Scandinavian countries were among the places I first visited during my student years because of a student exchange and internship. At the time, I stayed in the town of Umeå, far in the north of Sweden. The sense of mystery, the unusual changes in daylight throughout the year and drinking to the point of exhaustion have remained a bittersweet memory.
Despite everything, the countries of the north always gave me the feeling that I had once been there before – if not me, then my ancestors. Although with some difficulty, I also managed to get my family up there. They did not regret it when we watched sperm whales in Andenes in the northern Lofoten Islands, slept in charming converted fishermen's cottages on the western Norwegian coast, tasted outrageously expensive fish dishes and drank even more outrageously expensive drinks.
Kiruna at New Year, a small town that lies on the richest iron ore deposits in the world and is currently being relocated to another area, is truly a dead town by our notions of New Year's revelry. It was put on the map by the Ice Hotel, located twenty kilometres away, which was the first hotel of its kind to attract guests from around the world.
We enlivened our dark winter journey with a reindeer sleigh ride. Sleeping in Lapland tents on animal skins at minus twenty degrees is just as unforgettable as fishing through holes in the ice.
