Yesterday, I enjoyed my very first 'real' Swedish Midsummer celebration in Delftse Hout, along the water. After working for a Swedish company for over five years, it's funny that it's taken this long. Not that I haven't had diluted versions of Midsummer in the past, but prior to this, I had never danced around a Maypole, let along poke flowers into the cross, sloshed back so much aquavit, or had real Swedes (instead of Canadians in blond wigs) leading the drinking songs before exclaiming a boisterous, "Sköl!"
Despite the on-again, off-again rain showers, the Swedes decided to have the party outdoors, and thankfully, we were blessed with sunshine, even if there was some running around in the muddy grass during the course of the afternoon and evening. Everyone toting their picnic baskets, we enjoyed quite the spread of food (yes, there were Swedish meatballs in the buffet, along with reindeer wraps, gravadlax, shrimp salad, boiled potatoes with dill, breads, several types of cheeses, knäckebröd, fruit, strawberry cheesecake, brownies, and all sorts of other goodies). Lots of rosés, vodka and aquavit. Lots of flowers. Lots of fun.
Linking hands in a circle around the maypole, mumbling along in butchered Swedish while the Swedes sang louder to compensate for our inability to enunciate, much less comprehend what the hell we were singing along to, we probably looked to onlookers like a motley crew of cult members enacting some sort of pagan ritual. Kind of a surreal experience, but a great time!
I ended the evening by hopping on my bike and heading home, but as I turned around to wave farewell to some of the walkers who shouted goodbye, I lost my balance and fell into a bunch of stinging nettle. As some friends came over to give me a hand up, Peter laughed and shook his head, watching the rescue effort from his bike, "And I promised to make sure you didn't get completely sloshed during your first Midsummer...look how well that turned out!"
