A Love Letter to Sweden

Three Practices I Learnt from My Year with the Swedes

Stockholm, where I learnt the power of nature, balance and coffee with cinnamon buns!

I arrived in Sweden expecting the crystal-clear lakes, magical pine forests, and sweeping slabs of granite that create jaw-dropping scenery. As a journalist, I’d done my research and thought I knew what to expect. What I wasn’t prepared for was how profoundly the Swedish way of life would teach me about living well.

Swedish people are so humble that my friends there will probably laugh and shake their heads when they read this love letter—but they truly deserve some celebration. Having lived in six countries and travelled extensively, I’ve learned to recognise a special culture when I encounter one. At first, the Swedish approach unnerved me: quiet, measured, deeply respectful of boundaries and balance. Then, slowly, it rewired me.

Now I carry a little piece of Sweden in my heart, especially when Hong Kong’s high-octane energy threatens to sweep me away. These three ideas didn’t just show me a country; they showed me how to live in a grounded, authentic way that feels like coming home to myself...

Friluftsliv: Nature as Daily Breath

Friluftsliv isn’t simply about doing “outdoor activities”—it’s a way of life where being in the open air feels as essential as eating or sleeping. Swedes don’t wait for perfect weather; they dress for whatever the day brings and step outside. Even when it’s minus ten degrees and the sun barely skims the horizon, they pull on their full-length arctic jackets and head into the snowy forest for a walk.

That crisp bite of cold air, a swim in clear waters, or the quiet crunch of boots through the pine forest brought me back to myself again and again. I saw this calm clarity and resilience in so many of my Swedish friends, and it became contagious. In Hong Kong’s concrete heat, I still chase that feeling—hiking the trails in the New Territories or swimming from beaches where the water turns turquoise far from the city. Friluftsliv reminded me that a daily dose of nature isn’t a luxury; it’s essential for stepping away from the rat race, appreciating what I already have, and building a life rooted in authenticity.

Check out my fetching Arctic jacket!

Lagom: The Beauty of Just Enough

Lagom means “not too little, not too much—just right.” It’s moderation woven into every corner of life: a balanced plate at dinner, a reasonable workload, a wardrobe that serves without excess. (Stockholm style accounts on Instagram are full of proof—timeless pieces over fast-fashion churn.)

Coming from London, where more was always better—more hours, more stuff, more shine—this felt completely alien at first. It took months for me to truly understand the quiet zen in less. Swedish homes often hold a few beautiful objects alongside practical IKEA storage that keeps everything tidy and calm. Social life is intentional too: a nice dinner out maybe twice a month, while weekends are devoted to short trips to friends’ summer houses, family outings in nature, or simply chilling at home with a barbecue, firing up the sauna, and dipping in the lake.

This laid-back balance runs through society—an equal one, with generous childcare and men legally obliged to take paternity leave so they can care for the baby when their partner returns to work. The shopping and fashion scene in Stockholm is fantastic, but people choose a few awesome statement pieces for the season and mix them with quality classics they’ve owned for years.

Our sauna on Lake Mälaren.

Fika (and Sauna): Rituals of Real Connection

Fika is coffee and cinnamon buns, yes—but at its heart, it’s enforced screen-free connection. Work pauses once or twice a day; you sit with colleagues or friends, phones away, no rush. Conversation drifts over what you’ve been up to, what you’re reading, weekend plans, or something small that suddenly matters.

In London, breaks were for catching up on emails or running errands, so at first fika felt slow to me. But near my children’s school, a little café called Green Rabbit—where they freshly bake cinnamon buns for some of the city’s five-star hotels—became my lifeline. A group of us, all new in Stockholm and connected through our kids’ school, started meeting there a few times a week. Over coffee, we shared the highs and lows of the move, the lists of places we wanted to explore, the trials of the long winter, and the pure joy of those first spring days. Fika built gentle bridges: authentic friendships formed slowly, without pressure, and those simple coffee-and-bun moments have built a lasting friendship group I’ll always treasure.

I can’t write a love letter to Sweden without mentioning sauna too. We were lucky to have a wood-fired one at the bottom of our garden, right on the edge of Lake Mälaren. Sundays became sauna day: my husband and I would fire it up for a debrief of the week. As the heat rose, tension melted away and real conversations flowed. It was too hot for phones, so all we had was chat. Then we’d plunge into the freezing lake, laughing every time (my rugby-playing husband, brave in every other way, turned into a complete “big girl’s blouse” about the cold water—it had me in tears of laughter some days). It was better than marriage counselling: heat for honesty, cold for joy, and total, uninterrupted connection.

Like fika, sauna taught me that solid relationships don’t need constant motion. Sometimes they’re built by stopping long enough to truly see—and hear—the person in front of you.

My year in Sweden didn’t make me Swedish. The winters were long, and while Swedes are wonderfully warm and funny once you know them, they can keep you at a gentle distance (Stockholmers are notorious for peeking through the peephole to make sure the corridor is empty before stepping out!). But they gave me tools I’ll always carry: friluftsliv to ground me, lagom to steady me, fika and sauna to connect me deeply with friends and family. These aren’t souvenirs; they’re ways of being that travel with me, softening the edges when life speeds up too much and I’ll be forever grateful to Sweden and its people for showing me quieter, simpler and more authentic ways to live.

I love you Sweden! Thank you for everything! Can someone please send me some pickled herring?