I went to see my favourite salvaged ship, the warship Vasa, today. If you don't know about her, she's a 17th century warship that sunk 20 minutes into her maiden voyage and was salvaged 300+ years later, and today, you can see her in a museum called Vasamuseet in Stockholm, preserved and restored and still 98% original.
I honestly think Vasamuseet is one of the most amazing, interesting places in the whole wide world. It boggles my mind every time I go there – the sheer size of the ship (she's huge, and the way the museum is built, her bow is the very first thing you see when you go past the ticket booths, so she makes an incredible first expression), the way you can walk right next to her and take a close look at all the details, and the fact they've been able to salvage and preserve her for us to marvel at in the first place... I always learn something new when I visit the museum, and it's always such a good experience.
It's always a bit sad and frightening, too, though.
The museum is dimly lit to prevent damage to the ship, and the ship herself, even though she was brightly painted when she set sail, looks very dark and has some creepy eroded sculptures due to being underwater for such a long time. And of course there's a sense of tragedy around the whole thing... it's a miracle that Vasa's been preserved for us to see, but that's because she sunk and took several lives with her. You can even go see the skeletal remains of some of the victims at the very bottom of the museum, next to the keel of the ship, where they lie in glass cases.
Maybe it's just the lingering memory of my very first visit to Vasamuseet that's bothering me (my mom's always been into skeletons, bless her heart – but in her excitement, she didn't always take into account that her 6-year-old maybe wasn't quite ready to face mortality in such a literal way just yet. In short, I was terrified of those skeletons), or maybe it's the fact that no matter what we do, Vasa herself will crumble down one day since the conservators can only delay its decay, not prevent it... but to me, there's something uniquely weird and somber about the atmosphere of that museum. It's so amazing, and at the same time, it always makes me feel a little sad.
My photos do her no justice whatsoever, but here's a couple of them in any case.