This article was first published in VG under the title Slutt med snikskrytingen om sommerferien din!

Many foreigners have this idea that Norwegians don’t brag. Of course they brag! In a subtle and humble way. They even have a special Norwegian word for it, snikskryting (sneaky bragging).

“We were in Thailand for several weeks, at a four-star hotel,” my boss said one Monday in August as he unpacked his lunch.
“But you know, after three weeks, we actually got a bit tired of the sun and beach. Being served food all the time. It just gets to be too much. So we were really happy to go home. Luckily, we could spend some time at the cabin on the southern coast. A Norwegian holiday is the best, isn’t it? Where were you this summer, by the way?”

Me? I was camping in Sweden. With three kids. It rained the entire time. The tent leaked. I barely slept. And after four days, the kids started asking if we could go home because they missed the TV. That was the truth.
But instead, I said something vague about being on a tent trip in Sweden.
“We want to teach the kids about the friluftsliv, you know,” I said with a smile.

There is a Norwegian art to hiding financial struggles behind excuses like outdoor life and togetherness under a damp tent.

That conversation stuck with me. Not because I envy him. Well, maybe a little. I haven’t been able to afford a sunny vacation in years, thanks to rising interest rates and food prices that have eaten up everything we tried to save for anything beyond day-to-day life.

But because his question wasn’t really a question. It was a kind of social ritual. A way to silently place us on different social shelves, without him even realizing it.

There’s a lot I love about Norwegians. I’ve lived here a long time, and I love being part of this society. I feel lucky to have found a new home here, a Norwegian passport, and a child born in this country. There’s a lot to be proud of, and I am proud.

When I think of Norway, I think of mountains and fjords, kind neighbors, kindergartens with warm outdoor clothes and staff who say “så flink du er!” to kids who’ve just gotten a stick in the eye.
I think of democracy and the indescribable freedom of walking alone in the forest without being afraid.

But humblebragging is one of the worst parts of Norwegian culture. And summer vacation is high season for humblebragging.

Humblebragging is the cultural ability to make privilege sound like a burden. For those of you who don’t know what it is—congratulations, you’re probably doing it the most.
Humblebragging is the typical Norwegian talent for bragging without sounding like you’re bragging. Bragging disguised as complaining. As modesty. As random information.

Complaining about too much sun at a luxury hotel.
Saying: “We’re just regular folks, we have problems too. We had a terrible summer vacation. There was a leak at the summer cabin while we were in the Mediterranean. Imagine that!”

Norwegians humblebrag about all sorts of things. Cars are a big one. Where you bought your house. What kind of house you bought (detached house, duplex, apartment, etc.). The cabins you own. The boat you own. And of course where you go on summer vacation.

Summer vacation in Norway is not just a holiday. It’s an identity marker. A kind of prestige project. And instead of saying it outright, that you’re proud to be able to travel far or expensively, you wrap it in complaints.

That’s humblebragging. Or complaint-bragging.

Especially now. When everything has become more expensive, interest rates bite, food costs more, and people are cutting back on extracurriculars and dentist visits.

And yet, we’re supposed to act like it’s perfectly normal to go abroad with the whole family for three weeks, and then complain about jet lag afterward.

But do you know what happens when people keep hearing these kinds of comments, in a country where inequality is growing?

You feel left out. You don’t want to share. You feel shame for not having more, managing more, being more.

You take on consumer debt just to take that expensive vacation anyway, so you can talk about your fantastic life in August. Or post the right Instagram photos.

The irony is: I’m French. The French are known for being arrogant, so what am I complaining about? Isn’t humblebragging better than pure, direct bragging?

Maybe. But in Norway, there’s this illusion that we live in an equal society, where “anything is possible.” That’s why humblebragging is dangerous here.

The French are more aware of limitations, because of visible social differences and class divides. In Norway, we pretend we’re all in the middle. But some people in the middle class take three vacations abroad a year. Others in the middle class have huge consumer debt.

I understand that many people don’t do it consciously. That it’s just become a way of speaking. A kind of insurance against sounding too proud, while still showing everything you’ve worked for.

But maybe it’s time to do something else.

Maybe we can start saying it like it is:

“We couldn’t really afford a vacation this year, so we’re staying home—and that’s totally fine. We’re using the holiday money to pay bills.”

Or:

“We’re going camping in Sweden with the kids for three weeks. Wish me luck!”

Honesty isn’t dangerous. But humblebragging, in its most elegant form, can be poison for community. It makes us compare, measure, and pretend.

So dear Norway, the country I chose, and that chose me back: You are warm, capable, and safe.
But you don’t need to humblebrag to show that you’re doing well.
It’s enough to just say it like it is.