Christmas was only a few days away and the Finnish capital of Helsinki was ringing with festive cheer as we explored the Tuomaan Markkinat in Senate Square, sipping from mugs of hot, spicy glögi (mulled wine), and biting into joulutorttu (jam-filled puff pastries shaped like catherine wheels). A cold front had brought abundant snow and inhaling was rather painful at -8C, but nothing could still the tremble of excitement.
Along with my husband and two young daughters, I was here to take the Santa Claus Express to the northern city of Rovaniemi, the heart of Finnish Lapland – and the “official” home of Father Christmas. A regular commuter train for the rest of the year, come late November the Santa Claus Express is Finnish Railways’ flagship service, offering the ultimate sleeper-train adventure. As I checked my watch and announced it was finally time to make our way to Helsinki central station, the girls were pink in the cheeks, eyes sparkling from all the surrounding golden lights.
Inaugurated in 1919, the edifice of the majestic art nouveau station swept over us as our footsteps echoed beneath its arches, the ceiling hung with neoclassical chandeliers.
Our train was almost 20 minutes late and the anticipation was palpable as passengers shifted from one fur-trimmed boot to the other, a mass of parkas and puffer jackets milling around. Bobble-hatted children glanced hopefully at every train entering the station, their breath twisting up on the air. This is a bucket-list trip filled with snowscapes, perky elves, reindeer rides, husky sledding and northern lights, but I was quietly terrified that something might go wrong: a cancellation perhaps or a lengthy weather delay.
Then, at 7.45pm precisely, the Santa Claus Express appeared, red tail lamps blazing as it reversed in through the darkness, and my fears were allayed.
As a child, this train would have fulfilled my every dream. But who was I kidding? As an adult it still did. The green and white doubledecker, with Santa’s jolly face painted on the side, came to a standstill, the doors hissed open and we tumbled on board, clambering upstairs to our compartment. On one side were bunks and on the other an en suite toilet that converted to a shower area. With hot water, underfloor heating and a window seat to watch nature’s slideshow playing outside, it was perfect.
Up to the age of 10, children travel for free as long as they share a berth with another passenger, and the berths were wide enough for my husband and me to top and tail with the girls. I’ve travelled on more than 100 sleeper trains over the last 15 years, and this was the finest I’d yet found.
To hoots of delight and feet thumping along the corridors, we stashed bags and headed for the restaurant car, where a large family was already crammed into one booth, watching the movie Elf dubbed into Portuguese. Tinsel was wound up the brass bars, mistletoe peeked out from the backs of banquettes and the windows were sprayed with snow, the glass already steamed up. The aroma of home-cooking filled the car and a waitress soon arrived with a bowl of reindeer stew and two dishes of meatballs and mash (80,000 portions of which are sold every year according to the railways’ website).
“What meat is this?” my elder daughter asked, dangling a piece of smoked reindeer into her mouth like a Roman ruler. It was a moment I’d been dreading. How could I tell her they were wolfing down the protagonist of their favourite Christmas song?
“Well,” I said, “in Finland they eat lots of different things depending on what they can grow and farm, and this is … reindeer.”
She shrugged and finished the bowl just as I noticed the train was on the move, the twinkle of the city already giving way to woods, branches sagging under the weight of snow.
Aware that other families were waiting to dine, we grudgingly gave up our booth and squeezed through what was starting to feel like a pub on New Year’s Eve, beer spilling on to tables amid the warmth and cheer of strangers exchanging stories and jokes.
Back in our compartment, the girls were soon tucked in. The train was strikingly smooth, barely a hum detectable over the sounds of parents yelling at their kids through the air vents. As the girls slept soundly, and my husband read, I sat at the window searching the darkness. Black lakes flashed under street lamps, sheets of ice dusty between skinny 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 a worthwhile venture scouring the scene, watching walkers with their dogs, locking eyes with late-night smokers on their balconies, and spotting wreaths hanging 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 drew into Rovaniemi just after 7am 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 the list, Santa Claus Village, which is on the Arctic Circle line, was our first port of call and we were soon in a queue curling up and around a staircase towards 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 fall 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 moment 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 was sitting in a chair, knee-length beard and giant felt boots in place. He smiled over pince-nez and beckoned the girls, who had fallen silent. Exchanging looks, they shyly sat down. This was a Santa who was 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 the smiling faces and gave silent thanks for what had finally turned out to be our family Christmas miracle.
A two-person cabin on the Santa Claus Express from Helsinki to Rovaniemi starts from €239 one way on VR railways (travel time 11¾ hours)
Monisha Rajesh is the author of Moonlight Express: Around the World by Night Train, published by Bloomsbury (£22). To support the Guardian, buy a copy from guardianbookshop.com