I think I am finally waking up. Slowly, but surely.  Left eyelid. Right eyelid. That’s it. Wide awake.

Feels like it’s been a long night of research.

I look around, searching for clues to my location. After a moment of analysis I deduct (Sherlock Holmes would be proud of me) that I’m in a room of one of the finest hotels of Finland. My arm is wrapped around some cute redhead French goth girl.

Right. Research. I was planning on writing about something when I set out to go to town yesterday. What was it? The girl turns a bit and mumbles something in her sleep.

It tastes like I’ve been singing last night. Lyrics still stuck somewhere to the back of my mouth. Karaoke.

Damnit.

How long have I been out? When was the last time I updated the blog? I remember people bugging me about it for a long time.

I try not to wake the girl up and go get a glass of water. That helps a bit. It’s pretty incredible what singing can do to one’s throat. I squint my eyes to the direction of the curtains and decide not to open them. Instead I sit down to write down some thoughts into my little black notebook. These will come handy later-on when I recall this moment later and blog about it. I’m sure of it.

• Society’s norms
• Buy a new hat
• Language
• Culture (introvert)
• studies/work
• Metal!

Well, could be that the list is not that helpful.

There was some thing on my mind I was supposed to write about. I look around. The damn room is a mess. At least the TV is intact. Reminds me of some cruises I’ve been on.

Time to focus, man. Think of the blog. Think of the damn readers. Which month is it?

I listen to the sounds of traffic and people behind the window for a while and think of all the conversations I’ve been having lately. Figure out a common thread and just write. What’s so great about this country? So great that these people are dropping their lives in better places and just heading here.

I’ve made a few new foreign friends since I started writing Finnish Beauty and reconnected a bit with a couple old ones. Sort of making an effort to hear the “why Finland?” from them.

The first one I want to mention is Kisu, a PhD student who just moved here to do the same weird, unethical genetic research stuff my sister is into. Since her arrival she’s been a constant source of really strange lines that haven’t really made sense to me when I’ve heard them. Lines like “But the Finns are so wonderful and helpful people.” and “Everyone has been so nice to me.”

We’re not wonderful or helpful or nice. We’re grumpy people who keep to ourselves. We don’t talk to strangers!

But the more I think about it, the more I have to agree with her. She’s right.

If you were to ask a Finn for help, it would stun them for first 10 seconds as they’re try to figure out what it is that’s happening – no-one ever stops you and asks you for anything here. Well, actually, no-one talks to you for any reason. Period. But after that 10 second pause, my, and probably a regular Finn’s as well, gut reaction would be to do anything to help the poor soul. I’ve seen tattoo shop owners call through all their friends to arrange a last-minute tattoo time for someone who needs the work done in three days before they leave abroad. I’ve gone through bookstore shelves to help a woman find the latest Stieg Larsson book from the shelf since she didn’t know what she was looking for and I seemed like I could know.

So yeah. We do help. It’s just the we don’t ever get asked for help. And we don’t offer it without someone asking.

But back to Kisu. She’s just arrived and will be staying for a few years, working on her PhD. So she’s still in awe of the exotic nature and whatnot. And one can easily understand the reason for her coming here. Finland is where work is, just a stop on the road of academia.

The ones who are giving me more headache are these completely random people, who just love Finland and come here without any sense in their head.

I’ve mentioned Ry before, but she’s sort of one of those people. Just dropping everything and coming here. Literally packing into her car what she could fit and driving here. Not looking back (except for like a couple of CDs she’s missing)

I think she’s come around a bit over the years. It’s not all sunshine and wonders as it is for those who have just arrived. She knows to hate the winter like a proper Finn and knows how to complain about everything. But still, she’s staying here. A feat of strength. When I asked her why here, I think the answer was something along the lines of:

Well, I wanted to go somewhere. Was fed up with where I was living and well, ‘anywhere but here’ sounded just like the place I wanted to be. Also, since I’m a linguist at heart, going to a place with an exotic (non-Indo-European) language like Finnish was intriguing.

And yeah, there’s also the fact that people here don’t want to party in public all the time. This is a great place if you’re an introvert. No-one’s bugging you if you don’t want to be bugged.

Well. She’s making sense.

But! Seriously!

They’re both sort of special cases. Really. Have to be.

So. Who else do I know then. Besides those who’ve come here after work or who are like Ry? There are the few goths and metalheads.

I take a look at the list I wrote. Yeah. Last couple of points on it fit these people. For them, a big thing seems to be “Finland not only accepts us, but welcomes us with open arms.”

Yup. This is the country where it’s not uncommon for the girl at the local shop stacking bananas into a neat pile to have a couple of facial piercings. Or the person on the counter of the airline to have a bright magenta hair to go with her cheerful smile. This is the place where you’re as likely to see a trash metal band on the top of the sales charts as you are for example Lady Gaga. Here, wearing black doesn’t label you as antisocial and dangerous. Just another person. Quite typical a person, in fact.

“This place is just amazing! You guys have Ville Valo! And The 69 Eyes! And Lonkero!  And this korvapuusti is AMAZING! Why wouldn’t one want to live here? Ooh! Cute! I want one!”

Whoa. Flashbacks from the previous night. Yeah. I was definitely singing yesterday.

It was a damn metal karaoke place. With my sis, her boyfriend, and a couple of friends. All the people I knew beforehand left early. I just had to wait for one more song.

A heavy metal karaoke. Right. Only in Finland. That’s why I was going there to do research. I was planning on writing an entry on the Finnish metal karaoke thing.

Now, who on earth was the person I was just quoting. Right. Santtu, the Aussie. Damnit, I need to write about her misadventures here at some point. So many things to write. How long was I out anyways.

Now that I’m finally on track about what I was going to write, I take a deep breath, pick up the pen and start making notes about the Finnish Karaoke culture. It’s pretty unique cons…

Wait a moment. The notebook says “Buy a new hat”.

Where did I put my hat? I think I had a hat yesterday. Did I? I look around for it.

No hat to be seen anywhere.

And another thing… Whose hotel room is this anyway? And who are all these people?

I hate it when stress starts building up on. For me it has a damn snowball that builds into an avalanche. Something starts lagging behind, it keeps nagging in my head and then it gets harder to focus working on the next thing, that might start lagging behind as well. Been a bit behind on everything lately as things pile up. So, it’s Friday night, I’m sitting at Mi&Mi’s computer, somewhere near the city centre of Tampere, typing this while there are drunk people around me talking about love and relationships. Yes, I know I’m being lame, but the party’s been over for a while and I have the time to write now.

It’s a very bleak and cold Saturday a few weeks ago. After a damn busy day of shopping, carrying bags, moving furniture around and whatnot, I’m psyching myself to go somewhere. I mean really forcing myself to get into the mood of going out. It’s not really working well. I’d rather just relax a bit. I know I still have some stuff to do, but sis had called me earlier and made me promise to go get some drinks and have fun with her after we’re both finished with our regular days. The clock booms 8 p.m., I decide that I’m almost done and give her a call.

“Oh, I think I’ll be okay to go around ten or so, is that cool with you?” she asks

“Sure, I’ll get a cab when I’m done here and will head to your place then.”

Half an hour later than planned, the taxi arrives at her house.

“I’ll be out in a sec. Just give me a minute!”

The meter is running. The taxi driver asks if I’ve ever considered a career as a singer. There is snow falling slowly from the sky. Dum-de-dum. The driver’s telling a tragic story of some Greek singer who reminds him of me. Damn. It’s not going to be one of those nights when the weather is warm. I wonder if I should have worn something else tonight? Where should we go? I wonder what’s the meaning of life? The tale the cabbie is telling sounds tragic. Something about a fan getting killed by accident. Why is he telling me this? Who is this guy? Oh, he’s a news reporter for some foreign channel, who has a second job as a taxi driver. Makes sense. Wait… I decide to ask more, when sis runs out from her house, looking all exhausted and ready to go. Finally.

“Sorry it took a moment! I wasn’t really sure if I wanted to go or not, so I wasn’t really ready when you called that you were almost here!”

“Wait, you weren’t sure either?”

“I’m so totally hungover from last night you don’t even want to know. Wait… What’s your excuse?”

“Been running errands for mom all day. And when I was about to head out I got rewarded with one of her ‘small’ meals. Feel like I just want to roll into bed.”

“Sheesh. I feel your pain. So? We have a taxi, so we’re not backing out anymore. Tiger? Cuba?”

“Cuba! We went to Tiger just the other week and I know you hate the place. We’ll have the best night ever. Family night out and all that shit!” The enthusiasm in my voice is 100% fake.

We get to Cuba. I like the place, even if it’s a bit out of the way. Upon entry some random drunk guy tries to pick up on my sis with a pick-up line that, from what I can hear, sounds pretty much like “brewwwghmn?”, she tells him I’m her boyfriend. The cute girls next to the guy hear this of course. Naturally. What else.

One thing I like about Cuba is the music of the place. Usually it’s a positive soundtrack with latest hits combined with classics, with emphasis being on the classics side. Now it’s even better. There is a live saxophone player alongside the DJ, bringing a fluid, organic, and most of all, strange atmosphere groove. 90s with a twist. We make a passing pop culture reference to an old animation we used to watch as kids and then Ay (I have to call her something else than “the sister”, or it gets annoying in long posts like this) starts.

“So. First things first. I’m not going to drink anything tonight. I’m feeling way too nauseous. Was puking my guts out a few hours ago. How about we go take over the dance floor, family style?”

“Oh joy,” I take a deep sigh, “Well, that means I’m not going to have much to drink either. No fun in only one of us being a complete fool. And didn’t you hear a word I said earlier. I am not going to move anytime soon, let alone dance. Mom had some meat stew thing. that I just had to eat or else I would have offended her.”

“Yeah, wouldn’t want that, momma’s boy.”

“Why you little…”

“Ooh, look, free chairs!!” she heads to safety from my reach.

Now. We’ve had awesome nights together out and about. New Year’s comes to mind. No additional people required. But it looks like neither of us are really in the mood. No matter how nicely the music beats in the background – Madonna or something else light, with the addition of the saxophone. This could work on a different night. This would be awesome on any other night, really. I’m just tired, and I think the sis is in a bit of a bitchy mood even if we both try to keep up appearances.

“We’re having fun!”

Silence.

“Party?”

Silence

“Yay, party?”

“Yay.”

“Party.”

Silence. Awkwardly long.

“We’re not really having that much fun are we?”

“Nope. Not really. No. Not at all.”

Once we start realizing we’re not having fun, the mood starts getting tedious. We start squabbling in no time at all, and then just sit there, annoyed at each other like we were 5-year-olds or something. Eventually a danceable song that we both like starts playing and without a word we head to the dance floor. Not that you can really call it a floor, there is barely room to move there.

Way too many people here tonight. I’m too full from the food still. Or maybe I’m just not in the mood. And could use a break from Ay and her grumpyness. Bloody family sometimes.

“I’ll go to the bathroom, be right back.”

“Sure. Whatever. I’ll stay dancing.”

If you’ve never been to Cuba, the lines to the bathrooms are legendary. Truly. Unisex toilets, 2 small stalls. Long queue. People being drunk so they take their time in the stalls. It’s funny how the need to be urinating is a great conversation starter sometimes. I chat with the girls from earlier (the ones who think I have a girlfriend) on while we wait in line. I’m actually starting to have some fun and find myself slipping to a more social role, forgetting about the sis and the stupid fight and all that. Don’t know how long we actually keep talking.

And I notice Ay sitting at a table, looking a bit gloomy. She’s been a bit off all evening, come to think of it. A quick priorities check later, I ditch the group and head back to her.

“Ok. Tonight’s not a night to party. Let’s get the hell out of here.”

“Yeah, sounds like an idea.”

We walk to the taxi line.

“What’s up? You seem a bit bummed.”

“Nah, nothing,” she claims

“I know you’re lying, but since you passed on your shot to go first with the whining, I’ll start. Might take a couple of hours. You can tell me your problems after that.”

“Bah. You’re supposed to ask at least twice, you jerk!”

“Okay, okay. What’s up?”

Trying to get back on the track now.

Sorry about that.

Rewind to last summer. I’m standing in the middle of a small town square, eating the most delicious hamburger I’ve probably ever tasted. It’s the bachelor party of one of my old friends. While the actual party that’s taking place in a cabin in the woods somewhere in the middle of nowhere, we came to the nearest town here to go to the local bar. Get a feel of the culture outside Helsinki. After a bar we found a nightclub here where we really dominated the dance floor. And now we’re eating grill food from the local food stand.

It doesn’t have to be fancy. It doesn’t have to be posh. Small towns can be incredible fun. You just need the right people and the right attitude.

I’m meditating on this thought and it’s last Saturday, around eight in the evening. It usually is, come to think of it. And guided by this meditation, I pick up the phone.

“Lou.” The person on the other end answers, apparently confused by the fact I’m calling him. I admit, it’s been a while.

“Hi. What are you doing in an hour?”

“Uhmn. What?”

“You. At nine?”

“Uh. Nothing.”

“Ok, I’m going to need you for a few moments. Maybe a couple of hours.”

“Whuh?”

“Great, get ready.”

“Ok…”

I hang up and a couple of minutes later I have to call him again.

“A change of plans. I’ll be there in 20 minutes. Get dressed! I looked at the time wrong.”

“Wait, what?”

“Go go go!”

It’s about 9pm. We’re sitting in a car on Lahdentie. Me, Lou and Mei. I’m driving. Mei and Lou are trying to figure out what the hell just happened.

“So, originally you and Ptr were planning on going to some party at Otaniemi around eleven, and then he calls you just before nine he’ll be picking you up right now?”

“Yup. Do you have any idea where we’re going? He hasn’t told me anything.” Mei is apparently a bit worried we might not make it to Otaniemi by eleven. She’s so right.

“Well, on this road, the possible places are Korso, Kerava and Tuusula. I don’t see anything good happening to us when we get there in the next 20 minutes. Let’s just wait patiently and see what the crazy guy has planned for us.”

20 minutes later.

“Ptr?”

“Yeah?”

“We just went past Tuusula, didn’t we?”

“Yup.”

“Don’t tell me we’re going to Lahti?”

“Ok, I won’t tell you that.”

“Dude. What?!”

Lou is an old friend of mine. From ages ago. We sort of lost Lou for a while when he got married and got a kid, but he’s made a comeback lately (Still married, don’t worry). He’s the guy I was going to see Nouvelle Vague with back in 2007, so he’s not really surprised that I might pull off something like grab people from their homes and drive them to Lahti.

And it means a world to Mei to have him here. While I still keep in touch with Lou because of hobbies, Mei sees him maybe once a year, if that. And these two are like a sister and a brother. Lou’s an artist, Mei’s a scholar. But still they are best friends. Well, when they happen to see each other. Their approach to the situation is completely different. Lou is curious, Mei might actually be a bit worried what’s going on.

“Ptr?”

“Yeah?”

“Are we going to do something I’m going to hate?”

“Probably, why?”

“No, seriously. I should be preparing for a seminar.”

“Well, you were going to Otaniemi today, it’s not like you would have gotten a chance to anyways.”

“Well, yeah, but…”

“Oh, come on, it’s gonna be fun,” Lou saves me from having to convince Mei, “I know Lahti pretty well, used to hang a lot there when I was younger. They for example have these awesome mugs-of-kebab there that you can eat… Wait, we have to turn here if we want to get to Lahti.”

I wave at the intersections as they go by.

A brief moment of silence as it sinks in.

“We’re not going to Lahti, are we?”

“Nope, you might want to get a beer from the back. This will take a moment more.”

“Dude, what the hell do you have planned for us?”

To those who don’t know what sort of distances we’re talking about, we’re about 100 kilometers (bit over 60 miles) north from Helsinki right now and the road keeps going on.

After a lot of wondering and singing along to Mokoma, I pull over the car at a information stop / road map of Heinola. We walk to the map.

“Ok, try to find Ravintola Tukkijätkä from there somewhere.”

There is a moment of silence. Footsteps walking towards the car. The sound of the car door. Some rummaging. And then the sound of a beer can opening. Followed by footsteps back to behind me and a fatherly sigh, the one that Lou pulls off so very well.

“You’re saying that you drove us to Heinola to go to a place called Tukkijätkä.”

“Yup.”

Tukkijätkä is a guy who rafts timber. Closest analogy in English would be Lumberjack. So I’m taking them to a place called “Restaurant Lumberjack”

Hence the beer.

“Why?”

“There is a gig there tonight. Irina is playing. But probably we’re late from the gig already, so don’t get your hopes up.”

“You drove us to Hollola, to a place called Ravintola Tukkijätkä, to listen to Irina. You do realize that I’m going to gut you alive for this.” Mei is looking like she’s about to do exactly that.

“Not Hollola, Heinola!”

“Whatever dude, it’s outside Ring III.”

But wait. It gets better.

10 minutes later we arrive at Tukkijätkä, and there is a sign outside saying “Sold out.”

So, we’re at Heinola, without anything to do. There is a big blonde guy and a small furious brunette chick staring at me.

“Dudes. Wait! Don’t kill me yet, the night is still salvageable. Let’s walk this way, we’re sure to find something to do. The evening is not lost, come on guys!” I take a few steps towards what probably is the center of Heinola.

Something’s off. A memory creeps up my spine…

Shit. I’ve been here before. The bachelor party was here. This is the same bloody small town.

“Oh my god. I know this place.”

“What?”

“Follow me!” I start running.

It’s four hours later, we’re standing in the middle of the town square of Heinola, I’m eating the most delicious hamburger.

“Ok, that was just horrible,” Mei says while devouring french fries from a dish bigger than her head, “I don’t think I’ve laughed that much in ages!”

Lou says something in agreement while enjoying a mug-of-kebab-meat. I have no idea what he’s saying, but he’s smiling and munching down food.

I smile and nod. It doesn’t have to be fancy. It doesn’t have to be posh. Small towns can be incredible fun. You just need the right people.

Remember Tampere? The place where the streets are empty, there are no sights to see, the weather is cold, and the friendliest face I can find is the hotel receptionist. Well, I’m back, standing in the middle of what I assume to be the central square of this city and thinking “Oh, srsly?”

It’s about 3 months after the Great Christmas Trip of 2009, and the reason I’m quoting Grey’s Anatomy is… *drumroll*… the weather. I’ve just spent 2.5 hours driving from Helsinki to Tampere in a weather that is best described in words that are not suitable for live studio audiences. It started off as gray and uninspiring and by the time we were looking for a parking space, there was a full-blown blizzard trying to throw our car into the nearby buildings.

To get the full irony of the moment, a flashback to early this morning is in order. In this said flashback, imagine me being all cheerful and saying “Oh, the spring is finally here!” to my unimpressed co-workers. Clearly, in Finland, there just is no escaping the winter, is there?

I slowly rotate 360 degrees to get a good feel of my surroundings. Looking south is painfully impossible because the snowflakes want to dig deep into my eyeballs at supersonic speed. But in the other directions, the city looks exactly the way it did on December. Well, the snow is a bit more moist.

But still.

Srsly.

What the fuck is wrong with the weather in this place?

I’m here with a few Finns and a German. We’ve come to see a gig at a small café that holds about 20 people, and there’s 5 of us.

Interesting statistics of us five: Each one of us knows only two other persons in the car. Except the German, who knows just one. Each and every one of us has done capoiera at some point of their lives. Except the girl who sat on the front seat. And every single one of us had a relaxing drive here. Except me, who had to focus on not getting us all killed a lot. My hands are still a bit white from holding on to the steering wheel. Or might be the freezing cold. Hard to say. Either way, not exactly healthy.

We walk a couple of blocks in the snowstorm to Kahvila Valo, where the gig is just starting when we enter. Upon entry to the café, the artist introduces us to the rest of the people who are there, and we go occupy the last big table available (she knows two of the group beforehand, so that’s why we get introductions) I fetch a cup of Maté from the counter and settle down on our table. I don’t really have any idea what we’re going to hear, but all my doubts go away when the girl behind the piano starts singing a wonderful cover version of one of my all time favorite songs.

Robert Plant & Alison Krauss – Sister Rosetta Goes Before Us

The gig ends way too soon, but at least I finally have some time to get to know the new people who have been in my car, we have loads of time before we have to hit the road.

And frankly, I don’t want to hit the road. It was painful to drive here. I don’t want to go there again just yet.

The German is a blast, as ze Germans usually are . We already talked a lot on the way here, but you can never really get to the finer nuances of who someone is when you’re trying to keep a drifting car on a road at 100km/h. This guy studies journalism in Germany and it’s his first time in Finland. He’s pretty much the same way I am when it comes to foreign cities – It doesn’t matter if there aren’t that many grand spectacles to see in Helsinki. He’s just been soaking in the atmosphere and enjoying the feeling of the city.

He, for some reason, finds Helsinki a wonderful place. When I ask “what’s so great?” He replies without hesitation “Well, the sauna for example.”

Well, even I can’t argue with that. He’s talking about our public saunas. They are a damn great thing. Especially in the winter. Man, I wonder how long it has been since I’ve last been to a proper sauna.

I talk a while with the Finns as well. One of them is pulling a “Dropping everything and getting the hell out of this country” stunt, which I think is kind of awesome, and something I’ve heard many of my friends dreaming of. Heading to somewhere warm and tropic. No idea what to do there, but figuring out that it would be better than here. Sunlight. Warmth.

And as a total opposite, I end up having a conversation about the meditative nature of that perfect moment of silence in the Finnish winter. Just walking to some field with nothing but snow in sight. And no sounds of life anywhere to be heard. It’s nice to meet someone who has shared that wonderful moment. The peace and quiet. The tranquil colors.

I exchange a couple of words with the girl who was singing, thank for the performance, pretty much. And then it’s time to head back home. We walk out of the café. The snowfall has ended. The sky has taken a purplish hue from the city lights getting reflected from the clouds. The sounds of the city are dampened. Everything just feels tranquil and perfect.

We enjoy the moment. Talking about how it’s wonderful that the ride back will be nice and relaxed, compared to the storm on the way here. The songs from the gig still echoing in our mind. For a moment, it feels like every bad thing in the world disappears.

It’s 15 minutes later.

We’re back on the big road between Tampere and Helsinki, and the Blizzard is back. I’m holding on to the steering wheel with both hands, fearing for our lives.

There is no escaping the damn winter here, is there?

]]> http://finnish-beauty.com/2010/03/20/srsly/feed/ 3 http://finnish-beauty.com/2010/02/20/kat/ http://finnish-beauty.com/2010/02/20/kat/#comments Sat, 20 Feb 2010 14:24:42 +0000 Ptr http://finnish-beauty.com/?p=276 There are some drafts on my computer waiting to be finished and posted. Some more rough ideas in my notebook for posts. But frankly, they’re all trying to point out an Issue or tell about a Thing. They all feel like I’m trying to make a statement instead of just telling what’s up. So I’m setting them aside and start writing a totally new entry instead. Maybe you’ll get to hear about the view from my office or the Finnish tango at some point later on.

Since coming back home from Dubai I’ve had the pleasure of running into Kat a couple of times. This is worth mentioning because we used to be real tight some 3-4 years ago, doing pretty much everything together. Going to concerts, gigs, events, clubs, festivals on almost what felt like daily basis. The stories usually beginning with something like “There is this friend of mine, who knows someone, who is a singer in a band. They have a gig tonight at a venue right across town. Should we go?”

And then she disappeared, went abroad to do charity work. Of course she did come back to Finland eventually, but we never really managed to meet. Were busy or something. And then just gave up on the possibility of seeing and moved on. The story of my life.

Found out last autumn that she had been living a walking distance from where I live. I found this out by bumping into her when she was preparing to move away from here. At that point we exchanged phone numbers and promised to get back in touch. Yeah, right. Like that ever happened.

The real fun in seeing her again, and the reason we got along so well “back in the day”, is how different from a typical Finn she can be. Finns can be open. They can be happy. 90% of the Finns who show that are, feel like they’re faking it somehow. Kat is a nice exception. She feels genuine. And she never falters. A non-stop smile.

See what I mean?

It’s last Tuesday, the first time we run into each other. We decide to go to Strindberg’s to catch up over a cup of hot chocolate and laskiaispulla. For some odd reason this is the first time I’ve come here, even if people tend to point it out as one of the cafés to check out in Helsinki.

And now that I’m here, I can understand why.

The place is really classy and the atmosphere is friendly/cozy. The bar upstairs looks very, very nice with a library-like feel to it, complete with really comfy looking leather chairs and bookshelves. Everything is dignified, yet approachable.

We first considered going to Café Esplanad, but you could barely hear your own thoughts there, it was so full. Here at Strindberg there area maybe a total of dozen or so people. And the ambient volume is close to perfect – you don’t feel like you’re the only ones around, but you don’t have to strain your ears or voice to talk with the other person. We are probably the ones making most noise in the café.

(Well, almost. Mitch is sitting in the back corner on a date with some musician. We decide not to disturb him beyond saying “hi!” and doing a quick round of introductions. Helsinki is a wonderfully small city sometimes.)

At some point Kat points out something that she’s been observing about the Finns lately – we do not touch. We are almost phobic when it comes to letting others near our personal space. This is so very true.

Ever since I’ve come back from Dubai, I’ve been feeling really odd trying to communicate with Finns – I’ve gotten used to affirming non-verbal communication again. I’m making contact, physically, I’m engaging and trying to keep the conversation up even if there isn’t exactly that much to say. I’ve been again acting in a non-Finnish way.

Back in UAE, I spent a good deal of the evenings at clubs, getting to know new people and socializing. And in a holiday resort like that, the social dynamics are so different from the standards that hold true in Finland. Here you just don’t walk to strangers, give high fives, pat them on the back, grab hold of their shoulder and hold on to them while you both start jumping to awesome song playing.

Here that just doesn’t happen. We don’t touch. Outside relationships at least. Any touching (rigid, formal handshaking aside) is almost automatically seen as sexualized. This means that it’s socially inappropriate 95% of the time to land your hand on someone’s shoulder when talking with them.

And considering how touching actually has mental health benefits (endorphins start moving, some level of happiness ensues), and how we’re a very depressed nation to begin with, this is not a good thing. Something to keep in mind for the future.

We spend some 4 hours just catching up. Promise that we’ll call, keep touch. The usual.

The second time I see her is a few days later at Copacabana. I have plans of taking some Salsa lessons in the near future and in my mind it seems like a good idea to go soak up the atmosphere at an appropriate venue. All while listening to a good gig, of course.

I’m standing in the middle of a venue with chairs and tables and food and people there sitting and dining. There is the band playing. And there are people on the dance floor. All is as it should. Right?

My own guide to dancing is pretty much covered by “Don’t worry about what you look like, everyone is paying too much attention to their own moves to care about you, just have fun” and my skills in dancing are on the level of “I think I could go take lessons at some point. Until that, just moving to the music should be fine?” I look at the people on the dance floor. They’re pretty much pro-level material. And the people sitting in the tables are giving the dancers judgmental glances.

No. Not really. Not today. This is not my idea of fun.

So I turn to Kat who seems to be sharing the same I’m-not-going-to-the-dance-floor-to-be-judged feeling.

“So. What to do?” I look around a bit.

“Well… There is this friend of mine, who knows someone, who is a singer in a band. They have a gig tonight at a venue right across town. Should we go?”

I smile. Good times.

Neljä Ruusua – Kuka näkee

If you’re talking about Finnish pop music, it’s impossibly to make a list without mentioning these guys. The band of Ilkka Alanko, one of the Alanko musician siblings, Neljä Ruusua is one of those groups that truly managed to capture the feeling of the melancholic early 1990′s here and turn it into catchy pop songs. Melancholic, catchy, pop, with a bit of rock. The essential of Finnish popular music. They’re pretty blatantly stealing from Depeche Mode from time to time, but it works, so I don’t really complain. Ilkka has stuck to his band and they’ve pretty much stayed the course all through the years, but his brother Ismo has done loads of projects and is worth checking out. Finnish pop wouldn’t be the same without them.

Kotiteollisuus – Jos sanon

The definition of pop is a bit shady here. But I’m going with the “gets played in the regular radio stations” one. And thus, metal has been the way to go here. Lots of the big names fall into this genre. Kotiteollisuus, Nightwish, Mokoma, HIM, Lordi, all that.. We really love our metal. It plays on the pop channels all the time. We have radio stations that play pretty much nothing but it. Every local music award show seems to be dominated by these guys. And the long-haired metal guy is there as a pop icon along pretty girls and boys.

CMX – Ruoste

CMX, the brainchild of A.W. Yrjänä, started out as a punk band somewhere in the mid-80s. Since then they’ve manage to write one brilliant album after the other and managed to avoid getting stuck in a single genre. CMX has been everything from an epic space musical to progressive rock over the years. Ruoste (above) is one of those songs that, when it starts playing on the car stereo, at least one person in the car starts singing along. Usually followed by everyone else joining in. Something about it really touches the heart. Plus it’s a damn good song.

Irina – Vahva

I could make a post of their own about Finnish women artists, and probably will at some point. Irina, Jonna Tervomaa, Maija Vilkkumaa, Jenni Vartiainen, the list goes on. Singer-songwriters or just singers. Strong women personalities with something to say. Like quite a lot of good Finnish pop, they’re quite “rock-ish” in their sound.

YUP – Meitä odotellaan mullan alla

I could have probably mentioned YUP in the same sentence as CMX, but I love both of them way too much to slump them into one. They represent the two sides of the same coin for me – If they were people in an asylum, CMX would the serious one, insane in a calculating, dangerous fashion and YUP the quirky one, locked up in the mental ward because they’re breaking the norms.

Liisanpuisto – Toinen helsinki

Finnish hip hop is a thing that has been really on the “this can be called pop music” drive only from the turn of the millennium. Artists like Liisanpuisto, Sere, Fintelligens and others have paved the way for a thriving subculture over the last ten years. I’d like to say good things about the stuff that’s come out lately, but I’m more into the “classics”, I admit.

Zen Café – Mies jonka ympäriltä tuolit viedään

Not really my favorite band ever, or genre. But so popular here that I just have to mention it. I call it “the boy poet pop” – male singers, with lyrics about the modern life, commonplace situations and the angst of the man of today. Zen Café, Egotrippi, Herra Ylppö & Ihmiset represent this group quite well. And I know people will want to lynch me for grouping those three into the same category. Don’t really care.

PMMP – Pikkuveli

Pretty much like the previous but still distinct from them. The two bands, PMMP and Leevi and the Leavings. I don’t really know what is it about them that sets them apart from the previous genre, but they work much better as a whole. Touch something deeper than just the angst. They have a certain twist to them. Hard to describe, but very much worth getting to know.

Lauri Tähkä & Elonkerjuu – Pauhaava sydän

Lauri Tähkä is not really a good example of a genre and I’m not sure if it would warrant to get mentioned on its own, if it wasn’t for the fact that it represents the same Häjy culture as for example the Duudsonit. Also, they’re the closest thing to folk that gets on the pop charts these days.

Eläkeläiset – Humppasonni

I love cover versions, and Finnish humor music needs to be mentioned. Eläkeläiset is the best of both worlds. They’re pretty much like a drunk, Finnish version of Weird Al Yankovic. They’re also probably going to be representing Finland in the Eurovision song contest this year. Well, at least, hopefully will be.

Eppu Normaali – Tahroja paperilla

And then there is the “Old Guard”. I’m just going to lump all the classics here – Eppu Normaali, Popeda, Dingo, Juice Leskinen, Irwin Goodman, Rauli Badding Somerjoki and you can go further and further back. The ageless stuff that still gets air time on the radio these days.

Like said, I’ve probably forgotten the essentials. If you want, drop a note below on what I’ve missed and/or what you think should have been here.

Friday evening. Exhausted after a long deadline-week at work. I hear how an instant messenger “you have a new message” sound plays.

It’s Mitch.

“What’s your plan for tonight? Go out, party hard?” he has for some reason formed an image in his mind that these days a) I go out every Friday night and b) every time I do go out, somehting utterly weird and awesome happens that gets retold as legends for the countless years to come.

“Well, I’m not doing anything, but was thinking of warming up the car and driving downtown, go to a bar, socialize, drive home. Sober night. Wanna come with?” Might as well prove to the guy that my evenings out are usually less than legendary.

“Okay. I’m feeling quite social as well, so sure, why not.”

“Great. Let me take a shower, find something to wear and come fetch you.”

Hot shower, fix the hair. Find the suit pants I wore in the client meetings today. Grab a pink buttoned shirt, a vest, and sweater on top of all that, just in case. It was minus 15°C outside during the day, no idea what it’s like now, better be prepared for everything. Ah. Stash a spare tie in the coat pocket. You can never go wrong having a tie with you.

We head to Kaisla, but it’s full. Not really surprising, considering how popular being a beer-snob has become in the past few years amongst the 20-something academics. Next try is PRKL, which has room, but some of Mitch’s students are there, so we give it a miss as well. We eventually find ourselves sitting at Time, a nice small bar with high class prices and a terrible soundtrack on the background.

Mitch was one of my best friends as a kid. And the oldest friend I’m still in regular contact with. We talked about life, girls, computers, music and whatever came to our minds back then. That was something like two decades ago. Tonight we’re sitting in a bar and talking about … life, girls, computers and music. And even if the “what would it be like to have a girlfriend” talk is now more in the lines of “well, I was talking with my ex the other day” and the random toying with computers and music has become much more professional, it’s still pretty funny how things stay the same on some level.

I can see how the evening is not living up to his expectations already. He wants something legendary, and nothing seems to be happening. On his cue we take our leave. I have agreed to meet with my lil’ sis later, so we head to Cuba, stopping at a couple of places on the way there (it’s cold out there, so any stop where it’s warm is a good stop).

Considering that I’m bar-hopping with one of the best guitar-players in Finland, it’s really funny that he’s putting the social pressure on me for the success of the evening. I’m the mild-mannered graphic designer. He’s the rock star, he should do the heavy lifting. I chuckle.

To build up his reputation a bit here – if Mitch wanted, he could easily form his own band, get some other big names he knows to play in it, make a lots of cash and all that jazz. Hell, probably even by playing jazz. But what does he do? He’s a teacher. And nope. Not a guitar teacher. His expertise is some form of higher level maths that’s frankly a bit beyond my understanding. And he really likes what he’s doing. Or so I assume, because he keeps teaching and refuses offers to go touring with awesome Finnish bands.

Long story short, we do get to Cuba, meet with my sis and her work friends there, and have a great evening. The girls are maybe celebrating something or just spending the Friday there like they do every time. I don’t really know and it never really comes clear from the conversations. I have a few laughs, spend way too much cash on diet coke, mess my hair on the dance floor when some weird version of Prodigy’s Out of Space starts playing, and sing karaoke (well, technically Singstar or some clone) until my throat is sore. I have a total blast.

As I listen to Mitch’s recollection of the evening while we walk back to the car I can only imagine how it must have looked like through his eyes. He tells a story of how we went to sit in a couple of bars and had long conversations there. Then he had a few more with the friends and friends of friends at Cuba. At some point, he got confused for someone else briefly. And then he sang some karaoke.

He makes a remark on how it would be nice to meet someone new in such an environment and make random friends. Maybe even someone who’ll turn out to be more than a friend.

I smile, nod and explain to him how my life isn’t all adventures at the high seas no matter what he’s heard. Sometimes the best evenings come from just being with friends and enjoying.

What I don’t tell him is how all through the night I’ve been watching amazed (and maybe a bit jealous, I don’t like sharing the attention) as various cute girls keep checking him out (the first two were doing that at Time, right when he decided we should head out and find something interesting to do), and staring in utter disbelief as Captain Oblivious there managed to dismiss a Grade A approach from a beauty in Cuba (the whole getting confused for someone else thing). And it’s not just the girls. Some guy there actually bought him a beer, which he declined and continued with the conversation he had been having before.

“But even if it was just friends. It was a good night.”

“Yup. That it was.” I shake my head and smile.

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.

To get back home from work today I had to use a shovel to get my car clear from behind a huge pile of snow and ice.

No, it didn’t snow today.

And my car was there only for two hours.

This and the fact that I had parked on a parking square didn’t stop the city workers from deciding that it’s okay to bury my poor blue Mitsubishi darling under the all snow they decided to clear from the street. I don’t think I’ve ever been this relieved to actually have a shovel in my car before. Well, there was that one time near the city dump, but I’d rather not talk about it.

Today it came to a use that was all good and respectable.

Took me about 20 minutes to get the damn thing cleared, and not just because of the wall of snow. Some trendy graphic-designer-looking guy had parked his car so that it blocked the only clear way out from behind the snow. The city workers must have had some relapse into humanity when they left that out, sadly this guy didn’t share the view.

When I had managed to dig up my car, he came walking to me, stepped in the car and moved it away, waving from the window, saying something like “oh, I hope I didn’t park you in there.”

I’m not a violent man, but I did get some not-so-creative ideas about my shovel and where it could be stored.

The really nasty thing about standing there in the snow for 20 minutes, shoveling, is that I tend to live in denial about the weather during these winter months. I wear my summer shoes and light pants whenever possible. I don’t use earmuffs, I don’t usually have a wool cap with me, I use a scarf only because it looks good. Last winter someone probably saw me walking in the snow wearing shorts and sandals. Unless it’s absolutely necessary I try to be more suited up for autumn or spring than winter. And since I have to spend about 10 minutes outdoors during my typical work day, a bit of winter doesn’t have time to bother me. Usually.

Two things were different today. First of all, there was that whole spending 20 minutes playing a St. Bernard to my car. And second… the “I don’t mind the weather” look is actually easier to pull when it is colder. This morning it was just maybe -3°C out there. The problem with the clothing isn’t the temperature. I can live with the chill.

It’s the shoes. They’re the killer.

Okay, technically it’s the snow.

You’ve heard the story how the Inuit have 600 words for different sorts of snow, right? The authenticity of that is something everyone can think of themselves, but “Loska”, the Finnish word for that awful watery snow (slush?) that forms around 0°C temperatures, is something that you should remember.

Remember it and have depressive nightmares about it.

Nightmares about it where you sink in it.

No matter how you try to balance or walk around it.

And it’s awful.

Bad-awful.

Bad.

That’s what you should be thinking when you hear the word “Loska”. That’s what my feet were thinking of when I finally got my car home. I almost thought I’d write a post about how the weather here is hell and I can’t stand it and I want to have tantrums and head somewhere warm where there are palm trees and stuff.

But as I hang my shoes and socks to dry, I must admit that there is one thing that’s awesome about all the snow and the temperature. Looking out the window, it’s still bright outside. Even when the sun hasn’t been up for hours. There is a slight mist in the air that refracts the light from the streetlights and nearby windows, and that gets reflected from the bright white snow covering everything. It’s an ambient glow that just flows in the air. And it’s just cold enough, that there are small particles of ice in the mist, that when they get in between you and a light source, they sparkle.

That, combined with the frost-covered trees that we have had for a week now, makes the winter landscape look like something unreal – straight out of a video game or a high-budget Hollywood animation.

I make a cup of hot chocolate, put on some completely unfitting music to play in the background and lean back in the sofa, letting my back muscles rest. They got some nice workout from the snow-shoveling and deserve a break.

There are a lot of ways to deal with the snow and the cold and the slush.

Sometimes it’s walking there, letting the whole atmosphere get to you and ignore the bad things about it.

Sometimes it’s cursing about it as loud as you can.

At the moment, being indoors, watching the cold from the protective circle of warmth the fireplace radiates feels just like the way to enjoy this.

I drink my hot drink and start pondering why I haven’t taken a nice pause like this in a while. Then I start remembering – I should be falling asleep soon if I want to be able to get up in time. In time so I can go to work early in the morning. Go there early so I can leave early. Early because I need to check in for the flight to Berlin at 15:45. And I haven’t even packed yet.

Okay, deep breaths. I can still do this, right? Even if I feel like I don’t have the time. What do you need for a weekend trip again? Spare pants? Toothbrush? Camera! Where is my camera? One more breath. Stay calm. Stop wasting your time. Focus and pack your damn bags.

Schedules are a bitch to keep. When I started writing this blog, my plan was “every other day, no exceptions”. Less than 10 posts into it and I’m failing that goal miserably. Decided to go to Tampere again this weekend (this time to see friends’ new apartment) and spent both Saturday and Sunday there. It’s not that the post wasn’t ready before midnight last night, but it, like every other post I write, needed some serious editing love before I could even think about publishing. Getting from the draft into a proper readable whole takes more time than the draft itself.

Everything comes to an end.

27th December, 2009. I’m sitting in the hotel-room somewhere in the grayness of Jyväskylä, looking at the remains of a faithful pair of jeans. They’ve served me well for the past years. They’ve been there for the good and the bad. For the depressive winter and the manic summer. A moment earlier I had been at the hotel restaurant, getting ready to enjoy yet another happy moment wearing them – an extremely filling breakfast. But everything comes to an end. The mistake I made was to force a slight split to get past a tactically placed houseplant with my tray of food. I’m quite sure that the couples in the nearest tables heard the sound of fabric ripping as well. The end didn’t come with a whimper.

When disaster like this strikes, you end up with a choice, a fork in the road. A fork, with two possible options in front of you. Either you do the fast retreat or the slow retreat. Getting away from the situation fast means less people will have a shot at noticing how you’re showing your bright white underwear, but you’ll draw more attention to yourself with all the rushing movement. Slow version has the probabilities reversed. More people, less attention. I took it slow and nonchalantly waltz out. Happy that I didn’t choose to wear the Snoopy boxers today.

So, here I am.

I’m quite sure that someone noticed what happened. More than just someone I guess. Dark gray and white contrast way too well. But the question “Did someone notice?” turns into “Do I really care?” as the world turns. Ends are just new beginnings, I bid the pants farewell after moping for way too long about it and move on. When I return to the breakfast table I get a couple of smiles from the people who probably know, but these things happen, so they don’t dwell on it.

I manage to get my delicious breakfast in the end and then return to my room.

Before I have to check out of the hotel, I have time to be amazed at the number of people I know from Jyväskylä. Social networking and announcing your travel routes causes me being treated with a number of “Are you kidding, what are you doing here” messages, but sadly, as many “Damn, I have to go to work today, why do you leave so early” ones. But it’s nice to know that in case I ever come back, I probably won’t have to spend a millisecond alone in this town.

I head out (read: I have to check out), walk around the town a bit (still freezing), toss my suitcase to the train station lockers (it’s heavy and not really practical in all the snow), and then I get suckered into my favorite pastime – shopping. In the past year I’ve probably spent more money on clothes than I have in the previous five years or so. It’s a small miracle that I manage to avoid buying any new ones from the local shopping center. I am tempted, I admit. The closest thing to a completely useless item I almost  buy this afternoon is the first book of Twilight Saga. There is a part of me that wants to get it and just read through it because it’s probably quite good.

The two items that do find their way into my shopping bag are an Audrey Hepburn wall calendar and a bottle of Acqua Di Gio. It’s not a huge secret that Audrey represents the ideal fantasy girl for me. A wonderful balance of the tomboyish and elegantly feminine. I have such a huge crush on her. And I had been missing a calendar for 2010. Simple, practical, just what I was needing, and pleases my aesthetics.

The Armani fragrance is a bit longer story. I’m usually the type to favor of stronger, musky ones like YSL’s M7, but lately I’ve been wearing them out of habit rather than thinking about it. And as the whole trip here has been about breaking habits (starting with the “I will stay home and be a hermit for Christmas”), I feel like I should be clearing out the mold in other ways as well.

“Hi. I need a new fragrance for me.”

“What do you have in mind?”

“I don’t know,” I smile as I realize how many times I’ve admitted that not having a clue in the past days, “Maybe you can help me?”

“What do you usually use?”

“I’d like to get something different from that. Can you tell me something about the different products and what your opinions on them are?”

I seem to have found the local person to bother with my questions.

After the shopping spree I need a break, and head to the nearest McDonald’s. Here I buy myself a diet coke and connect to the WLAN. I talk with some few friends with my mind firmly set to the future already. Talking about the following week, organizing schedules, getting back to work. All that.

I’m admitting to myself that everything has to come to an end. Even this trip.

“Where are you at?” a message pops up.

It’s Ry, one of those people who live in Jyväskylä.

“At the Kauppakatu McDonald’s. Just resting my brain for a moment, then maybe a museum or something. Dunno. Kinda bored already.”

“When does your train leave?”

“In three hours. Depends on how late they’re running today.”

“Cool. This is a perfect excuse for us all to go to Harald! Hope you haven’t eaten at McDonald’s yet?”

“Like I’d actually eat here. Just here for the quality WLAN.”

“Great. We’ll see you in 20 minutes.”

Okay. Everything ends when it actually does end. Not a few hours before.