Stockholm: One of the last Cities that hasn’t sold its Soul?

Hello and welcome to UBC's Day 11. Today I'm trying to put something I've noticed into words.

Let’s face it: Many European cities have become nearly indistinguishable when it comes to their shopping streets. American chains, glowing signage, and the same stores you’d find in any airport terminal line the once-unique boulevards of places like Madrid, Paris, or even Rome.

But then there's Stockholm.

On my recent trip, I couldn’t help but notice how… Swedish the Swedish capital still feels. It’s not just the architecture (gorgeous), or the language (ubiquitous), or the fact that even the global café invasion has a local face (hello, Espresso House - even if their espresso reminded me why I didn’t like coffee before joining Starbucks). It’s the restraint. The pride. The cultural boundaries drawn not in stone, but in quiet policy and strong identity.

How do the Swedes pull this off?

It's not by accident. Stockholm's character is actively protected through:

• Strict city planning and preservation codes, especially in central districts like Gamla Stan and around major landmarks. Buildings must blend with their surroundings; neon signs and oversized corporate logos are discouraged or outright banned.

• Support for local businesses, through subsidies and zoning policies that favor small-scale, culturally aligned enterprises.

• Urban design prioritizing people over profit, with green spaces, pedestrian zones, and community events embedded into the city’s rhythm.

• A digital barrier that keeps it local: Many restaurant and attraction websites are only in Swedish. While that can be frustrating for tourists (thank you, DeepL, for saving the day), it’s also a subtle reminder that not everything here is designed for outsiders first.

Now contrast that with Vienna, a city I know well from my time working for Starbucks. The Viennese didn’t just resist the brand, they weaponized bureaucracy and cultural pride. Permits were delayed by obscure heritage clauses. Opening-day protests weren’t uncommon. This wasn’t about coffee. It was about preserving Wiener Kaffeehauskultur. Say what you will, but it’s a city that still believes in authority - and uses it.

And you know what? I get it. Stockholm, in its own quiet Scandinavian way, seems to have achieved the same result: A city that feels proudly, defiantly itself.

Take Kungsträdgården. We happened to be there during Hanami, and the cherry blossoms were a dream. 

That central square isn’t just a pretty spot. In summer, the sunken plaza fills with water for kids to splash around in. Come winter, it transforms into a public ice rink, complete with lights, music, and (I can only assume) stalls selling hot chocolate or mulled wine. 

That kind of local spirit might still bloom brilliantly around Christmastime. Just look at the Christmas markets in France, Germany, Switzerland, and Austria. But maintaining that authentic, community-driven vibe all year round? That’s where many cities seem to have fallen into the global money trap.

Exploring new cities always opens up fresh perspectives, whether it’s through the winding streets of a historic old town or the vibrant pulse of a modern neighborhood. Sometimes, the best discoveries come from the places we’ve already experienced or those still waiting on our travel list. Every destination offers a chance to learn, reflect, and grow; enriching not just our journeys, but ourselves.

Stockholm’s quiet resistance to becoming just another globalized city is a reminder that places can - and should - hold on to their unique spirit. It’s a balancing act between welcoming the world and protecting the soul that makes a city truly home. Whether it’s through thoughtful urban design, local business support, or simply embracing cultural pride, Stockholm shows that preservation isn’t about nostalgia, it’s about identity.

Have you visited a city that felt like it had kept its soul in a world of sameness? What was it about that place that made it feel authentic to you?