"GOT-n-burg."
"Oh, I thought it was "GOOth-n-burg" -- that's how I learned it when I was there before," Linda said.
"Yah but English better GOT-n-burg." He was a Swede who'd lived in Copenhagen for years, and we had struck up a conversation at the Copenhagen train station. I had the impression he liked us but thought our Swedish was so bad it was better for us to just speak English.
But then when we asked Ingrid and her family how to pronounce it at their Easter feast here in Gothenburg today, her husband Thore said "GOOth-n-burg" and son Bert said "GOT-n-burg" and daughter Ann said something like "jootaborg" very fast.
Ingrid's family may not have been the best Swedish language teachers but they sure were the best hosts. And what a feast they served up for us. We started off with champagne and conversation in the living room, and then sat down at the table. Crackers, cheese and pickled herring appeared on our plates and we were asked what we'd like to Io drink, we. said we'd have whatever they were having. "We want to do it the proper Swedish way!" I added.
So Bert poured us schnapps and beer. I asked if we were supposed to drink the schnapps and chase it with the beer or what. Bert said you can drink the beer anytime but not necessarily with the schnapps, and before you drink schnapps you should always have some herring first.
AND, before you drink the first schnapps, there is a song. So we all had some herring and raised our schnapps glasses, and Linda made an iPhone video of us all waving our glasses and them (not me) singing.
The herring was marinated in some kind of mustard sauce, and a small slice was good for two bites. I wasn't sure I'd like it, but I was determined to give it a try, and found that it really was good. After the song was finished and we all cheered, I took a big sip of schnapps and immediately began feeling like a tea kettle about to boil and set off the whistle. My eyes watered (my chronically acute and acutely chronic DRY eyes actually watered!) and I'm sure I had steam coming out of my ears. I emitted a faint "Woo hoo!"
Then I ate some of the cheese and crackers and gulped some beer. I was surprised to find that after the beer, my tastebuds wanted more herring and schnapps. The herring tasted even better this time and the schnapps went down easier too.
It's important to have some herring first before sipping the schnapps, Bert said, "because the herring has protein and settles the stomach for the schnapps." I never could have guessed that the combination of pickled herring, schnapps, cheese and crackers and beer would all go together so well. I had two helpings of the herring and two glasses of schnapps, along with several crackers and slices of smooth creamy Swedish cheese. And a full glass of beer.
Dinner was roast lamb, potatoes au gratin, green beans, and a ragout of cherry tomatoes. I am not a lamb fan, but this really was good, the best I'd ever had. Everything was good, in fact.
Oh, yes, and we had a few glasses of red wine with the dinner.
Then came a simple but perfect dessert with berries (raspberries, I think) and ice cream.
Oh, yes, and a couple glasses of limoncello, a family tradition Ingrid started after a visit to Italy.
I'm amazed that after all of this I felt just fine. More impressive, I functioned just fine. We even walked a few blocks to the tram station after dinner and took the tram back to the hotel. Bert really must be right about the herring keeping the schnapps at bay, and then there is the fact that all of this was consumed over a period of five hours or so.
It was a delightful time full of life stories, laughs and some tears. We talked about everything. In addition to filling each other in on how we knew each other, we covered politics (very carefully), California (the state tourism board should hire Linda and me), Stockholm versus Gothenburg (according to Bert, "Stockholm loves us but we don't like Stockholm"), the European versus the American outlook on life (I pointed out that in Europe, you're surrounded by more than a thousand years of history and many buildings that are that old, while in the US, we only have about 400 years of history and it's hard to find any building that old), our travels (Linda and I filled them in on the India trip and how she had to cancel out because of her emergency appendectomy the day before her flight to Singapore), and much, much more.
This will surely be one of the very best memories of our trip. It's such an honor to be welcomed into a family Ike this, to share their celebration and the food they enjoy best.
Some short shots:
Train travel to Gothenburg:
Taking the train from Copenhagen to Gothenburg yesterday was no Orient Express experience for sure, more like Amtrak. The small seats were uncomfortable after about an hour (and our ride was four hours), the stops at each town along the way were long, and there was no dining car. But there was a guy who came through each train car with a little cart of hot and cold beverages, sandwiches and other snacks, so we were able to get tea and coffee during our ride. Linda said the trains in France are much nicer, so I am expecting the Eurostar train between London and Paris and the TGV train from Paris to Lyon will not be better experiences.
Taking the commuter train from the Copenhagen Central Station to the airport to catch the train to Gotehnburg didn't take long, but it was awkward with our carry-on baggage. There just wasn't much room, and, surprisingly, people didn't seem to want to make room for us. When we finally found seats, they were the kind that fold up against the wall when not in use. Linda didn't realize her seat was up, and she landed hard on her tailbone on the floor, jolting her back all the way up to her neck. Her neck is sensitive because she's had whiplash before. This is not good at all. She's taking Ibuprofen and I'm careful to avoid putting any pressure on her shoulders.
Nicole:
We headed to the hotel lounge last night after we finally got settled in our room, and a cute young lady led us to our table. She asked us where we were from, and when we tolde her, she told us she' drown up in Folsom. nto and Auburn, and we found out she grew up in Folsom. We enjoyed chatting with her as much as we enjoyed our wine and Swedish bread and cheese plate. Meeting Nicole from Folsom, California, was a nice ending to a very long day.
And now, time to hit the pillow.
Monday 17 April 2017
Gothenburg, Sweden
I woke up to a dark room after a good sleep, and figured it must be just before dawn. I booted my iPhone into my CI and hit the button.
"Ten a.m."
"WHAT? That can't be right..." But Siri insisted, "Ten a.m." I gave it a third try, and this time she said "Ten oh one a.m."
So I got up, found the iPad and checked it. Yep, it was ten bloody oh two o'clock in the morning. Damn, the breakfast buffet closes at ten. I opened the curtains, turned on lights, started the hot pot for a cuppa tea, and began waking Linda up. It took a few minutes. First I rubbed her toes through the blanket, then I gently shook her feet, and finally I gently rocked her shoulder. "Huuuunnnnnhh?"
"Linda! It's after ten, and we missed breakfast." I had to repeat this twice before her brain clicked on.
"No no, the buffet doesn't close until eleven," she said, sitting up and throwing off her blanket. We made it downstairs with a few minutes to spare, and both of us needed an extra cuppa before we could really believe we'd slept the whole night through until 10 a.m. Ever since we arrived in Europe we've been waking up between 4 and 7 a.m. and going full blast all day. I guess it caught up with us.
Today was a good day to sleep in. It's truly bloody butt freezing cold to our tender California heinies. We had snow flurries and slushy rain yesterday, and today it warmed up to a whopping 36 degrees Fahrenheit. The kind of weather to watch through a window, from a nice warm room with a nice hot cuppa.
But by late afternoon the sun was peeking out from behind the clouds every now and then, and we wanted to get out for a bit. The very nice good-looking Swede at the front desk (actually, I have to take Linda's word for it that he's good-looking but I totally trust her judgment here) told us it was a "short ten-minute walk" to a restaurant called "Mr. P's" which he said was one of the best in town. He showed Linda where it was on a map, and she figured she could find it. A nice brisk walk in the brisk weather, a good dinner, and then a taxi ride home. That sounded like a good plan to us. So we set off.
And walked and walked. European cities are not consistent about street signs at intersections, and European businesses (including restaurants) do not tend to be "in your face" with their signage, so it's easy to get lost if you don't already know how to get there.
We stopped a couple times to ask directions and confirm we were on the right track, and Linda always had us going in the right direction. We just had to keep going. The cold wasn't so bad when we were moving, but walking into the wind was work, and after the second ten minutes had gone by we were antsy about finding this Mr. P's restaurant that was supposed to be so good.
The sun peeked out just as we were coming up to an Italian restaurant. "Oh Mary, look, this place has a window right in the sun and we could sit and have a glass of wine and a nice dinner."
That sure sounded like heaven. The wind was nasty, even in the sun, and my whole face was starting to freeze. So we said goodbye to Mr. P and turned in to the Italian place. Linda cheerily greeted the waitress, saying we'd like a table by the window for wine and dinner.
"Oh, I am sorry, we can't serve alcoholic beverages," the waitress said.
"WHAT!?" Linda's dismay was fervent and outraged. "No wine?" The waitress explained that they were under new ownership and still waiting for their liquor license. Linda whipped around and I spun around with her, hanging on to her arm. "They don't serve adult beverages here, Mary," Linda announced. "We'll have to go on to Mr. P's."
As we headed back for the door and that awful nasty wind, I sadly let go of my fond expectations of a warm seat at a window in the sun and a nice glass of wine. I started buttoning up my parka again, ready to resume our never-ending search for Mr. P. "This is depressing," I muttered.
Linda spluttered out a chuckle, and by the time we burst out of the door back onto the sidewalk, we were both breathless with giggles. Such a memorable (but not necessarily favorable) impression we must have made on that waitress.
So on we walked. We passed a few other restaurants, but somehow after resuming our commitment to Mr. P, we were determined to reach his altar. After another ten minutes or so we came across a woman pushing a stroller and asked if she knew where the Mr. P's restaurant was. She told us it was just a few doors away. When we finally walked into Mr. P's restaurant we were ready to hug Mr. P himself in grateful relief.
We didn't get a window table in the sun but the restaurant was nice and warm, and we did get a nice table and a nice waiter who gave us excellent service. The Swedish-Asian fusion food menu was a surprise. We had spring rolls with cabbage, mushrooms and other good things, and a dish of fresh-caught cod in a tangy yellow coconut milk curry served with broccoli and bok choy. We happily cleaned our plates and drained a couple glasses of wine. The taxi ride back to our hotel took about as long as our ten-minute walk was supposed to take, but we decided it was all OK. The restaurant really was good and we got in some good exercise.
And we got to take in some sights. My first impression of Gothenburg when we got off the train was that it's busier with more traffic than Copenhagen. I got this same impression today as we walked (and walked) to Mr. P's, It seemed to me that the streets are generally wider, and the buildings are overall larger in scale than in Copenhagen, too. Older buildings here are mostly of light stone, and the more modern buildings, including the Clarion Hotel Post where we are staying, have a lot of glass and stainless steel. The sidewalks are mostly concrete, and there is not much earthy brick.
Linda brought out her iPhone to take a selfie of us in front of a neon crown sign that she said looked very Swedish, and again when we drew near to a statue. I had no idea what the statue was, but I supposed Linda liked the idea of a threesome selfie. (I found out later that the statue was a nude God, with extremely prominent and large genitals. "Ah, NOW I know why you wanted that selfie!" I told her.) She really is a wiz with that iPhone camera. She has a little tripod thing for it that she can hold in her hand or set on the ground, and has a timer for it, too..
So Linda does her selfies and videos and I do my travelogue novels. Our trip is certainly not going to be lacking for documentation.
Tomorrow we're off to Amsterdam via KLM We check out at eleven and will walk over to the train station across the street, where we can catch a shuttle bus to the Gothenburg Lendverter Airport.
Some short shots:
The hotel:
We weren't crazy about the Clarioo Hotel Post when we first arrived. We both missed the Scandic Palace in Copenhagen, which felt like a warm hug. This hotel is one of those modern buildings with lots of glass, stainless steel, and muted gray colors. And the first room they checked us into was tiny, with two twin beds pushed together like they were a king bed. Linda marched down and insisted on a bigger room, and they gave us a disability-accessible room, with a lot more space. We still like the Scandic Palace better, but the staff here are cheerfully helpful and responsive, and and go out of their way to make us happy.
Disability-accessible rooms:
What works for one disability does not necessarily work for all. Hotel disability-accessible rooms are designed to accommodate people in wheelchairs, not blind people. Our room is nice and spacious, yes, but now I can't find anything. The bathroom is all weird angles and I'm finding myself walking into the shower instead of to the toilet. Then there's getting back to my bed after I manage to find my way out of the bathroom.
Last night after I stumbled into the front door instead of hitting the foot of my bed, I got disoriented and next hit the wall with the big screen television. I careened off that and finally hit the bed. I plopped my butt down with a big sigh. It wasn't until I turned to get into the bed and hit Linda instead of the bed that I realized I'd found the wrong bed. Sheesh.
Oregonians, take note:
We were having a glass of wine in the hotel lounge, and our waiter informed us he had the largest selection of Oregon wines in the world.
"Oregon??" I wasn't sure I'd heard him right. "Oregon" sounds absolution nothing like "California," which is what I would have expected to hear.
"Yes, the largest selection of Oregon wines in the world." He was very proud of that.
So we had some Oregon wine from the largest selection of Oregon wine in the world, located right here in Gothenburg, Sweden.
Sent from my iPad
"Oh, I thought it was "GOOth-n-burg" -- that's how I learned it when I was there before," Linda said.
"Yah but English better GOT-n-burg." He was a Swede who'd lived in Copenhagen for years, and we had struck up a conversation at the Copenhagen train station. I had the impression he liked us but thought our Swedish was so bad it was better for us to just speak English.
But then when we asked Ingrid and her family how to pronounce it at their Easter feast here in Gothenburg today, her husband Thore said "GOOth-n-burg" and son Bert said "GOT-n-burg" and daughter Ann said something like "jootaborg" very fast.
Ingrid's family may not have been the best Swedish language teachers but they sure were the best hosts. And what a feast they served up for us. We started off with champagne and conversation in the living room, and then sat down at the table. Crackers, cheese and pickled herring appeared on our plates and we were asked what we'd like to Io drink, we. said we'd have whatever they were having. "We want to do it the proper Swedish way!" I added.
So Bert poured us schnapps and beer. I asked if we were supposed to drink the schnapps and chase it with the beer or what. Bert said you can drink the beer anytime but not necessarily with the schnapps, and before you drink schnapps you should always have some herring first.
AND, before you drink the first schnapps, there is a song. So we all had some herring and raised our schnapps glasses, and Linda made an iPhone video of us all waving our glasses and them (not me) singing.
The herring was marinated in some kind of mustard sauce, and a small slice was good for two bites. I wasn't sure I'd like it, but I was determined to give it a try, and found that it really was good. After the song was finished and we all cheered, I took a big sip of schnapps and immediately began feeling like a tea kettle about to boil and set off the whistle. My eyes watered (my chronically acute and acutely chronic DRY eyes actually watered!) and I'm sure I had steam coming out of my ears. I emitted a faint "Woo hoo!"
Then I ate some of the cheese and crackers and gulped some beer. I was surprised to find that after the beer, my tastebuds wanted more herring and schnapps. The herring tasted even better this time and the schnapps went down easier too.
It's important to have some herring first before sipping the schnapps, Bert said, "because the herring has protein and settles the stomach for the schnapps." I never could have guessed that the combination of pickled herring, schnapps, cheese and crackers and beer would all go together so well. I had two helpings of the herring and two glasses of schnapps, along with several crackers and slices of smooth creamy Swedish cheese. And a full glass of beer.
Dinner was roast lamb, potatoes au gratin, green beans, and a ragout of cherry tomatoes. I am not a lamb fan, but this really was good, the best I'd ever had. Everything was good, in fact.
Oh, yes, and we had a few glasses of red wine with the dinner.
Then came a simple but perfect dessert with berries (raspberries, I think) and ice cream.
Oh, yes, and a couple glasses of limoncello, a family tradition Ingrid started after a visit to Italy.
I'm amazed that after all of this I felt just fine. More impressive, I functioned just fine. We even walked a few blocks to the tram station after dinner and took the tram back to the hotel. Bert really must be right about the herring keeping the schnapps at bay, and then there is the fact that all of this was consumed over a period of five hours or so.
It was a delightful time full of life stories, laughs and some tears. We talked about everything. In addition to filling each other in on how we knew each other, we covered politics (very carefully), California (the state tourism board should hire Linda and me), Stockholm versus Gothenburg (according to Bert, "Stockholm loves us but we don't like Stockholm"), the European versus the American outlook on life (I pointed out that in Europe, you're surrounded by more than a thousand years of history and many buildings that are that old, while in the US, we only have about 400 years of history and it's hard to find any building that old), our travels (Linda and I filled them in on the India trip and how she had to cancel out because of her emergency appendectomy the day before her flight to Singapore), and much, much more.
This will surely be one of the very best memories of our trip. It's such an honor to be welcomed into a family Ike this, to share their celebration and the food they enjoy best.
Some short shots:
Train travel to Gothenburg:
Taking the train from Copenhagen to Gothenburg yesterday was no Orient Express experience for sure, more like Amtrak. The small seats were uncomfortable after about an hour (and our ride was four hours), the stops at each town along the way were long, and there was no dining car. But there was a guy who came through each train car with a little cart of hot and cold beverages, sandwiches and other snacks, so we were able to get tea and coffee during our ride. Linda said the trains in France are much nicer, so I am expecting the Eurostar train between London and Paris and the TGV train from Paris to Lyon will not be better experiences.
Taking the commuter train from the Copenhagen Central Station to the airport to catch the train to Gotehnburg didn't take long, but it was awkward with our carry-on baggage. There just wasn't much room, and, surprisingly, people didn't seem to want to make room for us. When we finally found seats, they were the kind that fold up against the wall when not in use. Linda didn't realize her seat was up, and she landed hard on her tailbone on the floor, jolting her back all the way up to her neck. Her neck is sensitive because she's had whiplash before. This is not good at all. She's taking Ibuprofen and I'm careful to avoid putting any pressure on her shoulders.
Nicole:
We headed to the hotel lounge last night after we finally got settled in our room, and a cute young lady led us to our table. She asked us where we were from, and when we tolde her, she told us she' drown up in Folsom. nto and Auburn, and we found out she grew up in Folsom. We enjoyed chatting with her as much as we enjoyed our wine and Swedish bread and cheese plate. Meeting Nicole from Folsom, California, was a nice ending to a very long day.
And now, time to hit the pillow.
Monday 17 April 2017
Gothenburg, Sweden
I woke up to a dark room after a good sleep, and figured it must be just before dawn. I booted my iPhone into my CI and hit the button.
"Ten a.m."
"WHAT? That can't be right..." But Siri insisted, "Ten a.m." I gave it a third try, and this time she said "Ten oh one a.m."
So I got up, found the iPad and checked it. Yep, it was ten bloody oh two o'clock in the morning. Damn, the breakfast buffet closes at ten. I opened the curtains, turned on lights, started the hot pot for a cuppa tea, and began waking Linda up. It took a few minutes. First I rubbed her toes through the blanket, then I gently shook her feet, and finally I gently rocked her shoulder. "Huuuunnnnnhh?"
"Linda! It's after ten, and we missed breakfast." I had to repeat this twice before her brain clicked on.
"No no, the buffet doesn't close until eleven," she said, sitting up and throwing off her blanket. We made it downstairs with a few minutes to spare, and both of us needed an extra cuppa before we could really believe we'd slept the whole night through until 10 a.m. Ever since we arrived in Europe we've been waking up between 4 and 7 a.m. and going full blast all day. I guess it caught up with us.
Today was a good day to sleep in. It's truly bloody butt freezing cold to our tender California heinies. We had snow flurries and slushy rain yesterday, and today it warmed up to a whopping 36 degrees Fahrenheit. The kind of weather to watch through a window, from a nice warm room with a nice hot cuppa.
But by late afternoon the sun was peeking out from behind the clouds every now and then, and we wanted to get out for a bit. The very nice good-looking Swede at the front desk (actually, I have to take Linda's word for it that he's good-looking but I totally trust her judgment here) told us it was a "short ten-minute walk" to a restaurant called "Mr. P's" which he said was one of the best in town. He showed Linda where it was on a map, and she figured she could find it. A nice brisk walk in the brisk weather, a good dinner, and then a taxi ride home. That sounded like a good plan to us. So we set off.
And walked and walked. European cities are not consistent about street signs at intersections, and European businesses (including restaurants) do not tend to be "in your face" with their signage, so it's easy to get lost if you don't already know how to get there.
We stopped a couple times to ask directions and confirm we were on the right track, and Linda always had us going in the right direction. We just had to keep going. The cold wasn't so bad when we were moving, but walking into the wind was work, and after the second ten minutes had gone by we were antsy about finding this Mr. P's restaurant that was supposed to be so good.
The sun peeked out just as we were coming up to an Italian restaurant. "Oh Mary, look, this place has a window right in the sun and we could sit and have a glass of wine and a nice dinner."
That sure sounded like heaven. The wind was nasty, even in the sun, and my whole face was starting to freeze. So we said goodbye to Mr. P and turned in to the Italian place. Linda cheerily greeted the waitress, saying we'd like a table by the window for wine and dinner.
"Oh, I am sorry, we can't serve alcoholic beverages," the waitress said.
"WHAT!?" Linda's dismay was fervent and outraged. "No wine?" The waitress explained that they were under new ownership and still waiting for their liquor license. Linda whipped around and I spun around with her, hanging on to her arm. "They don't serve adult beverages here, Mary," Linda announced. "We'll have to go on to Mr. P's."
As we headed back for the door and that awful nasty wind, I sadly let go of my fond expectations of a warm seat at a window in the sun and a nice glass of wine. I started buttoning up my parka again, ready to resume our never-ending search for Mr. P. "This is depressing," I muttered.
Linda spluttered out a chuckle, and by the time we burst out of the door back onto the sidewalk, we were both breathless with giggles. Such a memorable (but not necessarily favorable) impression we must have made on that waitress.
So on we walked. We passed a few other restaurants, but somehow after resuming our commitment to Mr. P, we were determined to reach his altar. After another ten minutes or so we came across a woman pushing a stroller and asked if she knew where the Mr. P's restaurant was. She told us it was just a few doors away. When we finally walked into Mr. P's restaurant we were ready to hug Mr. P himself in grateful relief.
We didn't get a window table in the sun but the restaurant was nice and warm, and we did get a nice table and a nice waiter who gave us excellent service. The Swedish-Asian fusion food menu was a surprise. We had spring rolls with cabbage, mushrooms and other good things, and a dish of fresh-caught cod in a tangy yellow coconut milk curry served with broccoli and bok choy. We happily cleaned our plates and drained a couple glasses of wine. The taxi ride back to our hotel took about as long as our ten-minute walk was supposed to take, but we decided it was all OK. The restaurant really was good and we got in some good exercise.
And we got to take in some sights. My first impression of Gothenburg when we got off the train was that it's busier with more traffic than Copenhagen. I got this same impression today as we walked (and walked) to Mr. P's, It seemed to me that the streets are generally wider, and the buildings are overall larger in scale than in Copenhagen, too. Older buildings here are mostly of light stone, and the more modern buildings, including the Clarion Hotel Post where we are staying, have a lot of glass and stainless steel. The sidewalks are mostly concrete, and there is not much earthy brick.
Linda brought out her iPhone to take a selfie of us in front of a neon crown sign that she said looked very Swedish, and again when we drew near to a statue. I had no idea what the statue was, but I supposed Linda liked the idea of a threesome selfie. (I found out later that the statue was a nude God, with extremely prominent and large genitals. "Ah, NOW I know why you wanted that selfie!" I told her.) She really is a wiz with that iPhone camera. She has a little tripod thing for it that she can hold in her hand or set on the ground, and has a timer for it, too..
So Linda does her selfies and videos and I do my travelogue novels. Our trip is certainly not going to be lacking for documentation.
Tomorrow we're off to Amsterdam via KLM We check out at eleven and will walk over to the train station across the street, where we can catch a shuttle bus to the Gothenburg Lendverter Airport.
Some short shots:
The hotel:
We weren't crazy about the Clarioo Hotel Post when we first arrived. We both missed the Scandic Palace in Copenhagen, which felt like a warm hug. This hotel is one of those modern buildings with lots of glass, stainless steel, and muted gray colors. And the first room they checked us into was tiny, with two twin beds pushed together like they were a king bed. Linda marched down and insisted on a bigger room, and they gave us a disability-accessible room, with a lot more space. We still like the Scandic Palace better, but the staff here are cheerfully helpful and responsive, and and go out of their way to make us happy.
Disability-accessible rooms:
What works for one disability does not necessarily work for all. Hotel disability-accessible rooms are designed to accommodate people in wheelchairs, not blind people. Our room is nice and spacious, yes, but now I can't find anything. The bathroom is all weird angles and I'm finding myself walking into the shower instead of to the toilet. Then there's getting back to my bed after I manage to find my way out of the bathroom.
Last night after I stumbled into the front door instead of hitting the foot of my bed, I got disoriented and next hit the wall with the big screen television. I careened off that and finally hit the bed. I plopped my butt down with a big sigh. It wasn't until I turned to get into the bed and hit Linda instead of the bed that I realized I'd found the wrong bed. Sheesh.
Oregonians, take note:
We were having a glass of wine in the hotel lounge, and our waiter informed us he had the largest selection of Oregon wines in the world.
"Oregon??" I wasn't sure I'd heard him right. "Oregon" sounds absolution nothing like "California," which is what I would have expected to hear.
"Yes, the largest selection of Oregon wines in the world." He was very proud of that.
So we had some Oregon wine from the largest selection of Oregon wine in the world, located right here in Gothenburg, Sweden.
Sent from my iPad
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