For members


My Swedish Career: How labour market training got me a job at Capgemini

Two years after she arrived in Sweden, Shreya Sai, from India, decided to use Sweden's 'labour market training' system to learn to code from scratch. A year later she was working as a developer at Capgemini.

My Swedish Career: How labour market training got me a job at Capgemini
Shreya Sai got a job at Capgemini after taking a coding course through the Swedish Public Employment Service's Labour Market Training programme. Photo: Private

Sai moved to Älmhult, the small town that hosts Ikea’s headquarters, back at the start of 2019, after her husband got a job working for the flatpack furniture giant.

She is a qualified physiotherapist and had spent two years practicing back home in India. But it didn’t take long for her to realise that it would be difficult to work in Sweden in her chosen profession, given the difficulty of getting a license to practice. 

“After coming over here, I saw that there were so many hurdles in medical fields, and it was a very long procedure of almost four years [to convert],” she says. 


She worked as a substitute teacher, but after almost two years in Sweden, her handler at the Swedish Public Employment Services suggested she retrain. 

“I had a chat with my case officer. And I told her about my problems, the language barrier, and how, in the past, I had studied something related to IT, so that’s why she suggested I go for these certifications.” 

The case officer enrolled Sai on a six-month full stack developer course at Lexicon, an education supplier in nearby Växjö. It was a tough few months, but Sai didn’t lose hope. She completed the course in February 2021, and then started as an intern at a Stockholm startup the next month. 

“It was really tough for me initially, but anyhow, I grabbed some momentum and started understanding coding,” she remembers. “It’s so tough to be a coder, and it is the purest pressure in my whole training time, because I didn’t know anything about coding. All types of coding were alien to me.”  She had last studied computers when she was at upper secondary school.

The Covid-19 pandemic was still ongoing, so both the course and the internship were done through remote learning, but that did not stop her from getting a four-month contact as a web developer with a heating technologies company upon graduation.

Then in February this year, she started a permanent contract at Capgemini, after being hired through their Ignite graduate program. 

Sai believes that the Public Employment Service’s labour market training courses are a good option for newcomers to Sweden, with some 400 courses on offer, mostly provided by private sector suppliers such as Lexicon, Lernia, or AU utbildning. 

 You can see a full list of available courses here. And here is some information on going on a study visit.

“You choose which field you want to belong to, and when you choose, they give you some type of study visits,” she says. “And then you go and explore and receive information, and then your case officer enrolls you if there is a vacancy after a short interview.”

In May, the employment service reported that 20,210 people had undertaken labour market training in 2021, and that there were currently 40,000 people either awaiting a decision or engaged in labour market training. 

The program is expensive, costing Sweden’s government 1.5 billion kronor in 2021, but according to the report, 43.7 percent of those who took courses were working 180 days after their course was completed, and 36.2 percent were working 90 days after the training finished. 

While studying, you still qualify for unemployment benefit from the Swedish Social Insurance Agency.

Sai says that there were people on her coding course from Ireland, Israel, Iran, Sweden and Poland, among other countries, and that only about 20 percent had a direct background in IT, with the rest having had careers in other fields.

She was the only one in the class with absolutely zero experience with computers or coding, however. 

“It was very, very, very hard for me. I was like, ‘I will quit it. I won’t be able to do it.’ But my family supported me a lot. And they said, ‘you have to do it, you can’t back out because you can you don’t have any other option'”.

She lacked the qualifications, she says, to do a less intensive computer programming course at a university, and lacked the qualifications needed for other jobs in Sweden. 

“I used to like studying day and night, and somehow, I managed it. Right now, I will not say that I’m the best or a perfect coder in today’s world, but I’m working towards becoming a good coder.” 

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For members


Swedophiles: The foreigners who move to Sweden for a musical obsession

A lot of foreigners who move to Sweden did it because they fell in love with a Swede or got a job here. But not everyone. In the first of our Swedophile series, we look at those who came because they got hooked on the music.

Swedophiles: The foreigners who move to Sweden for a musical obsession

Whether it’s a childhood fixation with ABBA or a teenage fascination with Swedish melodic thrash metal, thousands of foreigners living in Sweden arrived after developing an obsession with the country through music. 

The ABBA obsessives  

Glen Bryan’s ABBA fixation started when the 60-year-old watched the group win Eurovision as a 12-year-old boy back in 1974. It was an experience, he says, that “sparked a life-long love affair with both Eurovision and ABBA”.

For Australian Grace McCallum, the ABBA craze started when she won a walkman, aged three. For the next six years she had just one cassette: ABBA Gold. She ended up learning the songs so well that when she was eight, she won first prize in a talent contest with a rendition of the ABBA favourite, Mamma Mia. “This was the beginning of a life-long love affair with Sweden,” she says. 

Glen Bryan works as a clinical psychologist, working a lot with other foreigners suffering the stress of relocation. Photo: Private
Glen Bryan when working for the Eurovision Song Contest in Stockholm back in 2016. Photo: Private

In his teens, Bryan’s ABBA obsession grew and grew. He taught himself Swedish so he could understand the early solo work of Agneta Fältskog and Anni-Frid Lyngstad, the group’s two female singers. When he had his first foreign holiday, it was to go to Sweden, where he stalked the members for autographs. At school, he did a project on Sweden’s “No-Smoking Generation” initiative. He called himself Glen Michael, because, he says, “I thought it sounded Swedish”. He even tried to change his appearance. “When I went to uni, I dyed my hair blond thinking with my blue eyes I could pass for Swedish.”

McCallum’s obsession perhaps didn’t extend to these extremes. But in 2013, she was scrolling through Facebook and saw that ABBA The Museum was running a contest to choose the international member for a new ABBA choir that would perform at the 40th anniversary of ABBA winning Eurovision. She auditioned, won, and was flown to Sweden. 

READ ALSO: Aussie choir member wows Abba in Sweden

She then started a new life in Stockholm working in the creative industries as a freelance journalist for ABC, BBC, The Local, and TimeOut, as well as as a presenter, event organiser, and entrepreneur. 

Grace McCallum at a meeting in Stockholm. Photo: Private
Since returning to Australia during the pandemic, however, she has been denied a work permit to return to Sweden. She’s now back on a 90-day tourist visa for the first time in two years, continuing her promotion of Sweden’s creative industries through her company STHLM Music City/Nordic Music Tech. 

For Bryan, things have worked out better.

He’s been a regular visitor to Gothenburg throughout his adult life, visiting every year for the city’s carnival, and to stay with his Swedish friends Anders and Tomas.

But it wasn’t until he turned 50 in 2012 that he decided to take the plunge. “It seemed the perfect time to make the big leap and move here. I had somehow missed the joke that ‘Everyone is called Glen in Gothenburg’, but I’ve certainly heard it since I’ve moved here!” 

Muayyad Mohammed (centre) with two friends in the university metal scene in Jordan. Photo: private

For the love of metal

Swedish metal bands such as Bathory, Opeth, Meshuggah, At The Gates, Entombed, and Watain might be obscure to most people, but they may have brought almost as many new citizens to the country as Sweden’s own fab four. 

Muayyad Muhammed, an IT consultant based in Västerås, estimates that 80 percent of the reason he decided to move to Sweden was his love for Bathory, a Swedish folk metal and black metal band. 

Muhammed is originally from Syria, but grew up in Yemen, and then studied IT at the private Al-Zaytoonah University in Jordan.

He got the metal bug in his final year of high school, when he was introduced to the US rock bands Linkin Park & Slipknot. That led him back to British 1980s metal, and at university, he progressed onto the Swedish metal scene. 

“We were the only metalhead group in uni, and from there I got into Death and Black Metal, where most of the Swedish bands I listened to are,” he remembers. 

He listened to Swedish bands such as Opeth, Amon Amarth, and Arch Enemy.

But the one that finally pushed him to move to Sweden was Bathory. “That got me down into the nature, history, and folklore of Sweden and made me fall in love with the country.” 

He says that the Bathory album, Hammerheart turned him on to Nordic Mythology, the album Blood on Ice and Fire sparked an interest in Nordic nature, and the albums Nordland 1 & 2 taught him about Swedish nature, history, and culture. 

The move has largely worked out well, although he is not so sure about the weather. “The reality is that nature is very beautiful here. It’s even stunning in summer. But winters can get quite harsh sometimes, which came as an unpleasant surprise.” 

Strangely enough, he says, he hardly even listens to metal anymore. 

It’s a similar story for Jessa Blavatsky, from Brooklyn in New York.

Here she is at the grave of Thomas Börje Forsberg, or Quorthon, Bathory’s singer and songwriter, who died aged 38 from a congenital heart defect.

Photo: Private

Blavatsky got into the metal scene when she was eleven, growing up in Brooklyn, and by age 15, she was helping organise gigs for metal bands, which got her eventually into the Scandinavian scene. 

“We didn’t have things like YouTube and Spotify and all that stuff,” she remembers. “The European music scene was something you really had to look for. You really had to know people that liked good stuff.”

She soon discovered that Scandinavian bands were more interesting than any of those playing in the US, and developed a fascination with Swedish legends such as Katatonia, Edge of Sanity, Diabolical Masquerade, Therion, Tiamat, and Meshuggah.

She also names the bands At the Gates, Dismember, Soilwork, Dissection, General Surgery, The Project Hate MCMXCIX, Runemagick, Nasum, Opeth, Vintersorg, and Amaran. 

“It just seemed, from the American perspective, that the European culture overall had a much better music scene for heavy metal compared to ours. So I think for a lot of us, in the heavy metal culture, it’s always been like some kind of dream or fantasy to go to festivals here.”

Through the gigs she helped organise, she met members of some of the Scandinavian black metal bands as they came over on tour, and meeting these musicians, she says, “definitely” influenced her later decision to move to Sweden.

“I thought they were really nice and shy and very introverted, and that’s how I was back then and maybe still am a bit now. That was kind of appealing to me.” 

The dark, black music and her image of Sweden also started to come together in her mind. 

“A lot of the music is pretty dark and heavy, and it kind of reminds you of the dark and heavy kind of winters that they have here. And I love the cold. I love the darkness that comes with the cold, and the emotions. And I know, I might sound crazy for that. But that’s okay.” 

Jessa Blavatsky by the cross in Skogskyrkogården in Stockholm, which is known among metalheads as “the Entombed Cross” because it featured on an album by the band Entombed. Photo: Private

Her love of Sweden only turned into an intention to move, however, after she got divorced aged 23 and was left alone with her baby daughter Angelina. 

“When I was growing up in New York, there were all kinds of fights happening, people bringing guns and knives to school. My friends were involved in a murder. And I got death threats, so I stopped going to school,” she remembers. 

“When I had my daughter, my biggest fear was having her go through any of that, so I thought that if I could move her to a more peaceful place, she’d have a much better upbringing.” 

So she began planning her move to Sweden, trained as a pastry chef, and eventually got hired by the man who had been head chef at the Swedish Embassy in Washington DC to come to Sweden and make American-style pastry. He arranged the work permit and in 2016 she and her daughter arrived in Stockholm. 

The move came surprisingly easily, perhaps because of her contacts from the international metal scene. 

“I always had a large network here, so moving here didn’t feel strange. I already had friends here. I already had people to hang out with,” she says.  “So I didn’t have to wait to find out even more about Swedish culture because I mean, you can only find out so much before you actually move there.” 

“Sometimes,” she says. “I can’t even believe that I did it by myself, learned a new language and I brought my kids to learn a new language. It’s pretty insane.” 

For her, Stockholm is the perfect compromise between the “tree house in the woods” of her fantasy, and the convenience of city life. And, for her daughter’s sake, at least, it seems to have worked. “It was probably a good choice. Because women have rights and I’ve gotten great jobs.” 

Swedish rock and indie 

The story of how the post-punk rock of The Hives brought Alma Paz, a Mexican student, to Sweden has been made into a documentary. After getting into the band, she began to study Swedish at the Centro de Enseñanza de Lenguas Extranjeras in Mexico City.

She then travelled to Fagersta, the small town where the Hives come from, and ended up getting a scholarship to study in Sweden for a year, during which time she met a Swedish boyfriend and decided to stay.