Santa Claus Village is where Christmas never ends—we went to see if the magic holds up for adults
Morning brings Arctic sparkle and the sound of reindeer bells; by evening, the main square hums like a shopping mall. Between campfires, pancakes, and busy Postal Elves, Kotona’s Anni Alatalo steps into a Lapland village created to bring Christmas to life.
The thermometer reads −19°C, or −2°F. The trees are coated in white, and the crisp, dry snow squeaks underfoot. I’m glad I wore a long down parka! The photographer and I hop into a car at Rovaniemi Airport and, in less than ten minutes, I turn the wheel toward Santa Claus Village.
The Village welcomes you with Christmas lights and red buildings complete with whimsical towers. Tall trees glow in color, and blinking signs beckon you in. Everywhere you look you see classic Lapland imagery and storybook Christmas vibes: weathered pine, red ornaments, warm-toned light strings, lanterns, mullioned windows, sleigh bells, bows, and garlands—all things cute and traditional.
The Village’s story begins with its first building, the iconic Roosevelt Cottage. It was built to honor the visit of the human rights activist and former First Lady of the United States Eleanor Roosevelt in the summer of 1950, and it has served as a symbol for the whole area ever since. In the 2000s, the Village has grown into one of the world’s best-known Santa-themed travel destinations. More than 40 businesses operate here, and it’s especially popular with international travelers. More than half a million people visit each year.
During the Christmas season, Santa Claus Village fills up with visitors from morning on. When I step into the heart of the Village—the central square—I feel the Christmas spirit stream right into me. By late morning, tour groups, couples, and families are already gathering in the square: first dozens, by afternoon hundreds. People snap selfies under the row of pillars that marks the Arctic Circle as it cuts across the square. Everyone is cheerful and in high spirits—maybe someone else feels, like I do, that we’ve slipped out of everyday life and into Christmas time and the Christmas world.
”By late morning, tour groups, couples, and families are already gathering in the square: first dozens, by afternoon hundreds.”
Familiar Finnish brands that lure tourists—like Marimekko, Iittala, and the Moomin Shop—ring the square, alternating with smaller souvenir boutiques and restaurants. The commercial side certainly isn’t hidden here, but it doesn’t bother me at all yet. Of course a tourist spot has shops for tourists—that’s healthy travel business. I’m already mentally listing what souvenirs I might bring home.
How much does a visit to Santa Claus Village cost?
Entry to Santa Claus Village is free. Most of the attractions and services, however, are paid, and a day for a family of four—meals included—can easily add up to several hundred euros. There’s free fun too: at the very least, meeting Santa costs nothing.
There are people from all over the world—from Britain, Ireland, Italy, France, Germany, Australia, the United States, and Japan. It’s clear that Finnish speakers are a minority. The elves working with visitors in the Village are pleasantly surprised when we speak Finnish.
Marketing and Sales Manager Salla Tauriainen tells us that the Village’s season kicks off in October, when direct flights to Rovaniemi begin. Tauriainen works at Santa Claus Reindeer, the company that runs reindeer rides in the Village and operates Mrs. Claus’s House.
“The first tourists this year probably came from London, Dublin, Brussels, and Paris in early October,” Tauriainen says.
For Tauriainen, the most rewarding part of working in the Village is the Christmas atmosphere and visitors’ expressions.
“Here you can step into a fairy-tale world, and even adults are allowed to slip into another world for a moment.”
Mrs. Claus’s advice for a gentle Christmas
The most striking building on the square is Santa’s Chamber, where you can meet the star of the season himself—Santa Claus. We don’t head there just yet, though; instead, we veer off to Mrs. Claus’s House. It’s a massive log building, handcrafted locally.
In the cafe at Mrs. Claus’s House, you can sit down and warm up. Along with hot drinks, there are gingerbread cookies and, in summer, ice cream. The cafe’s pride and joy is “sweet rolls”, warm buns similar to cinnamon rolls, says Salla Tauriainen. They’re topped with a sweet icing and served in small cardboard trays. Coffee is served from adorable Christmas-red mugs.
Upstairs from the cafe is Mrs. Claus’s chamber, where she meets guests by appointment for a fee. A €120 visit for up to ten people includes a photo taken by the staff.
Phones are put away when you meet Mrs. Claus, Tauriainen says.
“We want to make sure both adults and children are present and experience everything in the moment. That’s part of the experience, which includes Mrs. Claus’s gentle presence—in English we call it kindness—the care and calm that you feel the moment you step through the door.”
Now it’s our turn to experience Mrs. Claus’s gentleness. She sits in a rocking chair in the middle of a homey log-walled room, knitting a scarf with thick needles—for Santa, of course. The quiet in the room is the opposite of the carnival feeling out on the square. It feels like I’ve stepped into a scene from a childhood Advent calendar.
A wooden bench has been set aside for visitors, directly across from Mrs. Claus, and I sit down on it too. Guests often ask the same questions: what does Mrs. Claus do in her everyday life, and does she travel with Santa on Christmas Eve?
“Santa travels with the reindeer on his own. I stay here to look after the elves and the rest of the reindeer. I heat the sauna for Santa and get Christmas ready here,” is Mrs. Claus’s standard answer.
I ask Mrs. Claus if she could share the sweet rolls recipe. That remains a secret.
“They’ve got Christmas flavors like blueberry, cinnamon, and chocolate. The most important ingredient is love.”
At the end of our chat, Mrs. Claus settles onto the bench between me and the photographer, and an elf snaps our picture. She also gives us little paper scrolls that she tells us to open when the moment feels right. Inside, we should find a piece of Mrs. Claus’s advice for a gentle Christmas.
A leisurely ten-minute sleigh ride
From Mrs. Claus’s House, a charming path edged with old hay-pole fencing leads to a bridge lined with lanterns. Across the bridge is a kiosk where you can buy tickets for a reindeer ride. By late morning, the line is already impressive. At the nearby fire pit, hands stretch toward the warmth and marshmallows toast on sticks.
Of Santa Claus Reindeer’s routes, the shortest takes six minutes and costs €30 for adults. The keenest can opt for a longer ride or a reindeer safari.
On a frost-sparkled day, the scenery looks like a postcard, and I happily burrow under a reindeer hide in the red sleigh. In front of me goes the rear reindeer, Pikkumusta; our photographer Timi rides behind lead reindeer Topi. Our guide Olli Heikkilä gives the reindeer a gentle signal to start.
The ride is short—just ten minutes—but it feels just right. Snow creaks, the reindeer’s pace is unhurried, and Lapland suddenly feels closer than it did back in the Village. I find myself studying the reindeer more closely than I expected—their calm rhythm and steady breathing make an impression on me.
”I’ve been smiling like a kid the whole way. I understand why so many people want to try a reindeer ride at least once.”
Each reindeer has its own driver and shifts—just like people do. Rides start at 10 a.m. and end at 4 p.m. Even if demand is huge, rest isn’t compromised. When a guide goes on a lunch break, the reindeer take a break, too. They get lichen throughout the day in suitable portions.
“We stick closely to the reindeer’s rest periods. We don’t extend workdays—neither for the reindeer nor for our human staff,” Heikkilä says.
Reindeer also have different strengths in the team: some are best in the lead, others naturally work further back. They’re trained young for their roles, and the guides determine which job suits each animal. Some are multi-talented, like the trusted reindeer Jokke.
“And when a new employee starts, everyone trains with Jokke,” Heikkilä says.
The sleigh bells jingle, and there are reindeer teams both ahead of us and behind. Jontikka, one of the reindeer, stands in the middle of the trail to ponder life, which makes Heikkilä laugh. I notice that, just like dogs or horses, reindeer have their own personalities—and the drivers know them well.
When the sleigh stops and I climb out, the cold pricks my cheeks and leaves a rosy glow. I’ve been smiling like a child the whole ride. I understand why so many people want to experience a reindeer sleigh at least once.
What should you wear in Lapland?
When I stepped out of the car in Rovaniemi, the thermometer showed −19°C (−2°F). I had dressed in layers, because harsh cold in Lapland calls for more than an ordinary winter coat. In deep freezes, natural fibers are best next to your skin. I wore a merino wool base layer with long sleeves and legs, plus thin ski socks. Over the base, I added a long wool skirt, a wool sweater, and knee-length merino thermal shorts under the skirt.
Roomy layers matter: the air between them keeps you warm, while tight clothes feel cold.
On top, I chose a long down parka and knee-high leather boots with plenty of wiggle room for my toes. Leather boots with felt lining are a great choice; plastic materials are best avoided.
The skirt gave way to snow pants
I had packed insulated snow pants just in case, and they proved necessary. I could be outside for less than an hour without them—so by late morning the skirt had been swapped for snow pants.
For hands, choose insulated mittens instead of gloves, since fingers keep each other warm in mittens. I wore leather gloves with fingerless mitts underneath, but the combo was too cold for a full day outside. On my head I had a felted wool beanie and a merino balaclava underneath. It’s worth investing in a warm hat, because a lot of body heat escapes through your head. I also protected my neck with a gaiter, though a scarf or a knit neck warmer works too.
In Santa Claus Village you’re outdoors a lot, so you can get cold easily. When you’re dressed right, you’ll enjoy the activities so much more, and Lapland’s winter shows its best side without frozen toes or chilled fingers.
Fancy a husky pancake or a rest in a gingerbread hut?
There’s no shortage of activities in the Village: husky teams, snowmobile safaris, Finnish horse-drawn sleigh rides, and snowshoe treks fill the day fast. Without a reservation, many things sell out.
If you need a breather from the bustle—and have a bit of budget—you can retreat to a tiny gingerbread hut at about €100 per hour. Pipariina’s huts sit in the middle of the Village.
We walked past the Kotahovi restaurant on our way to the reindeer rides, but after the ride, going back for a hot meal sounds perfect. Housed in a log hut, the roughly 50-seat restaurant takes guests in the order they arrive—no booking systems, no sense of rush.
The menu features Lapland flavors familiar to travelers. The best-seller is sautéed reindeer (€38), with meat from the head chef’s nearby farm. I go for the salmon soup (€21): the portion is on the small side but creamy and tasty. A fire burns in the center of the hut, making the restaurant feel like a sheltered stop in the middle of a busy day.
I also hear talk of husky-shaped pancakes and finally find the Musher’s Tavern cafe behind the husky safaris. The roughly €10 pancake really is shaped like a dog’s head. You can top it with savory or sweet fixings. The taste doesn’t quite reach the heavens for me—but I might be the wrong age group, because there’s definitely plenty of sweetness.
Half a million letters arrive at Santa’s Main Post Office each year
Then I head to one of the Village’s most popular attractions: Santa’s Main Post Office. It’s the busiest time of the year here, too. Space is tight, but the elves work briskly and cheerfully. I even get to help a tourist stick on a stamp—he wasn’t sure where it goes on the postcard. At the counter, Postal Elf Riitta says many visitors don’t really know what the post office does until they chat with the staff.
The Arctic Circle’s special postmark stamped on your card or letter, and Santa’s very own stamps, are a highlight for many. You choose the cards in the shop, pay at the register, then drop them in the mail slot to be stamped.
“We have our own stamps that you can’t get anywhere else. And the postmark is exactly why people want to send cards from here,” Riitta says.
”Children’s letters wished for so-called worry eaters and stress balls. That says a lot about our time.”
Santa receives about half a million letters a year, and they’re sorted here by country. These days, most letters come—outside Finland—from Italy, Poland, Taiwan, and Japan. Santa sends more than 10,000 replies annually. Most go to daycares, school classes, and children’s hospitals.
“That way, one letter reaches many children,” Riitta says.
Riitta remembers certain letters especially well. One was written by a young American. He had been learning Finnish with his grandfather, who was born in Finland. As his grandpa’s health began to fail, the boy feared they wouldn’t have many Finnish moments left. So he wrote to Santa and asked for a Finnish pen pal. The post office answered, and Riitta has remembered the story for years.
Finnish adults and children also write about their families, pets, and hobbies.
“Last year we all paused. Children’s letters wished for ‘worry eaters’ and stress balls. That says a lot about our time—the letters to Santa really capture the spirit of the age.”
”There is something free here too: a visit with the main character.”
A fan meeting with the main character of Christmas
Finally, the highlight of our trip arrives: we get to meet the star of the season—or at least of the Village—Santa Claus. The tallest, most visible building in the Village is Santa’s Chamber, a tower in the middle of the central square.
The path to Santa winds a long, twisting route. Lit-up gift storerooms, dim corridors, and spiral staircases keep the mood going for those waiting their turn. There’s almost always a line, because you can meet Santa for free every day of the year. Elves take photos and videos of the visits, which you can purchase if you like.
At the chamber door, a wave of Christmas joy takes over. Later, I notice in the photos that I’m smiling with the same childlike expression I had on Christmas Eves as a kid. Santa has a gentle charisma that’s hard to explain.
This fan moment is the highlight of my whole trip. I understand why so many adults and children are willing to wait for hours to meet Santa. I ask him why Christmas matters so much to so many people.
“Christmas carries a lot of childhood memories—hopefully mostly good ones. People may want to relive them. That’s why Christmas and the Christmas spirit mean so much to many.”
Santa meets countless people every day in the Chamber from all over the world: groups, families, and solo visitors.
“I chat with them for a moment and share some Christmas cheer. Wishes and questions vary a lot. Tears aren’t rare—sometimes from joy, sometimes from sorrow. Of course I listen if someone wants to tell me something.”
When I ask what Santa himself wishes for, the answer isn’t about presents.
“I wish there were less loneliness. There are families you hope could be together. And I wish those who feel lonely would find a friend. That’s something we can all help with. Look around you. If your neighbor hasn’t seen anyone for a week, go say hello. Be brave, even if that isn’t always very Finnish.”
As we leave Santa Claus Village, evening has fallen and the crowds have swelled. It’s packed with people, and finding a seat in a cafe is hard. Out on the square, selfies are snapped more enthusiastically than at any other time today.
In the morning the mood was excited and easygoing; now it feels like it’s bubbling over—almost a bit hysterical. The Christmas spirit is still very much in the air, but at night, at its most crowded, the Village feels more like a shopping mall or a theme park than anything else. The backdrop is beautiful, though—especially in the deep freeze and snow.
As we drive toward the airport, my senses feel the way ears do moving from noise to quiet: I can hear and feel the echo of the revelry and carnival buzz in my body. I even wonder whether everything we experienced really happened. I don’t know if I’ll ever return to the Village, but I’ll remember this visit for the rest of my life.
