by “Are you excited about Svampen?” I asked excitedly, for the seventeenth time, as our plane prepared to take off at Gatwick. My boyfriend smiled weakly again. “Yes dear.”
Before I was asked to visit the Swedish town of Orebro to assess its underrated weekend holiday credentials, I (like most British travelers and, I bet, a fair number of Swedes) was unaware of its existence. Brimming with excitement, I rushed to Google what delights Sweden’s eighth largest metropolis (untapped Scandinavian cool! Fairytale castles! Nordic folklore!), and was rewarded with… the Svampen (literally The Mushroom), a large, but not big enough water tower to be really exciting. And apparently not much else. My heart sank.
But as our discovery weekend approached, I gradually managed to build up some enthusiasm for the Svampen. Not all eighth-largest cities can be spectacular, and if this was Orebro’s best attraction, by God we were going to gather some enthusiasm for it.
So we flew to Stockholm, where we paused to meet Swedish friends for a drink and asked them if they had ever been to Orebro (pronounced “uhh-ruh-broo”, they kindly explained, which was not how we had state). say it).
“Yes,” was the reply, as they looked at us with politely concealed Swedish dismay. “It is a university town; “We used to go there to get drunk,” said a friend. “It’s basically students and seniors, and not many of them,” said another. “You tend to live there if you haven’t left yet, or if you’ve come back…eventually.”
So, student bars and retirement villages: a sort of Bournemouth without a beach?
With some trepidation, we left Stockholm and headed two hours west by train, finally arriving at Orebro central station around 9pm. It was very dark, but it was already very dark a few hours earlier, at four in the afternoon, when we landed in Stockholm. It was not a twilight, not a lovely twilight, but a total darkness, in the middle of the night, omnipresent, that seemed extreme for this side of the Arctic Circle in early November.
But it wasn’t just dark: it was also raining, huge drops of especially wet and icy rain. As we walked through completely closed, completely soaked and absolutely quiet streets, lined with stalwart Swedish chains (Ahlens department stores, Bastard Burgers, Pressbyran convenience stores), run-down Thai massage parlours, and dreary modern apartment blocks, we began to have second thoughts, wondering if even a visit to Svampen could save our spirits.
To be fair, a brief look at the city’s history puts its modern appearance into perspective. Located halfway between Stockholm and Gothenburg, and on the banks of a major river, Orebro has functioned as a commercial center since the 13th century. After a fire destroyed much of its center in 1854, it seems that it finally surrendered to its destiny as a place intended for practicality and decided not to worry too much about aesthetics.
That seems fine to me. After all, a similar approach has produced cities much less attractive than this one. Look at Milton Keynes.
However, surrounded by icy fog and smooth concrete facades, things seemed bleak. And then we stumbled upon Jarntorget, one of the city’s three main squares, and suddenly it was filled with quaint little pubs where musicians in plaid shirts played lively tunes on double bass, and those kinds of homely little restaurants where the strange Hamptons- an elegant hurricane lantern and quirky artwork complemented the lightly worn edges and plentiful food. Everywhere, rosy-cheeked students and groups of lively retirees rubbed shoulders without the slightest friction.
Daring to hope that this was the case throughout, we wandered along the Svartan, the river that divides the city, and found (mostly) more of the same, along with two antique shops and a shop that sold handmade pipes. close at hand, plus two karaoke bars. three small clubs guarded by neon-clad bouncers and two sports bars. It was Friday night and students will be students after all.
That’s when Orebro started to make sense. By having to simultaneously cater to two extremes (students who want to have fun with music, beer and cheap burgers, and retirees who also want some of that, but with a refined touch and a decent wine list), he seems to have discovered a fabulous middle ground. . And at a price to match: dinner for two, with drinks, cost us just £60, a Scandinavian rarity.
The next day, the fog gave way to a crisp winter day with blue skies, and suddenly the city’s spectacular, curvaceous Swedish Renaissance castle, which had been hidden right next to our hotel in the previous night’s fog, appeared. .
We spent the day exploring and discovered that, with just 150,000 inhabitants and a city center that can be crossed on foot in less than 20 minutes, Orebro is as compact as it is informal. Mid-afternoon, we visited the castle’s small, elegant museum, the state rooms and an excellent photography exhibition on its upper floors (orebroslott.se/en); the Slottsparken, a pretty park dating back to the 1770s; two ordinary churches; a long, wide high street lined with chic homewares stores and even more chains (a Specsavers here, a Burger King there); and Wadkoping, a charming open-air museum depicting the picturesque Orebro of yesteryear (before the fire).
By 14:00 we had already completed the city in general terms, except for Svampen. We walked half an hour north to what seemed like the outskirts of town, past huge corporate warehouses, retirement condos with striped awnings, and across a sprawling swamp that gave way to a pleasant little neighborhood of red and yellow houses with wraparound porches and mansard roofs. .
So there it was, sprouting from a mound of grass and spreading skyward in a strange mushroom-like glory. And at the top, a small restaurant with views of the city and a nature reserve to the east, plus a bar and a draft beer pump shaped like… what else? – a svampen.
Here, in a miniature beer service, was the beauty of going beyond the typical city break staples writ large: Orebro is (almost) everything that’s charming about Stockholm, but on a smaller, friendlier, and smaller scale. with less need to be cool. . While Stockholm asks for approval, Orebro is comfortable in her own skin: proudly average. It may not have the palaces or poise of some of its peers, but it takes itself less seriously and, truth be told, what city wouldn’t benefit from a dose of that?
Essentials
Ryanair (ryanair.com), Norwegian (norwegian.com), SAS (flysas.com) and British Airways (ba.com) fly direct from London to Stockholm, with returns from £29. From there, take the Arlanda Express to the city (£31 return), then the train to Orebro, which takes just under two hours and costs from £41 return (omio.com).
Gemma Knight was a guest at the Clarion Collection Hotel Borgen (00 46 1920 5000; Strawberryhotels.com), a spectacular 19th-century building in the very center of the city overlooking the Svartan River, which has double rooms from £86 a night. Includes breakfast, fika (coffee and cake) and dinner (drinks not included).
For more information, see visitsweden.com or extra.orebro.se
