"As I stripped off on a wooden pier over the Baltic Sea in Malmo, Sweden, my husband and five-year-old boy, bundled up against the harsh wind, chanted: Go Mummy, go Mummy, go Mummy! Just as I was about to heroically slither out of my final layer, a bearded, completely naked man, who can only be described as Viking-esque, ascended the wooden ladder from the sea, looked at me with horror and possibly hypothermia in his eyes."
"My family and I emigrated to Sweden from the UK last winter, and while the days seemed impossibly short and dark, we were buoyed up by optimism, glogg (Swedish mulled wine) studded with almonds and raisins, and our new city, scattered with fairy lights. However, as the advent countdown began, a cold front harsher than the Baltic Sea swept through our cosy new home."
A British family moved to Malmö, Sweden, and navigates short, dark winter days and new festive customs. A mother attempted a Baltic Sea swim on Christmas Eve but retreated after encountering a bearded, naked, Viking-esque man. The household balances Swedish practices—opening presents on Christmas Eve, glogg, pepparkakor, Christmas markets, and a taciturn Tomte—with British comforts such as Christmas cake, roast potatoes and Bisto gravy. The husband aims to adopt Swedish ways while the mother preserves familiar rituals for their five-year-old son, resulting in friendly but firm negotiations over holiday routines.
Read at www.theguardian.com
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