We know it’s a bit of a tourist trap. Come on, it’s a bar made from ice. But heck, we throw caution to the wind and embrace our inner tourist, keen to be disappointed and ripped off.
It’s early on a Sunday night and there are only a handful of guests queuing to get inside the bar (coincidentally you have to walk through a gift shop selling “Ice Bar Sweden” sweat shirts at £40). We hand over approximately £18 entrance fee and stroll through.
I’m already wearing a T-shirt, jumper, winter coat, fur hat and Dr Martens, but we’re handed fur-trimmed capes with attachable gloves. Mine trails the floor on account of my 5ft 1” stature, and I feel like a small Nordic princess.
It is cold and it is icy. It is also -7. There are seats and tables made from ice. The bar is made from ice. There are various ice sculptures and ice engravings. I hadn’t expected there to be so much ice, but I guess I hadn’t thought about it in great depth. It made sense really, being an ice bar and all.
We order our complimentary drink of Absolut Vodka, which is served to us in a glass made of ice.
We trail over to a corner of the room and marvel at all of this ice. My lips get numb from the ice glass, but I don’t mind because the vodka is great. We take an obligatory “hey, we’re in an ice bar” selfie and decide we’ve experienced an ice bar to a satisfactory level.
To be frank, I wouldn’t want my local to be an ice bar – it would be tedious and cold – but I’m glad I experienced ice outside of its usual boring context. Next stop, ice hotel.