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Published: June 28th 2017
When you click on the Copenhagen option at the automated kiosk in the Malmö train station, it asks if you'd like to travel by ferry or by bridge, failing to clarify that the bridge option would involve a train, rather than a bus, shuttle, or who knows what else. But I guess this is obvious to anyone who lives nearby; it must have been a big deal when that connector was finished, as you can now travel between the cities in as little as 36 minutes. Commuters and Guns n Roses concert goers were fully taking advantage, making for the most jean jackets and suits I've ever seen in one place.
There's nothing much to see in Malmö, but the town center is charming and the city parks are the best I've ever seen. Kungsparken is absolutely pristine; it was strange to be in a city park that seems to have a functioning ecosystem.
I was sitting on a park bench and reading The Wind up Bird Chronicle in this utopian park when a student walked up and mistook me for a local who might be interested in one save the children campaign or another. Being from the U.S.
disqualified me from saving the children, but then he couldn't help but ask, "So what do you think about all the terrible rumors about Malmö?"
"Oh? I haven't heard any."
He was taken aback and then perplexed. "Really? I mean it's just that your president said that..."
It seeps in everywhere. Like that one time a friend spilled his chew spit all over my coffee table in college. Except that chew spit is much more palatable, and when I graduated I just passed the table onto someone else.
I talked with him about an array of such issues, but I should have known that even a uni freshman in Sweden would know more about my own country's politics than a moderately-involved American.
So was it worth risking the crossfire of refugee gang warfare to visit Malmö? It was incred serene in that park, but maybe my ignorance was just bliss.
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