Airports 2.

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Situated southeast of Göteborg (Gothenburg), the Göteborg-Landvetter airport leads a mostly dull, quiet existence since superseding the city's former airport, Torslanda flygfält ("Torslanda airfield"), in 1977. Although the second largest airport in Sweden, Landvetter (as it's colloquially known) languishes in the shadow of the much larger airline hubs of Copenhagen and Stockholm, mostly handling the west coast region's business passengers and assorted freight. Its sole moment of notoriety perhaps being the scene of what likely was only the second "plane hold-up" in history. On March 7, 2006, three men in an SUV smashed an access-gate at the airport, drove up to a plane just arrived form London, threatened staff with semi-automatic weapons, and stole some SEK 7.8 million (≈C$ 1.2 million) in foreign currency.

Additionally, the robbers planted a fake bomb — consisting of a bag of flour, a lamp, and an antenna — near the plane, leading to to the airport's international terminal being closed for nine hours. (They also spread caltrops on a nearby highway to hinder access by emergency vehicles.) A year later, some eight men apprehended for the robbery were tried, with the main trio being sentenced to serve seven years in jail, one man sentenced to serve two months, while the remaining four were exonerated. The money was never recovered. Because it was preceded by a similar event on Curaçao in 1997, even in the annals of "great plane robberies" Landvetter — the eighth largest airport in Scandinavia — merely places second.

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Ever since Københavns Lufthavne A/S (Copenhagen Airports Plc.) assumed operation of the Roskilde airport in 1990, less frequent fliers could be forgiven for thinking the Danish capital region is serviced by not one but two airports — differentiated in a small way by name and somewhat more substantially by size. Yet Københavns Lufthavn, Roskilde (Roskilde Airport) only ranks as the sixth largest airport in Scandinavia, having been established in 1973 as a relief airfield for the main Scandinavian airline hub Københavns Lufthavn, Kastrup (Copenhagen Airport), which in turn has steadily grown to became the region's largest and busiest.

The Danish capital's main airport was established in 1925 near the village of Kastrup (a contraction of "Karls torp", "Karl's village"), and has been intrinsically connected with the modernist architect Vilhelm Lauritzen (1894 - 1984) since the late 1930s. Lauritzen's original terminal building, inaugurated in 1939, is considered one of the finest examples of Scandinavian functionalism, and was fully refurbished in 1999 when it was moved nearly four kilometers to accommodate further expansion of the airport. Lauritzen also designed the second terminal (which superseded the first in 1960), while the firm he founded in 1922 has been responsible for the third terminal (opened in 1998), and continues to be involved in the airport's expansion to this day.

Though the Kastrup airfield's history of incidents and accidents has been largely unremarkable for a facility of its import and size, the crash of a KLM Douglas DC-3 in January 1947 stands out — in particular for the neighboring Swedes. Having landed for a brief stop en route from Amsterdam to Stockholm, the flight crew found themselves strapped for time and skipped the usual safety check before resuming their journey. A gust lock on one of the plane's rudders was overlooked and left engaged, sending the machine straight into the ground soon after take-off, killing all 22 people aboard; among them American opera singer and actress Grace Moore and Prince Gustav Adolf of Sweden (father of the current Swedish regent Carl XVI Gustaf).

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The Flughafen Zürich-Kloten (Zurich Airport) likely first gained international renown in 1969, the year that saw the greatest amount of aircraft hijackings in a single year (82 in total), when it perhaps first seemed that the days of glamourous air travel may indeed have come to an end. On February 18, 1969, four Palestinian terrorists attacked an Israeli airliner at this airport, killing one of the pilots and injuring another eight people. One terrorist was killed in the ensuing gunfight by an Israeli agent, while the others were apprehended by airport firemen and imprisoned — yet released the following year in the aftermath of the destruction of Swissair Flight 330 and the Dawson's Field hijackings.

Prior to unwittingly becoming a stage for international militant histrionics, the Zürich airport rose from the ashes of the abandoned Swiss National Airport Utzenstorf project, and grew in carefully planned stages somehow fitting the perception of nation preoccupied with horology. The fifth expansion since 1948, completed in 2004, saw the addition of the satellite terminal Pier E, which is connected to the rest of the airport solely by an automated people mover (APM), essentially an underground cable car, somewhat ironically named Skymetro.

Since 2006, the subterranean air cushioned cableway compensates for the lack of breathtaking alpine views by entertaining its passengers with a ride past 160 lightboxes, installed every 100 meters, which act as a zoetrope when passed in quick succession by the trains. The "topical films" (one featuring Heidi, the other the Matterhorn) seemingly projected on the tunnel walls are accompanied by a soundtrack of "typical Swiss sounds" (cowbells, yodels) inside the train cars during their brief (2 min, 45 s) transit between terminals.

Two Rooms & a Kitchen.

Better a humble house than none. A man is a master at home.

A pair of goats and a patched roof are better than begging.

- Hávamál

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Reminders of Göteborg's (Gothenburg's) purpose-built nature appear both throughout the city and over the course of time, throughout the city's history. Once its fortified walls came down, Göteborg grew in a distinctly planned rather than organic fashion. It easily impresses visitors as a city consisting of a number of small towns tenaciously held together, rather than large municipality — the second largest in Sweden, fifth largest in Scandinavia — with a natural centre. The principal reason for this is that the city has had town plans drawn up (despite the challenging geography of a barren, rocky, hilly archipelago, interspersed with wetlands) at practically every point in its history, with every major style that dominated Swedish architecture — Classicism, National Romanticism, Functionalism, Modernism — leaving indelible marks on the cityscape, and very brief periods of unregulated planning and construction.

One of the best examples of the practically self-contained "mini-communities" that make up the city of Göteborg is the primarily residential district of Kortedala. Laid out and mainly constructed between 1952-1957 in what until then was a rural area, Kortedala was the second Satellite Town in Sweden (the first being Vällingby northwest of Stockholm) — a smaller metropolitan area established at some distance from and largely independent of a neighbouring larger metropolitan area (similar to Britain's New Towns). The first such district to be created in the Göteborg area, Kortedala (derived from Korta dalen, the "short valley", as opposed to nearby Djupedalen, the "deep" or "lengthy valley") consisted largely of three to four story low-rise buildings, eight to nine story high-rise buildings, and some 300 single family houses, comprising 8,300 flats in total by the early 1960s. Exceptionally few among these were larger than one bedroom flats.

Kortedala's buildings were constructed in eight neighbourhood units around four local squares (one large and three smaller ones), with a streetcar line (opened in 1957) running through the middle of the district, connecting it with central Göteborg. Most of the district's streets received names relating to horological and calendar events, hence the first families moving to the brand new district in November 1953, found themselves living on Kalendervägen ("Calendar Street") and Månadsgatan ('Month Street"). Planned for 21,000 inhabitants, the district peaked at 28,000 in the mid-1960s, and is currently home to some 15,000 people. Built a decade before Sweden implemented its infamous Million Programme, Kortedala has largely managed to maintain its ambitious character of a welfare state's idealised "good homes", with fully equipped kitchens, bathrooms, and hardwood floors available and affordable to every citizen.

Where international delegations once descended to learn how to construct "good-quality" housing areas from scratch — complete with easy access to education, healthcare, shopping, entertainment, and other essential services — the average visitor can now inspect a two room flat restored to its original, mid-1950s-state at the Kortedala Museum. Housed in a standard 65 m² (≈ 700 Sq Ft) flat, carefully restored with original paints, wallpaper, and period-style furnishings, the museum offers a glimpse of what comfortable, modern living SEK 165/month (roughly C$ 31.85 in 1965, the equivalent of C$ 217 in 2009) could rent in Sweden 55 years ago. It's an opportunity to literally step back half a century to the point in time when the Swedish welfare society — the project which for a brief period provided worldwide renown to this otherwise quite parochial nation on the outskirts of Europe — began taking shape, and the dream of a place of one's own (with indoor plumbing) became a reality for an increasing number of Swedes.

Run by volunteers, who are on hand to share their own memories of growing up and living in the district, the tiny time capsule opens up practically every Sunday of the year to display its exhibits of an optimistic post-war decade, when the future seemed brighter for the typical family of five (two adults and their three children) that would've inhabited a flat such as this one. The majority had moved to Göteborg following the Second World War, primarily seeking employment in industry, and most had been relegated to the city's 30,000 one-room flats (barely 200 of which had indoor plumbing). Yet the Kortedala museum-flat isn't merely an artifact of a time when "common people" began to afford decent housing with essential amenities close by, but also "luxury" goods like record players, televisions, even holidays abroad — evident from some of the kitschy, "exotic" bric-a-brac strewn about the place. It's also a unique testament to a time when Swedish politicians still had the audacity to envision a decent standard of living for all their citizens, to elevate the poorest above the sordid squalor of industrial slums. Kortedala remains a reminder of a time when it still seemed possible to create an ideal society according to a master plan.

(More images of the museum-flat here.)