In the previous two parts of this series on curiosities of life in Sweden I’ve written about cosmetological enhancements and tobacco consumption in the form of snuff. Now it’s time to peek into the peculiarities of Swedish bar culture.

I have to say right away that I am not much of a bar-goer. As I like to talk, doing so in bars usually means I’ll be literally speechless the following day; it takes no less than shouting to get the message across. But anyway, here are a few interesting observations I’ve come across in Swedish public houses.

Even though the ambient noise might be quite high, one thing I really like about bars and clubs in Sweden is that smoking is not allowed. So at least you don’t end up stinking like a cigarette bud for the next 24 hours. Which is also one of the reason why snuff is so popular around here.

Rules don’t end, but rather begin at this point.

In one of the previous posts I wrote about dancing permits that must be obtained by bars and clubs, if the owners don’t want to be fined for their customers’ hip swaying. I mean, this sounds so ridiculous that I’d like to see how dance police defines dancing. I’m sure they must be as creative as civil aviation authorities are when it comes to defining what is liquid and what is not. There’s more.

If bouncer sitting at the entrance of practically every bar decides you’re intoxicated, they won’t let you in—if you managed to sneak in and they find out about your condition later, you will fly out. What about if you get drunk in their bar? Tricky question. I don’t know, but I assume the result would be the same as I haven’t seen any on-the-table-sleeping gals and lads, which is, by the way, a common site in Finnish bars, pubs and clubs. They are definitely strict about such nibbles, which make me think that Swedish bars are safer than their laundry rooms. Almost a disturbing thought, I know, but more about disorder in Swedish laundry rooms some other time.

Other than that, bars are just bars, nothing special. Oh, wait a minute. Did I mention free food?

Yes, practically every other bar in town has what they call an “after work” program. Which means that one or more days a week between certain evening hours you can walk in and eat for free. It’s not exactly gourmet food, but hey, it’s free. However, the gluttony doesn’t end here. While food is free, all drinks are usually half price, or pay one, get two. So people juggling at least two plates and two glasses at the same time is not such an uncommon sight.

And to make things even more interesting there’s at least 40 such places in Göteborg where type and quality of food varies considerably from one place to another. So there you go, plenty of excuses for you to get wasted: “I just went food sampling to Dubliner’s.”

What’s the deal? How does such a deal work out? I have not really thought about the economics behind this seemingly altruistic transaction, but I did taste the food. It is mostly greasy and very salty and both qualities stimulate drinking. The more you eat, the more you will drink. Eventually you end up buying liters of beer to quench your thirst, just to get thirsty a bit more as you get dehydrated now by food and booze. It’s a vicious circle, and bar owners obviously know this. But it sure is fun.

Mladen

Radio came to town. Yes, the one invented in the 19th century. Until just a few days ago besides the building’s constant humming, there was practically nothing to cling to aurally. Tired of all those too many times heard mp3s, it was about time to get a radio. Before I’ve only managed to steal a few moments listening to Radio Helsinki over the Net. In spite of getting those waves wirelessly, I’ve been spatialy confined to a seriously limited listening area. But radio, come on, doesn’t it feel like the beginning of the 20th century again. Nostalgia? No, futurama. If only Internet waves were as ubiquitous as radio-waves are.

And in those brief three days I’ve been able to enjoy much wider variety of radio programs than I could ever have imagined. It’s no joke. In this ‘not enough room to swing a cat’ apartment, sound waves in Finnish, Romani, Samí, Albanian, Kurdish and Persian bounced off the walls. I’ve even listened to news in Croatian, Serbian, and Serbo-Croatian, all at once. Just imagine, it felt like the 1980s again–so Yugo-nostalgic. And all this without touching the dial once, courtesy of Sveriges Radio P2. And nevertheless, it is the Swedishness I am much more exposed to. A whopping 10% of total Swedish population comes from abroad or has origins outside of the country. Swedish national radio station P2 couldn’t reflect this fact better.

On the other hand, I’ve almost already forgotten what it feels like to overhear a conversation in a very familiar language in a foreign land (not in boring English). But here, on more than one occasion I’ve had a chance to listen in unintentionally. Particularly memorable was a middle aged lady in the metropolitan bus explaining in Bosnian to the party on the other side of the phone connection how her partner doesn’t know how to do anything, not even drill a hole in a wall, not to mention that he’s not able to hit a nail with a hammer; all he does is watch TV and surf the Net all day long. He must be lucky, I thought.
Here’s a more gripping evidence of cultural patchwork in the city of Göteborg. Sure there are many Chinese, Thai, Indian, Japanese, Italian restaurants and Kebab stands, but most of them are purists, serving only one choice of food. Catering to a niche. How about Sushi-Pizza, Steak House, Asiatic BBQ specialized restaurant? Not a slightest problem. I guess I should have a lunch there.

Another cultural ephemera which made a lasting impression I’ve found at a second hand store nearby the just mentioned restaurant: old Swedish bands’ records. I was sifting through some useless junk and these turned out to be one of a few gems found there. I’m pretty sure that we have all at some point admired the abominable hairdos of a few decades ago, but please, just take a look at these covers for more than their hair. Hilarious.

And this is just the top of my rambling iceberg. More gems from Sweden coming soon to a blog near you.

Mladen

Just a few weeks ago I wrote about how Finnish dairy company Valio places lovely cows and heartfelt poetry on their milk cartons. Even though in Sweden the range of diary products is much wider, it is not as ingenious. Or is it?

Recently one of the Swedish supermarket chains begun an usual campaign. As a part of their membership program they offer their member consumers free milk. Not free as in freedom, but free as in free beer. Although it does come at a small price, but I am sure that for many consumers this makes no substantial consumption restraints. Milk cartons containing free milk carry an add that obviously pays for each carton’s content. The way I see it is if the ads’ content is appropriate for the context, I don’t see why not go for it.

True, enjoying art even on milk cartons is refreshing and inspiring–it is what art does best. But even though this Swedish food store chain might have not turned simple everyday consumer products into true Pop art, I definitely like the idea of getting free milk. Hopefully it’s only a question of time before they start offering free chocolate.

Mladen

About two months ago, in November 2006, one of the largest Finnish diary manufacturers Valio rolled out a series of milk containers with poems printed on the sides of eight different cartons each carrying a different milk product and a different poem. Valio has commissioned six contemporary Finnish poets, from already established to promising young talent and even a Finnish rock-star poet, to write short poetry suitable for milk containers.

All in all 18 poems (three by each poet) will be published in this unique way on hundreds of millions of milk cartons. It’s a great way to bring poetry closer to people. If you’re living outside of Finland you can still enjoy these poems and wonderful lucky cows on Valio’s milk pages, where you can also listen to each poem and print it out as it appears on the carton.

This great idea of popularizing art is not the first conceived by Valio. In the late 2005 they have commissioned several contemporary visual arts artists who were asked to come up with imagery for their milk cartons.

I really enjoy such campaigns as they bring life to everyday items we might not even notice anymore. Every time I grab milk from the fridge, I check whose poem is on the carton and read it even though I am not really a big poetry fan.

Mladen

I know it’s a bit unusual that I’ve been in Finland for more than a year now, but have so far barely mentioned anything regarding Finnish food in my posts. What’s on offer and how am I surviving on the poor Finnish diet are the most frequent questions asked. Poor diet? I don’t think so. But I see where that is coming from.

Most recently the reputation of Finnish food has been stumped by political leaders of two countries: France and Italy. After their visits to Finland Jacques Chirac and Silvio Berlusconi have been bashing food they ate in Finland. I’ve no idea what they were offered, but I do know that both gentleman are easily arrogant and insulting. Which makes me believe their statements have very little to do with the actual food. Constipated gentlemen take your own sandwiches with you next time.

Since the time when crops can grow is considerably shorter this far in the north, especially in comparison to Central and Southern Europe, one has to get creative with what can be grown (although admittedly technology has left an imprint on agriculture too). But there’s plenty of forest fruits, mushrooms and game that spice up Finnish cuisine. Of course, there are staple foods like bread, meat, potatoes which are practically the same as they are in other Western societies. But far more interesting is the weird stuff.

Talking about weird stuff, my favorite weird Finnish dish is mämmi. And I don’t think food gets more bizarre than mämmi around here. It is probably the most unique of all dishes in Finland; there’s nothing like it found anywhere else in the world (OK, a close relative in Iran, but I wonder how are they actually related and what that relative looks and tastes like).

Mämmi is a traditional Finnish Easter dessert Finns abominate and adore at the same time. Kids loath it because of its looks. And it really does look like a pile of shit, even on the serving suggestion photos embellishing the packaging containing mämmi where it really looks like shit floating in cream and covered with sugar. Mmmm! I understand kids. Polled adults also tend to grimace upon hearing the word mämmi or, even better, words mämmi and like in the same sentence or, god forbid, next to each other. But I don’t understand the adults as they are most likely the ones buying it. The stores are full of mämmi from January to April and during the peak consumption times it even runs out, making it hard to get. Which means that I had to check a few stores before finally getting my daily fix of mämmi.

To feed both your curiosity and to provide a spark for your imagination, check out at least the first few images and let me know what you think.

So, what is this mämmi? Mämmi is a dessert made out of rye flour, rye malt, water, sugar, salt and spices. Although it is fairly easy to make, the preparation is a time consuming process recommended for the patient only as it can easily take a whole day to make and is best when it is made in large quantities. Not for the faint hearted. The process involves several cycles of cooking rye flour and malt in water and cooling the mixture before finally sticking it into the oven for a few hour baking session. The baking part is traditionally done in birch bark baskets. The result is, well, peculiarly looking and incredibly tasty rye porridge hated on declaratory level, but obviously loved by most Finns.

Mämmi is served fresh, but must be chilled to fridge temperature and covered with cream and sugar just before eating (I like my mämmi with cream only). Of course, it tastes like rye (duh!), but considering that the amount of sugar used for making it is practically nil, it is surprisingly sweet, rye kind of sweet. I adore mämmi and based on my observations, I am sure many around me do too, but they are just not ready to get out of their mämmi closets yet.

Mämmi is just a beginning of a truly interesting excursion into the peculiarities of Finnish cuisine. Writing about all of them at once would do justice to none and some of you might even get bored. Thus, do come back and help yourself to seconds. One spoon at a time.

Mladen