I watched all three of The Lord of the Rings movies on the planes from here to Sweden and back again. The nostalgia! (For my non-Tolkien friends, Here and Back Again is the subtitle of Tolkien’s 1937 classic The Hobbit.)
I’m in a new era of travel and parenting, not having to wander up and down airplane aisles for hours or trying to nurse away my baby’s plane travel-induced earache. Between having happy international travelers and paying our last childcare invoice, I feel like I just finished a looooong marathon.
Part of me is thrilled beyond belief, and part of me is fucking exhausted. As always, after traveling to my home country, I’m reminded of how extremely challenging it is to raise children in America and how *it doesn’t have to be this way*. As many of my peers are having their third or fourth child, I feel a twinge of jealousy and sadness. Part of me always wanted a third child. But I fear that having another child in America might end my well-being and sanity. But I digress.
If Hobbits were real, I feel like they would have loved to live in Sweden. There’s a connection to the land I feel when I’m there, unlike anywhere else. The long nights, the wild strawberries growing everywhere, the fika, the fresh fish and produce, the sourdough bread, the strong coffee, the skinny dipping, the forest walks. It all reeks of Hobbit.
FIKA is a concept, a state of mind, an attitude, and an important part of Swedish culture. Many Swedes consider it almost essential to make time for fika every day. It means making time for friends and colleagues to share a cup of coffee (or tea) and a little something to eat. It can be a treat, a sandwich, or whatever yumminess you crave.
Visiting with Frodo via screen and having the opportunity to drop into Iceland for a few days felt like our own magical interlude between countries. Here’s one of my favorite moments.
Exploring the oldest pool in Reykjavik
Upon arriving in Iceland at 6 am on a Saturday, having slept only a few hours, we didn't know whether to try to get some sleep or to visit one of the local pools. According to our barely English-speaking taxi driver, one pool was only a five-minute walk from our hotel. After watching my kids jump hyperactively on the IKEA sofa bed for 10 minutes, we opted for the latter.
We split up, and I took Z to the women's locker. It was very similar to the ones I grew up with in Sweden, but after seeing Z's horrified face, I quickly realized that she would need some time adjusting to being naked with a bunch of other people.
I'm very sensitive to this because when we were kids (my two sisters and I), we had a Saturday tradition of going to the local indoor pool and swimming there. The unusual aspect of this seemingly normal thing was that everyone was naked. It was a nudist event. Men, women, and children were swimming together in a big pool. Sitting at white plastic tables eating their, you guessed it, homemade FIKA.
My sisters and I all have ambivalent feelings about this activity, and in some aspects, it was traumatizing. My skin crawls just by writing about it. In other aspects, I love how much more comfortable Swedes (and Scandinavians in general) are with being naked.
So you can imagine why I have such strong feelings about not forcing my children to be naked at the pool! Thus, I sat there on the wooden bench with Z, and I told her how it works differently in Sweden and Iceland and that it can be quite nice for women to be naked together. We sat there until she came up with a solution that worked for her. She got to shower wearing her suit and wash with it on. This felt like a parent victory!
When we got to the outdoor pools, KB and P were already in the warm, shallow kids' pool. We spent two hours going from pool to pool, enjoying the varying sizes and temperatures. Once I got into the steam room alone, my whole body started relaxing, and I started bawling. Hot tears mingled with hot sweat, and I let a bunch of buried grief come to the surface.
Sometimes I forget that the intense political climate and last few years' events get to me on a deep level. Being on Icelandic soil, in the pure energy of the land and the people, my body felt safe, and I got some much-needed relief.
Being a sensitive person (what some refer to as an HSP) comes with blessings and challenges and I’m constantly working on my energetic self-care. After the steam room, I went into the cold pool, which was about 46 degrees F/8 degrees C, for a few minutes. When I returned to my family, I felt a sense of having been cleansed...reborn. For the remaining time, I played with the kids in the rooftop pools, and Z even went with me into the hot wood fired sauna for the first time. It was such a great start to our vacation.
Skinning dipping FTW
Every time we return to my hometown of Västerås, located along lake Mälaren, we take the "Elba boat" to a small island about 20 minutes from the harbor. Z told me this year, "Mamma, we have to go there it’s a TRADITION!". So we went out there with mom one day.
On the island is a small beach with a simple café. If you walk ten minutes to the other side, there's also a women's nude beach and a family nude beach. Both KB and I love skinny-dipping; we do it any chance we get. Now my mom was with us, but since she's also into being naked, we all decided to head over there. I really checked in with myself if I was truly comfortable with that, and I was. Being curious about my boundaries feels good and liberating.
Writing this, I giggle to myself. I can not imagine many of my American friends being naked with their mother-in-law, but there we were. There was one other family present with three white-blonde and blue-eyed boys and two couples. This time, Z was DOWN to be nude. She ripped her suit off and ran into the water. Later she swam like a little fish up to me and radiantly told me, "I just LOVE to swim naked!".
P, on the other hand, was skeptical. He opted for wearing his swim trunks for the first 10 minutes. Suddenly, I hear a whooping sound, and I see him whizzing down the beach in his birthday suit and throwing himself into the water. For an hour, both kids were happily playing and swimming naked in the lake, and it felt so free and fun – I want my children to safely enjoy being naked. Another victory, on their terms!
On the boat, heading back, Z leans into me and whispers, "Mamma, I want to do that AGAIN!"
Make America a little bit Swedish!
So if I could make America better the Swedish way, I’d say: be naked together more often, take regular fika breaks (Hobbit approved!), institute paid maternity/paternity leave, adopt free higher education, subsidize child care and invest in environmentally friendly jobs, energy, and infrastructure.*
*Cue all the emails from my American friends about why I live here and not Sweden.
While I'm sad to report that Sweden isn't the democratic socialist ideal society it was for some years, there are still things that are wonderful and worth acknowledging and celebrating.
I hope you will consider visiting my homeland (Ideally come between May-August!). I would love for you to experience the bounty of a solid fika and swimming naked in a lake in the sunset at 10 pm...I've added some photos below to inspire you to unleash your inner Hobbit in Sweden.
Med kärlek 💜,
Karna
P.S. Did you miss me? I had intended to take only a two-week vacation break from writing, but it ended up being five weeks! I needed it. And since the whole commitment with the newsletter is to do it from a calm, connected, and fun place, I had to listen to what I needed. Now, I am so happy to be back in your inbox! Thank you for having me.
Bonus: Funny video about “Swedishness”
Fun fact: It’s the actual prime minister of that time who’s featured in this video.
There and Back Again
Welcome back! And looks like it was an amazing trip!
Also, I've been harvesting potatoes in my garden too - loved those photos!!!
Karna thank you for your fabulous recap of our vacation! It was wonderful spending 3 full weeks with you and the kids and so many fun adventures!