The Swedes we know to be as super efficient as they are beautiful. A bit on the dour side, the dissenter observing Sven-Goran might think, but maybe also up for a party, if the dissenter switches his gaze towards Ulrika.
Well, I arrive at the Heathrow Terminal Three desk of the Swedish airline SAS to be told that while I have indeed made an online booking, no ticket or confirmation seems to materialised. Would I kindly remove my case from the belt and pass over to the ticket desk to sort it (aka their error) out? "Don't worry about queuing again," says the young woman. "Just come straight back to me."
Unfortunately, no one lets a fractious queue in on this deal. So when SAS belatedly rediscovers my existence, issues a boarding pass and sends me back to check-in, the belligerent lady at the front of that queue begins a tantrum. All doubtless part of a Swedish joke.
Then, after a flight marked by having to pay for a fiver for a glass of water and can of beer and also by encountering some bulky Swedes, some of them passengers, the airport ATM in Gothenburg refuses to issue cash until I work out that you have to put the card in upside down.
We follow the hotel's recommendation and take the airport bus since it stops outside the front door and can therefore be excused being jam packed. At the hotel, there's a problem with my internet connection. No, I cannot use a business centre since - despite this being one of the partner hotels for the World Association of Newspapers 61st congress - it is closed for refurbishment. And no, there's nowhere still open for food ("it is Sunday, I am afraid, sir").
Next morning, the girls at the conferences registration desks (hotel and congress centre) can find no trace of my badge and documents. Apparently, the system "thinks" I haven't paid though it certainly felt otherwise when I parted online with my card details. And outside there are signs advertising a performance of Singing in the Rain.
There is no rain, Gothenburg being blessed with wonderful June weather, but it strikes the right note on two levels.
First, it really is a delightful place, full of friendly people. And I am here, among newspaper executives arguing until blue in the face that all - or at least much - is actually going well for the supposedly beleaguered printed press, as a representative of that rare phenomenon, a newly launched daily newspaper.
And secondly, everything has been done to make our short stay enjoyable (and help us forget those irritating hitches).
With its excellent food, miniature bottles of snaps (in such abundance that one of those execs confessed to nursing a hangover when required to address the conference next morning) and boisterous drinking songs..... ......... not to mention King Carl Gustaf, a troupe of Abba soundalikes and Sweden's own Chieftains equivalent - Gothenburg/Goteborg is indeed up for that party..........
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