Stockholm City Hall

Every December, thirteen hundred of the world's most distinguished scientists, writers, and diplomats sit down for dinner in this building. It is the Nobel Banquet, and the logistics are borderline insane. Four hundred and seventy metres of tablecloth. Six thousand seven hundred and thirty pieces of porcelain. Five thousand three hundred and eighty-four glasses. Nine thousand four hundred and twenty-two pieces of cutlery. Thirty people wearing white gloves spend an entire day laying it all out. The room where this happens is called the Blue Hall. It is not blue. Architect Ragnar Ostberg spent twelve years building this place, from nineteen eleven to nineteen twenty-three, using more than eight million hand-made red bricks. He originally planned to paint the walls of the banquet hall blue, but when the brickwork was finished, he loved the warm red colour so much he left it bare. The name Blue Hall had already stuck, and nobody bothered to change it. Upstairs is the Golden Hall, and this one lives up to its name. Eighteen million mosaic tiles cover the walls, depicting scenes from Swedish history. But here is the thing. Only about ten kilograms of actual gold were used. The gold leaf was hammered so impossibly thin that the entire room's worth of gold would fit in your backpack. Now here is a detail most visitors miss. There is a restaurant in the basement called Stadshuskallaren, and it is the only restaurant in the world that serves past Nobel Banquet menus on the official Nobel dinnerware. You can eat what the laureates ate, off the same plates. Not a bad Tuesday night.