Wednesday, 15 January 2014

Swedish culture (2)

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. 

These examples, and I could cite many more, reflect a very different relationship between strangers from that in many other western countries.  Perhaps this is a consequence of a small human population residing in a large, and largely untamed, country.  Moose, the largest landbased mammals in Europe are still common in Sweden even in the outskirts of cities.  Every autumn, newspapers carry stories of moose invading orchards getting tipsy on rotting apples and creating havoc in suburban gardens disoriented by alcohol.  In one celebrated case, an inebriated animal stumbled into an empty swimming pool, and needed to be rescued with a crane.  If moose stray on to roads, their hulk presents a major hazard and in close encounters with traffic, it’s often the car which comes off worse.  So maybe casual camaraderie is fostered by the harsh climate and close proximity to big animals.  Or perhaps it’s the cosy surroundings and culinary indulgence which nurture a more generous spirit. 

© David Thompson 2014

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