Norwegians are a great lens to teach us about some healthy longevity practices. The Norwegian diet is a significant factor. It's been described as the cold-weather cousin to the Mediterranean diet.
Swedes celebrate the day before on Holy Saturday, with Easter services in the Swedish church often taking place in the evening. This tradition reflects a broader cultural practice of marking holidays the evening before the main day.
It could be the last Olympics for a sport that mixes the grace of ski jumping with the grind of cross-country skiing. Nordic combined events at the Milan Cortina Games ended Thursday. And the International Olympic Committee is considering scrapping it from future Games because of a small TV audience and podium positions dominated by a tiny group of nations.
Instead, they practice something called "friluftsliv" - literally "free air life" - and in February, when winter feels endless, this practice becomes almost sacred. It's their secret weapon against the darkness, and after trying it myself during a particularly rough winter, I can tell you it works better than any supplement I've ever taken. The word itself sounds complicated, but friluftsliv is beautifully simple. It means spending time outdoors, regardless of weather conditions. Not despite the cold and darkness, but because of it.
First snow of the year means SNOW CREAM," "This is literally my childhood," "Ohhhh girlfriend you're not supposed to make snow cream with the first snow of the season," "Hey so I saw an under the microscope of snow and I'd just put that back on the ground.
Form-fitting coats, designer goggles, and sleek ski pants were the norm for women, while high-performance brands with a retro bent dominated for men-and that was just the ski gear. After skiing, the après looks were as functional as they were chic, and always with an effortlessly European touch. I grew to love having a wide-banded headband and insulated après-ski boots for drinks on the patio, and a statement puffer vest thrown over my thermals was an easy transition from skiing to sipping.
The winter season in Germany can be notoriously brutal for foreigners and locals alike. We'd like to hear your tips for making the most of the colder months. Sometimes people who live in Germany joke that it's a great place to live for about six months of the year. But during the other six months? Cold weather, darkness and suffering.
A week's hiking in Jotunheimen national park (230 miles north of Oslo) last summer brought me tranquillity and peace. During four days of challenging hiking and wild camping through the area we saw hardly anyone else, having entire lush green valleys and still glacial lakes to ourselves. We were fortunate to have stunning weather throughout and, despite it being July, still had a reasonable amount of snow to traverse.
Having settled on where to ski in Norway, I found myself packing up the Kvikk Lunsj wafers and sweet brown brunost cheese sandwiches at the glassy Juvet Landscape Hotel, deep in the Sunnmøre Alps. Then the slow ascent, with skins on our splitboard skis, up to the peak at Mefjellet: torturous in some ways, looking at all that glinting Care Bear snow all the way up, but also a deliciously tantric act of meditation and delayed gratification.
If you grew up in a region that received snow, you're probably familiar with the multitude of skiing superstitions. Whether it was wearing your pajamas inside out or flushing ice cubes down the toilet, every kid had their preferred method of playing with fate to force a snow day. Skiers, however, have taken snow superstitions to the next level. A common superstition in the skiing world is the refusal to call the last run, as doing so can apparently heighten your risk of getting injured.
