Göteborg: Swedish Soul, Scandinavian Warmth

"There are no strangers here; only friends you haven’t yet met." — William Butler Yeats

We landed in Göteborg, Sweden, just past midnight — a hop of a flight, barely an hour from Bergen, but landing felt like stepping into a different rhythm entirely. The quiet hush of the airport at night, softened by the cool northern air, greeted us as we exited. Waiting just beyond the arrivals gate was Inias, Kiki’s childhood friend. In a blink, they recognized each other — a smile, a hug, laughter that cut through the silence of the late hour.

I’d only seen him once before, briefly, on a grainy video call two years ago. But in person, Inias was instantly welcoming, warm, sincere, the kind of energy that makes you feel like you've known someone for years. He drove us through the still, sleeping city toward the guesthouse near his apartment. The streets were lined with tall Scandinavian houses and early autumn leaves.

We ended the night the only proper way: with pizza, beer, and conversation. Seated around a small table in our guesthouse, the laughter flowed easily. Though it was already 2 a.m. before we finally crawled into bed, we knew we wanted to make the most of the short weekend ahead.

Saturday greeted us with cool light and quiet streets. We walked to Inias and Lara’s apartment, a bright, cozy space that reflected the couple’s open and friendly nature. Lara insisted we get a real breakfast and have coffee before anything else. She has a gentle warmth and a sharp wit, and their two cheerful dogs wove between our legs as we sipped coffee.

Later that morning, the five of us (dogs included) set out on a local hike through one of Göteborg’s many forested hills. The route led us to a rock formation tucked into a wooded park just outside the city. The terrain turned rugged quickly, roots and boulders forming a kind of natural obstacle course — the "adventurous route." I still don't know how those small dogs made the climb, leaping up the rocks with the ease of mountain goats.

At the top, we cracked open beers and sat on the granite, warmed by the sun. Göteborg’s skyline peeked out between the trees, and the breeze rustled the leaves like whispers of old Nordic tales. Hidden along the trail were whimsical wooden trolls — ten in total, though we found only seven. It became a playful quest as we wandered: each one felt like a secret discovered.

We ended the hike with a shared crusty bread and fresh coffee snack, seated on a weathered wooden bench under golden trees. The moment was perfect in its simplicity, nature, laughter, and feeling of belonging. The Scandinavian vibe warmed my soul, while the coffee warmed my hands.

Back home, we took a quick rest and gathered ingredients for dinner. Lara, it turns out, is not just a talented host — she's an incredible cook. The meal felt like a feast, and the kitchen buzzed with good energy and clinking glasses.

Later that night, we took the metro to the heart of Göteborg — Avenyn, the city’s main nightlife street. The bars were alive with laughter, music pulsated into the crisp night air. There, we met Inias and Lara’s international circle of friends — a vibrant mix of accents, stories, and energy. We joined them in the chaos of clinking beer bottles, dancing shadows, and broad smiles.

Sunday, our final day, arrived too soon. We gathered again for breakfast, finishing the delicious leftovers from the previous night. Afterwards, we piled into the car and drove to Haga, one of Göteborg’s oldest neighborhoods, known for its cobblestone streets and charming wooden houses.

Nestled among old timber buildings, was a café with its claim to fame —cinnamon rolls as big as your face. We each ordered one and sat inside the warm wooden interior, the scent of cinnamon and cardamom rising like a memory. From Haga, we wandered up a nearby hill and stumbled upon a tiny, red-painted wooden cottage with a panoramic view over the city —roftops, trees, and church towers all bathed in autumn light.

We strolled slowly through the city afterward, reluctant for the time to end. It had been just a day and a half, yet it felt deep, like we’d stepped into someone else’s story and made it part of our own.

Inias and Lara drove us to the airport. The farewell was heartfelt — the kind that reminds you how special it is to be welcomed so warmly, even if only briefly, into someone’s world. They’ve built something beautiful together, and it was a gift to witness it.

Next stop: Belgium.