October 2012 — Solvang, A Little Danish Town

Solvang, the charming Danish-style town less than 40 miles from Santa Barbara, always feels like a hidden gem. The drive alone is beautiful, and within an hour, you’re transported into a slice of Europe—something rare in most parts of the world.

We’ve visited many times, but each trip still lights up our eyes. With a population of just over 5,000, Solvang is bursting with warmth and creativity. It’s the kind of place that leaves you both physically and emotionally refreshed.

Whenever a traditional holiday approaches, the entire town transforms with festive decorations. Every storefront showcases its own imaginative twist. I’ve lived in the U.S. for three years now, and this year, I decided to truly celebrate Halloween for the first time. Maybe I’m finally starting to integrate into the rhythm of American traditions.

It was a bright Saturday morning when we arrived, walking and exploring along the way. We got to Solvang around 11 a.m., still running on empty stomachs but eager to wander.

The town was hosting its Third Annual Scarecrow Creative Contest. True to its name, scarecrows—intended to scare crows, of course—lined the streets in every imaginable form. Each store had brought out its best ideas, and tourists could vote for their favorites.

Danish flags fluttered above the streets, adding to the festive mood.

You might not believe this is late autumn in Solvang. The wide-angle lens on my camera didn’t exaggerate—it simply captured the striking atmosphere. Fallen leaves scattered across the central lawn reminded us that, yes, autumn had arrived.

Outside an old watch shop stood a fairytale-like wooden cuckoo clock. I ended up waiting there 15 extra minutes, just to catch the little bird pop out to chime the hour.

Next to it, a pumpkin-man stood by the door—complete with working clock hands to show the time.

Storefront windows were filled with dazzling displays. If you’re visiting for the first time, you’ll likely feel overwhelmed in the best way.

A pumpkin zombie uncle sat at a street corner, holding a severed hand with eerie calm.

A roadside horse sculpture caught my eye—something about it felt oddly grim.

Another pumpkin character lounged nearby, sipping wine as he watched the street life roll by.

A pumpkin Viking guarded the door of a coffee shop—more curious than fierce, almost like another tourist.

Above a nearby house, a bird perched silently on the chimney. Don’t worry—it’s not real.

Would you spend a night in one of Solvang’s quaint hotels? Each building here is unique—nothing like the gray concrete jungles we know. Bright colors dominate the palette. That’s just the Solvang style.

Jingling horse-drawn carriages serve as public transport for tourists. Neat little pouches behind the horse keep things tidy and eco-friendly.

On one corner, a clown encouraged passersby to vote for his scarecrow.

Some entries, like the one made by Art Hus, were a bit rough around the edges—but that’s part of the charm.

There’s a calm, leisurely spirit that defines Solvang. It makes you slow down without realizing it.

Even politics found its way in: one older gentleman—clearly a Republican supporter—rode around town, spreading his message. The U.S. election was everywhere that year. I couldn’t help but wonder, when will we have that kind of voice?

At a local bakery, their scarecrow had a face and hands made entirely of bread.

The bakery window display made my stomach growl. That was my cue—I headed into a small restaurant for lunch.

Of course, no October visit would be complete without pumpkins. So off we went to the pumpkin patch. See you there!