Bob Cramer's Blog

After numerous threats and repeated Truth Social posts, Gothenburg, Sweden, a gem of a city not well known in the US, finally relented and awarded me a medal as an unofficial goodwill ambassador. As I traveled there recently to welcome my second Swedish-American grandchild (the things I do to get a medal), I left impressed with the depth and sophistication of this remarkable place, full of numerous museums, a buzzing restaurant scene, the “must-attend” amusement park, stately canals a la Amsterdam, and soon, a brand new subway network to complement the already extensive tram transportation system.

There is a lot to love about Göteborg (that’s how the Swedes write it in their most clever language with all the little marks on top of certain letters, much cooler than “Gothenburg”, though I’m sure it creates some branding challenges and I’m not totally sure how to say it). I’ve been there five times, but this is a first for mid-winter, where the temperatures rest low, and the sun and the light finally decide to raise their sleepy heads just before 9 and then seem to pass out again around 4ish.

But the city is alive with activity as is my son’s apartment where apparently no one ever sleeps. The beautiful new arrival certainly was the calmest of the bunch, constantly testing out her newly formed arms and legs and checking out all these strange people oohing and cooing right in her face. I don’t blame her for sleeping a lot either.

Her big brother, on the other hand, brings it big time with full two-year old energy, an obsession with monster trucks, hair flying everywhere, and an impressive one-leg scoot that moves him rapidly around the floor. Good thing he didn’t ask Grandpa to “come” and get down and scoot around, certain to cause a second hip replacement.

The little man, playing hooky from pre-school to hang with grandparents and avoiding getting new baby sister full of kiddie germs, requires constant outings. Just getting out the door required military precision and the apartment’s no-shoe policy represents a real challenge. You see, I bought new boots for this Scandinavian winter wunderland, and no, I didn’t listen to my wife about breaking them in. So these immense Tasmania, Australia-built Blunderstone torture boots had to come on and off repeatedly, requiring at times a shoe horn, a seat, a shot of bourbon, and just the perfect angle to somehow get these monsters back on without leg cramping.

Once out, we traveled the city on foot and by tram, first visiting the impressive natural history museum (naturhistoiriska museum), just steps from Ben’s apartment and inside the immense public park called Slottsskogen which shares many design elements with NYC’s Central Park.

Next up was the beautiful and brand new Volvo museum, commemorating the 100-year founding of the safe, reliable and at times boxy world famous car company founded right there. Rumor has it that if you buy a Volvo, the company will fly you to Gothenburg to see your car being built. Something I should consider.

We also went to Liseberg, a massive amusement park said to have been part of Walt Disney’s inspiration to build Disneyland. Things were pretty much closed up for the season, except the kid’s section where we basically had the park to ourselves. My grandson tried his hand at bumper cars (didn’t go well), and we had an aborted flight on an airplane ride when said grandson became unhappy and the nice man shut down the ride to let us off. Need to go back in the summer time for sure.

A trip to the maritime museum which includes lots of miniature boats, history about the Port of Gothenburg, and a nice aquarium didn’t leave us time to visit the beautiful Children’s Museum. So much to do, so little time.

Gothenburg is on the west coast of Sweden (big brother Stockholm is on the east coast), easily accessible from Amsterdam and London with a world-class airport that reminds one of the new and improved LaGuardia.

And one more thing before I go and consider sharing my new hard-earned medal with our leader in return for a large federal contract: the hotel breakfast is to die for. Seriously, I’d go to Gothenburg just for breakfast alone, but maybe that is just me.