Denmark and Sweden are separated by the Øresund, a narrow strait at the entrance to the Baltic Sea. The narrowest point is between Helsingør in Denmark and Helsingborg in Sweden, barely three miles distant, where a busy car ferry still links the two. But since July 2000 the two countries have been permanently connected further south between Copenhagen to Malmö by an engineering marvel combining a five mile bridge, an artificial island and a 2½ mile tunnel - the Øresund Bridge. It makes living in one country and commuting to the other a practical possibility, and opened up the opportunity of an easy day trip to Sweden. We went for dinner. [10 photos]
The train service across the bridge is the Øresundståg, jointly operated by both countries. It operates three times an hour during the day, turn up and go, and takes about 40 minutes from city centre to city centre. Expect to pay 91DKK each way, which is about £11 (and, we were pleased to discover, two adults can save 20% by travelling on a family ticket). When the train pulled in at København Hovedbanegard it reminded me of a worm, and not in a good way, but the interior was pleasantly sturdy and I made sure to get a window seat.
The train aims first for the airport, where several Swedes loaded with suitcases are likely to board, then almost immediately enters the Drogden Tunnel. This was sunk to the bottom of the Øresund as an immersed tube, rather than being burrowed, with two road tunnels on one side and two rail tunnels on the other. Before long you emerge onto a long thin island, entirely artificial and formed from soil dredged up during construction. I love how they called it Peberholm to complement the genuine island Saltholm a short distance to the north. Other than the road and railway speeding through there's nothing else here because the land's being left untouched as a nature reserve to see how it develops.
Then imperceptibly you rise up, Peberholm comes to an end and you're on the bridge. It's a double decker bridge with dual carriageway on top and railway underneath, which means those in vehicles get much better views than those in carriages. It also means that only car drivers see the precise spot where detectives in knitwear discovered a body in hit Nordic noir The Bridge. The Swedish border comes about a third of the way across, otherwise unmarked, or at least I didn't spot anything down below. Sit on the left if you want to see the coast of Sweden and the oncoming Malmö skyline through the diagonal struts, and sit on the right to see a windfarm in the Baltic. I found it amazing to look down and see miles of sea just beneath me, but regular passengers barely blinked.
The first station on the Swedish side is at Hyllie, which is where passports are checked. This didn't used to be necessary, thanks to Schengen, but the migrant crisis in 2016 caused Sweden to get protective. Initially this required alighting at Copenhagen Airport, changing trains and waving documentation, but this is no longer the case. Now police board the train at Hyllie and give what looked to me like a cursory check, or maybe they're just very well practised and know an EU passport when they see one. Thankfully the wait was relatively brief, aided by most of the passengers having already alighted to transfer to local and regional trains. Passports are not checked in the opposite direction. And two stops later, at Malmö Central, I stepped out into a new country.
Malmö is Sweden's third largest city, somewhat smaller than Copenhagen but with a similarly historicheart. The oldest buildings sit within a ring of canals, a very short walk from the station, the chief foci being two piazzas with impressively obvious names. There's Stortorget, which means Big Square, connected in one corner to Lilla Torg, which means Little Square. Big Square has the town hall, a statue of a king on horseback and a lot of empty space, whereas Little Square is considerably smaller and almost entirely surrounded by bars and restaurants. Of an evening, you'd want to be in the latter.
I managed to persuade my companions to go for an hour's walk before dinner, because it seemed criminal to visit a new country without exploring slightly. I had a three mile circuit in mind, out past the castle to the harbourfront via Scandinavia's tallest building, but we never quite made it. The castle grounds were closed off for a farewell concert by legendary Swedish pop group Gyllene Tider (precursors of Roxette, no less) meaning we couldn't even see a turret without a ticket. The surrounding parkland then delayed us thanks to some very cute ducks and an impromptu wheelchair dance festival performance. We ended up walking back through a semi-barren dockside regeneration area, the Turning Torso still only a distant spike, but it was worth a try.
By complete coincidence we'd arrived during the Women's World Cup 3rd Place playoff match which was being contested between our own country and the country we were in. We avoided the only bar draped in blue and gold flags, which was marginally raucous, and dined out on the opposite side of Lilla Torg. We smiled when an Abba track played over the loudspeakers shortly after we sat down. We ordered elk sausage, because it wasn't dear. We watched the evening crowds walk by and noted how well dressed everyone was, a whole level of smart above the Danes (and we British). We wondered whether Swedes ever smile (our waiter did, but he turned out to be Dutch). We'd also arrived in the week Sweden banned smoking outdoors in cafes and restaurants, which was very pleasant (unlike the night we spent on a bar crawl in Copenhagen and came home smelling of ash trays).
As we walked back to the station, I realised that my entire mental picture of Sweden would now be coloured by the four hours I'd spent in a tiny corner of it, mostly eating. And on that flimsy basis I decided I probably preferred Denmark. I hope I've got that right.
