B r a i n C l e a r

Sorting through life one thought at a time

Tag: travel

  • Patriotism as an Expat

    Thinking about patriotism today on Americas birthday.

    Living here has made me think about it in a way I never really did growing up in Sweden.

    If Sweden whispers, “We’re proud to be Swedish,” America says it with a microphone. Sometimes I joke that Americans want to make sure you never forget what country you’re in and all those flags certainly help.

    The funny thing is, I don’t think Swedes are any less proud of their country.

    We just seem to show it differently.

    I’ve often wondered if part of the reason is that loud national pride can feel uncomfortable. There seems to be a quiet awareness that celebrating “us” too loudly can start to sound like excluding “them.”

    You see it when Sweden plays in the World Cup or the Olympics. Suddenly the blue and yellow flags appear, everyone is glued to the TV, and strangers celebrate together.

    One thing I’ve noticed over the years is that many Swedes seem to become even more patriotic after moving abroad.

    When you grow up in Sweden, Midsummer, Lucia, crayfish parties, cinnamon buns, and those long summer nights when the sun barely sets and you’re complaining because you need blackout curtains just to sleep, are simply everyday life.

    You don’t think much about them because they’ve always been there.

    Then you move away.

    Suddenly you’re explaining Lucia to your American friends. You’re driving across town to find Swedish candy. You get excited when you hear someone speaking Swedish in the grocery store. You celebrate Swedish traditions with a handful of other Swedes, trying to recreate a little piece of home.

    Even IKEA becomes more than a furniture store, and H&M becomes more than a clothing store. They become little pieces of home.

    It’s interesting how distance can make you appreciate things you once took for granted.

    Maybe that’s one of the unexpected gifts of living abroad you don’t just discover a new country, you rediscover your own. 🇸🇪

  • Midsummer in Sweden

    This week, I was talking to my mom as she was preparing for Midsummer, one of the biggest celebrations of the year in Sweden, the longest day of the year.🇸🇪

    She told me about her trip to the grocery store and how, this year, she wasn’t rolling her own meatballs. That may not sound like a big deal, but rolling meatballs for a large family gathering can be quite a chore.

    There would be new potatoes with dill, meatballs, pickled herring, strawberries, and of course some kind of dessert.

    There would undoubtedly be alcohol as well. After all, it wouldn’t be a Swedish Midsummer without it.

    As she talked through her plans, I could almost picture it all. The grocery stores crowded with people buying the same ingredients they buy every year, and especially Systembolaget, the only place in Sweden where you can buy alcohol.

    Since my mom and her boyfriend were heading up to their summer house in Dalarna, and my sister would be driving up with her little boy, I reminded my mom that she should take him to one of the larger Midsummer celebrations where children dance around the midsummer pole.

    As I said it, I could vividly picture it: an accordion and fiddles playing in the background, someone standing with a microphone leading the festivities, and children hopping around the pole pretending to be frogs during Små Grodorna(The Little Frogs).

    That conversation made me think about how Midsummer has changed throughout my life while somehow remaining exactly the same.

    As a child, Midsummer was about cousins, lakes, and dancing around the midsummer pole. I spent many summers in Dalarna, where my grandparents lived. My aunt, uncle, and cousins would drive up, and we would spend hours playing, exploring, and enjoying the freedom that comes with long summer days.

    As a teenager, Midsummer became something entirely different. It was about friends, freedom, staying out too late, and, if I’m being honest, usually drinking a little too much. Like many Swedish teenagers, the holiday became less about tradition and more about celebrating the start of summer.

    As an adult, I find myself appreciating the things I once took for granted the family meals, the conversations around the table, and the comfort of traditions that connect one generation to the next.

    Living abroad, holidays like Midsummer have a way of reminding you just how far away you are.

    Not because you cannot celebrate where you are, but because you realize that somewhere else, the people you love are continuing traditions that were once your traditions too.

    Hearing my mom talk about preparing for Midsummer dinner made me realize that some holidays never stop feeling like home, no matter how many years have passed or how many miles separate you from them.

    And somewhere in Dalarna this year, my nephew will be dancing around that same midsummer pole, creating memories of his own. 🌼