It was also Valborg last week! My second Valborg in exile after last year’s.
Somehow I fall for traditions and the Swedish holidays are deeply ingrained in my heart by now. To ignore Valborg is therefore not really an option and so I paid the Swedish Church in Frankfurt a short visit to hear those four spring songs that are guaranteed, get that obligatory grilled sausage, wear the student cap and shout four hoorays for the Swedish king. My theory is that the Swedes keep their traditions alive so well [because they really do even if they’d deny it] since they like the collective feeling and predictability. In today individualised society of uncertainness, who can blame them?
Valborg is the day that enhances my almost always lingering longing for Uppsala times and friends. When one of them texted me a photo of the celebrations on site, “You should be back next year!”, I got carried away replying, “Yes!”
Frankfurt’s Swedish Church doesn’t blow the visitor away with their garden but the church is beautiful even if, for me, nothing can compete with Hamburg’s Swedish Church.