The Danish summer slowdown

As summer approaches and Denmark collectively shifts pace, I find myself reflecting on rest, perspective, and why life sometimes asks us to pause in one place so we can focus our energy where it matters most.

Photograph: Pexels: Laura Meinhardt

Text: Lyndsay Jensen

Dear readers,

Every year around this time, Denmark begins to change rhythm. Schools close for summer, colleagues start disappearing one by one with cheerful “god sommer” wishes, offices become quieter, and suddenly everyone seems to be heading towards summer houses, campsites, airports, beaches, or long evenings in the garden.

For many internationals, especially those new to Denmark, July can come as a bit of a surprise. Emails slow down. Meetings get postponed until August. Some businesses close entirely for a few weeks. Municipal offices run at half speed. It can feel like the whole country collectively takes a deep breath and says, "We’ll come back later."

And honestly, I think there is something incredibly healthy about that.

In so many cultures, rest is treated almost like something you have to earn. There is pressure to keep producing, keep achieving, keep answering emails, keep moving. But Denmark has always approached summer differently. Time off is not viewed as laziness. It is part of life. Part of balance.

Denmark consistently ranks among the countries with the strongest work-life balance, and while no country is perfect, I do think there is something we can all learn from the Danish way of slowing down. Spending time with family is prioritised. Rest is prioritised. Being present is prioritised.

And maybe we need that reminder more than ever.

For many internationals, life abroad often comes with an underlying pressure to constantly prove themselves. To work harder, adapt faster, survive bureaucracy, build networks, support family back home, and somehow still hold everything together. Sometimes we forget that we are allowed to stop for a moment, too.

So this summer, I hope many of you allow yourselves exactly that. Take the trip. Spend time with your children. Visit the summer house. Sit outside until late, while the sky never fully goes dark. Read a book. Switch your phone off for a while. Let yourself breathe a little.

Sometimes slowing down is not falling behind. Sometimes it is exactly what we need to continue.

Eight years of The International

This summer also marks a very personal turning point for me.

For almost eight years now, The International has been a huge part of my life. Month after month, issue after issue, we have shared stories, practical guides, personal experiences, interviews, reflections, and conversations designed to help internationals navigate life in Denmark.

When I started this publication, I simply wanted to create something that helped people feel less alone. A soft landing. A sense of connection. Somewhere, people could recognise parts of themselves and realise they were not the only ones trying to understand this country, this culture, and this very unique way of life.

Over the years, it became far bigger than I ever imagined.

We have built an incredible community of writers, contributors, volunteers, readers, photographers, creatives, and supporters from all over the world. Together, we have covered everything from culture and careers to identity, inclusion, healthcare, parenting, language, politics, food, education, disability advocacy, and belonging.

But behind every publication is also a person with a real life happening outside the deadlines.

And over the past year, life has shifted significantly for my family and me.

Making space for what matters most

Many of you know my son Bjørn through articles, social posts, or my advocacy work on disability and accessibility.

Bjørn has cerebral palsy, epilepsy, is fed via a tube, is non-verbal, is a wheelchair user, and is completely dependent on others for his care. He is also funny, expressive, incredibly determined, and the centre of our world.

The last year has been an especially difficult one for him.

He has been very ill at times, and it has become increasingly clear that his current living situation is simply no longer the right one for his needs. When someone has complex disabilities, the smallest things can have enormous consequences. Care is not just about routines on paper. It is about dignity, understanding, consistency, training, communication, accessibility, safety, and genuine quality of life.

As his mother, I cannot ignore when those things are not working.

So much of my focus now is going into fighting for a better future for Bjørn. That means searching for a completely new living setup for him. It means finding the right place, the right people, the right staff, and building something around his actual needs rather than trying to squeeze him into a system that was not designed for someone like him.

It also means endless kommune meetings, applications, planning, coordination, difficult conversations, and navigating systems that are often not built for flexibility or individuality.

There is nothing simple about this process.

Anyone who has cared for a disabled family member will understand how consuming these battles become. You carry them in your mind all the time when you are working, sleeping, or trying to rest.

And right now, Bjørn needs more of me.

Why accessibility is personal

In many ways, this is also why my work with Changing Places Denmark has become so important to me again.

Accessibility is often discussed as a “special interest” issue, but for families like ours, it affects absolutely everything. It determines whether you can travel, attend events, visit public spaces, spend time outdoors, or participate in ordinary life.

For many disabled people and their families, something as basic as finding a suitable toilet can completely determine whether leaving the house is even possible. That reality is invisible to most people until they experience it themselves.

Changing Places Denmark was created because I believe dignity and inclusion should not depend on disability.

The work I do there is deeply connected to the life I live with Bjørn every single day. The fight for proper accessibility, inclusion, and understanding is not theoretical for us. It is personal.

And Bjørn is very much part of this journey too.

One of my hopes moving forward is that this advocacy work can also become part of Bjørn’s life and activities. After all, this is exactly what I fight for every day - a society where people like Bjørn are seen, included, and able to participate more fully in the world around them. I want him to be part of those conversations, those visits, those moments when change slowly starts to happen.

Accessibility is not only about buildings, toilets, or regulations. It is about dignity, visibility, independence, and making sure disabled people are part of society - not hidden away from it.

And I know there are many other families quietly carrying similar battles behind closed doors.

A new rhythm for The International

Because of all of this, I have made the very difficult decision to change the rhythm of The International moving forward.

We are not disappearing. The International is not ending. But after almost eight years of producing monthly issues, we will now move to a quarterly publication schedule.

This was not an easy decision for me. This publication has been part of my identity for a long time, and I care deeply about the community we have built together. But I also know that life sometimes asks us to redirect our energy where it is needed most. Right now, that place is my family.

What makes this decision easier is knowing how supportive and understanding our team has been throughout the process. One thing I have always been proud of with The International is that it was never just “my” publication. It has always been built by people who genuinely care about internationals in Denmark and the importance of community. And that community is still here.

Moving quarterly means we can continue creating meaningful content, supporting internationals, sharing stories, and building connections - just at a more sustainable pace for this season of life.

So, while Denmark heads into holiday mode, we will be taking a brief pause, too. We will return in September with our Autumn issue, just in time to welcome many of you once again at our stand at International Citizen Days. I always love meeting readers there, hearing your stories, and being reminded why this community matters so much.

In some ways, it feels fitting that this decision comes during the summer. Denmark has a way of reminding us that slowing down is not failure. Rest is not weakness. Changing pace does not mean something has lost value - sometimes it is simply necessary.

So I hope this summer gives all of you moments to rest properly. Spend time with the people who matter. Disconnect a little. Be present. Allow yourself slower mornings and longer evenings.

And when the seasons change again, we will still be here - just in a slightly different rhythm.

Love,

Lyndsay Jensen

Editor-in-Chief & Founder