36 HOURS IN MALMÖ, SWEDEN

(THE GUTS WAY)

The New York Times just published their guide to 36 Hours in Malmö, Sweden. It guides you to the places they want you to visit. It’s also 12 hours more than 36? I love every single place on their list, but? But? Most of those places have not existed for more than 5 years. Which either speaks to the difficulty of running a restaurant or the continued gentrification of Malmö. And shout out to the NYT editorial guidelines, but they could at least spell Malmö correctly? 

The writer, Lisa Abend, recommends wonderful restaurants and bars such as Aster, Marvin, Kiosko, and Lyran.  I count many of the people who work at those places as friends of mine. I’ve even lived with some of them. But, I wanted to offer you something else. The GUTS guide. It is not an unbiased guide, I just can't help but feel like the New York Times is not painting the full picture. I won’t be either, but I will be sticking to the timeline. The timeline is important. If you’re only spending 36 hours in the city, why should you really get to know it? 

I got to know Malmö over 8 years. I moved there unwillingly. Love was the motivation, which is probably the greatest reason to move anywhere, but the choice was made for me. Decided. Done. The heart wants what it wants. The heart does not always want Malmö. I couldn’t make friends until I found the restaurant industry. I couldn’t make friends until I found the bar. That’s OK. To the man who bought me a beer after my first shift in the restaurant that would change my life, thank you. 

These people are my friends. Drunks are my friends. You can’t be a bartender and look at your guests with contempt. Well, you can, but then you would be a really shitty bartender. I would rather play them songs, like they do in “BLOODY NOSE, EMPTY POCKETS”, maybe the greatest movie about drunks ever. Addiction might be the final form of the human condition. We were designed for it. We design it ourselves. 

So, Malmö, Sweden. It’s the place I’ve lived longest outside Oakland. It’s adopted me and I’ve adopted it. There are sides to this place. Many, many sides. The kids who stole our tip jar at work do not live the same lives as the people who contribute to it. We don’t even take cash anymore! And I don’t even work there anymore. It doesn’t matter. 

I remember when the NYT did a 36 Hours piece on my hometown, Oakland, CA. It was 2009. The tide of gentrification was already coming in, but this type of article still feels like the harbinger of something... worse. Look at Oakland now. Downtown is full of hot chicken joints ready to be shuttered and replaced by whatever the next food trend is. Meanwhile thousands of people are living on the street because they can’t afford a $2000 room in a shared apartment. “Your neighbors are sleeping outside”, is what the graffiti reads on Lake Merritt. People look away. The government, who should be doing the most to help, equivocates. Thank god Sweden cares a little more about their citizens, for now at least. Thank god for socialism, though it is rapidly deteriorating in this country.

There you have it: the GUTS preamble to a food guide. I can’t paint a full picture either. There is no full picture and we don’t love guides here anyway. Think for your fucking self. But if you want to read a story about how we would spend a weekend in Malmö here it is. As it turns out, 36 hours is the perfect amount of time for a bender. 

FRIDAY 

5 PM: If you want to do this, you need to start out strong. Imagine yourself parachuting into Nobeltorget. Torget means square, it’s a square. There’s a giant TV, it’s the Times Square of Malmö. Upon first glance, there's not really a first glance there. Is this a skate park? Why are those public bathrooms locked? What you need to do is walk two minutes in whatever direction. There's a bar in all of those. If you’re hungry what you really need to do is walk east towards Rosengård, and stop at Kina Restaurang Sichuan, probably the spiciest restaurant in Malmö that isn’t named SOI 29. They are about three years old, replacing an old school Malmö classic The Golden Horse with a still very old school menu inspired by Sichuan classics. You’ll see Sichuan fish, beef, chicken but what you really want is fried intestine. Or Husband and Wife Lung Slices. That’s a dish we will soon be devoting a whole post to but for now just enjoy it. There's also pig blood soup.  They don’t serve booze so square up. Fill your guts with guts, relax. The best is yet to come. 

7PM: This is your time to shine. This is Malmös shiny hour. If it’s summer the sun is up, and if it’s winter you’ve been depressed for hours. Either way, head to the bar. You’ve got two to choose from at Nobelvägen and Ronnebygatan, Family Pub and Rex. There's an age-old debate about which pizza is better, whose beer is cheaper,  what bathroom is more suitable to do coke in, etc. You can only have two of the three and it shifts over time. Pick one, order a beer, and pretend to be a local. 

9PM: We heard you like natural wine so we put some natty shit in your natty glass. Stop at AVA VINBAR on your way towards the center. It’s a wine bar run by the two of the loveliest people you can ask for, Matilda and Kajsa, and they will pour you whatever you’re fit to drink. And if it’s full you can walk your ass across the street and check out FIR for a selection of wine on tap mostly distributed by the talented people at BYRACKA. Malmö, an entirely small city, has an enormous amount of natural wine importers. Take advantage of it. 

12PM: There’s one hour left until the bars close. You have to go to Metro. You can’t come to Malmö and not go to Metro. I mean, you can, but then you really fucked up. They just celebrated their 20th anniversary and that was probably the craziest party you ever missed in your entire life. Metro is a palace dedicated to labor and Guinness. Order one and sit at the bar. See the cast of customers come in and out. Watch the people work. Say hi to Tessan, maybe she’ll take a shine to you. But really, just fight the fucking Swedish industrial-lagom complex and make some fucking friends. Stand out. Talk to the person next to you at the bar. They might be a famous Swedish music journalist. That happened to me once, I swear to god. 

130AM: Sibylla or Jalla Jalla, take your pick. You need chicken nuggets or falafel, take your pick. 

2AM. Malmö Brewing Co. a.k.a. Tap Room. It’s the only bar in Möllan open until 3. If you’re thirsty this is the watering hole. Lions, alligators, hippos, whatever. We don’t talk about what happens here.

SATURDAY: 

10-12AM: These are the coalescing hours. Where the fuck did you wake up? We didn’t recommend a hotel so I know it’s not there. You fucking animal.  If you’re alive before ten then go back to sleep. If you’re too high to sleep then go outside and enjoy this country's most powerful tradition: coffee and pastry. Söderberg & Sara and Patisserie David both make their own pastel de nata, closest you can get to Portugal in the Baltic Sea.. If it’s already hungry hours then get another falafel. The best falafel spot is the closest falafel spot so bend a few corners until you find one or at least some cevapcici. Cevap is almost as important to this city as falafel is. Get a five boy or order blended sauce alla gronsaker, but skip the onions because you still have people to kiss today.

Swedes don't like to practice safe sex and gonorrhea goes around Malmô like a merry-go-round so if you're dealing with dicks don't forget to wrap it up. If you're not dealing with dicks you should still have that talk. And if you're a resident don’t forget you can always get a free STD screening through the mail in Sweden. They send you a cup to piss in, or a swab to swab in, and you send it right back. 

2PM: Jesusparken, right between Kiosko, and Lyran. Lay your hangover on the grass and enjoy a 3.5% beer because that’s all the corner store will sell you. Still hungover, still rung out, still rung over the street. If you’re there long enough a sommelier might walk by and offer you some of the wine they’re peddling. Guzzle it and fall asleep in the southern Swedish sun that’s so strong it proffers cancer over tan lines.

4PM: There's this guy, he's an antique specialist. I can't tell you his name but when you see him you’ll know. He’s probably wearing cowboy boots and a camo parka. Every day he hits the same 5 second hand stores, looking for things with value the staff have overlooked. He's got a keen eye for vintage Levis, Wranglers and rare books. Talk to him and he might let you get his runoff.

5PM: The time is ripe for tripe. Your ass didn’t book anything so you can either try to get an early spot at the bar at SOI 29 or head to Di Penco. My guy Antonio just took over his folks 80’s Italian institution and is doing his best to turn the opera adjacent corner into Rome. The trippa alla romana really goes. So does Antonio. You won’t receive kinder service anywhere in Malmö, or better Italian beer, courtesy of his own cousins at Ritual Lab in the Italian capital. 

7PM: Go see a fucking movie at a real life movie theatre. Well, this is more like the inside of a warehouse with a great projector. Walk your ass down NGBG and pay 100 kronor for a membership to Hypnos and watch whatever the fuck Paul and Owen are playing. It’s probably good. 

10PM: OLD NOBES BODEGA. It’s the oldest nobes-est bodega-est bar you can find in Malmö. They have their own beer and their own regulars too. There is no light but there is a dart board if your shaky hands can handle that. And if you write then the bathroom is your playground too.  

1PM: Moonwalk your ass backwards to Plan B. That’s where the party is. It’s also the only spot you can hear Lucy Dacus and Sandstorm in the same night. Dance, dance, dance, like Lykke Li said. You are in Sweden after all. Be the dancing queen Meryl Streep expects you to be. 

3AM: If you’re not with someone then you’re getting another falafel. That’s OK. Baghdad Falafel was made for moments like this. They won the best falafel in Malmö tournament years ago and have been coasting ever since. It’s a beautiful place. Get the Iraqi bread and then take your ass to the train. 36 hours are up! You did not rent a room! Hurry up and leave the city before you turn into a cardamom bun.