What Is Everyday Life Like in Lapland?

I believe Lapland is a stunning place for travelers, offering, at its best, an indescribable experience of the different seasons, unique moments, and exotic activities that draw many back here time and time again during their vacations. However, Lapland and the North are so much more than just the overwhelming activities of tourist centers. Perhaps for some travelers, the essence of the region becomes clear in small moments—hopefully, it does.

I don't live close to any fells or tourist centers, so I get to experience northern life exactly as I want, free from external stimuli or distractions. I reside on the outskirts of a small village, where the streetlights of the quiet village road no longer reach. There are hardly any neighbors, except for the occasional reindeer and birds. Nestled in the forest, within the embrace of a small Lapland village, by the riverbank, I find myself surrounded by nature.

What is it like to live here? In Lapland, in the north. If I had to sum it up in one sentence, it's a life connected to nature, in the here and now.

Nature is in a constant state of change and is always present. It influences every day and moment. There are no separate moments at home, at work, or in nature. They are all one. The same world flows into one another like small streams merging into a larger river.

The landscape beyond the front door can change dramatically in just one day. Just moments ago, the riverbank bathed in autumn sunshine can turn into a frosty, icy haze with temperatures dropping to twenty degrees below zero just a few days later.

Daily tasks take time, so the rhythm of life is different. Slower. For a relatively calm introvert like me, this is a welcome change. The main priority on winter mornings is to light a fire in the stove so that the cabin warms up after the night’s frost. After that, there’s time to brew coffee and enjoy breakfast. If there are plans to travel somewhere during the day, the car needs to be dug out of the snow and warmed up. All these tasks take time. Still, nothing feels bothersome; they are part of everyday life and its little routines.

Snow removal is probably the biggest challenge in rural areas (a funny term—are there any areas in Lapland other than Rovaniemi that aren’t rural?) and can be a significant expense when living here. My driveway is just over a hundred meters long, but my friendly neighbor, who owns a tractor, comes to clear it when he has time between his own yard work. I’m left with maintaining the paths around my yard, the mailbox, and the roadside, which is a relatively small job even when using a shovel. Many times, I’ve cleared the entire driveway by headlamp light if the neighbor hasn’t had time to plow it. Just for the joy of doing something.

Not everyone living in Lapland experiences life this way. Many have heating that works on automation, electric heaters operate even in the north, snow removal can be outsourced, or one can choose a residence where it’s not really necessary. Personally, I prefer this more manual way of life, where daily routines include tangible tasks around the home and its surroundings. That’s what I set out to find in the north—simplicity and naturalness.

There’s a sense of purpose in working to keep oneself and one’s home warm. It feels like living and belonging to something. You can see and feel the results of your efforts in a very concrete way.

I’m not a fan of superlatives or ranking things, but I still want to share the best part of living here. It sounds silly and overly simplistic when written down, and words fail to capture it. This is the reason so many return to Lapland again and again. The reason Lapland holds value simply because there’s nothing here.

What is the best thing about living in Lapland?

Nature.

Its indescribable beauty. How it changes shape, adapts, and claims its own. How different it is from the nature I’m used to in the south. Here, it is wild. Even harsh at times. Sometimes even ugly. It doesn’t ask questions or shy away. It simply exists and does exactly what nature is meant to do. We humans are in a supporting role, just as we always have been and just as we should be.

Nature is my greatest inspiration, my source of power, and the main reason I live here.

Nature is right here, not an hour's drive away, where you can only go during your free moments and where you have to plan your visits. You have to mark it on the calendar. "On Saturday, I’ll go on a nature trip," I might have planned while living in the city. Now that feels foreign and distant.

Nature is everywhere here. Birds are feeding in the open spots of the river, calling to each other with mealtime invitations. Two squirrels are busy in their winter nest, stuffing their cheeks with lichen balls from the yard trees. Small birds come pecking at the corners, demanding more food for the bird feeder. Reindeer enjoy the offerings from my yard, tapping their hooves on the terrace out of curiosity, but they vanish immediately if they see my moving figure in the window. Nature and everyday life are one, all the time, every day.

Darkness and the polar night of Lapland are things that many ponder. I often receive questions about coping, living with the polar night, and even overcoming it. How do you manage in the darkness of the polar night? Doesn’t the constant darkness tire you out and lead to feelings of depression?

Some might choose not to move to Lapland because of the perpetual darkness.

You don’t have to conquer the polar night. It’s not a dark monster that suddenly takes over everything. The darkness gradually creeps in over the autumn, naturally and peacefully. This gives you time to get used to it if you allow yourself to adapt and accept it. And as I’ve mentioned before, the polar night is so much more than just darkness.

The polar night is a beautiful darkness, filled with countless shades of color and the gentle embrace of dimness. It offers peace and safety in the dark. It can be exhausting at times, naturally. Strong doses of vitamin D, vitamin-rich food, naps, and a few extra cups of coffee are part of the polar night routine, but it is by no means the terrifying experience its reputation suggests.

The polar night and darkness could be one of Lapland's tourism appeals. After all, darkness is becoming increasingly rare on a global scale. Here, it can be found for everyone.

Another absolutely best aspect of living in a small village in the North is the sense of community. It's a type of connection that I can imagine was even more prevalent in the past. Neighbors know each other by name, and there’s a genuine concern if someone hasn’t cleared their yard of snow for a while.

I live on the edge of a village with fewer than 100 residents. I know many of them at least by name, often by family. There’s always someone who is a neighbor to another, a sister’s husband, or a relative’s acquaintance. If you need a special tool or information about something specific, there’s always that one person who owns it, or knows someone who does. You can get phone numbers and addresses faster in the village than from a directory. Neighborhood knowledge beats Googling any day.

Home village viewed from the frozen river.

A great example of neighborly help and how wonderful it is when people know each other occurred in early winter when my friend’s (black) dog was staying with me. He is very clever and knows how to open doors by himself, which I had forgotten, and I left the front door unlocked when I went into the village. During that time, I received a message from a reindeer herder I hadn’t known before, which went something like this: 'Hi. Two dogs were walking down the village road, a bigger black one and a smaller brown one. I wasn't quite sure if they were yours, but I put them inside your cabin and closed the door, which was wide open.' I don’t know how he knew I lived here or got my contact information, but I was incredibly grateful. I could only thank him for his help and invite him for coffee the next time he passed by. A moment later, another neighbor called to say that my front door was apparently open and asked if everything was alright. I told him about the dogs' little adventure and thanked him for checking in.

Lovely neighbors.

Sometimes I am asked if I have had enough of the north, the cold, and the darkness. Because I am returning to the south. Often, people move to Lapland for a year to try a different lifestyle. They can say they lived in Lapland and that they can always return there, to a second home. Many people do this.

I do not.

Of course, life is not always a pastel-colored spectacle; there are challenges too. However, the scale mostly tips toward the positive side. The more time I spend here, the deeper I delve into the everyday life of the north, and the more firmly I plant my roots in this frozen land, the more stable I feel. I find new friends, meet new people (me, an introvert!), discover new, amazing places, and get to live amidst this beautiful, endless nature.

Lapland is not my second home; it is my only home.