Livin’; The High Life In Gothenburg Before Reality Sets In

Enjoying the high life in Gothenburg, Sweden’s second largest city, with out breaking the bank takes a small discipline and a lot of imagination.

By Matt Stabile

There’s no doubt about it: I had traveled to Gothenburg in initial class as soon as I got there it was back to reality. I’d just arrived from Stockholm on the X2000, Sweden’s high-speed train that reaches speeds of up to 125mph (200km/h) and ferries travelers between the two cities in a mere three hours. The downside is that the ticket costs about as much a discount airline ticket the upside is that you’ll feel like you are flying initial-class. A couple of hours prior to, soon after helping myself to a glass of fresh juice and some fresh fruit from the á la carte kiosk, I settled into my plush, la-z-boy-sized chair, rolled it back to a comfy 45-degree angle, and watched out the window as the lush, green Swedish countryside rapidly passed me by as I zoomed south to Gothenburg.

It’s these moments of travel that I look forward to the most: those rare moments during your trip, commonly on your way from someplace to somewhere else, when you’ve got nothing much better to do than to just sit back, relax, and replay the events of the last few days in you head. This ordinarily occurs immediately after a hectic spurt of activity — in my case a couple of days running about Stockholm seeing the sights by day and heading out afterward to take pleasure in the nightlife, followed by an overnight ferry to Tallinn, Estonia, then back once again.

In those past 96 hours I’d pretty a lot utilized each and every form of transportation that does not involve a four-legged animal — plane, bus, taxi, subway, ferry, ocean liner — but I have to say there’s most likely nothing greater than traveling by train. I recognize it’s a cliché, but there’s some sort of aura about train travel that allows you to imagine that for a brief period of time, you’ve transported back to a bygone era when travel was slow, methodical, and unbureaucratic — a time before cramped airplanes, hectic terminals, and dirty buses. Like virtually nowhere else, its feels natural on a train to sit by yourself and write in your notebook or to stare out the window and listen to the rhythmic thudding of the wheels on the track when thinking about life. Conversely, on a bus the only folks you’ll see writing furiously in a notebook or staring out the window in deep thought are usually accompanied by a member of the psychiatric community.

The pale, grey sky near Stockholm had turned a menacingly charcoal color when I arrived in Gothenburg. I strapped on my oversized backpack, took 1 last look at what would most likely be my most comfortable mode of transportation for the rest of the trip, and ventured out into the heavy downpour. I read that the hostel that I was hoping to stay in was roughly 10 minutes from the train station and was accessible via Gothenburg’s principal form of transport, the streetcar. Known as the Tram, Gothenburg’s light rail system is the largest in Northern Europe — a reality that became all too apparent to me as I looked at the train map with its technicolor jumble of squiggly lines and impossibly long station names like Medicinaregaten and Sahlgrenska Huvudentre. Naturally, I hopped on the 1st one that would get me out of the rain. Somehow, I miraculously managed to find my way to within a couple stops of the hostel where I was able to hike it the rest of the way.

The next morning the rain had stopped but there was still no sign of the sun. Gothenburg’s protected location on a river close to the North Sea has played a big part in the city’s maritime past both strategically as well as commercially, but it also indicates thatthe city gets a mean cold breeze that blows in from the bay. Why did I bring only brief-sleeve shirts on this trip and why had I not come in late July instead?

I meandered about the pedestrian-only streets that make up a bulk of downtown, ducking occasionally into a one of the a lot of stores there to warm up, then I headed to the water’s edge to the Gothenburg Maritime Museum, a flotilla of anchored boats that claims the title of the world’s largest floating ship museum (how numerous are there anyways?). Here you’re given cost-free reign to roam about its many boats and to delve into the hulls of old fishing boats and different de-commissioned remnants of the Swedish navy which includes a mid-sized destroyer and even an old U-boat. Note to expert basketball players and/or most of the population of Scandinavia: despite my lack of height, even I bumped my head not once but twice in its narrow passageways — you’ve been warned.

Nearby is the Gothenburg Opera House, a behemoth of a structure that seats up to 1,300 persons and is substantial enough to home the opera’s 2,000-plus staff working on every thing from developing sets, sewing costumes, and selling ticket subscriptions. Finished in 1994, the creating was designed with a nautical motif in mind, including an interior design that curves inwards like the hull of a boat and pinewood flooring meant to resemble a ship’s deck. When I arrived I joined a tour that had just begun. “Does any individual speak English in this group?” the guide asked the assembled group shortly following I joined. I sheepishly raised my hand, reluctant to admit my American ignorance of foreign languages. “It’s no issue, I’ll say everything in both Swedish and English,” he said accommodatingly.

“No, don’t be concerned about it,” I replied. “It’s fine.”

“Really, it is no issue,” he insisted.

Well okay then, that’s nice of him, I thought — although I did really feel bad holding everybody else back. It turned out to actually not be too a lot of a difficulty. The tour went one thing like this:

Tour Guide, pointing to the stage from our view from the upper balcony: “Speaks in Swedish for 4-five minutes, gesturing theatrically and eliciting the occasional laugh from his captive audience.”

Me: smiling and nodding occasionally as if I knew what was going on.

Tour Guide, following pointing the rest of the group to their next destination, turning to me, the lone Gringo: “As you can see, this is the stage.” Long pause followed by an even longer deep breath as he searches for his next sentence. “There are a lot of lights above it . . . and the auditorium can hold approximately 1,300 folks.” He continues looking at me, blinking his eyes a couple of times, then a smile emerges. “Now let’s move on to the backstage.”

That evening I met up with a friend who grew up in Gothenburg and we headed out to Linnégatan, the preferred avenue stretching from the edge of downtown via the posh neighborhood of Olivedal. Along this street are some of the city’s ideal restaurants and bars and this location is also a hot destination for nightlife, specifically when the 50,000 or so students attending the University of Gothenburg come back to school in the fall. We had dinner at La Sombrita, a tapas restaurant with a huge selection of Spanish wine and a heated patio in the front for those cool June nights, then we wandered further down the street, stopping into various pubs along the way.

I’m the 1st to admit that I’m not significantly of an outdoorsy traveler, but I’ll make a concession if that piece of wildlife happens to be plopped in the center of a significant metropolis — Central Park for example — or in Gothenburg’s case, Slottskogen, the sprawling park just minutes from Olivedal. Early the next morning, immediately after a short stroll on one of the several nature trails in the park, I headed to the center of the park where there’s a zoo created to resemble the northern countryside of Sweden. A stroll around the grounds allows you to observe such several specimens of wildlife such as elk, reindeer, moose, as well as hordes of wandering school kids taunting said elk, reindeer and moose.

To make up for the punishment that I was giving my feet, I decided to give them a rest by taking 1 of the several boat cruises that travel through the city’s canals and out into the harbor to the giant shipyards that as soon as fueled Gothenburg’s economy before the business moved out in the late 1970’s. As soon as out into the bay, I spent most of the ride shielding myself from the constant splash of the waves by hiding behind a group of German tourists, when occasionally popping up to record some video footage for the web page. I think that I’ve experienced enough of the outdoors for one day, I thought to myself as I wiped water off my sunglasses.

I met up with my friend again that night and we headed to the eastern part of town to Heaven 23, the stylish restaurant/skybar atop the 23rd floor of the Gothenburg Convention Center which looks out over Scandinavia’s largest amusement park, Liseberg, as well as over the rest of the city. The bar was crowded with a mix of well-dressed 20-somethings and groups of businessmen and females. We ordered the restaurant’s signature dish, a conventional salad that comes out piled high with succulent, fresh shrimp. “You know, this is fairly luxurious of us to be eating an pricey shrimp salad for dinner,” my friend said, popping 1 of the oversized shrimp in her mouth.

“I know,” I responded, thinking about my quickly diminishing bank account. “I think I’m going to have to save money and take the regular train for the rest of my trip.” The good times had to end sometime, I thought. At least I’ll usually have the X2000.