It’s last Tuesday. I’m enjoying an excellent 3 course dinner at Vespa in the most charming company, reminiscing the good old days. The duck melts in my mouth, the wine is good and it’s nice to have a normal chat that doesn’t have anything to do with work.

Actually, let’s stop right there. Might be better if I started a couple of hours earlier, just to get some context in. Sorry about that.

It’s last Tuesday, my payday, and I’m getting ready to go home, sending out a last minute work email. Thinking of going to the store, getting some food to celebrate said paydayness, when the phone rings. A familiar female voice greets me.

“Hiya, you still at work? I’m heading to the student café next door to get some dinner or something. Wanna come with?”

“Sure. Ok. Just give me a sec. Need to finish up here first.”

Well, that came out of the blue.

I walk out, around the corner and to the café. The place isn’t serving food anymore for the day, they stopped like 3 minutes earlier. Student restaurants. Typical.

“Sorry about dragging you here like that. What do you wanna do next?”

“Dunno, what do you want to eat? I’m buying.”

We head towards the city center, thinking of getting something Indian or maybe Tex Mex. For some reason we end up just walking around, dismissing one place after the other with “let’s not go there”s and “don’t really feel like that”s.

And then along comes Vespa, with a jazzy track playing from the speakers that makes us both stop and look at each other.

“Here?”

“Here.”

Neither of us have ever been here, but this seems like the perfect choice.

So, it’s last Tuesday. I’m enjoying an excellent 3 course dinner at Vespa in the most charming company, reminiscing the good old days. The duck melts in my mouth, the wine is good and it’s nice to have a normal chat that doesn’t have anything to do with work. Or relationships. Or trying to get to know the other person. Or the million projects I’m doing outside of work (like this blog). Or anything stressful. We talk about our dreams and our fond memories. Get lost in the moment while sailing in the everything that was and will be.

When we walk out from the restaurant I realize how I have lost the track of time during the dinner – the sun has just gone down. The regal shade of blue of that moment between the evening and the night fills the cloudless sky and the lights of the city are just being switched on, patterning the buildings with light and shadow. Gradients of yellows, greens and purples paint all flat surfaces.

The view is absolutely stunning.

I admit, that I’ve somehow missed the fact it’s spring already. Sure – the snow is gone for good and there have been birds doing their cacophony of music for quite some time. But I haven’t had time or the open mind to enjoy or realize that.

We walk through Esplanadin puisto and have to stop a couple of times to take photos of what we’re seeing and feeling. We climb up the stairs of Tuomiokirkko, smile at the cute couple sitting on top. It is said that Helsinki is one of the most romantic cities in the world. Even if I would normally just laugh and scoff at the idea, when I’m looking at those two sharing that moment in the flash frozen storm of color and shadows, I can see there being some truth to that.

This tranquil view is a side I remember Helsinki having, but one that I don’t get to see very often. I try my best to verbalize it, but all the words I can sigh just fall short. Incoherent.

Random happenstance, perfect timing, beautiful weather. No stress whatsoever. No rush. Life is good.

And then it’s last Friday.

It’s so last Friday.

I’m about this full of people and their problems with me, and people and my problems with them, and their problems with each other.

I’m driving in my blue Mitsubishi towards Tampere to get to a party, and I’m going through a bloody snowstorm to get there. Déjà vu much. It’s like Tampere is more tightly wrapped in the clutches of Winter than the rest of Finland. Reminding me that we, as a country, belong to the snow and the cold no matter what happens or how much hold Spring might get somewhere.

The party I head to is a good one, as the parties I head to usually are. A traditional house party. The kind where everyone has their own bottles. First person passes out before midnight. The conversations continue until the dawn breaks and a bit after that.

I really like Mi&Mi’s place, it  feels like a home. Small furry critters keep you company when the rest of the people at the party decide to go for a smoke outside. Warm colors dominate the palette, with orange holding court over reds and browns. There are people I know and love here, and some new ones I have never met before. Technically the premise is my birthday and the fact that one of the Mi’s got a dream job for the summer, but really it’s more a generic house party than anything. I must admit I’m not in the mood, but I smile and nod.

I am seriously doubting my decision to stay in Finland. I was originally going to a conference in Stockholm this weekend, but decided against it as I wanted to keep my birthday weekend for myself and the important people this time (was at another conference in Tartu last year this same time). I know conference trips are a great fun, so I’m really thinking that “what if I had gone this year as well” thought.

Friday turns to Saturday, and night becomes morning. I’m sitting in the living room with Mi, pouring my heart out. The two hours of sleep, combined with the cascade of things that I feel are wrong, is devastating. I whine about everything. How people aren’t getting along and I can’t invite them all to my parties because of that. How I feel helpless sometimes because I can’t help all those who I care about in my life. How it’s horribly annoying to wait for an email you know might never come. How there was That One Who Got Away 15 years ago who I never got a chance to talk with properly. How I miss my old cat that died last year. How it’s stupid that it’s snowing in April.  I’m just letting it all out. No matter if it’s recent or relevant to the moment.

I spend a good hour and a half just whining about everything that’s been bugging me the past few days.

It’s good to have someone who listens.

And while the whining helps with the annoyance, the melancholy stays. Mi listens, and is interested in everything I’m saying (she’s nice like that), but the tiredness gets to her eventually and she heads back to bed with the other Mi. I do some writing on their computer and head out, bidding my hosts farewell with a note thanking them of their troubles.

This birthday weekend is turning into a sort of a downer. No matter how much fun the party was, there’s too many things bothering me. Annoying.

A deep breath once I’m out. There’s still things to do at Tampere. Just bite your lip and carry on.

I have no idea yet how awesome things will turn out over the next 24 hours.

Saturday afternoon. The digital display of the clock in the kitchen tells me I’m eating my breakfast when it would be a bit late for lunch.

One of the downsides of living on the literal edge of Helsinki (like there was some upside to it) is that if you use the public transportation system to get somewhere, you’ll need at least 40 minutes. If you have a car, it’s half that, even less.

Friday night becomes a problem with this setup – it takes forever to get to the city and even longer to get back (as the rate of buses decreases over time). Or you take the car, get in and out fast, but do not take a single drop of alcohol. Not really a problem. Fun if you’re in good company. I did that yesterday. A sober Friday night.

Besides the “I can get home whenever I want in 20 minutes”, not drinking on a Friday night has plenty of other advantages. The mood on the following Saturday afternoon really should be one of them.

But here I am, looking out the window, knowing that it’s just cold and windy and snowy out there. And I don’t feel so good. Somewhere on the background, CMX is playing Vanha Talvitie.

I’m feeling a strange connection to that Finnish farmer all those decades ago. Alone in his cabin. Living off his land. Land that was swamp and rocks and snakes just a few years earlier. Dealing with the darkness every single day and night of the long winter months. Taking the horse and going to the town once a week to buy supplies. Otherwise surviving with minimal human contact.

When he gets to the town, he needs to live. Live for the whole week’s worth. He drinks, he dances, he sings, he gets into trouble, he fights, he tells tales, he hears stories, he barters, he trades, and he shows his crafts. He over-indulges in everything social he can think of. And then he returns home.

If he’s been smart, he gets home safely with his horse and the purchases from the town. And the next morning he’s looking out the window and there is only the snow and the wind and the cold out there. The unbearable desire to go back to the previous night is screaming somewhere in the back of his mind. The memories are warm, but they’re only that. Memories. He knows it’s impossible to go back. Even if he went back to the town, everyone else is stuck in their own world of cold and wind and snow for another week and it wouldn’t be the same.

And here I am, looking out the window. Surrounded by the wind and the cold and the snow. Like him, I’m knowing that even if I went out there tonight, it wouldn’t be the same.

Social hangover.

It’s a bitch.

Friday was awesome. I met half a dozen new people, some of them friends of friends, some total strangers. If asked now, I might know the name of maybe one of them. But even without that formal connection, I remember having that awesome feeling of being in sync with them and feeling as a part of the group.

Smiling when I recognize which song starts playing, and getting a smile in return. Laughing to a good vibe, getting that knowing grin back. Screaming out my lungs and seeing someone else do the same.

And now I’m here with a dislodged soul.

Suffering from an unidentified party injury that has left my spiritual essence a couple of centimeters away from that comfortable position it has to be at if I want to feel as if I’m a part of the productive society. Still stuck in the fun.

As the thoughts of impending work reel my spirit back into its proper place, I can’t feel anything but the need to go back to yesterday. I want to drag myself to the dance floor. I want to sing “What is love, baby don’t hurt me!” in the karaoke game. I want to walk on that the street where I mistake an old classmate for Ni and spend minutes talking with her about things she has no clue about.

At this minute I am understanding why so many Finns turn into alcohol. It would be easy to numb these feelings and get on with your isolated life. These are positive, nostalgic emotions, but because you know you won’t have a chance to experience again soon, they can become a bit overbearing. Especially if you don’t have anyone to share them with.

The snow and the cold and the wind take their price.

I consider calling someone and just heading out, leaving the work as it is. Who cares? A lone person walks her dog on the street in front of me, looking like she hates the chore. I know. I know. I should get some work done. Time to drag the soul back in and be a busy little worker bee.

Walking back to my computer, I take a look at what I’ve decided to have as my current playlist. And then roll my eyes. Yeah. Dark and gloomy Finnish music. I make an effort and toss on something else, something from last night. To soothe that dislodged soul.

The pop song starts to play. I smile as the beats start rolling along my spine. My back straightens, I sway for a moment. Grab and roll up the tie that is laid on the table. Put it in store next to the others. There will be new nights, just need to do a couple of days of work before I get there.

The phone rings. My sister, calling to want to know who the redhead was I spent the night singing karaoke with, and if there was something going on that she should be aware of. I honestly can’t remember the girl’s name, not even sure it ever came up. Sis tells me her stories of last night, I tell her mine. We chat for a moment. The need to be social eases. The hangover passes. My soul settles.

We don’t have to wait for a week anymore. Technology has done wonders to us.

Time to go to work.

I’ve been thinking of writing a conference report here. But since it was just partying and meeting up with old friends and new Norwegians, I’ve been more or less stuck with it. So instead of a report, here are a few snippets from the past couple weeks that I feel like I should mention instead, in a collage-sort of a way.

It’s way more confusing like this, and I don’t have to spell out my real thoughts or have coherence about things.

–

It’s New Year’s Eve. I’m at Apollo, a quite large live music venue. I’m here with my sister. The music is thumping. I’ve been cast as her wingman for the evening. I just sort of was expecting for it to take longer. The first guy we approach is the catch. I’m in the completely wrong mood for partying in a too loud and too full a venue. So I head outside.

The air is brisk, the snow under my feet is crunching in a very pleasing fashion as I walk down the street with my summer shoes. It’s one of the times of the year that there are a lot of people out there, and they are actually friendly.

One of the three traditional big Finnish “drinking holidays” – New Year’s, Vappu (May Day, labor party thing), Juhannus (Midsummer). Days when the Finns are breaking the silent and gloomy -stereotype to the max.

It feels good to start a new year like this. Surrounded by strangers who are talking to you if you bother to initiate a conversation. In the chilling winter air. After doing the good deed. If I had a glass, I would raise it now in honor of new beginnings.

–

“Just imagine this when there weren’t any electric lights. No wonder that men flipped out, took their axe, drove their family out into the snow, and then went on with the drinking of the vodka and the burning of the sauna.”

It’s a Sunday evening a couple of weeks ago, I’m driving back from Tampere and taking a dark detour to get to a smaller Finnish town before returning to Helsinki. The guy talking is Pens, as usual. Our friend Mar is sleeping in the back seat. We went to Tampere yesterday to check out the new apartment of Mi&Mi, a horrifyingly cute couple that we’ve all known for ages.

And now we’re driving through the darkness, and Pens is making a good point.

Finland is a harsh lover. We’re so up north that when the winter comes, it really does. Thanks to the Golf Stream, we have the climate to grow crops here, but it doesn’t help with the darkness. It drains the life out of you to have 5 hours of sunlight per day. Not easy to like the effect this place has on you right about now.

–

It’s last Saturday, I’m in Berlin. The morning after the first night of partying. Feeling the need for some fresh air after breakfast. The weather outside is wonderful, just enough degrees on the minus side of Celsius and from what I’ve understood, it’s been snowing the past couple of days and that shows. But now the sky is clear.

I’ve had a nice breakfast and learned that the hostel reception won’t accept credit cards. The nearest ATM is less than a kilometer away. I could use some cash. I have a couple of options – Could go listen to lectures (this is a conference), go get my winter clothing and head out and get cash so I can buy snacks (you always need snacks) or just head out.

I get an amused smile from a passer-by, head-shaking in disbelief from some fellow conference goers and the hostel staff. Some guy even slows down in his car, rolls down the window and shouts “Respect!” before continuing his trip. Apparently going out without a coat or a wool cap in this nice warm weather is considered insanity here..

–

It’s New Year’s again. I eventually head to the taxi line – the reason not to take the bus tonight is that I need some neutral human interaction, and a long taxi line usually provides just that.

There is a young couple that at first doesn’t remember the name of the place they’re coming from, but eventually get their stories straight. A very grumpy guy who is heading to the same direction as I am. And an old man who is really living the motto of this blog – “If you have to choose between the truth and the legend, always print the legend”

He’s been everywhere, done everything. He is, by his own words, a world-class ballroom dancing champion who’s done shows in Vegas. He proves this by taking the young girl for a dance right there in the middle of the street as her boyfriend is standing there, looking amused. He has been a paramedic, and assures another lady in the line that he needs to help her keep her breasts warm. With his hands.

The line isn’t moving. I’m slowly starting to lose the feeling from my toes. I look at my shoes for a second and when I raise my head, the old man is sneaking into a cab somewhere ahead. He’s my new hero.

–

It’s the last day of the conference in Berlin, and I’m being asked to explain what Finland feels like and what sort of people the Finns are. I try my best to capture the way I’ve been raised, the feeling of being in between the East and the West. The modern way things work. The distance. The darkness. The depression deep within. I must be painting quite a grey picture as the guy born in the former East Germany feels sympathy.

–

It’s this morning, I’m talking with someone at work, praising how wonderful it is to be back in Finland. I don’t really know why I’m saying that, but I think I am starting to mean it.

I’m slowly starting to run out of these small meta-blog paragraphs to start the entries with, but I guess that’s just a good thing as I don’t have to justify the existence of each and every entry by explaining how they will be just me rambling about my trip instead of being real blog entries.

There’s a trick to survive a night out with a group of rich people who are trying to get drunk. Or very drunk. It’s called “non-alcoholic beer” and I admit right here and now – it’s cheating and against the natural order of things. But not buying yourself alcoholic drinks when the people around you are doing that for you is a great way to survive. The non-beer slows the partying to a more bearable pace.

“Sorry, I’ll finish this beer I have here before I can consider drinking another round. Why don’t you lot drink that gin tonic you brought me as well.”

It’s a dirty trick, but it serves its purpose. I stayed witty and aware all through last night.

But even if alcohol was kept in check, I was up late last night. So when I wake up around nine, it’s onlybeen four hours of so of sleep. And standing up makes me instantly remember the second thing I’ve forgotten to take with me to this trip. Band-aids. The winter boots I have with me aren’t a perfect fit. They’re good in normal conditions, but after a long night on the dance floor, I have about 5 blisters on each foot. And one of them is really painful to walk with, so I limp downstairs and greet the always-helpful receptionist. She looks at me with pity in her eyes, I suspect the limping looks really nasty.

“Good morning there… You don’t happen to have any band-aids…? I seem to have gotten an UPI last night…”

“UPI?”

“Unidentified Party Injury. Actually just a blister on my big toe.”

“Sure, wait a moment. How big a band-aid do you need?” she smiles as she pulls out a med-kit.

She’s my saving angel, really. I return to my room, get some padding on the painful blister and go get breakfast. After filling my stomach with diet food goodness like bacon, sausages and other meat with eggs and stuff,  I go and ask about what’s there to do at Tampere today.

“Well, today most of the bars will be open, so no need to try to figure out where to go. And there are the Tapanin tanssit everywhere, so you should more options than you need,” she’s already used to my questions, but I can only assume that the long night working is taking a toll. She’s not as bright and shiny as she was last night.

“How about during the day?”

“Well. No… Not really. No,” she wears the same expression of shame as she did yesterday when she last explained to me that there was nothing to do at Tampere.

I remember the rest of the blisters. “I take it that the pharmacies aren’t open today either?”

“There is one that should be, actually!”

Something good, at least. She again makes me a map so I can get there easily.

I go back to my room and sleep for a couple of hours more. It’s not enough, but better than nothing. I have an ominous feeling that the lack of sleep will come and bite me in the ass later-on.

When I check out from my room at noon, the receptionist has been replaced. Well, such is life. Would have been nice to say thanks to her for all the trouble, or at least a goodbye.

I walk out, and immediately remember why I was regretting the trip here yesterday. It’s still freezing outside. And there’s nothing open (except the pharmacy, which is nice). I walk around for a while, trying my luck with the local galleries and theaters and even consider for a moment of going to the movies. But decide against it as “there will be better adventures out here to be discovered!” – Shows just how little I know.

In my younger and more vulnerable years my father gave me some advice that I’ve been turning in my mind ever since.

”Whenever you feel like criticizing anyone,” he told me, ”just remember that all the people in this world haven’t had the advantages that you’ve had.”

Well, I don’t really feel like criticizing people that often. And it wasn’t actually my dad who said that. Nor was it said to me. Just something I read in a book. But it holds true. I’ve lived a sheltered life, so I it’s not my right to say about other people’s decisions – there always are things underneath that I will never know that serve as reasons for actions I don’t understand.

But still, for crying out loud, if you’re sitting in McDonald’s and telling your friends how Transformers 2 is the greatest movie ever because of the complicated and clever script that has things fitting the world history so perfectly, you should probably get some help.

There are two conversations that I overhear during the day. First one is about Transformers 2 being great, and the other one about travelling that at first sounds infinitely better. Someone is considering to go to Australia for a month. You know, the place where it’s summer just about now. When they start thinking how much they’ll miss Finland, I give up and head out again.

It’s the afternoon of December 26th, 2009 and I’m losing my faith in mankind once again.

The next few hours I spend walking around Tampere are utterly boring and nothing happens. No one wants to be outdoors, nothing is open. No matter how much I try to sugar-coat the last moments I spend walking the streets, they’re still nondescript. I end up at the railway station way before the train is scheduled to leave, and start writing the first entry to this blog. I find myself thinking that there won’t be a really nice narrative to it that will span through the whole trip to Tampere – nothing that would make a nice “whole” out of the individual entries.

That’s when I hear a friendly “Hi!” that sounds like it’s directed at me, and look up. Takes a moment to realize it’s the friendly face of the receptionist looking back at me from the crowd. When she sees that I notice her, she smiles one last time, waves at me a goodbye and heads towards a train leaving to Helsinki. I look at the timetable at the wall and notice how the bad weather is delaying the train to Jyväskylä for yet another 10 minutes.

I make last adjustments to the first post and consider for a moment if I should be going after the receptionist and heading back home. But I decide to go on with the original plan and take the train to Jyväskylä, the great unknown, since there will probably be something awesome happening there.

Shows just how little I know.