Still, three weeks into our new Northern European life I understand what they meant. Even in Malmö, south of Sweden, it feels overwhelmingly dark, creating a sort of timeless limbo – like a Vegas casino with no clocks or windows. When you wake up, it feels like early evening, and during the day, when you’re quite sure it’s time to rush your toddler home for dinner, bath and bed you realise that it is only 2pm.
However, unlike my childhood family, who basically utilised telly, booze and the occasional blow-out brawl to cope with the winter, the Swedes have a whole bag of tricks. So what can we learn from them to make these months without sunshine more bearable?
The first phrase you have to learn is “there is no bad weather, only bad clothing”. In Sweden you can be outside because clothes are made for the conditions. I am now essentially an onion made of thin layers of fleece and marino. My son, like all Swedish kids, goes to preschool every day in actual ski gear, resembling a primary colour daubed Michelin man.
This is all because there is another Swedish saying: “make the most of it”. This is really meant for summer when Swedes spend all their time outside half-naked absorbing that sweet, sweet vitamin D but it can also apply to the winter. When you have over three months of dark, dark winter, you can’t stay home and hibernate, or you should not, unless you want your mental health to fall off a cliff edge. And so, everyone gets outside when they can in daylight hours.
Malmö is one of Europe’s most cycle-friendly cities and the majority cycle year round, rain, shine or snow. And while I don’t entirely love biking with my rugby player-sized kid on the back in freezing, horizontal rain, I admit I feel better for getting outside and moving my body.
What’s more, it’s actually worth getting outside and won’t put your bank balance on life support before the new year. While I can’t vouch for the rest of the country, Malmö is exemplary at offering free activities for children. In the last few weeks our kid has done a drop-in art workshop, ice-skating, face painting and balloon animals, two visits to Santa and, the highlight, a ride in a carriage with tiny little Shetland ponies dressed as Santa. And none of it cost a penny if we don’t include the £2 hotdogs he guzzled down like Scooby Doo at each event.
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In fact, it seems to me, that for Swedes, celebrating Christmas isn’t an individualistic choice but a survival strategy. Every window is lit up with advent candles and paper stars as though they are issued by order of city hall. In every square, there is a huge Christmas tree and there are decorations and fairy lights in every shop and cafe. Simply, Christmas is the generic prozac alternative of the Swedish people and no one is missing a dose.
Which brings us to “fika”: coffee and a sweet snack. Before I got to Sweden, I thought the concept of fika was like “afternoon tea’” an occasional, nice thing you do as a celebration. I did not understand that fika is very much ingrained into the daily way of life. Coffee is everywhere here, served strong and usually black in huge canisters. It’s free in preschools, galleries and government buildings and the accompanying cake, bun or cookie are eaten several times a day. It seems that without warmth and light, we’re obliged to ride the caffeine and sugar train very, very hard. If that’s what I must do to assimilate then I’m all for it. Even if my sugar consumption rivals even the 1980s in Scotland. That extra layer of fat is keeping me warm too.
The last important component of a bearable Swedish winter is that when you are home it is blissfully cosy. Our apartment, which was built in the 1950s, has triple glazing, and heating and hot water are included in our very affordable monthly charge, meaning it’s affordable to stay comfy, make a batch of mulled wine (glögg) and gingerbread.
As we approach the longest winter days Sweden has just celebrated St Lucia, a procession where a young woman wears a white gown and a crown of candles and walks with her handmaidens, also in white holding candles singing “Lucia songs”. It is a celebration of light in the darkness. Afterwards, people celebrate by eating sweet treats, including lussekatter: saffron buns shaped into an “s” and studded with raisins and pepparkakor gingersnaps.
There’s a lot to learn from our adopted country about how to find light in the darkness. It’s about finding pleasure and comfort where you can. It is about the opposite of hibernating – instead, getting outside, socialising – and then cosying up with your fika and Netflix in your abundantly decorated home. If you’re in doubt, consider that Sweden, even with its dark, cold quarter of a year, ranks fourth in the World Happiness Report 2024 while the UK comes in at a Grinch-level 20th. So, maybe winter bike rides, sugar and some thermals are worth a go?
Kerry Hudson is an award-winning, bestselling novelist and memoirist. You can find her on Instagram and on Threads @ThatKerryHudson