Travel with Per

“Going places, feeling things”

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  • Malaga at Christmas

    I recently traveled to Malaga for Christmas and to see some winter sun, but it was colder than I had ordered. Still, I’ll take blue skies and palm trees over grey drizzle any day. No regrets.

    Malaga at Christmas has a mood. Lights strung across the streets. Locals wrapped up in scarves like it’s the Arctic. Me pretending a jumper is enough because, well – holiday logic. It is what it is.

    First wander took me past the bullring. Big, round and dramatic. One of those places that makes you stop and think about traditions, history and how times change. I didn’t go inside, just walked the perimeter, soaking it in. Sometimes that’s enough.


    Then came the climb. Up to Gibralfaro Fort. Legs burning, breath a bit short, questioning life choices halfway up. But wow. At the top, Malaga laid out below me like a postcard. The port, the rooftops and the sea stretching out forever. Proper stunning. Sat for a while, jacket zipped up and feeling small in a good way. Past Per and present Per having a quiet moment together.

    Food wise, Malaga never lets you down. El Pimpi was a must. Bustling, noisy and full of life. Jamón hanging everywhere, glasses clinking with voices overlapping. Ordered a few tapas, a glass of red and just let the place wash over me. Tourist classic for sure. But classics are classics for a reason.

    Then there’s Casa Lola. My kind of place. Casual, buzzing with no nonsense tapas that hits every time. I went back a second time and they remembered me. Same nod. Same smile. Same “you again” energy. That’s the stuff I love. Connections. Even if it’s small. Just vibes.


    I also spent far too long in El Corte Inglés. My favourite Spanish shop and a dangerous place for someone with time to kill. I wandered every floor like I was on a mission. Didn’t need half of it. Bought some of it anyway. Without regrets.


    The beach walks were simple and perfect. Sun on my face, hands in pockets and waves rolling in gently. Locals jogging. Couples strolling. Someone playing music quietly in the distance. I walked slow, topped up the vitamin D and reminded myself that doing nothing is sometimes doing everything.

    Most afternoons ended the same way. Find a seat. Order a glass of Ribera. Watch the world go by. Families. Friends. Solo travellers like me, all pretending we’ve got nowhere else to be. Malaga is good at that. It lets you pause.

    So yes, it was colder than expected. But the light was golden, the food was spot on and my soul felt a little warmer by the end of it. Christmas sun – Spanish style.

    Just vibes.

  • Back in Eskilstuna: A School Reunion to Remember

    Panoramic view of Eskilstuna with the brick towers of Klosters kyrka reflected in the calm waters of Eskilstunaån Classic Eskilstuna — Klosters kyrka standing proud by the river Eskilstunaån
    Klosters Kyrka Eskilstuna Per Andersson
    Eskilstunaån flowing through the city with the grand Elite Stadshotellet on the waterfront Riverside vibes — Eskilstunaån with the Elite Stadshotellet watching over the city
    Vy över Eskilstuna ån Per Andersson

    Returning to Eskilstuna for my 35-year school reunion was a mix of excitement and nerves. Like the first day of school over again. Would I recognise anyone? Would we still have something in common after all these years? All those questions were buzzing in my head as I checked into my hotel. 

    But the second I heard the familiar screech of tyres outside, all that melted away. Three of the girls from back in the day pulled up, piled out of the car, and came running over like not a single year had passed. Hugs, laughter, a bit of playful ribbing about how little – or how much – we had changed. Honestly, it felt like yesterday. Just vibes.

    We headed over to the golf club for the main event, and what a night it was. The place was buzzing. All my worries melted away the moment I walked in. Old classmates everywhere, warm familiar smiles from faces I had not seen in decades. As soon as we started talking, it was like no time had passed at all. We laughed, shared stories and filled in the gaps of missing years.

    There we were, a bunch of 50-somethings pretending we still had the moves from the 80’s. No regrets. We were teenagers again, even if just for one night. 

    The night rolled on into the small hours. Laughter, hugs, promises not to leave it another three decades. Standing there, glass in hand, surrounded by people who shaped my younger self, I felt it deep down – this was special. A reminder that roots matter. That connections, even after years apart, can light you up in ways nothing else can.

    Mixing in some History


    But a reunion in Eskilstuna is more than just catching up; it’s about reconnecting with a city rich in history. Eskilstuna’s roots run deep in craftsmanship and industry. At the heart of that history lies the Rademachersmedjorna, a collection of preserved smithies from the 17th century. They are the legacy of Reinhold Rademacher, the man Gustav II Adolf brought from Riga to establish a blacksmithing community here. His vision laid the foundation for Eskilstuna as Sweden’s “steel town,” a place where skill, innovation, and hard work shaped not only metal but the very identity of the city.

    One of the preserved blacksmith workshops at Rademachersmedjorna, showing Eskilstuna’s heritage of craft and steel A smithy at Rademachersmedjorna where Eskilstuna’s steel story was hammered into shape
    Old smithie Local History Steel Town Per Andersson
    Portrait of Reinhold Rademacher, the 17th-century industrialist who established Eskilstuna’s blacksmithing community Reinhold Rademacher — the guy who put Eskilstuna on the map with his smithies
    Eskilstuna Steel Town Per Andersson travelwithper

    Walking through those cobbled yards on the Sunday, I felt a strong connection between that history of forging iron and the spirit of our reunion. Just as the smiths of Eskilstuna shaped raw metal into something lasting, so too had our friendships been shaped – sometimes tested, sometimes forgotten, but always ready to be rekindled.

    The night at the golf club reminded me that while time moves on, the bonds we forged in our youth still shine brightly. Eskilstuna gave us our roots, and reunions like this remind us how strong they remain.

    It was an absolutely fabulous night which I will carry with me for a long time! 

  • The Year Everything Changed

    I lost both my parents in the same year.
    Mum in January 2024. Dad in December 2024 just before Christmas.

    And nothing has been the same since. Grief doesn’t care about your plans. It doesn’t check your calendar or wait for a “convenient time.”

    It barges in when you’re standing in the middle of the supermarket, staring blankly at a row of tinned tomatoes.  Or when you’re baking on a Sunday morning and suddenly need to ask Mum if the cake looks ok. It sneaks up when something breaks in the house and your first instinct is to call Dad – because he always just knew how to fix things.

    But now… there’s no one on the other end of the line. They say time heals. Maybe. But right now, it mostly just softens the edges enough to let you breathe between the waves.

    Living away from home for so long, I always knew there was distance – physical, sure, but emotional too. Life kind of stretches between visits, doesn’t it? You think you’ll call tomorrow. You think you’ll get back for Easter. You think there’s time. I used to think I had time. Time to visit, time to call, time to ask all the questions you always assume there’ll be another day for.

    And then there’s not.

    They were gone.
    First Mum. Then Dad.
    The two people who made me – really made me – gone in the space of a year.

    That sort of loss doesn’t come with an instruction manual. Grief is a weird one. It doesn’t arrive politely. It crashes in, arms flapping, breaking your furniture and eating all the biscuits. Then it sits with you in the quiet. Sometimes it brings memories. Sometimes just a dull ache.

    Some days I function like nothing happened. Go to the gym. Answer emails. Pay bills. Just vibes, right?But then something small happens. A whiff of Mum’s perfume on a stranger. A rerun of Dad’s favourite football game. A familiar song from the 80s on the radio. And suddenly I’m spiralling –  gasping for air in the middle of an ordinary day, like my chest forgot how to be a ribcage and just collapsed in on itself.

    I miss them in the big, obvious ways – birthdays, holidays, all that – but it’s the small moments that cut the deepest. The nothing-y ones. Like seeing something funny and wanting to tell mum.
    Or wondering what wine Dad would have picked up from Waitrose.
    Or catching myself reaching for the phone just to say “hi” – and realising no one is there to answer anymore.

    And yes, they both had a good run. No drama, no long drawn-out battles. Peaceful, in the end. But tell that to the part of me still screaming into the void. The part that wants one more Christmas. One more phone call. One more hug where you don’t say much – just know that you’re safe, and loved, and home.

    Losing them like that – boom, boom – put everything in perspective. All the stuff I thought mattered?
    Doesn’t. All the stuff I thought could wait?
    Can’t.

    Because life’s not a dress rehearsal. Life is NOW.
    And “later” is a lie we tell ourselves so we can keep putting off the things that really matter.

    So here’s what I’ve learnt, painful as it is:

    Call the people you love.
    Wear the ridiculous shirt.
    Take the trip.
    Eat the cake.
    Dance like an idiot.
    Ask the questions.
    Say the things.

    Because it can all change in a blink; we don’t get forever. We get now. And when it does change, you’ll want to know you didn’t hold back.

    I’m still figuring it out – how to live with the silence. How to carry on without the ones who carried me.
    Some days I get it right. Others, not so much.
    But I’m trying.

    I’ll keep baking.
    Keep travelling.
    Keep laughing when I can – crying when I need.
    Keep remembering them in the quiet, ordinary thing

    Because that is where love lives now.
    In the memories.
    In me.

    And in the life I still have left to live. Make it count.

    No regrets. Just love. 

    – Per x

  • 72 Hours in Stockholm: Just Vibes, No Regrets

    72 Hours in Stockholm: Just Vibes, No Regrets

    So, you have three days in Stockholm. Good choice. The city is a total looker, all that water, all those old buildings, and the Swedes somehow make minimalism feel cosy. Let’s make the most of it.

    Here’s how I’d do it: relaxed, curious, and with a splash of ABBA gold.

    Getting There (and Back Again)

    First things first, don’t get stitched up with the Arlanda Express unless you fancy spending half your fika money on a 20-minute train ride. The Flygbussarna (Flygbuss) is the way to go. Cheap, comfy, and only about 45 mins into town. Leaves regularly and drops you smack-bang in the city centre. Grab a seat by the window, Sweden’s trees are weirdly hypnotic.

    DAY ONE: Gamla Stan & ABBA Dreams

    Morning: Gamla Stan Stroll & Fika Break
    Kick things off in Gamla Stan, Stockholm’s Old Town. Cobblestones, crooked houses, and enough yellow walls to make your Instagram feed look like a film.
    Stop for a fika (that’s Swedish for “coffee break but make it a lifestyle”). I like Under Kastanjen. Good cinnamon buns, better people-watching.

    Midday: ABBA The Museum
    Time to unleash your inner Dancing Queen. ABBA The Museum is a joyful, glitter-soaked trip down memory lane, costumes, videos, that dodgy Eurovision outfit. You can even sing with holograms (yes, I did. Yes, I was awful. No regrets).
    Tip: Use your Stockholm Card here, saves you a few krona and makes you feel smug.

    Evening, Dinner in Södermalm
    Head south to Södermalm, Stockholm’s cool older cousin who reads poetry and wears vintage leather.
    Eat at Meatballs for the People (yep, it’s a real place). Proper Swedish comfort food with a modern twist. You will walk away happy.

    DAY TWO: Vasa & Skansen

    Morning, Vasa Museum
    The Vasa Museum is one of those places that doesn’t sound that exciting (‘oh, a boat’), until you walk in and see a bloody great 17th-century warship that sank on it’s maiden voyage and was pulled up centuries later, looking like Poseidon’s own living room.
    It is massive, it’s moody, it’s kind of magical. And yes, it’s on the Stockholm Card.

    Midday, Skansen Open-Air Museum
    Just around the corner is Skansen, a kind of Swedish time capsule. Old houses, folk dancing, actual reindeers. Feels like stepping into a Scandinavian fairytale, minus the trolls. You might even get a whiff of woodsmoke and cinnamon.
    Grab lunch inside.

    Afternoon: Choose Your Own Adventure

    This part is all about what kind of vibes you’re looking for:

    → Nap at your hotel, no shame in a cheeky lie-down. You’ve earned it. And I love a “disco nap”
    → Sauna session, because sweating in public is basically therapy in Sweden.
    → Stroll through Djurgården, slow down, smell the air, listen to the birds having a gossip.
    → OR go full throttle at Gröna Lund
    Yep, a proper old-school amusement park right by the water. Whether you are into stomach-dropping rollercoasters or just want to scream your lungs out on a spinning swing ride, Gröna Lund delivers. It’s fun, a bit retro, and surprisingly charming. Good for kids, great for big kids. That first drop on Insane? Whew. Existential.
    Bonus: You can hop on a boat just outside and cruise straight back to Gamla Stan. Beats the bus, hands down.

    Evening, Drinks by the Water
    Wrap it all up with a drink at Mälarpaviljongen floating bar, soft beats, and a view that will make you linger. Raise a glass to your rollercoaster-screaming, museum-mooching self. Just vibes.

    DAY THREE: Vaxholm by Boat

    Morning, Boat to Vaxholm
    Time to get out on the water. Stockholm’s archipelago is like a postcard, and Vaxholm is the gateway island; charming, sleepy, with a fortress and all. Boats leave from Strandvägen.
    Get there early-ish, grab a seat up top, and bring a jumper, it can get nippy out there, even in June.

    Midday, Island Life
    Wander Vaxholm’s old wooden houses. Browse tiny shops full of candles and knitwear you don’t need but kind of want.
    Lunch at Hembygdsgården Café, old-school Swedish cakes, sea air, pastel everything. It is a vibe.

    Afternoon, Back to Town
    Sail back feeling windswept and a little bit poetic.

    Evening, One Last Hurrah
    One final Stockholm dinner. Go big or go chill:
    → Oaxen Slip for fancy Nordic with views.
    → Or Nytorget 6 for something stylish but low-key.

    Raise your last glass of red. Think about how wild it is that 72 hours ago you were stressing about baggage claim.

     Handy Tips

    • Stockholm Card: Get it. Covers most museums and public transport. Worth every krona.
    • Cashless City: Don’t bother with cash. Even the loos take cards.
    • Layers: Stockholm weather can be changeable. T-shirt one minute, jacket the next.
    • Language: Everyone speaks English, and they are very good at it. But try a “hej hej” or a “hej då” and they will love you for it.

    One Final Thought

    Stockholm is one of those cities that sneaks up on you. Quietly beautiful, endlessly calm, like an old friend who doesn’t need to shout to be heard.

    Take your time. Breathe in the sea air. Sing some ABBA. Drink something red.

    It is what it is. Just vibes.

  • My Favourite Stockholm Hotel


    Stockholm. My hometown, my heartbeat.

    Every visit feels like slipping on a perfectly worn-in jacket – familiar, comforting, still sharp as ever. And when I’m back, there’s only one place I stay: Clarion Hotel Amaranten. I don’t even shop around anymore. Why would I? Amaranten gets it. It’s my north star in a city I know like the back of my hand.

    Location

    Let’s talk location first – because it’s spot on. Tucked away in Kungsholmen, you’re out of the central buzz just enough to breathe easy, but close enough to walk pretty much anywhere. Five minutes to the metro. Ten to the city centre. Waterfront strolls? Right there. It’s quiet in the right ways, alive in the right places. Just vibes.

    Rooms

    Now, the rooms – proper comfortable. Clean lines, Scandi touches, beds that basically hug you, and blackout curtains that should honestly come with a warning label (you’ll oversleep and love it). There’s this understated style to it all – nothing flashy, just well-designed, well-thought-out comfort. You know when a room just feels good to walk into? That.

    And the staff. Honestly, I could write a whole post just on them. Every time I check in, it feels like I’m walking into a friend’s place – if that friend ran a really slick hotel and offered me a welcome drink. They’re warm, real, and actually seem like they enjoy working there, which says a lot. You ask for something? Sorted. You look a bit lost? They’re already helping. No faff, no fake smiles – just proper good people.

    The Crown Jewel?

    Breakfast! Listen. I travel a lot. I’ve seen some shockers when it comes to hotel brekkies. Amaranten? It’s breakfast done right. Massive spread, but not just for show, everything is top quality. Fresh bread (proper Swedish stuff), cold cuts, eggs, strong coffee, smoothies, even little pastries that whisper just one more until you’ve had five. It’s the kind of breakfast that makes you want to cancel lunch. Maybe dinner too.

    And the vibe of the place? Chic without being smug. There’s a fitness area if you’re that way inclined (I’ve visited… once), meeting spaces that don’t feel like dentist waiting rooms, and a cosy little bar that hits the spot when you need a nightcap or just a bit of people-watching with a red in hand.

    Bottom line….

    Amaranten is my Stockholm constant. It’s where I come to recharge, reconnect, and rest my slightly jet-lagged soul. It’s not just about where you sleep, it’s about how a place makes you feel. And this one? Always feels like home.

    So yeah, if you’re coming to Stockholm and want a spot that nails the essentials (and then some), give Amaranten a go. You’ll see what I mean. And if you spot a guy in a loud shirt lingering too long over the breakfast buffet, come say hi.

  • Stockholm: Home, Style, and a Bit of Soul

    Some cities shout. Stockholm doesn’t need to. It just turns up, effortlessly cool, let’s the light hit just right, and gets on with being fabulous. Coming back here – after 31 years away – wasn’t just a trip. It was a kind of gentle homecoming. I’ve changed. So has the city. But somehow, we still fit.

    Stockholm boat on water. Summer in Stockholm. Scandinavian holidays. Stockholm City break


    That First Feeling

    Landing at Arlanda, there was a quiet buzz in my chest. Not nerves. Just something that said, “You know this place – but give it a fresh look.”

    And that’s exactly what I did. The younger me – 20-something, full of wanderlust, hair, and high hopes – would have hit the ground running. These days? I move slower. Still curious, still light on my feet, but craving vibe over volume. Stockholm gave me both.


    The Vibe

    There’s a confidence here. A calm, polished kind of charisma. People dress sharp, walk like they know where they’re going (even if they don’t), and everything from the metro stations to the coffee cups has that slick Scandinavian touch.

    But it’s not pretentious. That’s what I love. It’s cool, but it doesn’t care if you notice. It’s neat without being sterile. Warm, but never loud. You don’t have to impress Stockholm. It’s already impressed – with itself, quietly.


    Places That Got Me….Again

    Gamla Stan. Yes, it’s touristy – but trust me, it’s still magic. Those cobbled alleys, golden buildings, and candlelit corners feel like stepping into a memory. I walked through it like I had somewhere to be. I didn’t.

    One street reminded me of a walk I took years ago, with someone I once loved. They didn’t love me back. It is what it is. Still a good memory, just shaped differently now.

    Fotografiska. If you like photography, you’ll love it. If you don’t – you will, by the time you leave. Views from the café upstairs are unreal. Sat with a glass of red, 80s tune in my ears, watching the city soften under a setting sun. Perfection.

    Södermalm. My kind of area. Where I once lived in a small but perfectly formed apartment. Independent shops, vintage clothes, strong coffee. A little messy, a little artsy, but it works. It’s the city’s creative heart – beating a little louder than the rest.

    Djurgården. Green, peaceful, full of museums and a breath of fresh air in every direction. Felt like a secret Sunday, even though it was packed. Took a long walk, stopped nowhere in particular, and loved every second.


    Fika Is a Lifestyle, Not a Snack

    Look – if you come to Stockholm and don’t have fika twice a day, I can’t help you. Grab a kanelbulle (cinnamon bun), find a sunlit table, and just sit. Watch the world do its thing. It’s therapy – sugar-coated and caffeine-fuelled.


    Moments That Stuck

    One afternoon, I sat by the water, glass in hand, watching boats bob like they had nowhere better to be. The city was glowing – literally. The golden hour here is outrageous.

    A couple strolled past holding hands, mid-laugh. Behind them, the skyline looked like it was painted on.

    That’s when it hit me: I didn’t come back to relive the past. I came to meet it. To see what it had turned into. And what I have turned into, too.


    Why Stockholm?

    Because it’s stylish without trying too hard. Because it balances calm and culture like it’s no big deal. Because it looks after you without fussing over you. And because it reminds you that slowing down doesn’t mean standing still.


    Final Thought

    You can go home again – just don’t expect it to stand still for you. Let it surprise you. Let it move you in a new way. Stockholm didn’t change everything about me. But it reminded me of the version of myself I still love – and maybe needed to reconnect with.

    That, and the cinnamon buns.

  • Hello There!

    Hi you. Glad you’re here!

    This is where I share the good stuff – places that stir the soul, breakfasts worth waking up for, and people who remind you why we travel.

    It’s not about ticking boxes. It’s about feeling things.

    Sometimes it’s deep. Sometimes it’s just a great hotel bar and a better view.

    No fluff. No regrets.

    Just vibes. Going places, feeling things.