Johnny B. Svensson

For four days last week, I was married in Sweden. I mean, technically I've been married the whole time, but I actually experienced Stockholm with my husband last week, which was fantastic. Let me tell you, that boy can eat some pickled herring. I've never seen anything like it. He has a palate for pungent flavors, which sort of makes me wish he was here during stinky rotten fish season, or whatever the time of year is called when people eat sturströmming—herring that ferments for up to a year in bulging cans (hello, when cans bulge that's a bad thing) that reek of vinegar, rotten eggs and rancid butter when opened. Yummy! Anyway, I kind of wish John had gotten a chance to taste sturströmming, because I think he might be one of the few humans on earth who would actually like it.

Besides eighty-sixing every herring dish in Stockholm, John also spruced up his wardrobe at Filippa K (pictured above), sang "Sommartider" in shockingly good Swedish during karaoke night (pictured below), and partied with me on the cheesy Birka Paradise boat on Valentine's Day. And then someone stole his debit card number and cleared our bank account of a big chunk of money, which wasn't cool at all. We're involved in an ATM fraud investigation right now and hopefully it'll be okay, but it was definitely a jarring ending to our strange long weekend. Whaddya know, it turns out Stockholm is edgy after all!