July 2013

In the Travel section of The New York Times recently, there was an article about how to celebrate Midsummer in Småland. The writer grew up in the US with a Swedish mum and a dad from Brooklyn; they went back to Sweden every summer to visit friends and family, and the story was a rather touching account of her return to the Midsummer celebrations of her childhood.

There it all was again: maypoles and seven flowers under the pillow, crimson sashes and embroidered vests, songs about sleeping bears and jumping frogs, flower crowns and accordions – and the smorgasbord! Pickled herring, new potatoes, fresh dill, gravlax, “miniature fried hot dogs” (prinskorv), Jansson’s temptation (“a casserole of potatoes, onions, cream and anchovies”), mountains of meatballs, dense dark bread and crunchy crackers. And, of course aquavit; vodka distilled from potatoes and seasoned with dill.

The journalist described it as “a wondrous fairy tale of a tradition near the top of the world” and it’s true – Sweden doesn’t get any more idyllic than a Midsummer celebration under clear blue skies on the countryside. But she also admits to having left the party as the third and fourth servings of aquavit were poured, leaving the others to eat and drink until sunrise. I think this move was critical to her experience of a wondrous Midsummer. Let me explain why.

There is nothing we Swedes love more than Midsummer. There is nothing as Swedish as this holiday – we don’t lift a finger to celebrate our national day, but from the middle of May, everyone anxiously starts asking each other “what are you going to do for Midsummer?”

It doesn’t matter how popular you are the rest of the year; if you don’t sit down at a traditional smorgasbord next to a lakeside cottage on Midsummer’s eve, you’re a complete loser. Because the solstice is what we are. We might only get a handful of real summer days each year, but no-one can take away those light summer nights from us. They are what makes it all worth it, and this is why it’s the biggest party of the year. So we meet up around lunchtime for the traditional pickled herring lunch, and then we basically drink all day, except for when we eat, swim and sing in the sauna. It’s great. Until around 3 AM. Because then, things always go off the rails, one way or another. People run into radiators and hurt their knees so they start bleeding. MacBooks fall off speakers and crash into pieces. Adults start putting fruit into each other’s underwear. Grown men walk around in nothing but a miniskirt. It’s not rocket science. It’s what happens when people drink non-stop for fifteen hours.

I don’t mean to say this is exactly the kind of behaviour The New York Times journalist would have encountered had she stayed until sunrise. However, if you are a visitor and you get an invitation to a Midsummer party in the archipelago – you absolutely must go. Just make sure you have an exit strategy – wherever you’re celebrating, don’t get yourself talked into staying over in an innocent-looking little guest cabin. Order a cab to pick you up at 2 AM, at the very latest, and go back to where you’re staying (yes, you can order boat cabs too). Because Swedes know how to party. A little too well.