Rain and Cafes

Sitting in the home office just now, marveling at the umpteenth day of rain in Atlanta this summer.  It’s been a wet one, for sure.  The good news is that I haven’t had to water my lawn once this year; the bad news is that all this rain closes mountain bike trails, it seems, for nearly every weekend.  Good for the pocket book; not so good for the fitness routine.

A wet, gray day like today puts me into my “Swedish” mode.  The mode in which I long for a warm and cozy café, a strong Swedish cappuccino, an almond biscotti and a good book to read.  From 1998 to 2001, I lived in Gothenburg, Sweden, working for Saab Automobile AB.  Set on the west coast of Sweden, Gothenburg is a port town, a once dominating shipbuilding town with a deep-water harbor, huge loading cranes and a sizable dry dock for freighter repairs.  As a coastal city, it experiences lots of rain.  It also boasts the most cafes per capita of any European city outside of France or Italy.

So, for me, rain and cafes go together like, well, cappuccino and biscotti.  Saturday and Sunday there were normally spent in “Le Petit Café,” which was just around the corner from my apartment in the old town “Haga” district.  This café was owned by an Iranian woman who had immigrated to Sweden when the Shah fell in 1979.  I think she was the hardest-working woman in Gothenburg – she operated a second-hand clothing store in her home town of Kungälv, a village about 20 minutes north of Gothenburg; she ran this café from 8 am to 6 pm every day; and she provided baked goods for her café and three others in Haga.  I don’t think I ever saw her sitting down.

Since tipping is not normal in Sweden, she and I played a little game:  when I paid my bill, I always left a 10% tip.  This unnerved her to the point that she would always give me a second cappuccino or biscotti – “on the house.”  She couldn’t handle the idea of tipping.  An egalitarian Swedish mentality.

But did I mention the rain?  The Gulf Stream pushes up that far north; Gothenburg’s climate is actually quite mild.  A reasonable weather forecast for nearly any time of year is 50°F and rain.  In the wintertime, there’s also the darkness; sun up around 9:00 am and sunset around 2:30 pm.  Short days, long nights.  Throw in the rain, and it makes for some gloomy days.  Not unlike this summer in Atlanta.

Having said all of this, I’ve returned to Gothenburg probably 10 times in the last 12 years.  It gets under your skin.  I haven’t found a comparable café in Atlanta to any I experienced in Sweden.  You can’t get a coffee “to go” in Sweden; the expectation is that you come in, order, choose a table (usually graced with a vase with a simple flower and a votive candle), and drink you coffee in a proper cup.  You chat, you read, you think, you unwind. 

Doesn’t sound like the local Starbucks, much, does it?

I’ve always thought that life in Europe is extremely “civilized.”  People seem to have their priorities in a different order than we do.  There, it’s family, friends, food…then work.  Sweden’s social structure is such that there are only a handful incredibly rich people and there are few truly impoverished people – everyone has “Lagom,” which is Swedish for “just enough.”  Everyone frowns upon grand displays of wealth.  With no pretense exhibited, it’s calming to me to just “be.”  As it is for the Swedes, in the rain, in their cozy, warm cafes.

Having said all of this, as the years have progressed, my ties to Sweden are stretched thin.  Saab is out of business; most of my business colleagues have moved on to other companies, other countries, other phases of their lives.  Airfares are up; travel has become less and less pleasant.  I don’t think I’ll go to Sweden for quite awhile – as much as Sweden pulls me, it’s time for me to move on as well.

It’s nice to know, though, surveying the steady rain through my office window, thinking deep thoughts, drinking a coffee from a proper cup, that every now and then, Sweden can come to me.