My name is Anders.

I am eight years old and I live in Longyearbyen on Svalbard.

Today is the beginning of the summer holidays.

Most people love this time of year.

I don't.

My parents have decided not to travel this summer.

Again.

To be honest, I understand them.

No matter where we traveled in recent years, it was simply too hot.

My family loves cool air.

Unfortunately, there is not much of it left.

Even here on Svalbard, summer temperatures can easily climb above 20 degrees Celsius.

Right now, I am sitting with my parents at lunch.

We are having fresh fish from the sea.

While I eat, my parents are once again talking about the past.

As always.

"It used to be really cold here," Dad says.

"And sometimes polar bears even wandered through Longyearbyen," Mom adds.

I love polar bears.

Unfortunately, I only know them from zoos.

Soon my parents begin debating who was responsible for the final surge of global warming.

The industries?

The war machines?

The endless conflicts?

Dad insists that the invasion of Taiwan was the final act of madness that pushed the climate beyond a critical point.

I don't really know.

History is complicated.

Polar bears are much more interesting.

"Mom?"

No answer.

"Mom?"

Still nothing.

"Mom! Can I go to the beach tomorrow?"

Finally, both of them stop talking.

Every summer there is a huge holiday program for children at the beach.

Since thousands of tourists started visiting Svalbard during the summer months, there are:

• ball games
• children's theatre
• painting workshops
• music events
• water attractions

For children from Longyearbyen, everything is free.

When I think about it, we do not really need to travel on vacation.

There is so much happening right here.

The only thing I don't like are the enormous tourist hotels.

Fortunately, they are hidden away in the valleys.

Far from town.

Our beautiful mountain view remains untouched.

"Of course you can go," Mom says.

"And if you make new friends, you can bring them home."

"Really?"

"Of course."

"Even if they come from another country?"

"Especially if they come from another country."

Mom smiles.

"Maybe they would like to learn something about Svalbard."

"Or about polar bears," Dad adds.

"Or about our stories."

That sounds great.

Really great.

The next morning, the sun is already shining brightly.

"Don't forget your sunscreen!" Mom calls after me.

"They are expecting over 20 degrees today!"

Twenty degrees.

On Svalbard.

My great-grandmother would probably have laughed.

Or cried.

I am not sure.

Before I head to the beach, I make a quick stop at the zoo.

Today is a special day.

The young polar bears are allowed onto the outdoor viewing area.

Of course, everything is carefully cooled.

The tourists love it.

To be honest,

I love it too.

While I am watching the polar bears play, I hear a voice beside me.

"They are beautiful, aren't they?"

I turn around.

A girl about my age is standing next to me.

"Yes," I say.

"I think they're amazing."

"So do I."

"What is your name?"

"Himari."

I like the sound of her name.

"What does Himari mean?"

I ask.

The girl smiles.

"Sunflower."

I start laughing.

"A sunflower? On Svalbard?"

Himari laughs too.

"Sounds strange, doesn't it?"

Together, we watch the polar bear cubs.

Then she tells me about Japan.

I tell her about Svalbard.

And before long, we are walking together toward the beach.

That evening, I lie tired in my bed.

I think about the polar bears.

About Himari.

About the children's festival.

About the beach.

About the stories my parents tell.

And suddenly I wonder:

What did children feel like one hundred years ago,

when Svalbard was still cold,

polar bears still roamed freely across the landscape,

and nobody would have traveled here for a summer holiday?

🌿