Well, I don't know whether to be happy or depressed about this, but my last spring break has come and gone. The books got stowed away for at least a little while and, celebrating our hard work thus far and denying the fact that the next month is going to be nothing short of hellish, we got to gallivant through various corners of the globe. Some Jumbos returned to the Hill as bronze gods and goddesses after a week in Miami, Cancun or the Bahamas.
Meanwhile, half of my housemates found themselves in a bustling New Orleans.
But as for me, no one ever said I was ordinary. I sought spring refuge in a little city called Copenhagen, and while vacationing in the land of great Danes, cheese Danishes and of course, Hamlet, I learned the very significant meaning behind "hygge."
It all started last semester, while I was in the process of selling my soul to the Daily, and when my life was definitely at its craziest I met two girls who are now practically sisters: Alyssa and Shosh. It so happened one night that Shosh and I - maybe feeling a bit adventurous, maybe a bit bored, but always a lot of crazy - booked a trip to visit Alyssa while she studied abroad in Denmark. Thus, a whirlwind week in Scandinavia, and coincidentally the quest for hygge, was born. We walked the cobblestone streets, we toured a brewery and saw umpteen churches and castles and of course, we ate. And ate. And ate.
So what the heck is this "hygge" that I've been mentioning? Hygge, pronounced "hoog," is a cozy concept that epitomizes Danish mealtimes. Unlike in the States, where meals are rushed and disjointed, in Europe dinners can last for hours, bubbling with conversation, laughter and wine. Meals are highly social, fostering incredibly strong relationships between family members and friends.
In Denmark, this is huge or, excuse the pun, hygge. Danish couples, friends and families enjoy meals almost always accompanied by candlelight, savoring not only the various tastes but also the surrounding company. Be it at an authentic buffet in Odense or a gourmet lunch from, strangely enough, 7-11 (they're obsessed, I tell you), hygge was forever omnipresent and with two of my best friends at my side I gradually fell in love with hygge. The food was brought out and time seemed to stop, while my stomach filled up and left me feeling, even for an hour of my crazy workaholic days, at an eerie peace.
In short, I would take my column this week to offer you a Danish recipe, like how to doctor the perfect hot dog from a food truck (they let me have six different toppings!) or how to make the perfect pigeon dinner, much like I ate my first night in Copenhagen - oh, I should add that my Catholic vegetarianism regrettably yet justifiably took a week's respite.
However, I want to leave you with a recipe for hygge. I don't care how much homework you didn't do while on break or how hectic life seems right now
- give it a try.
I want you to find a friend, ask them to join you in cooking a meal together (see: my meatloaf), break out a votive or two, set the table, light the candles, sit down and relax. Eat. Talk. Breathe. Go for seconds or even thirds. Don't bother with the clock, and feel the stress melt away.
Feel the love! Embrace hygge!
And no worries, I know you were conjuring a hygge/hug pun there, too.
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Niki Krieg is a senior who is majoring in Italian studies and history. She can be reached at Nicole.Krieg@tufts.edu.
