Swedish advent has arrived and the onset of the countdown to Christmas can mean only 2 things to Swedish boys and girls: One, it’s time to put up your advent lights (7 candles arranged like an arrow) in your windows and two, it’s time to hit the Border Shop!
Most of you in living outside planet Sweden probably don’t know this but, alcohol in Sweden is sold only through a state operated monopoly called ‘Systembologet’. So as you can imagine, any self respecting treasurer is not going to do tax payers any favours buy offering any attractive buy one get one free deals or ‘BOGOF’ as we have lovingly come to know them in UK. Under the guise of protecting our health the Swedish government keep the prices of favourite tipples at a premium in a bid to keep consumption low and presumably ease the strain on the liver transplant waiting list!
With Germany less that 3 hours away by car it didn’t take long for the savvy Germans to spot an opportunity or two and soon open up massive floating hypermarkets at the ports that service ferries between Denmark and Sweden with Germany. Welcome to Border Shop phenomenon where Swedes and Danes alike fill their boots with boozy booty, blatantly ignoring their governments attempts on liver preservation. What’s that theory now….something about forbidden fruit was it…
My Swedish boy asked me if I fancied a little jaunt across the waters, stock up on some Xmas booty and take in a night in Lubeck famous for its marzipan (another favourite at this time of year). ABSOLUT! I replied. I love the way that Swedes answer questions affirmatively whilst simultaneously demanding shots of their own branded vodka! I think this gives further evidence too, to the fact that alcohol starved Swedes have booze on the brain. It doesn’t matter where you are or what you are doing, you are guaranteed to hear at least 10 ABSOLUTS a day. And that’s before they have even started on the snaps.
You see, this restriction on alcohol just doesn’t seem to work, does it?…the intentions are good…but…it’s basic economics, supply and demand…restrict the supply and the demand shoots through the roof. Still the Germans don’t mind at all and it makes a nice day out.
So off we went, short drive across Denmark…2 hours…short ferry crossing…45 minutes…and Voila! You are in Germany, oh wait a minute that’s French…well never mind that now, we have got other things on our mind.
Lubeck is a charming town bursting with Gothic churches surrounded by calming waters and in December the center is home to bustling stalls selling all things Christmassy. It’s quite wonderful. We was really looking forward a truly GERMAN experience but everywhere the quaint roads twisted and turned, all we could hear were lots and lots of, um, Swedes!! ABSOLUT! they all seemed to be exclaiming simultaneously. It appeared we weren’t the only ones with booty on our minds this weekend.
Feeling right at home we got stuck in to the German/Swedish Christmas market experience, gulping down hot gluwein laced with Ameretto from mugs emblazoned with snow scenes and santas and munching massive foot long bratwursts that were accompanied with the smallest piece of bread I have ever been served. Next we headed to one of the famous marzipan shops and joined the throng of people all clambering to get there hands on the sugary booty shaped like any kind of animal, fruit, vegetable, object or effigy that you could possibly imagine . It was like the end of the war and rationing had finally been abolished and the shops had just got their first delivery, such was the apparent panic buying and surge of people in the shop. As I am partial to the taste of marzipan and this is supposed to be special stuff, there was no alternative but to join the heaving mass of Swedes and try to snatch up my own box of goodies and make it to the checkout in one piece.
Things were more civilised at the Border shop, probably because we chose to go there on a Saturday eve, when everyone is out in the bars drinking the stuff not shopping for it. We stocked up for Christmas and probably Easter too. Every now and then the floor seemed to sway a touch making me wonder about how much Ameretto was in those mugs of hot gluwein. Had I totally lost count of the number of tiny sample cups of box wine I had tried….It wasn’t until we came out again that I realised that the Border Shop is actually a boat! A huge booze boat! You gotta hand it to the Germans, genius.
So laden up with stocks of red, white (& no blue) wine, beers, salami, cheese, tea, marzipan, cakes and goodness knows what other booty Germans are renown for providing, we hot footed it back home again with the rest of the Swedes. Happy, fed, watered and ready to begin the advent to our Christmas. 