I do find it a bit peculiar that this event killed a full third of Poland's population, has a place in their history that basically treats it as a cataclysm of literally Biblical proportions, and yet in Sweden... we don't talk about it. At all. It doesn't even get a passing mention in the school history books, despite the fact that the Danish campaign that followed it does, and all the maps show the Swedish army starting out in Poland without giving any explanation.
I think it has something to do with how we Swedes wish to look at ourselves. We like to think of ourselves as being this ultranice, neutral, friendly little country, and then it sort of hurts our self image if someone brings up the fact that "Hey, remember that time when we
slaughtered a third of Poland's population? Like, it's a fucking huge thing over there.
They actually even sing about it in their national song, because the whole thing was a really defining moment of utter despair in their national history. Yeah, maybe you wanna think about that the next time you complain about Polish immigrants coming over just humbly wanting low-paying job, yeah? Think about that?" But, nope, no, definitely not. We're taught that there was this one time we and Poland had a common king and how we overthrew him because he was slimy enough to convert to Catholicism, but that time we killed
a third of all Poles... meh.
I've studied Russian for two years, but I think I learned almost as much about the language and culture from reading a book by a Finnish reporter living in Moscow as I did from school. I don't think the forename+patronymic is actually more polite than the surname per se, it's just that using the surname as a style of address is a bit unusual.
An Indian friend of mine said that I should translate Russian science textbooks because he just assumed I knew Russian. When I told him I didn't, he was a bit flabbergasted because "Sweden and Russia are so close together". I made some comment to the effect that I thought that was a bit stupid to think that, only to find out that he personally spoke five languages, English, his native Bengali, Hindi and two other languages they spoke in nearby states in India, that basically all Indians are multilingual and he just assumed that we Europeans were basically the same.
That was a bit humbling. I usually go around and think "I can't believe that English-speakers cannot bother learning a single foreign language when all the rest of us manage to learn English just fine", but in India, the situation is apparently that it's expected of you to know a handful of languages...