Notes from Sweden during Covid
It’s an interesting time to be living in Sweden.
While the whole world is in a lockdown state, trying to cope with the Covid-19 pandemic, Sweden has taken an alternate approach. It has decided to keep itself open, allow its people to roam freely, and let the businesses remain open.
In the early days of the crisis, many of us in Sweden thought the lockdown is less of an option and more of a necessity. So we prepared like people all around the world did. We stocked up, we queued up in supermarkets, our pantries became full of milk cartons, and we stayed indoors.
However, soon enough we were told that the country will remain open. That decision surprised us all. Quite a few were shocked and also criticized this decision. Meanwhile, across the border, Denmark entered a complete shutdown. The Öresund bridge — a 21 kilometre long bridge that connects Sweden’s southern city of Malmö to the Danish capital Copenhagen — was shut. Those who live in one country and travel to another for work couldn’t do so anymore.
Sweden’s contrasting decision is a derivative of the high trust that its citizenry shares, including with the government. If the health authorities recommend that those in risk groups shouldn’t step out, and those with slightest of the symptoms should self-isolate, people tend to follow.
And so I did. I live in Malmö, Sweden’s third largest city. Like the others, I work from home these days though it’s not mandatory to do so. However, I do step out to shop for groceries and go for walks. Being outside, sitting alongside the canal, picnicking in the park — all to catch whatever little bit of sun we can — is a beloved activity of all Swedes in the spring and the summer months. As days become longer and warmer, the city is yearning to sit outside again.
Outside, while the thick hubbub of traffic has eased, it’s difficult to find any other signs of inactivity that would indicate that this Swedish city is in the grip of any pandemic. The shops and restaurants are open, and as crowded as they have always been. The city’s joyous commotion has not really ebbed. Only very few are seen wearing masks. Only visible signs of the pandemic are the notices in supermarkets and shopping malls politely reminding people to keep distance in queues.
One of my great joys of living in Sweden is to take long walks. On an exceptionally sunny Saturday last weekend, I stepped out for a long walk across the city. I walked on the walking street, brimming with people. This cobbled street is punctuated with multiple coffee shops, and many of these have laid out cafe tables outside. I walked to the end of the walking street which merges into a canal that snakes across the city. Along the edge of the canal, recreational fishermen stood darting their fishing hooks in the shallow waters hoping for a catch. Their joy and camaraderie remained unhindered by the two metre distance they maintained. Below, vibrantly coloured kayaks peppered the otherwise calm waters. Kayaking being a single person sport seemed well-suited to the demands of social distancing.
I walked along the edge of the canal, which gently fused into a pathway leading to Malmö Castle. The castle stood deserted and companionless perched on a small hill. I avoided it and veered towards the city’s main park, called Slottsspark. The park throbbed with life; the trees drooped under the weight of leafy branches, while the bushes and plants stretched out to cover the narrow pathways. The cafe in the middle of the park with outdoor seating was teeming with people sipping iced-coffee. I waved and walked past them to the wide open field flanked by the modern glass library building on the other end. The library appeared empty, however, the garden was full of picnickers. They sat in groups drinking wine from plastic cups, and playing frisbee and the Kubb (a Swedish game involving knocking over wooden blocks (kubbs) by throwing wooden batons).
I sat in one corner resting my legs. From where I sat, the world looked like it had always been. The Covid pandemic in Sweden was like a little wrinkle in time, and life otherwise seemed on the way back.
A version of this story appeared in The Hindu
