Tag archives for Midsommar
Ladies and gentlemen, we are now officially within one week of Midsummer. Hallelujah!
This will be my fourth summer in Sweden, but I have only been to one Midsummer celebration before. Actually, it was all the endless talk about Midsummer that served as a reason to visit Sweden for the first time. I was studying in Italy at the University for Foreigners in Perugia, and I kept hearing about this amazing day from all my Swedish friends. When my friend Josefin, a native Stockholmer, invited me to join her and her friends out in the archipelago for the celebration, I was all about it. Surprised to learn that there was an archipelago, but enthusiastic all the same.
So on the day before Midsummer in 2008, I jumped on a Ryan Air flight from Italy to Stockholm, arriving in the city around midnght, just in time to catch the sun making an obligatory nod towards the horizon before starting to climb back up in the sky. Welcome to the land of the midnight sun.
The conditions were perfect for a terrible, terrible let down. I had traveled from one end of the continent to another to take part in super-hyped day with a bunch of people I didn’t know (except for my friend, of course) for a holiday whose festivities are largely dependent on the weather being good. And yet, despite all that, the day was perfect.
The weather was flawless: warm and sunny on an island where the sky stretches for miles. I discovered for the first time just how well the general Swedish population speaks English. A Maypole was erected, and while I didn’t know what was being sung, I hopped around said Maypole in a circle with the rest of my new acquaintances while they sang and laughed. (Later I was told that I was a little frog, hopping around.)
Drinking songs were also sung, and great quantities of bitter-tasting aquavit were drunk. I had my first taste of herring, and for a few moments I very seriously considered taking a swim before a tentative toe stuck in the water sent me racing for the comfort of blankets. And while it got a little dim late at night, the sun never really set.
Now, three years later, I get to do it again. O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!
Here’s the skinny on Midsummer (or Midsommar, if you want to be authentic about it). It is yet another of the many holidays with its roots in pagan traditions, but this one does not have a Christian tradition that was superimposed over it. It’s a good old-fashioned sun-worshipping/fertility/thank God it’s summer festival, originally celebrated on the summer solstice (June 21) but now celebrated on the Friday closest to the solstice.
Traditional celebrations involve a very distinctive Maypole (think fertility again), lots of food, and even more aquavit–a very strong, flavored liquor. I’m sure our resident food blogger will be talking more about the menu and drink choices, but I’ll be covering other Midsummer traditions in more detail throughout the week… stay tuned for more!
My first encounter with Sweden came in Italy, when I was a student at the University for Foreigners in Perugia. I started dating a Swede within the first couple of months, and my Italian roommates had some cautionary words for me.
Svedessi sono freddi. Cold, like their country. Just a little frightening.
I kept dating the Swede, though, and then I went back to the United States for my last year of college. I got used to fielding questions about Sweden and Swedish people, a country I had still only spent five days in. No, they don’t have Swedish fish (American gummy candy). Yes, they are really quite blond, generally speaking. No, they’re not all crazy socialists (it’s a parliamentary democracy, duh). Yes, they are really good-looking. I also got to see my own culture through foreign eyes for the first time: to see how different it is to need a car for life in the suburbs, to appreciate how warm and welcoming Americans are, to experience the joy of actually receiving service with a smile and the delight of unlimited soda refills.
After I graduated, I went to Sweden for two and a half months during the summer, just short of the 90 days I was allowed to stay in the country without a visa. I fell in love with the warm summer days, the easy-going lifestyle, the fact that the whole country seemed to be on vacation, and the bicycles. I learned that waffles are a dessert item, not a breakfast food, and that the best way to eat them is covered in jam made of cloudberries, a sought-after yellow berry that grows only in the far north of Sweden. I also brought parts of America with me, in the form of a 4th of July barbeque party, Mexican food nights, and real American pancakes with maple syrup.
Another summer ended, and I returned yet again to the United States. I worked in Washington, D.C. first as a waitress and then as an English language teacher at an international language school while applying to other jobs throughout the world. I was aiming for a job just about anywhere in Europe so that I could take a step closer to Simon and to Sweden.
It took awhile for me to figure out that I could actually apply for what my family jokingly referred to as “a love visa” to Sweden just on the basis of my relationship with my Swede. It seemed ludicrous at first. I can get a legitimate visa to Sweden just on the basis of “planning to marry or cohabit with a Swedish citizen?” This is clearly a land both inhabited and legislated by starry-eyed lovers.
I filed the application, and in the meantime, I got a job in Vienna, Austria. I moved there in January 2010, and about a week after I accepted a year-long position there as a project manager, my visa application to Sweden was accepted. Of course.
In May, after a few more months of shuttling back and forth between Vienna and Lund, I gave notice at my job and filed my residency papers for Sweden. In July, Simon and I drove halfway across the continent with a trunk full of my things, headed for the land of Vikings and meatballs, crayfish and Aquavit, long winters and long summer days, Maypole dances and government-mandated coffee breaks.
For the last seven months, I’ve had the opportunity to be immersed in Swedish culture as an American abroad, and it feels like I have a foot in both cultures. My friends are almost all Swedish, and they’ve included me as part of their group and done their best to humor my questions and explain what’s going on. (Now tell me again, why does Lucia wear candles on her head? And why are the boys dressed like wizards?) I’ve been enrolled in my free government “Swedish for Immigrant” classes, where I meet other immigrants and learn about Swedish culture from a pedagogical perspective. At the same time, I’ve been able to introduce my own cultural traditions within my group of friends, with carving pumpkins for Halloween, hosting our very own Thanksgiving, and baking chocolate chip cookies.
Welcome to my expat blog at Sweden.se! Skål!