Sweden

Did you think you weren’t getting full summer holiday details as it is nearly November? Think again.

Tuesday August 4, 2026

Herself joined us for the first leg of our trip. We flew from Dublin to Stockholm and ran like the wind for our connection to Gothenburg. We sent herself on ahead to hold the plane. It was unnecessary. When we panted up to the gate there were a lot of Swedes standing around (socially distanced unlike Irish punters who are always crushed together in a queue the second boarding is announced) and no one seemed particularly rushed. To celebrate our good fortune when we got to the airport in Gothenburg we took a taxi from airport. €73 to the city centre. We should have got the bus. We were as yet unused to Nordic prices and it stung us.

Our hotel was a delightful place called Hotel Eggers in the city centre and I loved it. It had electricity and everything.

While the hotel was very central, there were extensive works on the square outside. Mr. Waffle said that perhaps Gothenburg was like Chicago where there are two seasons: winter and construction. Herself made the very insightful comment that whenever we go somewhere the locals always say, “Welcome to our beautiful city – it is so unfortunate that you arrived for just these two weeks of works.” She never said a truer word.

We ventured out for a stroll taking in the botanical gardens (quite like our own) and a walk along the Ramblas of Gothenburg (v unlike the Ramblas). We had an unremarkable but acceptable dinner in an old fashioned restaurant (food wasn’t a total high point of this holiday). Herself tried to get a drink and they asked for ID. “It’s a €5,000 fine for us, if you’re underage” said the waiter and I’m not prepared to take the risk. Salutary.

Herself had read Mary Wollstonecraft’s Letters Written During a Short Residence in Sweden, Norway, and Denmark in preparation for the trip and was able to give us a number of – perhaps not entirely current – insights. We all took against that bounder Gilbert Imlay, I can tell you. Anyhow, Mary Wollstonecraft was very down on the bad air of Gothenburg and I have to say that it was a bit close and the city had been built on a marsh (like Cork) but herself said the Georgians were obsessed with bad air and we could probably ignore it. I’m not so sure, Mary might have had something there.

Exhausted from our initial bout of touristing we went early to bed.

Wednesday August 5, 2026

We had a very nice breakfast in the hotel, if you like herring. As it happens, I am very fond of herring.

We then schlepped up to the castle mound which gave a nice view of the city but was not maybe very impressive in and of itself. Has a big crown on the top though, so there’s that.

As a treat to Mr. Waffle who is a big fan of public transport we got the tram back into town. Herself had identified a cafe called Brogyllen as a good spot for an afternoon tea. I can, unhesitatingly recommend it, if you find yourself in need of a cup of tea in Gothenburg. I had the Princess Torte and you should too. I was charmed to see the link to Princess Astrid of Belgium; who knew?

The city is full of canals and waterways, so I was unsurprised to hear that the Dutch had had a role in its development. It is also a little confusing for the tourist as you are never beside the body of water that you think you are. However, we successfully navigated our way to Magasinsgaten and environs which was full of trendy shops including – something that I think was unknown in my youth – many, many smart second hand clothes shops. This was a feature on our Nordic odyssey. You have to hand it to these guys, they are all about sustainability. Herself was thrilled. I went into a non-secondhand touristy shop and tried on a jumper which I liked but €320, am I made of money?

We went back to the hotel via a lovely food market and then collapsed after our endeavours. Still, like diligent tourists we went out again for our dinner to a Japanese spot near the harbour; grand.

Thursday August 6, 2026

Poor Mr. Waffle got news that a friend of his had died. I knew her a bit too – she was a lovely woman from the year behind me in college. It was a glum start to the day.

Things did not improve as we went on a walking tour of the city in driving rain (Mr. Waffle kindly gave me his coat as I had left mine in the hotel in the optimistic and entirely mistaken view that the rain would hold off). The walking tour was only alright really – although we did get to see a statue of the man who introduced the potato to Sweden so that was something – and when we met herself for lunch we were a bit down and bedraggled.

Things improved, however. We went to the fish market for a very nice lunch – you just have to start ignoring the prices; no good can come from changing them into euro.

In the afternoon we went to the art gallery. It was great. What an amazing collection for a small regional gallery; loads of artists, I knew. I loved it. My big discovery was Carl Larsson of whom I had never heard before but whose work I absolutely loved.

What a delight.

Somewhere in the exhibition they referred to Pomperipossa as an example of an allegory as though that was something totally obvious. There’s a lot to unpack there and if you are interested in Sweden or Astrid Lindgren, I recommend further research.

We emerged gasping for a cup of tea. We ended up in the cafe in the public library. I was thrilled by this as an idea but the execution left a little to be desired.

We got the tram back to the hotel. We were going in the direction of a place called Angered and when there was a little trouble about finding the tram stop one of the wittier members of the party commented that we were “swift to Angered”.

A friend of my sister’s who lives in Gothenburg had recommended an Iranian place for dinner which was grand but quite a schlep from town. As we went out we began to panic that the restaurant would be full; closed; or unfindable. None of these fears materialised but it was a tense time.

Friday August 7, 2026

Herself was leaving us and we wouldn’t see her again before she packed up her bags in London and emigrated to America; did I tell you, gentle readers, that she will be pursuing a PhD programme even further across the water than England? Well, she will. Her hard-hearted mother was inclined to see her off from the bus station (around the corner) but her father said we should go out to see her off from the airport so we did. It was pretty sad. Last sight of our emigrant.

She loved London so much, she was a bit ambivalent about going to America herself which made it harder (spoiler alert – she loves America and is having a brilliant time). When she went to college in England aged 18 she skipped off without a backward glance and although I was sad, the fact that she was so happy (and, I suppose also, quite near) made it much more bearable.

She met an English friend of a friend to talk about doing a PhD in America after studying in England and this guy said, “Honestly, I felt like a young boy from the Peloponnese going to Athens”. I guess America is a big player. “Still,” she said, “I’ll miss my Peloponnese salted fish.”

To recover from our gloomy early morning we went to a nice cafe for a cup of tea and a cinnamon bun. All of the cafe and hotel workers wear uniforms which is something I think we had in Ireland in the 70s but not in a long, long time. We were chatting to one of the staff and she said that Gothenburg was full of Norwegians looking for a bargain. This did not fill me with optimism re Norwegian prices as I couldn’t call Gothenburg cheap.

We went out to the archipelago in the afternoon. You can go by public transport and it is a delight. I cannot recommend it highly enough as a way to cheer up after your eldest child has emigrated to another continent. I swam.

It was very beautiful and pretty empty of tourists.

We went for lunch in a place called Knutssons where they had an extraordinarily healthy basil plant.

As well as…grapes. Surprising.

A book of Swedish sayings told us that “Sailing in on a shrimp sandwich” means everything is going well. Observe, I sail in on a shrimp sandwich.

Having got solar panels ourselves last year, I was on the look out for panels in Sweden but there were very few. It seems all their power comes from hydro-electricity. Who knew?

Stay tuned for the next installment when our intrepid adventurers will be in Norway.