But, what happens during the phenomena of the midnight sun or polar night? When the sun never sets or darkness becomes constant, what happens to our identity when that fundamental time structure disappears? Without a clear reference point, what shapes our routine? Can we maintain the rhythm that usually structures our days?

Living without Night and Time as the Architect of Identity

Identity is not only built through memory and social interaction, but also through routine. Sunlight signals when we should be productive, and nighttime invites us to rest. But when this boundary dissolves, routine becomes harder to maintain, and the days seem to merge into an eternal cycle.

Personally, I wasn’t in Lapland during the summer months, but I did experience the polar night. While living in darkness is difficult due to a lack of vitamin D and the cold, locals say that the midnight sun is even more challenging. Having the sun hovering over the village at 4 a.m. makes it extremely difficult to sleep.

In the summer, although it’s hard to sleep, people tend to be more productive. The issue is that the sun’s constant presence prevents locals from stopping, reinforcing overproductivity. In contrast, the polar night places you in a state of rest, even if it’s three in the afternoon. The body stops obeying the usual time cues that once structured our routines.

On one hand, the absence of a clear beginning and end generates disorientation. Time feels like a continuous flow, and everything seems to blur together. Every day, I woke up and went to sleep in the dark—whether it was 9 a.m. or 9 p.m., the sky looked the same.

Still, this experience allowed me to engage with a new kind of temporality I hadn’t known before. My body lost the familiar sun-and-moon boundaries, but I found other ways to frame my context. It was no longer the sunset, but the end of the workday and dinner with colleagues.

These social events—our new, shared routines—helped us create time in the darkness. The end of a book chapter, a walk to search for the Northern Lights. These became new reference points that gave us a new sense of temporality.

Who Are We Without the Structure of Time?

Living without a clear separation between day and night forces us to face a fundamental philosophical question: how much of what we believe we are is simply a reaction to nature’s and society’s imposed rhythms? If time stops organizing our existence, what is left as a reference?

Perhaps, in the absence of external time, identity roots itself in the pure experience of the present—not in what’s coming or what’s past, but in what is, here and now. In that state, we might approach a more authentic version of ourselves: a self not dictated by schedules or obligations, but by the sheer sensation of being alive in a world where the sun and night no longer mark the rhythm.

The Arctic, indifferent to our reference frames, forces us to rethink our relationship with time—and, ultimately, with ourselves. Maybe by losing temporal structure, we discover a freer, more malleable, more real identity.

A Liquid and Malleable Self

When time ceases to be a rigid framework, identity becomes more fluid. Without clear references for beginning and end, the labels we usually assign ourselves lose meaning. Whether you’re a morning or night person no longer matters in such extreme places.

Thus, the collapse of the self opens space for internal and external exploration. We must create new routines and temporal boundaries, but also new ways to define ourselves. If we embrace new paradigms, a more flexible version of ourselves emerges.

If you are interested in other natural phenomena in the Arctic, you can check out:

The polar night in Lapland

Stratospheric Clouds

The Ghosts Trees

The post Living Without Night: Time, Identity, and the Arctic Experience appeared first on .

I first discovered the concept of the sublime while studying literature at the University of Buenos Aires. One day, my professor discussed this idea, putting into words the feeling I experienced whenever I gazed at the sea or the mountains. When I arrived in the Arctic and beheld not only its endless forests but also its star-covered skies, I realized that this entire setting could be described using this term.

In this article, I want to explore the philosophical concept of the sublime and its connection to the Arctic landscape. Additionally, I aim to delve into how this encounter with the grand and terrifying can influence our psychology and our perception of the world. Perhaps this exploration will help you as much as it helped me years ago.

What Is the Sublime?

The term “sublime” refers to an aesthetic experience that combines awe, vastness, and terror. In philosophy, particularly in the works of Edmund Burke and Immanuel Kant, the sublime is a state that provokes a mix of admiration and fear. It is not merely beauty but rather a beauty that overwhelms us, making us feel small and insignificant in the face of something immense.

In this sense, humans tend to associate the sublime with natural phenomena or disasters. For example, a hurricane is terrifying but also considered profoundly beautiful due to its power and magnitude. The same can be said for tsunamis, storms, the universe, and the ocean.

Edmund Burke, in his work A Philosophical Enquiry into the Origin of Our Ideas of the Sublime and Beautiful (1757), describes the sublime as an aesthetic experience that takes us beyond mere beauty:

“The sublime is anything that can provoke a sense of greatness—whether through magnitude, power, or darkness—making us feel the smallness of our existence while simultaneously filling us with admiration and fear.”

From Kant’s perspective, in Critique of Judgment (1790), the sublime is linked to our ability to reason in the face of the infinite and the overwhelming. According to Kant, the sublime has a moral dimension that elevates us beyond our physical nature:

“The sublime is not the object itself but rather the effect it has on us when we are confronted with the idea of something infinitely great, something that surpasses our capacity for understanding and forces us to face our own limitations.”

A Manifestation of the Sublime in the Arctic

The Arctic, in this sense, is a perfect embodiment of the sublime. The dense, seemingly endless forests perfectly illustrate the feeling of human smallness in the face of vastness. Similarly, the northern lights and the star-filled skies testify to an immeasurable grandeur.

Everything in the Arctic appears magnificent, eternal, and profound: the bare trees, the frozen lakes, the polar night, the silence, and the overwhelming solitude. These elements remind us that we are merely human and that many things are entirely beyond our control. In this sense, we can also consider the frigid temperatures that define Lapland. On one hand, the Arctic climate is responsible for the stunning white landscapes. On the other, it makes survival difficult and can even be dangerous for humans.

The sublimity of the Arctic’s conditions exposes our inability to control nature’s forces. A land of immense beauty, it is also unforgiving and often inaccessible. However, it is precisely this cruelty of nature that fascinates us and reminds us of our vulnerability.

Fear in the Face of the Arctic Sublime

Fear is a natural response when encountering the sublime. During my first season in the Arctic, the natural phenomena filled me with both fear and admiration. There was something about the whiteness of the snow and the dry wind that fascinated me but also unsettled me. The -50°C temperatures painted a breathtaking sky but also threatened our survival.

In the Arctic, it is essential to strike a balance between respect and admiration for nature. I believe it is one of the most beautiful places on Earth, yet it is also one of the most ruthless. Every season, frostbite cases abound, and the cold remains humanity’s greatest adversary in these lands.

The icy wind, the storms, and the polar night contribute to a lingering sense of vulnerability that stayed with us throughout the winter. It felt as if the endlessly stretching forests served as a constant reminder that we were merely visitors, that we did not belong. Indeed, throughout history, the populations that have inhabited these lands have had to fight ceaselessly against the cold and the unending winter.

In this sense, vulnerability and fear emerge as reactions to the uncontrollable forces of nature. However, this type of fear does not have to be negative; rather, it can serve as an evolutionary response that makes us more aware of our limits and our relationship with our environment. When confronted, this fear can also trigger a sense of awe and a deeper appreciation for nature.

Burke also noted that fear allows us to experience the grandeur of the sublime through our own vulnerability. According to him:

“Terror, though derived from something negative, becomes positive in its sublime expression, making us aware of our fragility while simultaneously allowing us to admire and contemplate greatness.”

How the Arctic Confronts Us with Our Own Limits

Although the Arctic instills “fear” and exposes our limitations, it also enables us to recognize our capacity to adapt and survive. According to Kant, the sublime makes us aware of our limitations through contrast, but it also elevates us morally:

“The sublime reminds us that our ability to comprehend the infinite and the grand transcends our physical nature and connects us with a higher moral dimension beyond the physical realm.”

Our encounter with the sublime reminds us that many aspects of life are beyond our control, whether it be events like death or natural phenomena that leave us in awe. However, fully accepting our lack of control and insignificance can also be liberating. By embracing the unknown and surrendering to the course of events, we can become more aware of the beauty and magnitude of the world around us.

Conclusion

Living in the Arctic compels you to admire the beauty of nature while also accepting the limits imposed by human existence. The cold, the vastness, the solitude, and the darkness define this landscape, yet they also impose a perpetual boundary. In some way, nature reminds us that we are merely visitors, minuscule beings compared to the grandeur of the sublime.

However, the cruelty of nature in this part of the world is merely one side of the same coin. To truly appreciate this place, I had to accept that I was living in conditions often extreme for human life.

Thus, fear and respect are not emotions that separate me from the Arctic but rather ones that invite me to connect with my surroundings. I accept that my existence is irrelevant to the ancient trees that stand firm despite the harshness of winter. If I were to suffer hypothermia, Lapland would not stop for me. And that’s okay.

Living in Lapland has helped me accept our insignificance and admire these natural phenomena with complete humility, setting aside my ego. We are limited and finite beings, fragile in the face of cold and darkness. But this acceptance has deepened my connection with my environment and with the idea that we are surrounded by an ancient beauty beyond our comprehension. And that’s okay.

If you are interested about life in the Arctic and other natural phenomena, you can check my post about Working in the Arctic, the Polar Night or the Polar Stratospheric clouds.

Did you know about the sublime? Let me know in the comments!

The post The Arctic and the Sublime: Fear, Beauty, and Our Place in Nature appeared first on .

Working and living in a hotel in Lapland, at the heart of the Arctic Circle, is a unique experience that allows you to disconnect from the hustle and immerse yourself in the magic of the polar winter. I never imagined that I would end up working in a hotel near the northernmost point of Europe. For two winters, I moved to the small village of Karesuando, about two hours from Kiruna.

As an Argentinian, I faced situations that pushed my body and mind to the limit. It wasn’t just the temperatures dropping to nearly -50°C but also the darkness and isolation. However, if you manage to adapt, living and working in an Arctic hotel throughout the winter can be an incredible experience that fosters personal growth.

In this article, I want to share what it’s like to work as a hotel supervisor in the Arctic. Although I have worked in other hotels across Europe, my experience in Lapland was entirely different due to the challenges posed by the extreme climate, darkness, isolation, and the type of tourists that visit.

Karesuando: A Small Arctic Village

Lapland, with its vast snowy landscapes and extreme climate, offers an unparalleled sense of isolation. Living and working in an Arctic hotel means being surrounded by absolute tranquility, where nature’s sounds replace city noise. This remoteness, far from daily stress, becomes a perfect refuge for those seeking peace and serenity at the edge of the world.

However, after a few months, life in a village where everything closes at six in the evening becomes monotonous. Karesuando, located on the border between Finland and Sweden, is a place where early closures and empty streets are the norm. Few cars or buses travel the frozen white roads.

The village has two supermarkets, a gas station, a gym, a pub (thankfully), a library, and a café. But as mentioned, everything shuts early, and finding people around is difficult. Because of this, my main entertainment was socializing with fellow workers from all over the world who shared the same house with me.

 

 

 

We were all on the same adventure: surviving the cold and ourselves, learning from new people and places. Conversations over a beer, night walks searching for the Northern Lights, tasting reindeer or gloggy, and learning new words in different languages became part of daily life.

The Challenge of Working and Traveling in Arctic Cold

Lapland’s extreme climate is an integral part of working in a hotel in the Arctic Circle. Winter temperatures can drop to -40°C, and the polar night seems endless during the winter months. For both workers and tourists, adapting to the cold is the first challenge upon arrival.

Adaptation varies depending on nationality, age, and body type. In my case, after one or two weeks, my body adjusted, and I learned how to dress appropriately. Of course, I experienced mood changes, shifts in eating habits, and fluctuating energy levels. With the onset of darkness, my appetite increased, and my motivation for physical activity decreased.

For guests staying for only 3 to 4 days, the experience is quite different. With ages ranging from 20 to 80 years old, there’s a wide spectrum of experiences. Younger visitors find the freezing temperatures manageable with the right clothing and multiple layers, whereas for older adults and children, the cold is a real challenge.

What Is It Like to Work in the Arctic?

Work schedules vary—some start at six in the morning, others at three in the afternoon, or even eight at night. A few years ago, this might have seemed strange to me, but in the Arctic, it makes no difference. During the polar night, with only three hours of daylight, there’s little distinction between working in the morning or at night. Time feels irrelevant, and the sky looks almost the same throughout the day.

As I work inside the hotel, I don’t need many layers of clothing—just enough to get to work. However, instructors and drivers, who spend most of their day outdoors in subzero temperatures, take about ten minutes to put on all their layers. They wear so much clothing that there’s a dedicated room for storing their boots and coats.

As a supervisor, one of my key responsibilities is checking the hotel’s indoor temperature. Before guests check into their rooms, I ensure all windows are properly closed, the radiators are functioning, and the pipes aren’t frozen. I also inspect locks and doors, which frequently get damaged due to the cold.

Outside, I check for ice around the entrance, ensure pathways are clear of snow, and monitor the central heating. Additionally, we need to keep an eye on guests—whether they are cold or, more importantly, if they have any accidents during excursions.

The outdoor staff has other responsibilities, such as ensuring snowmobiles, vans, and work equipment function properly. They also carry first aid kits and blankets in case of emergencies, as well as walkie-talkies and various incident reports. Many of them work until after midnight, as once the Northern Lights tours conclude, they must clean and park the snowmobiles, remove ice, and store helmets, gloves, and other gear.

Tourists Who Aren’t Prepared for the Arctic

Many tourists arrive through travel agencies selling Arctic trips linked to Santa Claus and Christmas, downplaying the cold. Unaware of their destination, they are often shocked by the freezing temperatures, isolation, and darkness. On check-in days, the question “Where are we?” is asked at least three times at reception.

This question is so common that the reception team has maps and guides ready to explain that we are in the Arctic, closer to Norway than to Rovaniemi, Santa Claus’s city. Guests often tell us they didn’t bring gloves or scarves, assuming they were arriving in a bigger city. Because of this, we keep an extra supply of thermal socks, gloves, scarves, and hats at the reception.

Older visitors, often traveling alone to fulfill a lifelong dream of visiting Lapland, face numerous challenges—not just the cold but also isolation, lack of resources, the nearest hospital being four hours away, and icy surfaces that can be dangerous.

Working in the Arctic requires anticipating these situations and improving guests’ experiences as much as possible. Often, we treated them like children, asking if they had gloves, scarves, at least three layers under their snow suits, and if they had eaten before an excursion.

Here, we aren’t just hotel staff—we are also responsible for their health and well-being. Unfortunately, tourism in this area thrives on selling an idealized experience, often leaving guests unprepared physically and mentally. As hotel staff, we try to bridge this gap and help them enjoy their vacation without major issues.

Unique Experiences in the Arctic Circle

So, if it’s so cold, why do people visit? Lapland is more than just freezing temperatures and snow—it offers unique experiences. Visitors can enjoy thrilling activities like husky sledding, reindeer rides, and snowmobile safaris, as well as sports such as cross-country skiing, snowshoeing, and ice fishing.

Natural phenomena like the Northern Lights and stratospheric clouds attract thousands of tourists every season. Tour companies capitalize on these events by selling overnight stays in glass or real igloos for aurora viewing.

However, the Northern Lights are often oversold. While breathtaking, promotional photos and videos are frequently enhanced, giving the false impression that they are constantly visible. Disappointed guests sometimes complain that they were “promised” the auroras would always be in the sky.

Reflections on Life and Work in the Arctic

Ultimately, living and working in Lapland is more than just a temporary job in a remote hotel—it’s a lesson in resilience, adaptation, and connection with the essentials. It teaches you to be present, embrace both beauty and challenges, and appreciate what you have and who you are.

Lapland is not just Santa’s home or a place where the Northern Lights always shine. Instead of chasing an idealized version of Christmas or the auroras, perhaps the real value lies in experiencing the Arctic as it truly is—in all its beauty and complexity.

 

If you ever worked in the Arctic, let me know in the comments! 🙂

 

If you are interested in life in the Arctic, you can also check my articles about The Polar Stratospheric Clouds, The Polar Night or the Ghost Trees! 

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In this article, I will share my two seasons in Lapland and the physical and mental changes I underwent during the polar night. Particularly during the month when we did not see the sun, the psychological and physical implications were profound.

But, as they say, the night is not eternal. By mid-January, the darkness finally begins to recede. What fascinated me most about this experience was the collective emotional decline and the coping strategies I observed among my colleagues and housemates. Living in perpetual night was a silent journey into the depths of my mind. The darkness revealed the shadows and deficiencies within us all.

Natural Phenomena During the Polar Night

Although the sun disappears during the polar night, absolute darkness is rare. On clearer days, the snow reflects the faint twilight. The sky often takes on pink or violet hues, resembling a sunset that lasts for hours. Another striking phenomenon is the “blue light,” a soft bluish glow that appears on the horizon during the few hours of semi-daylight.

And, of course, the northern lights—one of Lapland’s biggest attractions—become even more visible due to the extended hours of darkness. On clear nights, these mesmerizing auroras paint the sky with vibrant colors, attracting travelers from around the world.

Psychological Impact of the Polar Night

While the polar night may seem fascinating from an aesthetic perspective, its impact on mental health is undeniable. The lack of sunlight disrupts circadian rhythms, leading to sleep disturbances and reduced serotonin and melatonin production—key neurotransmitters for emotional well-being. As a result, many people develop Seasonal Affective Disorder (SAD), a type of depression linked to seasonal light changes.

During my time in Lapland, I witnessed how prolonged darkness affected both residents and seasonal workers. Many exhibited signs of constant fatigue, irritability, and deep melancholy.

People adopted various coping mechanisms—some turned to alcohol, others sought superficial relationships to combat loneliness, while others immersed themselves in excessive work, socializing, or gym sessions. The common denominator was clear: no one could simply sit and embrace the present moment without trying to escape the darkness.

Some took vitamin D supplements to compensate for the lack of sunlight, while others overindulged in food or caffeine. But at the end of the day, when it was time to sleep and be alone with the darkness we had spent all day avoiding, we all faced the demons that seemed to emerge from the shadows.

Walking through my house at night, I sometimes couldn’t tell whether I was passing by a housemate or their psychological “Shadow,” in the Jungian sense. It was as if their darker, suppressed selves had been unleashed, wandering the halls like specters.

Paradoxically, the eternal night illuminated the deepest recesses of our minds—those we often ignore. But in Lapland, faced with the vast darkness that stretched on for weeks, we had no choice but to confront our inner ghosts and sit with the discomfort.

Adapting and Surviving the Darkness

Despite the challenges, Lapland’s inhabitants have learned to adapt to the polar night. Creating cozy environments with candles, blankets, and social gatherings helps counteract the darkness with warmth and companionship. Even in extreme conditions, staying connected with nature is crucial. Activities like walking under the auroras, skiing, and traditional saunas provide both physical and mental refuge from the absence of sunlight.

However, many locals still struggle with the lack of light and isolation. This is why alcohol consumption is heavily regulated in Finland and Sweden. In the small town where I lived for four months, only beer was available for purchase. For stronger drinks, we had to travel to another city, provide identification, and pay a significantly higher price than in other parts of Europe.

For newcomers, adapting can be difficult but not impossible. Maintaining a structured routine, using appropriate artificial lighting, and maintaining a balanced diet are essential strategies. Personally, I found that taking advantage of the few hours of daylight—whether for a short walk or simply observing the sky—helped establish a sense of temporal reference.

Light and Darkness: Lessons from the Polar Night

The polar night in Lapland is a stunning phenomenon that offers a unique perspective on the relationship between humans and nature. While the lack of sunlight poses significant mental health challenges, it also teaches valuable lessons in resilience and adaptation. In the deepest darkness, even the smallest light holds immense meaning. It is in these moments that we learn to appreciate the warmth of a conversation and the strength of the human spirit.

For me, the key was embracing the darkness instead of resisting it. To survive the polar night, I sat with my intensified emotions and discomforting thoughts. I asked myself what they were trying to teach me. Instead of escaping through vices or using people as distractions, I learned to see the beauty in the Shadow that walked beside me.

Yes, the night reached me and shook my spirit to its core, but it did not break me. Over time, I learned to accept it as a teacher, one that illuminated the wounds I needed to heal. Without facing that discomfort, I would not have gained such profound self-awareness.

Sunrise

Now, in mid-February, the polar night has ended, and we can see the sun for at least two hours a day. We sit outside just to admire it, relishing in its light—even though in this part of the Arctic, it is not warm. But that doesn’t matter. We appreciate its beauty and celebrate those fleeting hours of sunlight as if they were an extraordinary phenomenon.

It feels as if the eternal night has shifted everything, establishing a new order. Slowly, life will return to normal. But for now, after a long period of darkness and ghosts roaming the house, we celebrate having conquered our own shadows and returning to the light—even if only for a short while.

If you are interested in other phenomena related with the Arctic, you can check out my article about the Polar Stratospheric Clouds!

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