Rovaniemi, Finland--It's about as close as you can realistically get to the North Pole, and this is where Santa Claus lives -- at least, the Finnish version of the red-clad, bearded jolly gentleman -- with his elves and lots of reindeer.
It's 10:30 on a mid-December morning when we set out for Santa Claus Village. In the "normal" world, the sun is high in the sky, the darkness of night long gone. But not here, in this frigid city of 30,000, straddling the Arctic Circle.
At midmorning, the gloom of night still cloaks the area. The cloudless sky is a deep indigo, not quite black. The faint eerie brightness is magnified by the thick blanket of snow covering the city and surrounding fields as far as the eye can see.
When the sun finally makes an appearance, it does so reluctantly. First, a sliver. Then just the upper part of a red disk.
For about three hours, it hovers, never more than a crimson quarter circle on the horizon. Then, with an almost audible sigh, it slowly sinks from sight. The sky grows ever darker, fading to black by 2:30 p.m.
Even with the sun up, the gloom of the half-light is punctuated by the glow of street lights forming yellow puddles in the snow. The residents of the city, bundled against the frigid temperature, rush to work or briskly walk from store to store as they shop.
"Come," says Airi Kulmanen, the Finnish guide who wants to take us to Santa Claus Village, above the Arctic Circle. "It's just a short walk to the ski-doos."
In the frigid temperature of the area, about 30 below zero or so, preparations are essential for a ride on a snowmobile. Two pairs of socks and fur-lined boots. A massive, insulated, hooded, fireman-red jumpsuit. Two pairs of wool gloves under fur-lined mittens. A wool scarf, a stocking cap and a pair of goggles. All is cheerfully fitted by the Lapland Safaris staff who operate the "safari ski-doo" service.
"Before we visit Santa Claus Village," says Ms. Kulmanen, "we're going to ski-doo to Santa's Reindeer Farm."
Driving the snowmobile is simple. There's very little traffic to worry about atop the broad expanse of the solidly frozen Lainas River to the reindeer farm. But the ride gets increasingly uncomfortable for those not acclimated, even beneath the weighty piles of insulation, to the bone-chilling, mind-numbing cold. Ms. Kulmanen, who was reared here, doesn't seem bothered by the temperature.
