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?”

It’s one of these days. Friday morning, I’m driving through the traffic and the snow to go to a Very Important Meeting. Sometimes it feels like that’s all I’m doing these days. At least on these few days a month they seem to be all clustered into. Yesterday was like this, today’s going to be too.

I’d rather just be doing my job, not talk about it with clients. If I liked customers, I’d be doing customer service jobs to begin with.

I survive the meeting, and 3 hours later, I’m grabbing a sandwich for lunch and finally getting to do some actual work. Well, at least until I have to head to the next Very Important Meeting. As said, it’s one of these days.

During that later one, I get 3 texts – Mi (the girl one of Mi&Mi) is in Helsinki and asks if I have time to see her after work; There is an album release gig of a former roommate of a friend of Kat’s later in the evening and I should go; And my sister is heading to Baker’s with some of her work buddies after work, and I absolutely need to be there.

Combine these invitations with that the fact that Pens is having a house party (the legendary sort that you’d be a fool to miss), that there is a house-warming party at another friend’s new place that I’ve sworn I’d be going no matter what comes up, and that I’ve sort of convinced myself to go to eat properly after work.

Yeah, I can already see that I’m going to have a very tight schedule today. Quick look at the time. It’s three in the afternoon. All should be manageable if I don’t spend too much time on one thing. And at least, thinking map-wise, all the places where I should be at are quite near to each other.

Eventually my eight hour work day is over. Time to go grab some actual food (one ham sandwich just isn’t enough for a full day) at the nearby restaurant. The very same where there was that one waitress that my sister thought would really be my type. There is a sort of a perfect moment for it, so I find myself asking her out. She declines. Crap. For some reason “Crash and Burn, Live and Learn” feels like a good motto to adopt right about now. At least I have the perfect answer the next damn time my sis asks “Have you considered asking that waitress out on a date?”

I head out the restaurant (Note to self: Figure out a new lunch place. Also, think of excuses to tell work buddies on why you can no longer go there) and call Mi, who is just heading out from Kiasma.

She tells me, sounding extremely weary, how she’s been to a lot of meetings during the day as well (some important art people maybe? Dunno? Mi is a painter who has sold her works internationally. So my best guess on what’s she’s doing at meetings in Helsinki would be her agent or some future client) and now, according to her words, is “far too tired to see anyone.” She lets out a dramatic sigh (something that would suit a flapper perfectly) and tells me how it would have been delightful to see me again, but that it will just have to wait. She has style. I admit that. I let her know that it’s okay, I’ll live.

And don’t tell her that once the call is over I’m letting out a sigh of relief as my schedule seems to be getting so much easier. Only 20 hours of people to fit into some 6 hours or so remains.

So, next stop. Baker’s. I have mixed feelings about this place. It’s really a wonderful place to go to during the evenings, but gets dreadfully overcrowded and loud once the dance floor opens. Today our table is full of my sister’s work buddies who are celebrating a good week of well-cloned sheep or whatever unethical research it is that they do at the lab. A moment later Mitch joins us. Apparently miraculously cured from whatever it is that was bothering him on Wednesday.

A former co-worker of my sis opens up the subject that I keep talking about a lot these days - Finns feel awfully close to their stereotypes once you’ve spent some time abroad. You just don’t get into conversations with strangers here. He’s been to South America for a year and I find myself agreeing with his points a lot and providing my support for his claims with the experiences I’ve had lately.

My personal sad example on Finns being unapproachable comes from a small party a couple of weeks ago.

I go there because I was invited by one of the Finns I met in Norway last year and was told that it’s going to be a fun event with music, drinks and dancing. Event with a lot of friends, and friends of friends present. So, I mosey there, still fresh from the amazing openness that I’d gotten used to enjoying while abroad, and am greeted with what? Room full of people, huddled in groups of three or four, talking amongst themselves, about the same things they always talk about.

I’m perplexed.

I try to approach. First the few people I sort of know. And then others. While I claim success in the end, I find that it’s actually hard work to get to talk with these people, people who are supposed to be friendlies. Everyone is in their comfort zone with the group they’re there with and a “stranger” just doesn’t fit in.

I have this sense of being the ultimate outsider, the one who has lost the Finnish ability to sit around a table and not say anything until you’re too drunk to say anything intelligent. It really starts to get taxing on my nerves and psyche. I actually feel physically exhausted because of this after the party.

We talk about this sort of experiences for a while at Baker’s and after that I bid the people there farewell and I head out to the neighboring club to listen to the gig with Kat. She’s there with some other friends of her already, and I end up having the same discussion with one of them who has just come back from Miami. Everyone agrees, Finns are very closed and hard to approach and you can’t really talk about anything real with them.

Yeah, it’s paradoxical to keep talking about that with strangers who are Finns. It’s not lost on me.

It sort of feels good to find a peer group of others who share the view.

The band starts to play. I head to the floor. They’re actually damn good.

More talking after the gig. The DJ playing one of my favorite dance tunes of the moment, so dancing. Enjoying the music. Talking with strangers. Talking about strangers. Talk of Singstar. Ah, karaoke, the secret Finnish weakness. I allow myself to enjoy the moment for a while. I still have lots of time.

I get a text message from Pens: “A party of legends! You really should have been here! Where were you?”

I look at the time. It’s 3 a.m.

I look up from my watch. I’m standing outside in the blistering cold, somewhere a few dozen miles North from Helsinki.

Wouldn’t be hard to imagine a wolf howl in the distance right about now. The wind is picking speed.

I suck at making plans. I really do.

Live and learn…

It’s last Saturday. I’ve somehow survived the trip to listen to the gig of the friend of the friend of Kat‘s and I’m staring out the window. Maybe feeling a bit tired, maybe worse. It’s time to get ready for the trip. I text confirmation messages to all the people who I’m going to Tampere with and go plug in the car heater.

When, half an hour later, I get back from the shower, my cell is filled with missed phone calls and text messages.

“I’m sick.”

“I have way too much work to do.”

“omg rofl, I liek totally forgot.”

There is a H.R. Giger Exhibit at Tampere Art Museum that we were planning on going to. It seems like a serious case of “the typical” has happened and people are bailing out on the last minute with no good reason (ok, there is one actual case of the flu, but mostly). It would have been nice to fill the old blue (I have a wonderful old blue Mitsubishi that I drive) full of buddies and take a road trip. And as it’s not really so much about the art for me as it’s about going, so I call the whole thing off and tell them that “we’ll go some other time then, ok?”.

This leaves my Saturday wide open, so I do what any reasonable person would with the sudden free time – absolutely nothing. It’s fun to just lean back and watch TV, especially after I realize how I’ve had only one evening without plans the past week and I spent most of that one working. I look out the kitchen window and realize there is another good reason out there for me not doing anything – it’s snowing horizontally. A damn blizzard.

My blissful state of inactivity comes to a halt later in the evening when my sister calls and tells me how she’s going out with her friends tonight and how I just have to join her since she still owes me from New Year’s Eve. And how we haven’t seen in ages. And how I’m being a bad big brother for ignoring her and not sending her a postcard from Dubai. And <insert guilt trip here>. So, I suit up and grab a cab to her house.

Few hours of catching up with sis, getting to know her friends (where does she keep meeting these awesome people?) and general pre-partying later, we decide to head to Jenny Woo. My sister is determined that I need to find a girl again, and that she’ll be the one arranging this. Something to do with the fact I managed to help her hook up with her boyfriend a couple of months back and she hates feeling when we’re not even.

So, the evening is an interesting mix of me trying to enjoy myself on the dance floor and her asking “so, what do you think of that girl over there?” or her dragging someone over to the bed (Woo has these weird bed-like things you can lay on, they’re really quite nice) we’re lounging at “So, this is Pirjo, we met at the ladies room, you and her have so much in common. Pirjo, this is my big brother, he’s single.”

I get home around sunrise. It’s been a good night, but I’ll have to sleep for a few hours before I can do anything more.

At 11:00 my phone rings.

“grhmnm?”

“Hi, it’s Dee! Are we getting breakfast as planned?”

Dee is an old friend, I’ll probably tell you more about her at some point. Not to be confused with Dī, who lives somewhere in Actual Europe instead of the Peripherals known as Finland.

“ghm.”

“Great, meet you at the usual place at noon, gotta run, see ya!”

“ghrmn!?” but the line is closed already.

I’m standing in the middle of our regular café, but it’s full. So full in fact that people are sitting in the tables of strangers to be able to have their cup of coffee. Something that just doesn’t happen in Finland unless it’s really desperate times. Or there is damn good coffee involved.

Dee comes in and agrees that we should probably find some other place to go to. I suggest a sushi place that’s nearby. It’s not open. The blizzard from last night might have cleared, but it’s still cold and windy, so we decide to walk to the next possible place with food, no matter what it is. Turns out there’s a restaurant right around the corner that’s open.

We catch up, the usual. She’s complaining about academic endeavors, I’m complaining about how I love my work these days and how it’s totally unlike me. I get to tell her the story of my trip to Athens that changed my life (come to think of it, I haven’t told you that yet, have I?)

“You’re staring.”

“Whuh?”

“The waitress. You’re staring.”

“Oh, was just uhmn… what? No I wasn’t!”

“Well, she is your type.”

“What is it with everyone trying to find me a girl these days? And what do you mean, she’s my type?”

She tilts her head a bit and looks at me like I’m a simpleton.

Monday eventually comes, with the promise of an actual free evening. All the stuff I have to do is starting to take its toll. But, as Pixie Lott said it: “I don’t even care, I don’t even care, never wanna say, I wish that I’d been there”

Ram calls me that he has secured a ticket for the evening’s Rammstein and since I’m the guy who is always going to these things and blogging about it, I should buy it from him. I say I’ll consider for a moment, check if I have cash and let him know.

“Never wanna say, I wish that I’d been there.”

How was that again for a motto?

That moment, my sis texts me that she needs a shoulder if I could see her after work today.

“Hi Ram, sorry. I don’ t think I can make it. Family stuff.”

We decide to go to the same restaurant I was at yesterday. Which is a nice coincidence, I really loved the food.

“So, what’s wrong?” I put on my caring-big-brother face and get ready to listen to some problems of her.

“Ah, nothing, just had a bad day at work. All better now. You do realize that the waitress over there is really cute and she’s checking you out?”

“You’ve been talking with Dee, haven’t you?”

She grins.