The curious looks I get using snus abroad 

When you use snus outside of Scandinavia, you’re not just enjoying a nicotine pouch – you’re unintentionally putting on a show. I’ve had people ask if I’m chewing something weird, hiding a mint under my lip, or doing some kind of secret health hack. The puzzled stares and quiet glances have become a regular part of travelling with snus. 

And honestly? I don’t mind. It keeps things interesting. 

Snus is part of my routine, just like overpacking or always forgetting where I put my passport. Thanks to snus24.com, I can have my favourites shipped pretty much anywhere, which means I never have to go without – no matter where I land. It’s a small piece of home that fits perfectly in my pocket. 

Let’s dig into what it’s like to travel the world with a habit that most people have never even heard of. 

Strange looks in strange places 

You know that moment when someone sees you doing something totally normal – for you – and reacts like you just grew a second head? That’s what using snus abroad is like. 

I’ve slipped in a prilla mid-conversation and watched the other person freeze, eyes narrowing slightly, trying to figure out what I just did. In Paris, a waiter actually asked if I was alright. In Lisbon, a stranger thought it was chewing gum and asked if I’d dropped something. I once gave a pouch to someone in Prague who thought it was some kind of herbal tea bag for your mouth. He did not enjoy the experience. 

But here’s the thing: those awkward moments often turn into funny memories. Snus might be misunderstood, but it rarely goes unnoticed. 

Cultural gaps and silent questions 

One of the most fascinating things about travel is how small habits reveal bigger cultural differences. In Sw eden, no one bats an eye when someone uses snus. It’s asnormal as checking your phone or tying your shoe. But the second you’re outside the Nordic bubble, it becomes a curiosity. 

In Japan, people were far too polite to ask what I was doing, but I could feel the side-eyes. In Argentina, someone leaned over and whispered, “What is that? Is it spicy?” Which is honestly a great question. 

People aren’t rude – they’re just confused. And that’s part of the fun. 

The airport shuffle 

Let’s talk about airports. 

Airport security and snus have an odd relationship. Technically, there’s nothing strange about it. But try explaining what’s in the small round can in your carry-on, especially when the person checking your bag has never seen anything like it. 

Most of the time, it’s fine. The can goes through the scanner, no one cares, and you’re on your way. But every now and then, there’s that moment. The pause. The raised eyebrow. The slow opening of the lid like it’s some kind of mystery. 

Once in Portugal, a security guard picked it up, looked at it for a good ten seconds, shrugged, and handed it back without a word. I like to think he was just accepting the mystery. 

Unexpected conversations in unexpected places 

There’s something ironic about snus being both discreet and attention-grabbing. You’re using it quietly, but people always notice. And when they ask, it almost always leads to a conversation. 

  • “What is that?” 
  • “Why don’t you just smoke?” 
  • “Is this a Scandinavian thing?” 

I’ve talked about snus in coffee shops in Berlin, on ferry decks in Greece, and once in the back of a taxi in Cape Town. People are curious – and curious people make good travel company. It’s not just about the product. It’s about identity. When you explain

snus, you’re also talking about where you’re from, what you’re used to, and how habits shape who you are. 

From Noz`rrland to Naples 

I’ve brought snus everywhere – big cities, small villages, remote beaches. I’ve used it on hiking trails in the Alps and while staring out the window on long train rides through Eastern Europe. 

It fits easily into travel routines: no lighter, no ash, no smoke. You don’t need to step outside, you don’t need to find a corner. You just… use it. And in that sense, it’s kind of the perfect travel companion. 

Once, while staying in a guesthouse in southern Italy, I met a group of travellers who were swapping stories about what comforts from home they always bring. Someone mentioned peanut butter. Another said their own pillowcase. I held up a can of snus. Everyone laughed – but then they passed it around, sniffing like it was some ancient artifact. 

The comfort of routine on the road 

Travel can be amazing. But it can also be exhausting, disorienting, and chaotic. Everything is new, nothing makes sense, and sometimes all you want is something familiar. For me, that’s snus. 

It marks the little pauses in between the big moments. Waiting for a delayed train. Watching the sun rise before a long travel day. Sitting on a balcony somewhere warm, just taking a break. 

In those moments, that tiny pouch under your lip becomes more than just nicotine. It’s a reminder that even when everything around you is unfamiliar, you still carry a part of home with you. 

No shame in packing extra 

I’ve learned to plan ahead. Always pack more than you think you’ll need. Bring a few extra cans, because chances are you won’t find it where you’re going.

I’ve even become the unofficial supplier among friends when we travel. “Did you bring any extra?” is a common question. And yes, I usually did. And if I don’t, I just order online. 

What snus has taught me about travelling 

Snus has added an unexpected layer to how I experience the world. It’s made me more aware of small habits. It’s taught me to laugh at awkward moments. It’s reminded me that even the tiniest parts of our routines can spark connection. 

Because at the end of the day, travelling isn’t just about new places – it’s also about seeing yourself in those new places. And for me, that version of myself usually has a can of snus in their pocket. 

Snus isn’t the star, but It’s always there 

It won’t show up in photos. No one writes postcards about it. But snus is part of the journey, quietly tagging along from airport to alleyway to beachside hammock. It’s not dramatic or exciting. It’s just there – a small, steady habit in a world that’s always shifting. 

And maybe that’s why it matters so much.

Related Posts