Last weekend found Morty and I in Sweden. He had heard nice things about Gothenburg… (or Göteborg as the natives call it), so after a decision (!), a four-hour train-ride and some giant windmills later, we were there.
We arrived around 1 p.m., threw our stuff in the hotel and set out to explore the city. Gothenburg is a great walking city and that’s just what we did for several hours. We peeked in a few windows and took a break to go to Ölhallen 7:an, an atmospheric pub (and the oldest in Sweden!) with lots and lots of beer. I think I read that they have over 100 types of beer, but we settled on one each and then headed back out. (Morty tells me I need to include more pictures with people in them…thus the rare sighting below of my smiling mug.)
We set out for more exploring, keeping our eyes open for a good dinner spot. I wanted to eat traditional Swedish food, so we settled on a groovy little place called Smaka. We couldn’t get in until 10 p.m., but it was worth the wait for Swedish meatballs with lingonberries and mashed potatoes. Morty had elk stew and approved whole-heartedly. We were the last ones to be served food and the restaurant slowly started turning into a loud bass-thumping bar. Tables were being cleared and pretty-people were arriving, so we chugged our wine, split a chocolate cream with buckthorn berry granite and hazelnuts dessert and skedaddled before we were forced to look pretty and hold cocktails.
Sunday morning was crisp and blue, so we took a walk on the pier not far from the hotel. Morty was curious about taking a boat-ride, so we got on a boat to find out where it was going. A deck cadet gave us the information and when we looked up, the boat had left the dock, so we decided that yes, we did indeed want to take a boat-ride. It was a great way to see the city and take in all that cool Scandinavian air. It all worked out because we ended up in the southern part of the city where there was a museum that we were hoping to go to. Röda Sten is a contemporary arts museum in an old boiler house where they had a really wonderful exhibition by a Bosnian artist named Sejla Kameric. We wandered around there for a while, then headed back into the city before we had to go.
I couldn’t leave Sweden without trying a local candybar, so I hopped in to a 7-11 before our train left and walked out with this little gem called a “Plopp.” I don’t think I’ve ever heard of a more unappetizing name for something that is to be consumed and digested. It ended up being an overly sugary chocolate bar with soft toffee on the inside. But at least now I can say I’ve had a plopp. I also stumbled upon cactus-flavored sparkling water. I love you Sweden, but I will never understand that one.
(If you’re interested, over the next few days, I’ll be adding a few more pictures of the trip up over on my flickr page.)