The Power of Three

Britain invented the railways.  We invented their form, their habits, their designs, and the rest of the world largely copied us.  (Of course it helped that at the time we also owned much of the rest of the world so we didn't give them much choice in the matter).  Other European nations looked at our rapidly expanding networks and thought "we'll have some of that... apart from the half a dozen terminii in all your major cities bit.  That seems daft."

So while you're still forced to carry your bags between Birmingham New Street and Moor Street, need a taxi to get from Glasgow Queen Street to Central, and may as well abandon hope if you have to travel between two London stations in a reasonable amount of time, Europe embraced the idea of a single, central station at the heart of their major cities.  Amsterdam Centraal.  Praha hlavní nádraží.  Helsinki.  Milan.  Antwerp.  Huge facilities in the very centre of the city where every bus, tram and metro can connect and spread you out across the region.

Stockholm went with the Central station concept, but has since refined it to make Central perhaps the most Central of all Central stations.  It's not one, but three stations, all on the same site, all Central stations.  You can sort of understand it if you look at this handy map, though be aware that it has (a) been vandalised and (b) looks like something that Professor Heinz Wolff sketched out on a lazy afternoon.

Let's start with the deepest station:

Bottom: Stockholm City

No, it's not called Central, even though it is absolutely Central, and is under Central.  Stay with me.

Stockholm's commuter services used to run into above ground platforms in Stockholm Central itself.  In the 2010s, however, a long tunnel was built under the city centre - a Swedish Crossrail; Crössråil, if you will - to allow services to run from north to south and free up space in the main station.

As you'd expect for a station built in 2017, it's gleaming modernity all the way, with platform edge doors, tasteful uplighting and plenty of art.  This was the first station I saw in Stockholm itself, having got a commuter train from Arlanda airport.  I'm not counting Arlanda Central.  Even though I did this:

(Sidebar: there is a non-stop Arlanda Express train, but as with most Airport Express services, the time saving is minimal and the price is ridiculous.  Take the slow commuter train every time).  

Of course I was impressed.  This was a fantastic introduction to the Swedish public transport network.  And not just because it had pictures of rabbits on the wall:

Heading up the escalator, there's a mezzanine and ticket gate, and then the escalator to the long-distance station.  This was the point where I stopped dead in my tracks and smiled.  

I'm a station nerd.  I'm proud of that.  I love seeing an elaborate, over the top architectural flourish that serves no purpose other than to impress and enhance your day.

It's beautiful.  I love it so much.  I want every railway station in the world to look like this.  And remember, this was the first station I saw in Stockholm.  How could I not love it after that?

Karin Lindh intended that the whole theme was light, with the crinkly roof angling your eyes to the brightly lit escalators, and then suspended white LEDs above the shaft.  It positively glows.  Much like my face as I rose up.

Top: Stockholm Central

I went up the escalators and into Stockholm Central itself, the first station to be built on the site, and Sweden's largest and busiest.  It's been here, in various forms, since 1871, and it is utterly magnificent.  

It's huge and open, so huge that they could cram in some kind of advertising display around the theme of "summer".  The back end, beyond this shed, is where the retail is, an entire mall of shops and eateries.  

That's the bit that's most like a British railway terminal, where the passengers are squeezed past a dozen grubby hands reaching out for their wallets.  It brings me no pleasure to report that there are branches of Caffe Ritazza, Upper Crust and Burger King in this area, along with some more Swedish commuter brands like Bröd and Salt and a Pocket Shop for your reading requirements.  (Of course I had a poke around there.  Of course I came out with another book).  

Let's head back to the main hall, though, because that's what put a smile on my face.  I wandered around it, slightly dazed, tired from my flight but reinvigorated by railway station architecture.  It largely dates from the 1920s, as part of a comprehensive rebuild of the station, and every bit of it is glamour.

The entrance porch has a wonderful roof with chandeliers but is a little underused.  Passengers are moving to e-tickets and pre-booked trains and so the ticket selling areas are shrinking back and back.  They still have to provide information, of course, particularly at such an important hub, but there are fewer people doing it, and more machines.

Outside it's what you want from a terminus: elegant but muscular, dominating the street and drawing your eye.  There's a plaza outside to allow people to stream in and out.

There's also a statue of Nils Ericson, a legendary Swedish engineer who constructed canals and railways throughout his life.  Much of the architecture and routing of Swedish railways is down to his brilliance.

Also he has a very jaunty little coat.

Middle - T-Centralen

Between the sleek and understated 21st century Stockholm City and the mighty steam era Stockholm Central is the Tunnelbana's home, T-Centralen.  Even here, there are clearly two separate generations.  The Red and Green lines pass through cut and cover platforms, built in a trench under the city, and carrying on with the Bathroom Station style, albeit a little more elevated - a sort of posh hotel bathroom rather than the slightly public loo feel of the other 1950s stations.

I'm now going to take a deep breath and a sip of my tea before I settle down to write about the Blue Line platforms.  I don't want to get overwhelmed.

Per Olof Ultvedt wanted to bring calm to what is still the busiest T-Bana station, and so he went with a shade of blue that immediately soothes and enriches.  He painted leaf patterns to bring the outside in and suggest nature.

The effect is stunning.  It's one of those stations that makes me want to grab all the people who are simply there to catch trains and bark, "Why are you rushing?  Don't you see all of this?  Why aren't you taking it in?"

Elsewhere, Per paid tribute to the people who actually built the station.  He wanted to put their signatures on the roof, then decided it would look too much like a graveyard - that patented Swedish gloominess at play there - and so he set up some lights and projected their silhouettes onto the ceiling and walls.  He then painted them in to make them a permanent part of the station.

I like to imagine that today, decades after the Blue Line opened, there are old men bringing their grandkids here, pointing up at one of the silhouettes and saying, "that's me".

T-Centralen is the hub of the network, the point the rest of the T-Bana revolves around, and it's wonderful.  It's been built with love and care and a real consideration for the passenger experience.  It was never confusing and I never got lost.  Actually, slight caveat; I discovered that the entrance closest to my hotel actually took me down to the Blue Line, which meant I had to go up and up again to get to the Red Line platforms where I was headed, but that's me not paying attention.

This is how you build an underground station.  This is what we should aspire to.  This is public transport designed to enrich lives.  We all have to travel; why not make it joyous?

Stockholm City.  Central Station.  T-Centralen.  Three stations.  One station.  Unlimited joy.