Christmas was just days away, and Helsinki was buzzing with festive spirit. We wandered through the Tuomaan Markkinat in Senate Square, sipping hot, spicy glögi and nibbling on jam-filled joulutorttu pastries. A cold front had blanketed the city in snow, and the -8°C air stung with each breath, but nothing could dampen our excitement.
My husband, our two young daughters, and I were there to board the Santa Claus Express to Rovaniemi, the heart of Finnish Lapland and the “official” home of Father Christmas. For most of the year, it’s a regular commuter train, but from late November it becomes Finnish Railways’ flagship sleeper service. When I announced it was time to head to Helsinki Central Station, the girls’ cheeks were flushed pink, their eyes sparkling in the golden glow of the lights around us.
The majestic art nouveau station, opened in 1919, loomed above as we walked under its arches, our footsteps echoing beneath neoclassical chandeliers.
Our train was nearly 20 minutes late. Anticipation filled the air as passengers in parkas and puffer jackets shuffled in their boots. Children in bobble hats watched hopefully for each arriving train, their breath curling in the cold. This bucket-list journey promised snowscapes, cheerful elves, reindeer rides, husky sledding, and northern lights, but I couldn’t shake a quiet fear that something might go wrong—a cancellation or a long weather delay.
Then, right at 7:45 p.m., the Santa Claus Express appeared, its red tail lamps glowing as it reversed out of the darkness, putting my worries to rest.
As a child, this train would have been a dream come true. Honestly, it still was for me as an adult. The green and white double-decker, with Santa’s cheerful face painted on the side, came to a stop. The doors hissed open, and we hurried aboard, climbing upstairs to our compartment. One side had bunk beds, and the other featured an en suite toilet that converted into a shower. With hot water, underfloor heating, and a window seat to watch the winter scenery glide by, it was perfect.
Children up to age 10 travel free if they share a berth, and the berths were spacious enough for my husband and me to sleep head-to-toe with the girls. Having traveled on over 100 sleeper trains in the past 15 years, this was the finest I’d experienced yet.
Amid delighted shouts and thumping footsteps in the corridors, we stowed our bags and headed to the restaurant car. A large family was already squeezed into a booth, watching Elf dubbed into Portuguese. Tinsel wrapped around brass rails, mistletoe peeked from the banquettes, and the windows were frosted with snow and steamed up. The smell of home-cooked food filled the air, and soon a waitress brought us a bowl of reindeer stew and two plates of meatballs and mash (the railways’ website says they sell 80,000 portions each year).
“What kind of meat is this?” my older daughter asked, dangling a piece of smoked reindeer into her mouth like a Roman emperor. It was a moment I’d dreaded. How could I explain they were eating the star of their favorite Christmas song?
“Well,” I said, “in Finland, people eat different things based on what they can grow or raise, and this is… reindeer.”
She just shrugged and finished the bowl, just as I noticed tThe train was moving, the city’s twinkling lights already fading into woods with branches sagged under snow. Knowing other families were waiting to dine, we reluctantly gave up our booth and squeezed through what was beginning to feel like a New Year’s Eve pub—beer spilling onto tables amid the warmth and cheer of strangers sharing stories and jokes.
Back in our compartment, the girls were soon tucked in. The train ran remarkably smoothly, barely a hum audible over the sound of parents yelling at their kids through the air vents. As the girls slept soundly and my husband read, I sat by the window searching the darkness. Black lakes flashed under street lamps, sheets of ice dusty between slender branches. From the little pull-down seat, I could see how fragmented Finland’s landscape was: a mass of islands, lakes, and forests locked together.
It was worth the effort to scour the scene—watching walkers with their dogs, locking eyes with late-night smokers on balconies, spotting wreaths on doorways. A single fox darted across a car park, and I wondered what it might feel like to travel into the polar darkness. Tomorrow there would be no sunrise, so I left the blind up and climbed into bed.
The train pulled into Rovaniemi just after 7 a.m., and we were soon at the Apukka resort, a collection of igloo-style cabins built around a lake. While husky rides and petting reindeer were high on our list, Santa Claus Village, located on the Arctic Circle, was our first stop. We soon found ourselves in a queue winding up and around a staircase toward the magical wooden grotto.
I’d dreamed about this moment since becoming a parent—bringing my children to meet the big man, watching their mouths drop open with joy. In reality, the girls had spent the last half hour grumbling about being bored and pinching each other, and I was now gripping their wrists and mouthing threats through gritted teeth. My elder daughter was also unconvinced about Santa’s identity. “It was Sophie’s dad, Steve,” she had said after the previous year’s school winter fair. How could they not see how special this was? On the verge of tears, I pulled the girls apart, and eventually we made it to the front of the queue.
Inside, two elves were setting up their camera, and I looked across to where Santa sat in a chair, his knee-length beard and giant felt boots in place. He smiled over pince-nez and beckoned the girls, who had fallen silent. Exchanging glances, they shyly sat down. This was a Santa authentic enough to make me a believer again. He asked if he could visit in a few days, and they nodded, accepting two gift bags and waving. Outside, they pulled out two plush reindeer toys and beamed. “He was definitely the real Santa,” said my elder daughter, and I breathed a sigh of relief. “His beard was real.”
Making our way back outside, I barely noticed the chill. Flushed with warmth, I looked down at their smiling faces and silently gave thanks for what had finally turned out to be our family Christmas miracle.
Frequently Asked Questions
Of course Here is a list of FAQs about meeting Santa on the Santa Claus Express designed to answer the questions real families have
Planning Expectations
Q What exactly is the Santa Claus Express
A Its a special festive train service that travels from southern Finland like Helsinki north to Lapland Its designed for families seeking a magical Christmas holiday
Q If we take this train does the ticket guarantee we meet Santa
A No the train ticket itself is primarily for transport Meeting Santa is typically part of a separate prebooked tour or activity package in Lapland that you arrange alongside your train journey
Q Where and how do we actually meet Santa in Lapland
A You usually meet Santa at a dedicated location like Santa Claus Village in Rovaniemi or at your resorts private Santas Secret Forest Visits are often prescheduled private and include a short chat and a gift for each child
Q Is meeting Santa included in any train packages
A Yes many travel companies sell allinclusive holiday packages that bundle your Santa Claus Express tickets with accommodation activities and a guaranteed Santa meeting This is the most common and stressfree way to do it
The Santa Experience
Q What happens during the Santa meeting
A Its typically a private calm family moment Santa will know your childrens names chat with them ask about their wishes and often present a small gift Photos are usually allowed or can be purchased
Q Is it the real Santa
A In Lapland he is considered the one and only The experience is crafted to be as authentic and magical as possible with Santas who are carefully chosen and trained to preserve the wonder for children
Q Are the elves and reindeer part of the experience too
A Almost always Visits often include meeting friendly elves who guide you seeing reindeer and sometimes even a short reindeer sleigh ride as part of the overall activity
Logistics Tips
Q When is the best time to go to guarantee a Santa meeting
