A sunny morning in Trollhättan, and a final hearty breakfast by way of Albert’s Kok (right, must stop the double entendres) before our journey to find the elusive Klitterhus (oops, done it again). We seemed to hit a whole series of roadworks on the main roads south, which made us feel like home.
Dougie and I had decided to try and be more relaxed about eateries, to do as they always say in the guidebooks “Come off the main roads, find a little town with a local restaurant”, rather than our usual pick up something from a service station on the way. My guide book recommended Falkenberg “a well-preserved little town that really comes alive in July and August”. Unfortunately Falkenberg wasn’t at all alive on a Sunday lunchtime in July. We drove round for ages trying to find the hub of the place and would have given up, were it not for the fact that a certain teenage boy had been necking a Swedish version of Red Bull in the car and was now desperate for a pee. We parked in a very dull part of town, managed to find the bus station with no passengers and no buses and also, unfortunately, no toilets.
Rory was now in some discomfort, Dougie had split from the posse to go in search of a toiletter, there was a cold wind whipping down the main street when suddenly I spied a rather weird burger place/shack and ushered my boy in. As he found the gents, I perused the menu despite having no intention of ordering. Panic over, we shuffled back out saying something like “ooh let’s go and find your father”. Couldn’t find Father for love nor money. We hadn’t decided on a meeting point but thankfully mobile phones came to the rescue and we had an emotional reunion in the bus station as the metaphorical tumbleweed bounced down the street:
“Where the F*** did you go?”
We returned to the car, said something to the effect of, ‘Lets get out of f***ing Falkenberg’ and headed back to the motorway, towards the beckoning golden arches of a McDonalds where Rory was, once again, able to drool over the beautiful blonde girls with the swishy ponytails.
May I say now, my apologies to anyone reading this who lives in Falkenberg. I’m sure I’m doing it a great disservice. But stress, hunger and a full bladder can have a negative effect on one’s view of a town.
Onwards, then, to Ängelholm, where we found the beautiful Klitterhus. A former beach pavilion, it was a fabulous find, all seasidey decor, huge picture windows with views over the bay, fresh flowers in the bedrooms. Rory said he felt like he was in a Jack Wills advert.
Following on the heels of 'Klitterhus' and 'Kok' – was the 'l' in 'Falkenberg' silent?
Toilet scarcity notwithstanding, it looks and sounds gorgeous, although I think I would have been terrified I'd stain or ruin something in those pristine white hotel rooms!
Ha – it should have been!!
Close-up, the wooden furniture had a distressed look to it which gave the room a warm lived-in look so I didn't feel too worried. The floors were gorgeous too – stripped floor boards, like the inside of a beach house, which in some ways it was!
What a lovely room and thank goodness you managed to end the day well after a dodgy search for lunch.
We probably should have persevered with the town but we were all a bit grumpy by then so took the fast food easy option! Classy, aren't we!
Hmmm, I feel exactly the same way about Falkenberg. I'm sure the centre is nice but we could not find it. We did, however, discover a lovely hotel and restaurant on the rag but it was fully booked for a beach volleyball contest. Falkenberg? Not impressed.
Klitterhus, on the other hand, looks wonderful. Really should visit.
Btw, did you buy any Plopp? And such a shame they only sell Spunk (seriously…) in Denmark.
Thank goodness you said that. I don't feel quite so bad being critical of Falkenberg now.
You should visit Klitterhus if you're over on the west coast.
We did buy some Plopp. Have a photo ready to put in blog on my next post. Haha! Didn't come across any Spunk last year in Copenhagen – shame ;-))
It is a mystery to me why Sweden was not the birthplace of the Carry On films… Carry On Albert's Kok would have been a classic.
They could start a new series of them, and why not make them in Trollywood?
Or a farce set on the beach in front of the hotel "Carry On Below The Klitterhus"?
You should do a separate blog as a guide to public conveniences abroad – "Rory's Gone In………"
I'll ask him if he's up to this idea! We certainly have plenty of material and tips!
I love Abba!
A couple of hours of 'Money Money Money' thumping through the floorboards can turn you right off them!
Lovely.
It brings back memories of touring through Sweden in the 60s. We found it very difficult to find places to eat then. Sounds like it hasn't changed much. I do remember that we mostly lived off rather exotic "open sandwiches"
Is the Klitterhaus next door to the Villa Labia?
I think we were just unlucky with timing. Everywhere else we went on our trip was fantastic for finding lots of choice. I could have lived off the prawn open sandwiches.
As to the Villa Labia, I can't quite recall but someone asked me if we'd found Geespott while we were there and I'm sorry to say, we tried for quite some time but to no avail.
Double entendres all round.
Was there a cheap chain hotel at the rear called Ann Hus
You chaps just can't resist it, can you! I know, I know, I started it ;-))
Gosh that looks beautiful! You do make me laugh Mrs! 😀
It was such a pretty room, so unlike a normal hotel. But I suppose it was really a restaurant with rooms so there was that lovely quirky individuality about the place.
These Sweden posts are getting so rude. I shan't be getting a gig with National Geographic any time soon.
I would have joined in with the Abba dancing! ;o) Shame about Falkenberg, but that Klitterhus place looks absolutely gorgeous.
The music got a bit more contemporary after the first hour but then I think 'Sex of Fire' is just as bad as 'Super Trooper' when it's thumping from the room below.
Klitterhus was gorgeous. Restaurant was fabulous too, sitting having our meal with the sun setting on the water.