As an incoming freshman in college, there were a lot of things I didn’t know: a new country, a language barrier, and a city full of unfamiliar faces. I was convinced I would be a complete mess.
Take laundry, for example. Just because the bottle smells like lavender, does not mean it is detergent. It was actually fabric softener, even though my clothes were very soft for a while, they are not the same thing.
Every little mix-up has turned out to be its own kind of translation ⏤ not just between Swedish and English, but also between expectation and reality.
I thought making friends my first week of college in a brand-new country would be nearly impossible; instead, it clicked almost instantly. My roommate and I got along right away, and somehow, I also ended up as an “honorary roommate” for my two closest friends. We have already signed a lease to live together in Austin this spring and all of sophomore year. Every adventure so far has been with them, whether it is a grocery run, a late-night walk, or a spontaneous boat ride.
People like to tease Emilia and me about how quickly we bonded. On the very first day, someone joked that they had turned around, and suddenly we were already connected at the hip. They were not wrong ⏤ it feels like I found my people almost immediately, which is something I never thought I would be able to say this early in college, let alone while abroad.
In Sweden, “fika” is not optional ⏤ it is a cultural requirement. Now it is not optional in my daily life either. After burning breakfast one too many times (sorry, bagel), I started rewarding myself with “fika” to take the edge off. What was once just coffee and a pastry, is now a small daily ritual that makes even the most frustrating days feel sweet again.
It’s funny, because “fika” is not really about what you are eating or drinking at all ⏤ it’s about pressing pause. Sitting across from someone, actually talking, laughing, noticing the moment ⏤ it feels like the opposite of the rushed “coffee-to-go” culture back home, and I cannot imagine not carrying this habit with me for the rest of my life.
Walking through Gamla Stan is like stepping into a storybook; the streets twist and narrow until you are sure you are lost, then suddenly you stumble onto a square filled with music, people, and the smell of fresh waffles. One afternoon, my friends and I turned down an alley and ended up in a tiny courtyard strung with lights. A man was playing violin, and we sat on the cobblestones eating ice cream as if it had all been staged just for us.
It does not matter how many times I go back, Gamla Stan never stops feeling magical. I keep waiting for the charm to wear off, but so far it only feels stronger.
Because I’m a vegetarian, I thought I would miss out on some of Sweden’s most famous food. To my surprise, Stockholm is one of the most vegetarian-friendly places I have ever been to. There are falafel stands, veggie cafés, and plant-based options on nearly every menu.
Even Swedish meatballs did not pass me by. In Sodermalm, I tried a vegetarian version at Meatballs for the People, and it was absolutely delicious. It was one of those meals that you know you will remember years later, not only because of the food, but because of the experience of talking to so many interesting people while in line.
Before I left, I thought freedom would overwhelm me. I pictured myself crumbling under the pressure of having to make every decision on my own. Instead, freedom has been the best teacher I could ask for.
Now, every small choice feels like I am shaping my own story. Do I hop on the metro to Ostermalm just because the weather is perfect? ⏤ Yes. Do I buy a pastry at 9 p.m. just because I passed a bakery with its lights still on? ⏤ Also yes.
One night, my friends and I stayed out until 4 a.m. just wandering the city because we would only be freshman studying abroad once. We ended up watching the most beautiful sunset we have seen so far. This plan wasn’t on my schedule, but it felt like the kind of memory that defines a semester.
What I thought would be pressure has actually been possibility. Freedom is not about being alone, it is about discovering who I am when every choice is mine.
So yes, sometimes “translation” means accidentally buying fabric softener. More often, it means finding a family of friends in a city that felt foreign, discovering rituals like “fika” that make life richer, and realizing that what once seemed daunting, has become home.
This post was contributed by Ava DiAnna Edwardson, a Global Ambassador for Fall 2025. Ava is a College of Liberal Arts freshman participating in an exchange program at DIS Abroad in Stockholm, Sweden.
