So today is St. Lucia Day.

So, like many of my early experiences with Swedish culture, my first St. Lucia Day when I was eight was far from perfect or culturally correct. After thorough re-reading of my American Girl Doll books (Kirsten's Surprise: A Christmas Story), I determined that for my first St. Lucia Day I needed (1) a crown with candles, (2) a long white dress, (3) increased braiding abilities, (4) a dozen bagels, and (5) a proper lesson in how to use the family coffeemaker. Due to a test the following morning in school I didn't want to go to, I also decided December 11 was a great day to be Lucia, and at 5 in the morning, I toasted all the bagels in the house, put the family advent wreath on my head, and knocked on the door of my parents room.

Later on (when we got AOL), I learned that St. Lucia Day was actually on December 13 and bagels weren't usually served. Later I learned that Lucia was actually Italian. And when Dad got a CD of cheesy Swedish Holiday songs when I was twelve, I was devastated to find that Lucia was supposed to sing a song when bringing treats (trust me, at that age, if I had the opportunity to loudly solo people awake, I would've). So, I feel like by the time St. Lucia Day actually rolled around here in Sweden, I had waiting for fifteen years for someone to give me the proper experience. I mean, not even the Internet could help me. Look at the stuff that YouTube came up with when I searched "St. Lucia" or "Lucia Song:"

First, the very traditional, "essentialist" picture of Sweden:

I have no idea what this is.

Extremely happy to find this.

And my favorite. Adorable, and contemporary.

Anyway.

I had two friends in a local Göteborg choir that were going to be singing that morning, so at eight in the morning, I went to one of the school buildings for free coffee and lassebulle. I was laughing and joking with others at the table, when, the lights dimmed, the crowd hushed, and I quickly turned around to watch Lucia and her followers file in, singing, from down the hall.

It was plain but beautiful. No, it wasn't in a cathedral, and no, I actually don't particularly like saffron, but it was my memory and I established it in Sweden. With the holiday break coming up fast, I had been feeling like homework and homesickness has been rather piling high. But after the procession filed out, I had that old, elated feeling of being in a completely new country come back to me again. There is quite a difference between looking the cover of an imported CD or a over-produced American children's book than actually hearing voices coming from down the hall... What a good opportunity to remind myself of why I chose to come here.