A story of courage, independence, and a journey that helped shape modern Sweden. When we talk about the movement of labour in Swedish history, most people think of the Industrial Revolution, the sawmill era or the great waves of emigration to America. But one of the most significant internal migrations happened quietly, within Sweden’s own borders. This is the story of the Dalkulla women – young women from the region of Dalarna who travelled to Stockholm and other growing towns to work, decades before women’s labour was formally recognised or economically valued. It is a story of strength, community and transformation. From the villages of Dalarna to the streets of Stockholm During the 18th and 19th centuries, young women from Dalarna began walking south towards Sweden’s expanding cities. Stockholm was growing rapidly and in desperate need of labour, while the rural villages of Dalarna had skills, tradition and a long history of women supporting themselves. The journey itself was an ac

High above Slussen, she stands like a queen in white and gold. For more than three centuries, Katarina Church has watched over Stockholm – through poverty and prosperity, fires and rebirth. Tears have been shed here, bells have tolled, and souls have found rest. But Katarina Church is more than a building. She is a survivor. The Fires – When Faith Was Tested by Flames The first great fire came in 1723. They say the flames could be seen all the way to Kungsholmen, and that molten copper flowed down the hill like lava. The church’s interior was destroyed, but that very same year, the people of Stockholm gathered for collections, prayers, and promises: Katarina would rise again. Two hundred and eighty years later, in the summer of 1990, the unthinkable happened once more. A spark in the roof, a sudden gust of wind – and soon the church was ablaze again. Stockholm fell silent that day. Yet, just as before, Katarina rose from the ashes – her golden dome shining, her heart still intact. When

If you’ve joined me on my walking tour around Barnängen, you’ve probably heard me talk about her. I usually stop by the small statue of Elsa Borg, sculpted by Astri Taube – a quiet woman gazing down toward the gardens below. There, among the allotments and greenery, she worked in the late 19th century. Elsa Dionysia Borg (1826–1909) was born in Rytterne, Västmanland, but it was here on Södermalm that her life’s mission took shape. As a young teacher, she saw the hardship in the city’s poorer districts – loneliness, alcohol, disease, and the women society preferred to forget. She did the unthinkable: she went there. It wasn’t always easy to get through the doors. Elsa Borg was said to have her tricks – sometimes bringing knitted parcels as “gifts,” sometimes pretending to teach the children. Once inside, she would sit down, listen, comfort, pray – and above all, help. In 1876, she founded her Home for Fallen Women on Åsögatan. It soon grew into a full organisation offering education, c

It’s hard to imagine today, but just over a hundred years ago, Stockholm was a city that faded into twilight after dark. The streets were lit by kerosene lamps and gaslights, and at home people struggled with flickering flames and sooty glass chimneys. Then came electricity – and with it, a new way of living. 💡 The First Sparks Stockholm’s first electric lights appeared in the 1880s. In 1892, the city’s first power station, Brunkebergsverket, began generating electricity. It was located on Tulegatan – right in what was then called the cradle of the electric miracle. At first, it wasn’t ordinary households that got access to the new technology, but theaters, banks, department stores, and factories. Turning on a light bulb was an exclusive act – a symbol of modernity and progress. 🕰️ Electricity on Schedule Electricity wasn’t available around the clock. In the early years, subscribers only had access for a few hours a day – mainly in the evening, when lighting was needed most. During t

As the nights grow longer and the last golden leaves fall over Stockholm’s cobblestones, something begins to stir in the shadows. The air turns crisp, the moon rises early — and we start to crave stories. Real ones. Scary ones. The kind you can walk through. Halloween and the Swedish höstlov (autumn break) have quietly transformed from imported traditions into one of our favourite times of year to explore the city after dark. What began as borrowed pumpkins and candy has become something uniquely Nordic: a mix of folklore, local history, and the thrill of meeting the unknown under the flicker of a lantern. Here at Stockholm City Walks, we take this season seriously — or rather, playfully serious. Each October, we design walks that lead you beyond the streetlights, out among the birch trees and overgrown paths of forgotten cemeteries. You might find yourself standing where an old cholera burial ground once lay, or on the hill where the city’s gallows once stood. The tales we tell are no

Hello! I'm Stefan Maurbakken, a licensed Stockholm guide, founder of Den gröna guiden – and now also the voice behind Stockholm City Walks. If you’ve ever wondered, “Does he guide in English too?” – the answer is a big YES. (And in Italian, if needed!) So why this new English-speaking channel? Because over the years, I've had so many requests from international guests, expats, friends of friends, and curious travelers. They wanted a guide who didn’t just show the landmarks – but who told the stories behind them. Who knew the quiet corners as well as the royal halls. Who could make the past come alive in the present. And who offered private, custom-made tours – not cookie-cutter tourist groups. That’s where I come in. Why I Guide I started guiding because I’m endlessly curious about people and places. About what makes a city breathe, change, and remember. I guide to connect the dots between stories and streets, between the past and the present – and between you and Stockholm. My walks a