Yes, there are tons of photos of the Stockholm metro system up here, because I love it. I spoke to a local recently, and he told me that the natives couldn’t care less about the metro and I could tell when I was photographing the waterfall in a station (no, really, I am being serious) people were just wandering around not caring.

You people in Stockholm, you are spoiled. Though there is graffiti and gum on the ground in the subway here, it in no way resembles that underground hell hole dug and designed by Satan himself that is the New York City subway system.

So, jaded people of Stockholm, I will keep posting these photos of the subway, until I get bored of them which I am scheduling to be about, I don’t know NEVER.

Here’s the latest crop:

I love how socialist-realist it all is and the mean looking speed skater looking guy is my favorite. Per usual, no kind of explanation is offered about why these images in particular for this stop. That’s just the way it is. I mean I guess people do work around here or whatever and I guess this is supposed to symbolize them, though other than looking like something out of X-men, I’m not sure what line of work the speed skater guy is in.

But, these things do serve a purpose. I get into to the station in the morning and see the females, so when I exit at night, I should see, yes, the females. One day I got confused and walked in the wrong direction and saw the males. I of course had to photograph them, but then I knew. The males and the females let you know which side to get out on. Perfect.

Well, anyway, there has to be some kind of compensation for Akalla itself, where me, my Mac, my clothes and my Buddha temporarily reside. Take a look see at Chez Akalla:

Yes, those are company names on the side of this thing. Yes, the shock you are experiencing from seeing its beauty is normal.

This is the picturesque view directly outside my window:

I would photograph the inside of my “apartment” but the jacuzzi isn’t here yet and they are doing some renovations on the east wing. None of the previous statement is true.

Thus far saying the word Akalla elicits one of three responses:

1. I lived there too for a month.

2. What? Where? This one usually comes from the natives.

3. I live there now.

My favorite is number 2. The natives who I have told I live in Akalla (AAAkala, or Uh-ku-la or uuuh ku la, seriously I have no idea) who by and large have no clue where I am talking about, though most people here speak perfect English and I am pronouncing the name the way it is written.

Even better is the fact that Akalla is the last station on the blue line, where my job is.

Ok, fine, sure if I got on a train everyday and didn’t care where it was going because I knew I wouldn’t bother to look around either. I had a woman ask me on the Metro North where Grand Central was as we got off at Grand Central. Hopefully, I didn’t look too shocked. So, all right locals that you don’t know where Akalla is, but come and visit sometimes. The pictures above only offer a small hint of the beauty to be found here.