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Travel: Sweden

Even the most jingoistic of patriots must surely admit that they have, buried somewhere deep inside, an envy of Sweden.

Why? Well let’s briefly consider the facts. Number one: Swedes are, with a few exceptions – such as a certain former England coach – beautiful. As a native of Hull, where 20 is the new 40, I found going to Sweden a bit like leaving a city of ugly sisters and arriving to a nation of Cinderellas.

Number two: Swedes have a lot of space. Just nine million people live in a country bigger than Britain; there’s even a forest in the middle of Gothenburg. Number three: Sweden is safe. There are no gun-wielding gangs here.

The list could go on, but the point is that Sweden doesn’t do bad connotations. However, is there a hidden dark side to the country; are there any blemishes to this seemingly pure profile?

Well, if there is one thing that could tentatively be perceived as a negative, then it is a lack of freedom, which may seem slightly paradoxical in one of Europe’s most left-leaning countries. After Denmark, Sweden has the second highest tax burden in the world with the average citizen yielding 50% of their earnings; meanwhile a third of the workforce is employed by the government.

You’ll struggle to find a better education and health care system in Europe, but imagine taking home only half of what you earn. So Sweden is not the place to get filthy rich, but, walking down the wide boulevards of Gothenburg, you can see the effect that all of that government money has.

The city drips efficiency, from its perfectly symmetrical buildings to its rigorously clean pavements. Trams trundle earnestly by; they are the main form of transport around the city centre, and there are about as many cars as you might expect to see in London if an authoritarian Green party were to dethrone Boris.

A stroll through one of the city’s many parks in the evening is interrupted by an encounter with two yellow-uniformed women, revealing that Gothenburg has volunteers to patrol some of the shadier areas of the city, a policy aimed at deterring trouble-making youths. If they decide that you are not out to meddle, they send on your way with a hug and a lollipop.

With the soundtrack of a culture festival filling the city’s streets with music, I felt that Gothenburg is trying to achieve that most difficult of balances, a sense of community and cosmopolitanism.

Just an hour from the centre of Gothenburg and you can be gazing out across mountains, lakes and fjords. Not that there is the need to ‘escape’ from the stresses of Swedish urban life, because there don’t appear to be any.

The strength of Swedish socialism seems to spread to all corners. Even in the back-alleys, there is not a beggar to be seen, while the city centre has subsidized housing for young people.

And what of the nightlife? Sweden has great music, including, pleasingly, a sizeable amount of cheese; and it has beautiful people, so there’s your answer.

Despite the fact that so far, this article might as well be a PR release from the Swedish tourism board, intuition does raise reservations. Maybe the cause of this unease is that geographically and politically, Sweden is far from being central. One young Swedish woman echoed this feeling, telling me that she was moving to England because she wanted ‘to be closer to where everything happens’.

Perhaps it’s that it all seems too Stepford Wives-esque, and that the powerful influence of the state lingers in the air. It’s not that there is an invasion into the privacy of people’s lives – this is no Orwellian state – it just all seems a little too perfect.

Or maybe it’s just that familiarity and fondness for Britain’s idiosyncrasies obscure the objectivity necessary to write on the subject.

But if there were Oscars for states, then there’s no doubt that Sweden would be a perennial nominee for ‘Best Country’. I’d hoped that it would disprove its enviable stereotype, and would reveal something unexpected. I’d hoped, slightly sadistically, to find something wrong with it. I didn’t.

Perhaps though, therein lies its weakness. There is a lot wrong with Britain, but hardship inspires creativity and the anger that is often necessary to achieve. Somehow this Scandinavian country seems sterile by comparison.

Sweden is a bit like the house of a middle-class family, looked after by a prim housewife. Everything sparkles, you can see your reflection on the kitchen work-surface, nothing is untidy.

Yet this perceived perfection is unnerving. Reassuring sights, such as a book left out of place or spilt coffee on the kitchen table – something that might make it feel more homely – are absent. What a ridiculous analogy, you might say – and of course ten days in a country is not long enough to fairly judge it – but somehow Sweden has got it so right that there seems to be little left to fight for; indeed describing it is a bit like describing someone as ‘nice’.

So, Sweden: objectively ten out of ten, but personally, the rough edges of Britain remain more appealing.

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