Sweden is cold. In
summer temperatures rarely exceed the mid twenties while in winter snow and ice
are welcomed as they lighten the otherwise depressing dark days. So the corollary of testing temperatures is
that Swedes have become masters of cosiness. Triple glazing is the practical
route to comfort, but cosiness is the emotional bulwark against the wearying
winter. The humblest cafe features candles on the tables, from breakfast time
onwards. Even our office canteen caught
the mood in the run up to Christmas with tealights in red glass holders in
robust defiance of the stern corporate injunction prohibiting candles at work. So eager are Swedes to challenge the cold and
darkness, that curtains are left open in the evening so the lamps glowing in
every window flood the streets with illusory warmth. Gatsby’s mansion can’t compete with a Swedish
apartment building!
The obsession with cosiness (the Swedish word is hyggelig, pronounced hoogly) is most
vividly exemplified by the recent refurbishment of Gothenburg’s Landvetter
airport. The security scanning area,
previously typically utilitarian and forbidding, has been tricked out with
ceiling-hung curtains mimicking clouds and carpeting designed, according to the website, to
create “an environment with a lounge feel, which will make a warm, pleasant
impression on passengers.” The TSA officials at US airports, who seem to pride
themselves on surliness, could take note.
Something as
pedestrian as a morning coffee break has an additional lustre in Swedish society.
Fika
is the term for a coffee and a cake shared with friends in cafes or colleagues
at work. In the breaks leavening the two
day workshop I attended, the Brazilian and Indian delegates stared in amazement
as the normally health-conscious Swedes tucked into cinnamon buns and the
elongated marzipan covered cakes, known locally as vacuum cleaners due to their
cylindrical shape, an allusion lost on anyone unfamiliar with such ancient
technology.
There is more to Swedish culture than a sharp eye for interior
design and endearing sweet-toothed indulgence. The first time I went to a
symphony concert in Gothenburg, I noticed curious behaviour when the bell
sounded at the end of the interval. Instead
of resuming their seats, audience members clustered at the end of their rows
like pedestrians waiting for a break in the traffic to cross the road. Then I understood: people with seats near the
ends of the row were waiting for those with middle seats to enter first to
avoid the unseemly twisting which ensues when people struggle past seated
patrons. All right, you might expect a
concert audience to have a more highly developed sense of consideration than
the population at large (although this is not borne out by my experience of the
boorish behaviour of New York concert goers who chomp and chat during
performances and would doubtless get up to put the kettle on given half a
chance). But what about supermarket
behaviour? Swedish supermarkets, like their
British counterparts, have deskilled the relative modest requirement for
cashiers to be able to read and enter prices by introducing bar code scanners so
that operatives merely need to wave items in front of a sensor to record the
sale. Standing in a queue, I noticed
that, without fail, the customers in front of me, thoughtfully oriented their items on the
belt so that the barcode would face the scanner when picked up so that the cashier
did not need to rotate it to be scanned. And one final example, Landvetter again. Gothenburg’s international airport illustrates
the aphorism that airports are simply shopping malls with planes parked outside.
Wandering through during the pre Christmas period I ran the gauntlet of all the
usual overpriced duty free outlets. Just
before reaching the passport control, I noticed a small table supporting a huge roll of
wrapping paper, equipped with decorative ribbons, sellotape and scissors
adorned by a notice inviting passengers to use these free facilities to wrap
their Christmas gifts. The facility was not operated by any
particular shop and was so far beyond the retail zone as to be useless as an
inducement to purchase. It appeared to
have been provided by the airport management purely as a helpful service to
passengers hurrying to Christmas gatherings.
© David Thompson 2014
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