Always better, the second time around...

 ...banan cocka v2.0...

Seattle’s “Latté Run” vs. Göteborg’s “Fika”

All right. Yes, yes, I know. I'm late once again...

Whether it was Sweden’s distracting autumn beauty or a series upcoming project deadlines, this week has just been a bit…disjointed. I left my lunch at home mondag, I forgot a skype-date tisdag, a symposium melted my brain önsdag, and I was late to Swedish class torsdag. Naturally, between rushing to make trams, putting spoiled milk in my tea, or forgetting to write emails, the only time I’ve been able to successfully collect myself has been when my hands are around a cup of coffee…

Hence why this post, I will forgo the usual update on my life (as thrilling as it is) and delve into a post about Swedish culture. Come with me: today, we're diving into the Swedish concept of fika from the perspective of a caffeine-addicted Seattlelite...

As you know, Seattle has a large coffee reputation. As the hometown of Starbucks, we're well-known for our espresso snobbery and those iconic white-and-green to-go cups. I'd say the rejuvenating aspects of taking a coffee break there is well-known and well-practiced—almost everyone I know in Seattle enjoys a misty afternoon from the confines of a local coffeeshop often is dripping with eccentric cultural sarcasm and fair-trade initiatives. Or, at least I do...

There is simply nothing more soothing for the winter soul than to migrate to a café from the depths of white, city mist and meditate on the taste of pearly-brown coffee.

That said, I was delighted to learn prior to moving here (as you may remember) that Göteborg had a strong coffee culture. Here, it's probably just as common to go and 'fika' as much as one goes on a 'latté break' in Seattle, and though in several aspects these two cities remain very much the same in their love for the drink, there does exist some very distinct but lovely differences. In the most basic terms, I'd say fika is like 4X longer than a latté break, in comparison, and always involves a seriously decadent dessert.

Other factors, however, while subtle to outsiders, nevertheless create quite a different experience, such as:

1. Antiquity. First of all, let me express my immense pleasure in finding no major obnoxious coffee chains in this city. I’ll tell you, having an actual corner in Seattle where there are no less than five Starbucks makes me cringe in ways I never thought I could. What I genuinely appreciate in Göteborg is how many cafes are still in old buildings, still serve on timeless tables, and still keep the 1970 graffiti on their bathroom stalls. Easily, you can find a tucked-in café anywhere in Linnè, Haga, and along Vasagatan that’d could make all buzzing in your head stop.
    
2. Invitation. This, I find, is the key difference between coffee here and coffee in Seattle. In Göteborg, the baristas and café owners expect you to stay for your coffee break. They give you a porcelain cup. They don’t ask if you are going anywhere. They’ll clear you a spot within their tables. There is in no way or form a suggestion that you should be ordering your coffee to-go and leaving within 10 minutes of dawdling in front of the display of South American espresso. No. Here, you are given your coffee, and you sit and sip for at least an hour (omgyesss).
    
3. Hospitality. In Seattle, when you do have the time (and space) to sit for coffee, you are then expected to bring up your dishes. Not in Sweden. Do you know how luxurious it is just to leave the cup at the table? Do you see the blankets they leave out for you to use if you want to sit outside?? Yes, the baristas may not ask you about your day, but who the hell cares? They give you blankets. Genius.
    
4. Pastries and cakes. No bagels here. No shitty, dry banana bread that costs the equivalent of your firstborn child. No, darlings—here, there are cakes, and cookies, and kannelbulle the size of your head. And if you don’t want anything sweet, there is lasagna(!), and small sandwiches with butter and thin layers of ham. And, God—I cannot…get over…the custard they smother it all in. Eat its entirety, with small spoons with long handles. 

Obviously, there are the smaller things, too: lattés served in water cups (yes!), tea and coffee have the same price (no!), more crying babies (no!), maneuvering six faux-bamboo trays on an antique table for three (tetris!), the impossibility of seats with good reading light/outlets (noooo). In fact, just the other day, I had to master the artful dance of edging around five prams with a very full teacup.

But all things considered, it’s completely obvious to this Seattlelite why Göteborg is the most espresso crazy city in Sweden. Fika here is a religious experience. And I, am a total convert.

Powerpoint < Baking

Today's endeavor: my mother's recipe for banana bread. Or, in Swedish: banancockar. With the Swedish name obviously sending me into fits of laughter, my roommate and I have now christened my new baking project, "The Banana Cock."

Today, it's overcast and a blustery 10 C. Scrapping the idea to go out and take pictures earlier this morning with a couple of my photography-literate friends, I've been domestically puttering around the apartment. So far, I have conquered our cute Wall-E vacuum cleaner, dusted the shelves holding my art supplies (haven't been too active, of late), and discovered the hiding place of our handheld mixer in the kitchen.

Ha. I just realized I'm even wearing a dress today. How's that for gender stereotypes?

Last night, was Kulturnatta, or Culture Night in Göteborg. Kind of like First Thursday in Seattle, the city's galleries, cafes, bars, museums, churches, libraries, parks, and theaters throw their doors open to the public for a full night of world culture. When I was trying to decipher the Swedish pamphlet, I saw everything from book readings to traditional Swedish dance to free women self-defense classes to choir music. The event opened with an indie choir singing hits from Robyn and Abba, and the streets of Linne probably echoed with the sounds of high heels, laughter, rolling beer bottles, shouting, and jazz until I woke up this morning...

As for me---I went first with a group of friends to Stadsbiblioteket (City Library) to hear Afro-Caribbean drumming and watch this five year old bust into crazy, Happy Feet-esque dance solos in front of the crowd. Then we went to Hagabio, an alternative movie theater/cafe/bar/culture house near my flat, and proceeded to listen to a fantastic South African storyteller, peer at black and white photos with courtesy tea, and watch the first half of a Swedish documentary on hip hop schools of Medellin, Colombia.

Awesome. +1000 culture points.

The rest of this week looks busy. Tonight is a birthday party of one of the girls in our program, tomorrow I'm typing up Powerpoints and essays in the cavernous glass lobby of the VarldsKulturMuseet, and Monday I meet the director of Universeum for lunch.

But for now, my roommate and I are going to stuff ourselves with banana cock to El Perro Del Mar.