Twelve years ago, my father received an email from a local hockey coach. We’d barely been in the Chicagoland area a year at this point, but the coach presented an idea worthy of consideration. In the spring, coincidentally during spring break, he was taking a team to Stockholm, Sweden, and he asked if we would be willing to participate. I’d be the only girl on an all boys team (and the first girl to every participate in the tournament), which to me, was just a small detail included in the entire offer. I’d stay with a host family and we’d be there for a whole week, taking in the Swedish culture, playing against Swedes and some Finnish players, and exploring the city. In my mind, it was a no brainer: we had to go. Luckily, everything checked out. Five months later, we gathered at the airport with the team and embarked for Arlanda International Airport.
Our trip in 2006 would be the first of four different trips to Sweden. In 2006, I stayed with one of the leaders of the Huddinge Lions hockey organization, whom we are still close family friends with and see at least once a year, when they come to visit. In the following years, I also stayed with home stays, whom I still keep in touch with and have crossed paths with over the years.
When I first touched down in snowy Sweden, I was enamored by the beauty and the terrain, but it was all the little things I did after settling in that left me wanting to stay there longer: going to school with Sofia and getting to see what she did on a daily basis, training into the city centrum and exploring the old town without parents, and of course, stepping foot on the ice and playing against other kids my age, from all over the world. It was something I would have never done, had I stayed in America during spring break and said no to the opportunity.
The first trip to Sweden went by in the blink of an eye, but I remember not being able to wipe the smile off my face the entire time. I was jetlagged the first few days, but I was ecstatic. My host family was amazing, and I never ever felt homesick. During the days I didn’t join Sofia to school or run off with her family to run some errands, I went to the ice rink to practice. A lot of the time, the older hockey players actually practiced in the afternoon, instead of being stuck in the classroom. This I would learn later on, and be infinitely jealous of the idea of only being in school for four hours, then training the rest of the day. Like why couldn’t America have that?! I would have loved to spend half my days training for hockey instead of sitting in class, bored out of my mind at times.
The team I went with was comprised of players from all over the Chicago area, but we all got along. When you’re on a team, all that matters if that you all are on the same page. And we all wanted to enjoy ourselves, but we also wanted to do well. We didn’t win the tournament, unfortunately, but we were competitive. The Swedes and the Finnish players were fantastic. It was hard to beat them. But that was the least of my worries. I was just psyched to be there. No matter what the outcome was, I was thrilled to be given the chance to participate, and to have the means to make it all this way.
Hockey allowed me to go to so many places over the years, but Sweden encompasses some of my favorite memories from my travels. Often, here in Taiwan, I will venture into an Ikea and pick up some food from the grocery section, just because I am feeling a little homesick for lingonberries or some rye crackers.
As a traveler, I believe we don’t have just one home in this world, but many different places we find ourselves feeling most content. For me, Sweden will always hold a special place in my heart. Every time I hopped on a plane headed for Arlanda, excitement and anticipation filled me, but it was unlike going to uncharted territory. This joy was derived from knowing that in eight or so hours, after traversing across the Atlantic, I’d be in Sweden again, one of the many places I like to call home to this day.
