Introduction
Rovaniemi. Simply speaking the name feels like an invitation to a distant, dreamlike world. This city at the heart of Finnish Lapland, situated just south of the Arctic Circle, is known throughout the world as the home of Santa Claus. Yet beneath its fantastical façade lies something deeper—the ancient culture of the Sámi people and the severe yet beautiful nature of the Nordic north.
Built at the confluence of the Kemijoki and Ounasjoki rivers, Rovaniemi was almost completely destroyed during World War II. It was later rebuilt according to designs by the renowned architect Alvar Aalto. Today, the cityscape possesses a distinctly Nordic beauty—functional yet harmonious with nature, constructed to withstand the harshest winters.
In winter, Rovaniemi lies buried under snow. During the polar night, the sun barely shows its face. In its place, the mysterious aurora dances across the sky, while the city’s lights illuminate the snow-covered landscape in otherworldly ways. Reindeer herds roam the outskirts, and the calls of husky dogs break the silence. This is a special place where the boundary between reality and dreams grows thin.
I decided to take this journey to escape the noise of everyday life and surrender myself to pure silence and beauty. In early December, just as the polar night had begun, I set off for Rovaniemi.
Day 1: Arrival in a World Wrapped in Snow
When the domestic flight from Helsinki touched down, the sky was already dim and snow was falling. Rovaniemi Airport is a small, warm building, and as I stepped into the arrival lobby, the scent of wood and the pleasant warmth of heating welcomed me. In the taxi to the hotel, the driver Pekka told me about the town in fluent English. “The snow came earlier than usual this year. You’re lucky,” he said with a warm smile.
Through the window, the snow-lit streetscape was dreamlike. Trees wore white veils, roads were neatly cleared by snowplows, and buildings sat low, with warm yellow light spilling from their windows. This scene alone made me feel completely removed from ordinary life.
I arrived at Hotel Santa Claus around 3 PM, but outside it was already dark as night. After checking in and looking down at the town from my window, I watched the snow falling quietly. I took a warm shower to ward off the chill, then decided to go explore.
Walking through the town in the early evening felt like wandering into a picture book. The sidewalks were covered in snow but carefully cleared and easy to walk on. The city center was smaller than I expected—easily walkable. Around Lordi Square, charming cafés and souvenir shops lined up, their windows spilling warm light onto the streets.
Growing hungry, I headed to Nili, a restaurant recommended by locals. Pushing open the heavy wooden door, I was greeted by a fireplace. The interior was decorated with warm wood and reindeer hides—unmistakably Lappish. For dinner, I ordered traditional Lapland cuisine. The appetizer was smoked salmon and smoked reindeer. The salmon melted in my mouth with perfect seasoning. The reindeer meat was my first experience with it, but the flavor was more delicate and refined than I had expected. For the main course, I had roasted local reindeer with mashed potatoes and lingonberry sauce. The meat was tender with a subtle gamey quality, and the tartness of the lingonberries brought out its richness.
During the meal, an elderly local couple at the next table struck up a conversation. “First time in Rovaniemi?” asked the wife, Aino. Her husband Ville, a retired teacher, had lived in the town for decades. “The best thing about this town is the silence. Without the noise of a city, your mind finds peace,” he told me. Indeed, the restaurant and the entire town were remarkably quiet. Voices were hushed, and there was hardly any traffic noise to be heard.
When I returned to the hotel around 8 PM, the front desk staff told me the aurora might be visible that night. I hurried to put on my winter gear and walked to a viewpoint on the edge of town. After twenty minutes through the snow, I reached a small hill away from the city lights.
What I saw there is something I will never forget. At first, there was only a faint green streak floating in the sky. Gradually, the light intensified and began to dance like a curtain across the heavens. Waves of green undulated, occasionally tinged with yellow and purple. In complete silence, the aurora danced alone. I forgot the minus-fifteen-degree cold and stared upward for about half an hour.
Walking back to the hotel, I looked behind at my footprints in the snow. Though I had been in this town for less than half a day, I already felt I was living in a different flow of time. Back in my room, I sipped warm coffee while gazing out the window. The snow had stopped, and streetlights sparkled on the white surface. Tomorrow, I would visit Santa Claus Village. Remembering childhood dreams, I fell into a deep sleep.
Day 2: A Full Day in the Home of Santa Claus
I woke at 6 AM to find it still completely dark outside. Yet the hotel breakfast room was already bright and filled with a warm atmosphere. Finnish breakfast was simple but heartfelt—rye bread with butter, local berry jam, and rich coffee. Sitting by the window, I watched the outside gradually brighten as I ate. Though in Rovaniemi during this season, it doesn’t become fully light until around 10 AM.
At 9 AM, I left the hotel and took a bus to Santa Claus Village. About fifteen minutes from the city center, the village draws tourists from around the world. But since I arrived early in the morning, it wasn’t too crowded yet.
What greeted me at the entrance was the line marking the Arctic Circle. By crossing this line, I officially set foot in the Arctic. They offer certificates, but more than that, the simple realization that I had actually come this far moved me deeply.
At Santa Claus’s Main Post Office, I could see letters that had arrived from all over the world. Many were in Japanese too. Reading children’s earnest wishes in their letters, I felt something innocent within me reawakening. I bought Christmas cards for my family and had them stamped with a special postmark.
Then came the moment—meeting Santa Claus himself. When I entered the Santa Claus Office, there sat a figure with a white beard, looking exactly like the real thing. “Where are you from?” he greeted me in Japanese, which surprised me. Our conversation was brief, but I felt the warmth of his character. Taking a photo with Santa Claus as an adult was a bit embarrassing, but it was a joyful moment of returning to childhood.
In the afternoon, I visited a reindeer farm. Nearly a hundred reindeer were kept on the snow-covered grounds. The farm owner, Mikka, is a third-generation reindeer herder of Sámi descent. “To us Sámi people, reindeer are not just animals. They are partners in life,” he explained.
The reindeer were larger than I had imagined, and gentle creatures. From large-antlered males to adorable calves, each had its own personality. During the feeding experience, a reindeer’s warm breath touched my hand, and I gazed into its gentle eyes. In those eyes, I sensed both the wild strength that has survived this harsh natural environment and the long history of coexistence with humans.
The reindeer sleigh ride was another unforgettable memory. Gliding over the snow, I heard only the jingling of bells and the sound of reindeer hooves. The surrounding landscape was a vast snowscape, with distant conifer forests standing beautifully. “In the old days, this was the only means of transport,” Mikka explained. Accustomed to modern convenience, I found this simple mode of travel both refreshing and somehow nostalgic.
Before returning to the city in the evening, I visited Arktikum, the Arctic science center. This semi-underground building is a museum where one can learn about the nature and culture of the Arctic region. The traditional lifestyle of the Sámi, scientific explanations of the aurora, and the flora and fauna of the Arctic—I gained a deeper understanding of this region. Particularly striking was an exhibit on climate change’s impact on the Arctic. It made me think about the environmental issues behind this beautiful nature.
For dinner, I went to Poro, a small family-run restaurant recommended by locals. The food here was more rustic and homey. Starting with mushroom soup, followed by a salad with locally picked berries, and grilled river fish as the main course. Every dish used simple cooking methods that brought out the natural flavors, warming my heart. The proprietress Helena had been running the restaurant for thirty years. “I want tourists to taste our everyday food,” she told me.
After dinner, I tried aurora watching again, this time at a different spot along the Kemijoki River. The city lights reflected on the water were beautiful, and the snow-covered forest on the opposite bank was fantastical. Tonight’s aurora was more active than the previous night—a massive curtain of light appeared, covering the entire sky. Green light danced with red and purple across the heavens.
A local elderly man watching beside me said, “I’ve lived in this town for over sixty years, but I never tire of the aurora.” Indeed, there is probably no other natural phenomenon as mysterious and beautiful as this. Forgetting the cold, I gazed skyward for nearly an hour. By the time I returned to the hotel, both my heart and body were completely under Rovaniemi’s spell.
Day 3: A Morning of Farewell and What Remains in the Heart
On the final day, I woke earlier than usual. Looking out at the still-dark sky, I couldn’t believe the journey was already coming to an end. Though only two days had passed, my experiences in this town had been so rich that my sense of time had shifted.
After breakfast, I went out for one last walk. The morning streets were quiet, with few tourists about. Snow had begun to fall again, quickly covering my footprints. This pure whiteness of snow had a clarity that cities can never offer. Breathing in, the cold, clear air filled my lungs and cleared my head.
I spent my last coffee time at Café Sámi on Lordi Street. This café was frequented more by locals than tourists, with an atmosphere that felt like part of daily life rather than a tourist spot. Enjoying warm coffee and a cinnamon roll, I watched people passing by outside the window. Everyone walked naturally in the minus-ten-degree cold, clearly accustomed to it.
The café owner Lauri was born and raised in this town. “The beauty of Rovaniemi is the harmony between nature and humans. Time flows slowly here, and people cherish one another,” he told me. Indeed, everyone I met during these two days was kind, unhurried, and thoughtful in their interactions.
To buy souvenirs, I visited a local craft shop called Arctic Design. Kuksa (traditional wooden cups made by the Sámi), accessories crafted from reindeer antlers, and natural cosmetics made with local berries were displayed. The shop owner Anna was a young Sámi artist. “Carrying our culture into the modern age is my mission,” she said. I purchased one of her handmade kuksa. Holding it, I could feel the warmth of the wood and the artisan’s care.
As checkout time approached, I went to see the confluence of the Kemijoki and Ounasjoki rivers one last time. This meeting point of two rivers is the origin of Rovaniemi. Standing on the snow-covered riverbank, I listened to the sound of flowing water. The rivers weren’t frozen, and black water flowed quietly past. Eventually, this water would reach the Arctic Ocean.
In the taxi to the airport, the driver Esa asked, “Will you come back?” I answered, “Definitely”—and it wasn’t just polite words. It came from the heart. This town has a deep charm that cannot be fully grasped in a single visit.
While waiting at the airport, I watched the runway from the boarding gate window as snow began to fall heavily. This snow, too, was part of Rovaniemi’s beauty. Boarding the plane and waiting for takeoff, the events of the past three days came flooding back. The mysterious light of the aurora, the gentle eyes of the reindeer, the warmth of the local people, and above all, the silence and peace that enveloped the entire town.
Through the airplane window as we took off for Helsinki, Rovaniemi grew smaller below. The snow-covered townscape, the conifer forests, the frozen rivers. From above, I could clearly see how surrounded by nature this town truly is. Human life and nature exist here in perfect harmony.
In Closing
This journey was imagined, yet it feels as though it truly happened. In a literal sense, I walked through Rovaniemi in my mind, breathed its air, and witnessed its beauty. Even a place one has never actually visited can form memories that feel like real experiences when imagined in such detail.
The special charm of Rovaniemi lies not only in its physical beauty. There remains something precious that modern society is losing—purity, silence, human connection, and harmony with nature. Even an imaginary journey, by touching these values, can bring new perspectives to everyday life.
The light of the aurora, the eyes of the reindeer, the whiteness of the snow, and the warmth of the people. All of these continue to live in my heart, becoming small lights in my real life. Perhaps it was precisely because this was an imaginary journey that I could experience such idealized beauty and pure emotion.
If someday I truly visit Rovaniemi, I look forward to seeing how these imagined memories will overlap with reality. Both imagination and reality are precious experiences that equally enrich our lives.
