wide open field peppered with museums, old bistros in the shadow of of a massive globe, Viking restaurants in medieval dungeons, art galleries on secluded islets, sailboats on dock, ancient churches, libraries, palaces, malls, and a swiftly passing summer where dusk barely gets an hour in edgewise before giving way to dawn.

It has been half a year since my summer in Stockholm and everything reads like a sun-bathed dream in my head. This is why I am certain I remember it well.

North Unexplored

Admittedly, Sweden was one of those countries I was marginally familiar with even with my childhood habit of tracing the roads off world atlases.

I had always dreamed of visiting the United Kingdom, France, and Italy, tantalized by National Geographic articles and the backdrops of famous movies, but everything North of Germany had been something of a blind spot. Most of what I knew, I knew from the book "Scandinavian Humor and Other Myths," a heavily dog-eared volume I picked up at a Book Sale for reasons I no longer remember. While it really was more of a celebration of Scandinavian-American stereotypes, it did remember the homelands fondly and painted a vivid picture of a people descended from Vikings who prefer bland foods, subsist on coffee and silence, have little patience for pomp and pretension, and are among the last people on Earth who see Ice Fishing more as a recreational activity than as a meditation on existential endurance. I had been bringing that book out for quick read-throughs since high school but I confess I never imagined I'd learn how true any of that was for myself.

Five First impressions

Stockholm is its own experience. This was true when I first arrived from Manila and this was still true after I returned from my month-long traipse through Europe's major cities. Paris and Rome had its landmarks and its celebrated tourist meccas but after all is said and done, Stockholm had undoubtedly struck me as the best city to come home to. Fresh out of the plane though, here are the ten impressions Stockholm will likely welcome you with.

1. The Citywide Picnic Hours

For a city where summer daylight lasts twenty-two hours, it was surprising how early most shops closed on a weekday: 6pm on the busiest tourist strips, earlier on Saturdays and all-day on Sundays. Restaurants stay open a bit later though, on summer's longest days, you'd likely have at least an hour or two when the sun is still bright and the streets are all empty.

Taking a detour through one of Stockholm's many, many parks would easily explain why though: virtually everyone punches out early to get as much sun as they can, perhaps to compensate for the winter where the sun is hardly out at all. There is, estimating, at least one picknicker or sunbather or avant garde public performer per square meter of Stockholm parkland in the summer. Quiet yard and balcony parties are also common as well as the kind of lazy creek boat picnic you only thought was possible in photo-frame stand-ins.

The short business hours and the cultural appreciation for relaxation and quiet leisure does have an egalitarian ring to it: the people who get to punch out at six to roll around in the grass with a bottle of cider aren't just the bank managers after all but also the store clerks and ticket salesfolk are out there with them. Everybody needs to enjoy the season and, either by the spirit of equality, necessity or both, virtually everybody gets to.

2. The Giant-Friendly City-Planning.

If you're under six feet, there is something apt about humming the theme to Jurrasic Park while walking around the streets of Stockholm. The average Swede towers over most people and a stroll through Gamla Stan or the shopping districts will often be an affair of staring at people's collars all afternoon. Much of Stockholm itself perfectly captures this reality, built at something of a 1:1.5 scale versus virtually anywhere else. This is best experienced in taking a Swede's word for what constitutes "walking distance," a unit of measurement that, in Sweden, may mean the distance between the house and the convenience store across the street or the distance between Stockholm and Copenhagen.

Oddly enough, you probably won't notice the distance until long after your feet are sore either: Stockholm is a wasted experience unless you you've weaved through it on foot. I had often mused that its public transportation is probably as efficient as it is because everybody prefers walking anyways. Nature lovers have their dirt paths through wooded parks, art and history lovers have street after street of period architeacture winding out of the city's medieval center, compulsive shoppers have extravagantly decorated shopping districts and galleries, and anyone who just wants to mill around aimlessly will find no problem walking the city from end to end without the usual urban dangers of excessive air pollution, crime, or impassable high-density roads.

It's funny; by the end of my stay, the walks had become much less daunting. I'd like to think that, with all the fresh air and exercise, I had also begun walking taller. Then again, it was likely also because I learned how to take the bus and subway back home.

3. The Forest of Flavors.

I learned from somewhere that the Swedes were not always very tall. In fact, they had been one of the shortest peoples in Europe a little over a century ago. The spike in height was supposedly caused by an improvement in nutrition over the last hundred years which was itself supposedly caused by the introduction of foods that didn't come freeze-dried right off the source. As that is, guidebooks on Stockholm tend to be preemptively candid about Sweden's relatively unstoried culinary history but are never slow to fanfare the gustatory renaissance that brought Stockholm into the foodie spotlight in recent decades. After all, it had been the Swedes who gave us the word "smorgasbord" and it was likely not for serving pickled herring.

I am by no means a foodie but Stockholm was likely the first place on Earth that made me wish I was. I had been fond of microwavable instant Swedish Meatball TV dinners as a child which was likely why tasting the real thing, with fresh lingonberry and non-congealed gravy, had made such an impact. Real food - with attention to fresh ingredients, unpretentious preparation, a minim on artificial seasoning or preservation - was the central tenet of Swedish dining and I had the distinct pleasure of experiencing it home-cooked by my host who served it with a sparkling side of Herjunga's Apple Cider with Elderflower.

Interestingly, the Swedish culinary ideal extends well beyond Swedish recipes. Swedish Adobo has a unique refinement to it, like how you'd imagine a "kalesa" might be designed by Ikea. Hurry Curry, a fastfood franchise that serves Indian Food all over Stockholm, serves a samosa exploded into a platter-sized salad while four different restaurants can be chosen from for a fix of Lebanese. McDonalds, Burger King and local competitor Maxx serve burgers that do not make you wonder if the burgers have shrunk over the years (they are quite as large as you'd hope.) There are, however, no KFC's or Taco Bells anywhere.

4. The Ubiquitous History.

I did not know much about Swedish history when I arrived save for what I gleaned about Gustavus Adolphus in Civilization V: Brave New World. By the time I left Arlanda for the last time, I knew my