Int’l Edition: Midsommar Celebration
“You know flower crowns are usually for the girls?” says Chey’s Uncle Tommy. I look around frantically. Tommy laughs and pats my shoulder. “No, no it’s fine. You have to have a flower crown.”
Dancing in the Countryside
We’re sitting on camping chairs in a rural town called Rogslösa. People are milling about, setting up their own chairs and blankets, and I notice girls (and some boys) walking around in flower crowns and traditional Swedish attire. Tommy opens up a small tin of nicotine chews and hands me one. “Want one?” he asks. I’ve made it a habit of saying “yes” to everything, so I take the chew and pop it in my mouth. Tommy smiles and says “Now you are a man!”
I am told that most people in Sweden know English, along with a handful of other languages. This is comforting, but Cheyenne reminds me that I need to talk slower than I usually do. I’ve picked up a couple words so far (“tack” means “thank you”, “jordgubbar” means “strawberries”, and “jag talar inte svenska” means “I do not speak Swedish”). There are some letters in their alphabet that I haven’t quite got a handle on yet either. The sounds use parts of my mouth I don’t typically use for words, and the cadence of the language requires me to bounce my head to sustain its melody.
With the exception of a few conversations I have, everyone is speaking in Swedish. A small choir sings some songs, then we are invited to gather around the Midsummer Pole (which is basically a May Pole). I have at this point discretely removed and disposed of the nicotine chew, though it has left a weird taste in my mouth.
We join the group that has formed a circle around the Pole. I’m holding hands with Cheyenne and her aunt, who is whispering translations to me when she can. “They’re about to sing a song about a crow. We’re going to dance how the crow moves. You know, hopping around,” she tells me. The music starts, and we spin, bounce, scurry and crouch around the pole. The little kids are giggling and hanging from their parents’ hands, and pretty much everyone is singing.
I am overwhelmed by how wholesome the experience is. Chey keeps catching my eye and mouthing “Are you having fun?” and I totally am. My flower crown falls over my eyes a bit as we dance, but I push it back into place and resume my crow impersonation. As we bounce, the aftertaste of the nicotine chew intensifies. Odd, I think to myself. Suddenly, I am hit with a wave of nausea, and I excuse myself to the restroom to vomit before returning to the field to continue dancing. When I tell my sister about this later over videochat, she laughs. “Damn dude, you did the classic puke & rally”.
Dinner with the Family
“This is alcohol free beer,” says Tommy, handing me a can. “It’s not bad.” We are at Tommy and Ingallil’s getting ready for dinner. I’m on jordgubbar duty and Cheyenne is hunched over a cake that she is applying with cream frosting. We discuss the cultural differences we’ve noticed between Sweden and the States. When we talk about Seattle, Tommy is enthusiastic about the idea of seeing the fish-throwers at Pike Place Market. “When you travel, you must do something unique!” he says.
When we sit down at the table, Tommy pours us each a small glass of snaps to go with our herring appetizer. “I’ll pour you half a glass, is that okay?” I tell him of course, since I knew that snaps was an incredibly important pre-meal tradition. The whole family bursts into song, holding their glasses up, and downs the shot at its conclusion. “You are now officially a quarter Swedish!” exclaims Tommy.
The herring is rich and delicious (Chey passes and has a vegetable alternative). Our conversation covers family, politics, and travel. They fill me in on all the relatives and relationships I need to know about, and I realize that I really need to brush up on the local geography. Dinner consists of pork, vegetables, potatoes, more alcohol-free beer, and finally cake (assembled by Cheyenne!) and coffee.
It’s honestly hard to recount a play-by-play of the evening since it was mainly… family stuff. We talked about anything and everything, joked, laughed, drank, and just spent time getting to know each other. Chey was pleased. “You handled yourself so well! I mean, I had no doubts, but I was still impressed.”
“Lol, I’m trying,” I tell her. And it’s true. Going abroad is a big deal, and I’m not going to half-ass it at all. After spending so much time with Chey’s family, I see that they all share her gregarious energy. Everyone I have met so far is incredibly kind and at times over the top (in the best way). I can’t help but think “Ah, yes, this is where she gets it.”
We finished the night with a walk to the Vattern Lake. “It’s so beautiful it makes me mad,” I tell her, and she nods. Ingallil informs us that we have to collect seven different flowers and sleep with them under our pillow so that we can dream of our true love (this is an actual thing). Along the lakeside, we hunted through shrubs and gathered tiny bouquets. “It’s better to do this than to have seven boys under your pillow and dream of flowers!” Ingallil tells us. Chey and I took this literally and found it hilarious.
When Cheyenne and I first moved in together in Seattle, her mom called and said “Make sure you establish traditions! That’s what makes a house a home.” It’s clear to me now that she was right. Experiencing their Swedish Midsommar made me feel like part of the family, and it reminded me of my Filipino family back home in the San Francisco Bay Area. Our particular flavor of Thanksgiving is full of its own set of food, activities, and stories. Whatever the customs are, it’s all about celebrating shared culture with family and friends. “Just you wait,” I tell Cheyenne. “When you come to Filipino Thanksgiving… it’s gonna be lit.”
