The Best Beach In Sweden
This weekend I took a mini-vacation to Tofta, a small resort on Gotland, an island about a hundred miles south of Stockholm. (Amusingly, the driving directions produced by Google Maps neglect to point out that the longest part of the route is over water, leading to a rather unusual set of turn-by-turn directions at the ferry terminal in Nynäshamn.) I'd heard about the beach in Tofta from several Swedish colleagues, some of whom described it as "the best sandy beach in Sweden." (The distinction is necessary because many of the beaches are pebbled or rocky, making them altogether unsuitable for sunbathing, volleyball, and the other usual beach-type activities.)
When I got there, though, I discovered this: a half-mile long strip of beach, ten yards deep at its widest point, covered with pale-skinned (and therefore frying) Swedes and their naked, sand-encrusted children. The whole thing wasn't much wider than a good-sized sidewalk; if I were mean and didn't have any moral aversion to stepping on the little runts, I could have probably walked the length of the beach without ever setting foot on the ground.
At the south end of this "beach" there was a narrow chute between the sand dunes, maybe thirty or forty yards across and extending a hundred yards inland from the water—filled with the entire Young Swedish Yuppie crowd from Stockholm, all of whom apparently decided to come down and lay out in that very spot on that very weekend. It felt a whole lot like Stureplan South (Stockholm's pathetically wannabe version of the Paris Hilton/aristocretin crowd, complete with their very own, flagrantly unnecessary blog and society pages, the latter apparently consisting primarily of photos of marginally attractive women holding each other and swigging Cristal or Dom Perignon1 as if it were mineral water). Vapid twits2 as far as the eye could see.
And this is Sweden's best beach???
What's the worst one like, then? A field of razor clams and a giant sewage drainpipe? A lagoon full of radioactive piranha?? With frickin' laser beams???
Oh, well. At least some of the non-Swedes there were a bit less pretentious and had a sense of humor. But next time I'll take my colleagues' advice with a large grain of salt.
1 Incredibly, this site actually requires you to attest to the fact that you are over 18 years old just to view the contents. Normally that sort of thing is reserved for porn, but hey... maybe they do things differently in France. In any case, it's totally meaningless—unless they actually believe I was born in 1899 and hail from Angola.
2 None of whom, incidentally, appeared inclined to put on any sunscreen. Maybe I'm just an old fart3 or was brainwashed by the Dermatologist Mafia back in the US or something, but no one I know would even think of spending an entire day in such seriously broiling conditions without it. In Tofta, on the other hand, it seemed as if it was a serious faux pas, like showing up at the Nobel Banquet wearing your underwear on your head. This may explain a phenomenon that is especially glaring when an American guy arrives in Stockholm for the first time: women in their 20's and 30's are smoking hot, but by the time they get to their 50's their skin is so sun-worn they look like saddlebags with eyes.
3 When I was your age, I used to walk to school, six miles in the snow, uphill both ways.4 Yes, I lived on a Möbius strip. Shut up.
4 Are you diggin' the nested footnotes? Well, are ya? I bet you're diggin' the nested footnotes. I can tell.
When I got there, though, I discovered this: a half-mile long strip of beach, ten yards deep at its widest point, covered with pale-skinned (and therefore frying) Swedes and their naked, sand-encrusted children. The whole thing wasn't much wider than a good-sized sidewalk; if I were mean and didn't have any moral aversion to stepping on the little runts, I could have probably walked the length of the beach without ever setting foot on the ground.
At the south end of this "beach" there was a narrow chute between the sand dunes, maybe thirty or forty yards across and extending a hundred yards inland from the water—filled with the entire Young Swedish Yuppie crowd from Stockholm, all of whom apparently decided to come down and lay out in that very spot on that very weekend. It felt a whole lot like Stureplan South (Stockholm's pathetically wannabe version of the Paris Hilton/aristocretin crowd, complete with their very own, flagrantly unnecessary blog and society pages, the latter apparently consisting primarily of photos of marginally attractive women holding each other and swigging Cristal or Dom Perignon1 as if it were mineral water). Vapid twits2 as far as the eye could see.
And this is Sweden's best beach???
What's the worst one like, then? A field of razor clams and a giant sewage drainpipe? A lagoon full of radioactive piranha?? With frickin' laser beams???
Oh, well. At least some of the non-Swedes there were a bit less pretentious and had a sense of humor. But next time I'll take my colleagues' advice with a large grain of salt.
1 Incredibly, this site actually requires you to attest to the fact that you are over 18 years old just to view the contents. Normally that sort of thing is reserved for porn, but hey... maybe they do things differently in France. In any case, it's totally meaningless—unless they actually believe I was born in 1899 and hail from Angola.
2 None of whom, incidentally, appeared inclined to put on any sunscreen. Maybe I'm just an old fart3 or was brainwashed by the Dermatologist Mafia back in the US or something, but no one I know would even think of spending an entire day in such seriously broiling conditions without it. In Tofta, on the other hand, it seemed as if it was a serious faux pas, like showing up at the Nobel Banquet wearing your underwear on your head. This may explain a phenomenon that is especially glaring when an American guy arrives in Stockholm for the first time: women in their 20's and 30's are smoking hot, but by the time they get to their 50's their skin is so sun-worn they look like saddlebags with eyes.
3 When I was your age, I used to walk to school, six miles in the snow, uphill both ways.4 Yes, I lived on a Möbius strip. Shut up.
4 Are you diggin' the nested footnotes? Well, are ya? I bet you're diggin' the nested footnotes. I can tell.
posted by Biff at 19:45
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