Incorporating Hygge
One of my favourite travel experiences was spending three weeks exploring Scandinavia in my twenties. I went in with a slightly romanticised expectation of what it would be like: sleek, minimal design, pristine fjords, beautifully tall, picturesque people. And I did see all those things. What I didn’t expect and what has stayed with me until now, was how grounded, warm, and beautifully simple life there could feel.
Scandinavia, specifically Copenhagen in Denmark, surprised me. It showed me how intentional simplicity and a deep connection to daily rituals can make you feel grounded. What has stayed with me until now, is the concept of hygge.
I’d heard of hygge before (although I learnt on this trip it is pronounced Hoo-ga), but experiencing it firsthand was a beautiful thing. Hygge isn’t a single thing you can touch; it’s a feeling and an innate appreciation for the simple things. It’s comfort, connection, and contentment rolled into one. I saw it daily: in cozy cafés with soft lighting where individuals sat enjoying a cup of tea, or gathered together with friends, and in the numerous picnics along the canals, and people lying in the public square reading books. These moments where people were unhurried and truly present.
The simplicity of it struck me. Back home, we’re so often obsessed with doing more, having more, achieving more. There’s this constant hum of busy-ness, as if productivity is the only marker of a valuable life. But in Scandinavia, I saw people slowing down, consciously curating moments of joy and calm—no guilt, no rush. My friend who had moved to Copenhagen for love, took me to a beautiful floral green house garden and back to her place for a home cooked meal. I can’t help but think I would have taken a guest back home to a nice restaurant and sightseeing.
When I returned home, I couldn’t stop thinking about how much I wanted to incorporate hygge into my life. Not as another “goal” to check off, but as a way to shift how I experience my days. I realised on the trip it’s more a mindset than a place.
Now, I try to weave it into my routines in small, meaningful ways:
Soft Spaces: I light diffused lighting or candles while I drink my tea in the evening, even if I’m just reading or folding laundry. The glow makes the ordinary feel special.
Presence Over Perfection: I invite friends over for tea and snacks, and I no longer worry if my place looks immaculate. It’s about the connection, not the aesthetics.
Savouring Simple Moments: Instead of rushing through breakfast while scrolling my phone, I take the time to really enjoy it—even if it’s just toast with butter and jam.
Creating Comfort: I allow myself to lean into the little things that bring me warmth, like cosying up to a good book or listening to the sound of nature while on a walk.
What I love most about hygge is that it teaches you to be present. It encourages you to find beauty in the little moments you might otherwise overlook. It’s not about needing more but appreciating what’s already there — a mindset we’re all in need of.
Life can still feels hectic and overwhelming—no cup of tea can magically fix that—but having hygge as a built in practice grounds me. It reminds me that peace doesn’t always have to come from some grand escape or achievement. Sometimes, it’s as simple as pausing to enjoy the warmth of a cup of coffee or remembering the laughter of someone you love.
Travel might have introduced me to hygge, but it’s in my everyday life where it’s taken root. I think that’s the real magic of seeing how others live: it allows you to bring a little bit of their wisdom back home, shaping your own life into something richer, softer, and more intentional.
