Finland (Part 2 of 5): April 24 - May 2
I was picked up by Kira, a local artist-turned-priest who knows New York from Sex and the City. Everyone I meet mentions a different TV show.
I’m being introduced as “Clara, from New York,” so I get a lot of questions. I told the teacher who watches cop shows that our city is pretty safe, but to the teacher who watches hospital dramas and was horrified by stories about uninsured patients, I admitted that our healthcare system is indeed a nightmare.
I love New York and will always have great things to say about it, but I hope that someday things in the U.S. improve, and the horror stories will one day sound exaggerated. Representing a country (or two) carries great responsibility.
Kira took me to the local sauna and then to the pond across from it for a cold plunge. I couldn’t handle the sauna’s temperature, and when I tried the cold bath, I felt like I was being stabbed by knives. Not fun, but everyone should try it, since the sauna + cold bath ritual is central to Finnish culture.¹
They told me that before hospitals, women gave birth in saunas because they were better sterilized. When I went back inside, I met six-year-old Tove, who had been named after Tove Jansson, Moomin’s creator. She was sitting by the fireplace, and crying because she had spilled juice on herself and felt sticky. I handed her mom an alcohol pad and gifted Tove a six-color pen. The mom went back to the sauna while I babysat. In return, Tove gave me two beautiful drawings that she’d just made!
After that, Kira drove me to the local ceramic studio, run by Pille, who is from Estonia, and is getting a second master’s degree in ceramics. Everyone was friendly, and I enjoyed our discussion about pigment safety guidelines. I definitely want to do ceramics when I go back to Spain.
¹ Anssi Alhonen, Notes on the Finnish Tradition, “Spirits of the House and Farm.” “For the ancient Finns, sauna was a sacred place to cleanse the body and spirit. As with all the other places of importance, the sauna was also guarded by a guardian spirit (‘Saunanhaltija’) whose job it was to ensure all the norms and customs regarding sauna were followed properly.”
Hanna dropped me off at someone’s garage museum, where a few vintage racing cars and motorcycles were on display. It looked like the private collection of someone deeply passionate about the subject. A group of motorcycle guys were there barbecuing, just like they would outside the now-defunct Harley-Davidson store in LIC. My assignment was to crash their barbecue with no introduction, and I failed it completely.
I walked around for a bit, then made my way to Lidl, a 30-minute walk away. It was sunny and rainy at the same time: a “widow’s wedding,” as we say in Portuguese (it rhymes). Wind turbines spun in the distance.
Lidl was fun. The cheese section went on forever. I bought another Moomin drink for comparison. So far, I’ve only tried the sugar-free version, which I bought for the graphic design, of course. It tastes exactly like red Vitaminwater: 5/10. Hanna said it’s what they give children after sauna instead of beer (they take their kids to sauna). I don’t like sugary drinks, but I’ll try the regular one and report back.
I got home and made fresh pasta with mushrooms and a salad. It was pretty good.
At 6 p.m., I had a Zoom meeting with Nia. We talked about my experience in Finland so far, and Tumblr. It had been 13 years since my last login.
Somero looks a lot like Upstate New York.
I feel both guilt and relief that I’m not in the U.S. right now.
My Airbnb has Moomin duvet covers and towels.
Laundry and a Finnish lesson I didn’t have time to take. The Finnish lesson was completely in Finnish and made no sense. I did 15 minutes of Duolingo to make up for it, but haven’t had the time or energy to go back.
Used Merlin Bird ID (I call it bird Shazam) to identify “The Great Tit.”
Tuuli came over to help me with the recycling and lighting up the fireplace, and to explain (again) where the garbage was after a miscommunication. Her house sits on a hill overlooking mine. She said she watched me from the window walking to the wrong garbage can, realizing my mistake, and turning back. She had also found my blog and sent the link to the entire village. There might be an impromptu visit to see baby sheep this evening!
Then we visited the sheep. Cuteness overload. Tuuli’s two-year-old could do an amazing chicken impression!
Visited Paola, Marcos, and their daughter Sade. They were lovely. Paola moved here from Mexico seven years ago, and I was able to have Finland described from an outsider’s perspective. She recommended I talk about the weather with the locals. They love talking about the weather and have many terms for meteorological events that the English language never bothered to name.
We visited Somero’s gorgeous library, which was perfectly organized and hospital-grade clean, even the books were clean. Paola told me that the Finnish are avid readers. They must take really good care of their books.
On our way to the local thrift shop, we discussed the definition of “American.” Sade came home from school, and she had aced her English exam that morning! I recognized her from one of the English classes I visited. She had translated some of her classmates’ questions into Spanish for me. Paola then made us cheeseburgers, and I tried sima and Mexican pickles. Marcos told me about the history of sima and its importance during Vappu. We then walked around a local park/pond and it snowed in the sun while they told me about their monthly emergency drill that started after WWII. Hanna’s partner, Antti, came to pick me up. He’s an artist too, and was having a solo show, but I am not allowed to talk about art. We talked about disco balls instead.
Back at the Airbnb, my friend Natalia called, and I told her about the motorcycle club. She started Googling it and discovered a Wikipedia page on the “Nordic Biker War.”
Community board meeting. More sima. Presentation on renovating old houses. I was introduced to everyone. They seemed a little distracted by my presence, so I tried to stay out of sight. Hanna translated some of the presentation for me.
I also met her daughter Rauni. She was very sweet and eager to practice her English. Rauni plays floorball, a popular game here, which they describe as hockey in shoes. I also met Paavo, one of the community organizers. He told me that he had been to Rio, that it was “interesting,” and that I should remember his name because it sounded like “pavo.” People take off their shoes at the community board meeting as well.
Afterwards, Hanna drove me to the local fire station, where I met Verneri, a volunteer firefighter in Somerniemi who works full-time at the Somero fire station, and three fellow volunteer firefighters.
The station is located in a big, modern, impeccably clean building, which has its own sauna, gym, and kitchen. They somehow had a small firefighter suit and boots that fit me, and Verneri had me put them on. He showed me their tools and how to use a fire hose. I forgot to ask if they had a fireman’s pole. I didn’t see one.
Afterwards, they invited me to ride the fire truck with them to the dance hall, which belongs to the fire station. They circled it with the truck without stopping and told me they hold parties there with over 1,000 people at times. Verneri showed me more tools inside the truck while graciously replying to my many questions. They play live folk music at the dance hall. Only one of them dances.
The last fire had been put out two months ago. They get about two forest fires per year, usually caused by humans. It takes volunteers two months to train, then additional training after they start, and 1.5 years for full-time firefighters.
After that, they drove me home in the fire truck. I had been their first visitor. Word had spread that I liked sima, so Tuuli brought me some more.
It was past midnight by the time I finished taking notes and cooking the required vegan meal to take with me the following day.
Didn’t get much sleep. I had to wake up early to volunteer at Tuulispää, the local animal rescue. Scooped cow manure, chicken manure, then sheep manure, followed by a 30-minute lunch break.
I sat quietly next to a woman wearing a Moomin sweatshirt while having couscous with vegetables in the only plastic container I could find: a Moomin container. I was offered carrot cake that one of the volunteers had brought, then prepared an elaborate meal for the pigs, then scooped more horse manure.
The program was run by Piia, three permanent employees, and volunteers, all women. They had over 100 animals there and were very passionate about them.
I spent most of my time helping Nina, who has a master’s in English and was happy to use it. She told me that in the winter they sometimes get only two volunteers.
I told one of the volunteers that I was sleep-deprived and tired and was supposed to go hiking afterwards, so they let me leave a few minutes early and watch another volunteer, Mari, feed the arctic foxes and mink. She first had to feed the goats. Eliot was a white goat with long hair and long, majestic horns and liked to be petted. He walked alongside us like a friend would.
Mari was visibly sad because another mink had died the previous day. It had an injured tail that needed treatment but couldn’t survive the anesthesia. She fed fresh dog food to the foxes and fresh cat food to the mink.
The sanctuary also had a 300 kg pig named Sara, who had undergone surgery in Helsinki a few days before. They fed her a fruit salad covered in Moomin oat yogurt (I even took a picture). They took her out for a walk, and everyone was cheering for her.
Nina told me the following true story: There was once an old farmer who grew tired of farming. He could no longer feed all his cows, so he called the authorities. The authorities compiled a list of all the cows and set a date to slaughter them (probably for consumption). On the list was a pregnant cow.
The old man took pity on her and hid her in the forest. The authorities noticed one cow was missing and looked all over for her, but the old man played dumb, and the cow knew to be quiet. They eventually left, and the old man called Tuulispää. The cow gave birth to two calves and they lived happily ever after.
Nina told me the story was all over the news. Half the cows have human names; the other half have vegetable names.
I wondered if farm animals are happy to live on a farm, even if it’s a nice one like Tuulispää. I could never live on one, but I admired their work while questioning the pointlessness of it all. Maybe we should all live in the forest and collect berries.
I had just enough time to eat a frozen meal before another Hanna picked me up and took me to what was supposed to be a 5 km hike and sauna. I told them I was too tired and sleepy and that I cannot overheat because of migraines, so I lay on the upper bunk of the cabin while some of the women who had stayed behind cooked. One of them kindly lent me blankets she had brought on her bike.
The cabin was cozy and warm and looked like a place where you would hide from a bear or a witch in a fairy tale. Scheduling eleven hours of physical activity and socializing, with more of the same planned for the following day seemed… [insert long rant here].
The cabin was very old, and the group had to book it months in advance. The insulation was made of hemp and moss. It sat across from a lake where the women happily went swimming after the sauna. It was very cold that day. I had been wearing the hat that my sister Iara knitted for me. People told me the lake has clear water, but I had no energy to go out and look.
I spoke with Marian, who owned the local thrift shop and gave me a lifetime supply of delicious raspberry jam.
The other Hanna has an online cigar shop and bookstore, and they also sell vitamins. She listens to heavy metal and sings in the church choir. The group that invited me calls themselves the “Marthas,” a Christian group whose purpose is to teach home economics. They have existed in Finland since the early 1900s. Everyone was really nice to me, and I felt bad because I was too tired to be fully present.
I helped Tuuli and Timo stack firewood for an hour and a half. I enjoyed that. I did not have to talk and had the chance to appreciate the various patterns and organisms living on the birch wood. Tuuli and Timo had rented a giant wood chopping machine for two days. They were chopping and storing a year and a half’s worth of firewood, depending on how harsh the winter is. They work very hard. Then Marja drove me to the local cultural center while we talked about flowers and tomatoes.
There I met with Elina, the director of the local cultural center. She was eating cup noodles, and needed a few minutes before taking me to the “sensory excursion,” and I quickly realized I had only had a light breakfast and there was no time in my schedule for food. Elina recommended a restaurant called MaPi, but I had only about fifteen minutes to eat. I asked the two women at the cashier how their buffet worked, but they decided they could not understand me, not even with Google Translate. One local who had seen me a few days earlier came over and explained. You serve yourself some salad and wait for the main course, one of three options.
I paid for my order and, while I waited, a group of very tall women came over and told me in perfect English that the table was reserved and that I needed to “LEAVE.” Someone pointed to another, even bigger, table that was free, so I apologized and moved. In any case, I had asked for a burger while pointing to the word “burger” on the menu, and they brought a very greasy, warm chicken salad sandwich instead. I gave them the benefit of the doubt. After all, a burger is technically a sandwich.* It was lunchtime, and the place started to fill with people. A couple of them asked to join me at the big table, again in perfect English, but I was too tired and upset to make small talk. Everyone in town knows me, apparently. I said nothing and left the sandwich half eaten.
Elina then drove me to the spot where we joined a group of women for the sensory excursion. We walked slowly through the forest and then stopped to perform three exercises. The first was to talk to a tree and hear what it had to say. The second was to be a tree, and the third was to think about the stones and their age compared to ours. My favorite was the first. I had half-heartedly picked out a tree that had a stump next to it. I sat on the tree stool, I mean the stump, and imagined the tree complaining that it had been chopped down but kept growing beside it. It was now a pretty tall pine. I noticed a few drops of sap, which I collected with a tiny stick. I imagined they were tears. The tree did not want to hear what I had to say. It told me to deal with it and leave. I did.
For the last exercise, a woman hid in the forest and played a goat horn, followed by a birch trumpet. She met us at the end and sang. Pushpa, a visitor from Nepal who is a professional singer, also contributed a beautiful folk song called “Skywalker.” We then visited an old house nearby and its elderly owner, Eila Yliskylä. She told us the story of the house, intertwined with childhood memories. One of the visitors translated in real time, and I was very grateful. Eila told us that the first three families who lived there before her grandfather were feudal farmers and that her grandfather had to ski twenty kilometers to school every morning. To keep the wolves at bay, they would play the birch trumpet. It was also used during magic spells in the forest. There were many magic spells, Eila said.
We were offered berries and berry juice. One of her childhood friends was there and told us a story about how Eila had a plastic toy cow as a child and allowed her friend to be its godmother. One day it went missing, and the friend’s father biked all over the village with her trying to find it. It was the only time they fought. The cow, which they milked, was eventually found under the bicycle seat.
Eila told us that the reason she turned her house into a cultural center was that she needed government funding to restore the windows. I think it was a great idea. The house is definitely a museum.
*Elina later told me that the word for burger is burger, that my question about the buffet had been correctly translated, and that it was a straightforward one. It reminded me of the time the lady at the S-Market did not know where or what pasta was. I later learned that the word for pasta is pasta.
Women around my age all have three or four children. They take turns babysitting, and the children roam freely.
Finns don’t put ice in their drinks
They always add cheese to their fish. Why? Whyyyyyy?
Old houses here have names.
It was time to return to Helsinki before Vappu and my overnight trip to Tallinn, Estonia. Burned out by the schedule and the socializing, I packed all my stuff, “just in case.” Then I said goodbye to Tuuli. She talked about how the Finnish travel to Estonia for the same reasons that Brazilians cross into Paraguay, and how people go there to buy beer and other things for less.
Hanna drove me to the station. She asked if I had had enough sleep. I got on the bus to Helsinki. The bus had safety belts. The driver spoke good English and wore cropped pants and a Fjällräven backpack. Halfway to Helsinki, the bus stopped and a tiny young goth woman got out of a car and slowly walked toward the bus. She switched places with cropped pants, who got into the same car and drove off. The new driver readjusted her seat and off we went.
While riding the subway, a group of five people, two men and three women, marched in quickly, hands on hips, swaybacked. One of the men had a goatee, the other a handlebar mustache. As I waited for them to shout, “It’s show time!!!”, everyone pulled out their phones to show their tickets and I realized they were cops. A lanky young man with long red hair and a teddy bear purse got busted. The officer in the goatee scanned his passport, while the other officer adjusted his mustache.
I was glad the internet worked and I was able to show them my ticket.* Imagine going to jail in Finland. They probably have saunas, and I would be forced to go in.
I ordered a banh mi sandwich at Eric’s. It tasted like NYC! I love that Helsinki has plenty of immigrant-owned restaurants.
During my therapy session with Kiia, we discussed boundaries.
Then I went to Vappu, the Finnish version of SantaCon, except it celebrates the arrival of spring. Everyone wears white graduation bonnets, listens to techno, gets drunk, and jumps into the fountain with the statue of the naked lady, which they also put a hat on using a giant crane. It was a beautiful walk which included a stop at one of many Moomin stores.
*Their subway has phone service.
There was a long line outside a bank called Otto. I think it is when people collect their paychecks.
I walked past thrift shops and a flea market, but the excitement of being here is gone.
Then I attended a large pro-Palestine protest. It was heartwarming. As you would expect from the Finnish, the signs were well made and the protesters were fashionable. Lots of Marimekko and Moomin. Some people were still wearing their hats from Vappu.
Today I was scheduled to be in the same area twice, many hours apart. I took the liberty of moving the activities closer together.
Maybe I can do some of the missing online activities this morning. If I am lucky, I can even write some postcards and drop them off at the post office. I wonder what I will write. “Greetings from Finland. I have been Googling how to fake my own death”? My friend Arlise told me that if I do that, I will be here a lot longer.
Kiia had offered to speak with Hanna, who is going to speak with Nia about this.
Found Moomin tea at the supermarket.
I visited the oldest wooden house in Helsinki, built in the 1860s. The guide explained that old houses here are not that old because much of the city was destroyed when Russia invaded. They had low ceilings because it saved on heating.
Afterwards, I visited Uspenski Cathedral for mass and stayed for about thirty minutes. It was quite beautiful, and they burned great incense.
Cars can park in any direction they want.
My meeting with Nia went well. There is hope.
My friend group chat reminded me to report back on the Moomin juice. I had it for dinner with pizza. The pizza I heated in the oven and removed with a dish towel, a Moomin dish towel. Moomin blood turned out to be soda. Pretty interesting. Artificial, but interesting. I would buy it again.
