Beaches, Båstad, and Ven

Beach weather settled in for about a week and then abruptly left southern Sweden with another round of wind and rain. During those seven glorious days, however, Erin and I spent as much time as we could a) sweating, b) in our bathing suits, and c) complaining about the heat. It is, after all, the first real warmth we've felt in close to a year.  

A number of other things have happened since my last blog post:

• Gay marriage was legalized by the U.S. Supreme Court.
• I cried alone in a public place upon hearing the news in that first bullet.
• I turned 35.
• I stepped on a bee and got my first bee sting.
• I bought a pair of shorts and wore them in public.
• We started watching Sons of Anarchy on Netflix.

Helsingborg Beaches

On our first evening of beach weather, we took an after-dinner walk to the promenade and dipped our toes in the chilly Öresund for the very first time in our nearly five months in Sweden. We threw a couple sandwiches, collected a few rocks, and then sat in the sand near the nude bathing house while staring off toward Denmark and periodically mumbling a few things. Please note that we didn't deliberately sit in front of the nude bathhouse; it's just where we wound up. They're perfectly common here, and the few I've seen are set a short distance from the beach, propped up on stilts over the sound, and apparently involve separate areas for men and women who enjoy a sauna and a dip in the Öresund. 

Within 10 or so minutes of wondering aloud whether or not people actually swim naked in public view, a nude man popped out of the water and ascended the stairs toward the bathing house, followed by two naked ladies descending on the opposite staircase. Do I want to experience this for myself? Yeah, I do. Are Americans too uptight about nudity to have an equivalent near public beaches in the U.S.? Yeah, they are.

By the weekend, the beaches in Helsingborg were completely packed with people in numbers I've never seen before in this town. We took our place amongst the glistening, half-naked masses and let the sharp contrast in temperature between the beating sun and the cool water keep us in check. On only one occasion did I submerge myself completely; we otherwise stood in water up to our knees while accomplishing some really great people watching. 

Båstad

On another beach-friendly day, we took a trip to Båstad, a beautiful little seaside town about 55 km / 34 mi north of Helsingborg that hosts the Swedish Open. We trekked out to the marina, a quiet and serene spot lined with shops, bars, and little cafes in tiny, cabin-like structures overlooking a small beach. Our first stop was for an outdoor beer to cool us off.

After indulging in my first pale ale of the season, we walked through the marina until we reached another beach nestled a stone's throw (a thrown sandwich?) away from the tennis court as well as just a few cozy hotels and restaurants comprising the downtown area. To give you a sense of what I mean when I say "cozy," we saw quite a few people cruising around in their bathrobes, including one robed woman who climbed on a bike and rode away like it was a perfectly normal thing to do. Erin nabbed the pic below of two unsuspecting passers-by who are clearly not wearing hotel-issued bathrobes. Either they are locals or they came prepared.

Here are a few shots of the area near the tennis court.

We were not expecting how absolutely amazing the beach is in Båstad. The water was not more than ankle deep for at least 40 meters from the shore, and the waves came in just gently enough to roll over our feet as we waded out. There were also a couple of sand bars, and we found one to perch on for much of the time we were there. 

In the background of the first pic below, you'll see Båstad's own nude bathing house.

As an aside, there were a couple of teenage boys hanging out with three teenage girls on the beach near us, and one of those poor fools was trying so desperately hard to impress the ladies that it was actually embarrassing to watch. While his friend hung out acting cool and casual, the other kid was making all types of noise, trying to attract sea gulls, and even flopped around on the beach at one point. It was a wretched sight.

After a couple hours on what might be the best beach I've ever set foot on, we made our way out in search of dinner. The first place we stumbled on was Pepe's Bodega, an obviously Mexican-sounding place that also happened to have a Corona truck parked outside. However, you won't find a taco or a quesadilla on the menu at this bodega; nay, they are fine purveyors of pizza and burgers. Keeping with tradition, we happily ordered a cheese pizza piled high with pesto and arugula and fancy cocktails that tasted like fruit punch. Pepe's fondly reminded me of El Conquistador, the Thai restaurant I wrote about in a previous blog post.

The Island of Ven

Ven is an island located just outside of Landskrona in the Öresund between Sweden and Denmark. We had to take a 30-minute ferry ride to reach the roughly 7.5 square km island (approx. 4.6 square mi). Because of its size, the most common way to get around is to rent one of several hundred yellow bikes. There are a few cars on the island as well as nearly 400 year-round residents who live in lovely homes surrounded by fields of wheat and rapeseed. 

  

Our first stop on Ven was to Pumpans Cafe, an unexpectedly all-vegetarian restaurant in an adorable old house where we ordered two giant plates of roasted vegetables, homemade bread, goat cheese, and hummus, which we ate at a picnic table surrounded by trees, shrubs, and flowers. It's been awhile since I've been able to order such a meal at a restaurant, so I ate A LOT and my belly was SO HAPPY when we left. We then climbed aboard our yellow bikes and pedaled through the Tycho Brahe museum, an homage to the Danish astronomer and nobleman who had two observatories and a castle on Ven in the 16th century.

Our final stop on Ven was to the Spirit of Hven, a whiskey distillery, restaurant, and resort. It seemed only appropriate that I sample something made on site, and the gentleman behind the bar whipped me up an old fashioned with the house-made single-malt whiskey.

   
Tomorrow, we shove off for a week-long trip to Norway. Until next time!