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.

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?”

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/2010/01/22/long-pause-who-cares/ http://finnish-beauty.com/2010/01/22/long-pause-who-cares/#comments Thu, 21 Jan 2010 22:43:09 +0000 Ptr http://finnish-beauty.com/?p=161 I woke up this morning with the perfect idea for a blog post. Sadly, it was one of those ideas that I should have written down, really as I don’t remember it anymore. It’s been a week of pause without a word, so it’s quite safe to assume that my trip to Berlin was pretty much awesome.

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.

Reaching the five posts milestone should probably mark a spot where the blog’s themes, if any, should be quite apparent. Looking at those previous four posts, I think the blog’s about nothing but being whiny about the weather. In fact, it’s a downright depressed ranting of someone who has a personal beef with snow and cold.

Is it too late to change the direction this blog is heading?

Probably not, but to be truthful, I still have a lot of reporting to do from the trip to Tampere and beyond to do, so I’ll stay the course and whine.

It’s the evening of Christmas Day, I’m at Tampere after a spur-of-the-moment pact forced me out of the comfort of my home city. More precisely, I’m sitting in a pub called London, watching a group of guys dance to the beat of What is Love (or some other classic 90′s euro-dance song) and ripping their shirts off. Truth be told, this really isn’t all that surprising. It is something primordial that just happens when Finnish people are drunk and hear “good old dance hits” from the 90′s. I actually have a theory that any Finnish party out there can be saved by a well-timed application of Dr. Alban, Haddaway, 2 Unlimited or some other classic. This of course means that you accept “saved” meaning loads of drunken men on the dance floor.

And these guys are pretty much embracing the concept of drunken men on the dance floor, maybe even doing some more inappropriate things to it. So of course the next thing in the natural order of events is that they’re getting thrown out of the bar. You just don’t dance drunk and shirtless in a Finnish pub without repercussions. We are serious people.

Let me reveal to you a little secret, but handy rule that you should follow when confronted with a situation where a group of merry people are getting thrown out of a bar and you are sitting there, watching it go down: You should go and join them. So, I finish my drink as fast as I can, introduce myself and then me and my new friends are heading away from London and to the next possible party location. Their group consists of 3 Finnish guys, 2 Estonian girls and an Estonian guy. Awesome company. They accept me as one of their own in a second.

Ah, yeah, I didn’t talk the girls in this post yet, did I? Quick rundown. They’re the two I mentioned in the previous part as “A duo of surprisingly trendy girls is sitting in the corner”, and turns out they’re with the guys who were on the dance floor. One of them is the wife of one of the Finnish guys and the other is her niece. The Estonian guy is the boyfriend of the niece. And the two other Finnish guys are the husband of the sister of that one guy who is married to the Estonian and the other one is maybe this guy’s brother. I’m not really sure. And don’t ask me to repeat their names, I may remember like two. If forced.

It’s a real shame that the girls are Estonian, since they actually have some style and elegance. And this is a shame only because it would have been nice to write at this point of the story “and so finally I run into some stylish Finnish people on the trip”, but alas.

The girls decide that we should head to Gloria, a nightclub which is pretty much as far as you can get from London along the main street. Lots of slipping on the icy streets, singing and whining of “are we there yet” later, we are at the door, but since the wife and mother of three (as I later find out) doesn’t have her I.D. card with her, so the bouncer tells “Sorry, but you’re not getting in tonight.”

Don’t blame him, she looks young.

This isn’t the only bar we turned away from. The I.D. is a problem only at the first venue. Couple of the guys being too drunk turns out to be a big issue for  the bouncers. I think a sensible person would just ditch his new friends and go inside a nice and cozy bar after getting the second “Sorry, the rest of the group can come in, but he’s a bit too tipsy to come in” at a door. It just highlights how solid my brain is frozen at this point that I’m sticking with the group, that manages to end up at a random nightclub only after an eternity of walking in the cold.

The name of the place is eluding me because I really don’t care at this point, just want to get away from the chill. I think the feeling is shared by everyone in the group. You have to remember – it is nuclear winter out there. We do end up changing the nightclub/bar/pub we’re at a couple of times after this, but describing all that in detail would just be me repeating the story above a few times, so I’ll just let you know where we eventually decide to stay. A bar called Groove.

The hours fly by, and while I don’t tear my shirt off, I do spend a good deal of the evening on the dance floor, following the ultimate rule to male dancing: “if you dance, dance like there’s no-one watching.” Groove has a nice RnB/Hip Hop atmosphere to it and the DJ is playing everything great, from the current radio hits to older Eminem to real classics like Tricky. The Estonians start thanking me at some point (I’d say at the “handshaking phase of the evening” when you just have to shake hands with everyone and thank them for everything) for bringing them here – the music selection is just that awesome. I make a mental note to thank the receptionist for explaining the bars to me. By the morning I will have forgotten all about that note as I have other things to worry about.

I end up talking a lot with the girls as the guys are getting way too drunk to have a decent conversation with anymore. They’re originally from Tartu, one of the two Estonian cities I’ve actually been to. And I know my way around the place, so it’s fun to get a native view on what it’s really like. “Boring” seems to be the answer. But still, hearing stories of familiar places rekindles the flame I have for that city. I will have to go there again next summer for a couple of days at least. Road trip, anyone?

Eventually the night comes to an end and we part ways. I still have no idea what these people did for their living or what their names were. They hop in a cab and head home. I walk two blocks, smile and nod at the receptionist and head upstairs to the 14th floor to get some well-deserved rest.

I finally have the feeling that coming on this trip is going to be totally worth it.

So the typical mistake I make when blogging is that I try to formulate a brilliant post with some sort of a overall theme and structure. Something that arches through the whole post just like some arch-shaped thing that arches. A smart and witty beginning, a middle that builds up the point and an end that summarizes it all in just a couple of sentences. I promise to try and avoid that the best I can this time and just keep rambling what happened at Tampere, leaving you wondering why you spent time reading it and ending the whole thing mid-sentence.

There are some basic needs a man has to fill before he can let his guard down and focus on having fun. It is the evening of Christmas Day, I am sitting in a hotel room at Tampere, and most of those basic needs are well taken care of. There is the room itself (the need for shelter), the restaurant downstairs (the need for food), the sauna (the need for warmth) and my luggage (the need for clothing). The one thing missing is wireless internet access (the need for internet). That’s something that I’ll have to be fixing, stat.

I waltz down to the reception again. It’s only right that if I don’t have internet, the receptionist won’t have a chance to surf the web for latest celebrity gossip either on her work computer.

“Hello there again! I have some more questions… Does your hotel have WLAN?”

“Y…”

“Do I need some username / password -thing to access it?”

“Wel…”

“Is there something I need to…”

“Here, take this,” she cuts me off this time, “it’s all you need.”

She smiles and hands me a piece of paper with all the info I need.

Damn, she’s good.

So I make it like a weasel and find myself on the net only a couple of seconds later. I check the local websites to see if anything might be happening at Tampere tonight. No, still nothing. I log on to my IM program see if any of my friends from Tampere are online. Nope. They’re surprisingly smart and thus nowhere near here today. Or the internet for that matter. Damn normal people.

I complain about the cold to someone via IM, he asks what on Earth am I doing at Tampere anyways and why on Earth am I online at a hotel when I should be doing something. I am not sure how to answer, so I claim I’m here to have fun and just waiting for my hair to dry before heading out. Technically true, but not really. There is a hair-dryer in the room. But it’s an excuse to stay indoors in the fuzzyness instead of dying from hypothermia by walking out the door. Things start dawning on me, slowly.. What am I doing here that I couldn’t have done at home? I lean back and think about it while channel surfing for a moment. Japanese anime on Nelonen, news on BBC, some sports on some sport channel.

I have a pact to uphold. Go out there, find adventure. Not just lounge about. I suit up, take the elevator downstairs and return to my source of information on all things Tampere.

“Hi!”

I admit, the cheerful attitude of hers is contageous

“Hiya. You had that list of places that are open?”

“Yes, it’s somewhere here. What would you like to do? Eat, drink, dance?”

“No idea. Pretty much open for anything, as I really don’t know what I’m doing here. What can you tell me about those places?” I’m not really giving her any opportunity to spend her evening at work in peace and quiet. She’ll have to earn those holiday bonuses.

And oh boy, she’s earned every penny. After a very long conversation, I have a map in my hands, with the most important bars and nightclubs of Tampere marked on it. And I know their style and what sort of people goes where, when and why. We somehow figure out that London pub or Henry’s will be my bar of choice for the beginning of the evening and then branch out from there. I thank her and walk out. My testicles respond to the temperature by hiding. Yeah, still freezing out here. Henry’s is closer and would be the sane choice, so of course I walk the extra block and go to London. On the way there I almost slip and break my neck three times.

And it’s closed.

I am shocked. Was the receptionist wrong?

I stagger back to Henry’s – it’s closed as well. Something’s off. I look at the time, and to my surprise it’s not nine, but eight.

Oops.

So, I have an hour to spare. My first instinct is of course to go back and annoy the receptionist a bit longer, but I choose against it. It’s not about conforming into my typical patterns, this time. The air is cold, so I don’t want to stay outside any more than absolutely necessary. I look around and find a restaurant-type place nearby. For some reason, I start talking about the weather with the bartender and the discussion then turns to Finnish movies and how there hasn’t been any quality in them for years.

There is a very special place in Hell somewhere.

Tucked away behind the lakes of fire and disembowelment chambers so that normal people who get tortured for eternity can’t even see it. I don’t have the slightest clue to what horrible sins one must commit to end up in there, but it’s a big room with nothing but a gigantic screen in it. And you’re tied in front of it, and they play Finnish military farces on that big screen, non-stop.  For all eternity. And you have to watch. These movies are a unique art-form in the sense that they are funny as long as you’re too young to understand the jokes. Once you grow up enough to get it, you’re too old for them. There is really no other explanation than them being some form of Hellish design.

We talk about Uuno Turhapuro and Vääpeli Körmy for a while, I get something light to eat, read the newspaper and then it’s time to get back on track with the adventuring. Henry’s is still empty and I don’t want to be alone for a minute longer, so I walk back towards London. This time I actually slip on the way, but sadly don’t break anything, so this story doesn’t turn into a medical drama with hot nurses and Vicodin-addicted doctors. Just me, at Tampere.

There is quite many people at London when I get there. A duo of surprisingly trendy girls is sitting in the corner and four guys are dancing to Dr. Alban on the dance floor without their shirts. I go get myself a drink and decide to

I’ll continue with the story after New Year’s.

The easy thing to do next, after posting a fun lighthearted travel report, would be to start writing some stuff with a clear agenda – And to be fully honest with you, I’d love to talk about the way franchises have spread out so that everything is always the same, no matter where you go. Or something really strong and clear like that. But I’ll stick to the plan and write about my trip away from a Christmas in Helsinki.

Quick recap: There I am, in the middle of the busiest street of Tampere, in the afternoon (the traditional rush-hour time in Finland), and there is not a soul in sight. My hotel is only a short trip away, near the river and there is no point in not walking the distance. I think I see about 7 cars and 3 more people on the way. Two of them are Brits who walk from the train station to the hotel with me. Welcome to Tampere, hope you enjoy your stay, we won’t be around to make sure you do.

I get my room key card, spend a good moment figuring out the elevator system and head to my room as soon as I get over the shame of not understanding modern technology. The first thing there I’m greeted by a television screen. I dismiss the welcome message on the screen and Disney Channel pops up. An episode of Cars Toons where some old pick up truck is imagining itself as the main character of The Fast and The Furious 3: Tokyo Drift. Some sort of a low-point must have been reached when they came up with that idea.

I stare in disbelief for a few moments at the 3D animated version of the bastard stepchild of a Vin Diesel movie and decide to head downstairs and get something to eat before I feel too sick to even consider. I go past the Amarillo tex-mex bar and to the Fransmanni restaurant. Both of them are part of the S-Ryhmä group, same as the hotel, and really are the reason I wanted to add an agenda to this post at some point. But I’ll skip the rant with a passing mention that there are really well-thought out franchises and brands that hail from Finland and Sweden that don’t have anything to be shamed about in comparison to the American ones that people usually blame for the emerging monoculturalism. Just travel the Baltics for a moment or two.

I sit down in a quiet corner table and order some food. A nice compilation of jazz and swing songs is playing in the background. When I arrive I’m the only one around, but am soon joined by a Japanese businessman, carrying a shiny briefcase and looking very stern and important. He sits in the table next to me, leaving his briefcase almost in my reach and starts looking through the menu. Now, remember the whole jazz soundtrack playing in the background and this being a hotel restaurant with a high class atmosphere. The waitress fumbles, or something like that happens (I have no idea what exactly, I was looking outside at this point) and suddenly the Japanese man is standing up and walking away from his table, talking loudly to the waitress who might be apologizing or explaining in response while backing away.

There lies the briefcase in my reach, there is a distraction that feels oh-so-well choreographed. There is the angry, important-looking Japanese man and there is the cool soundtrack. Everything sort of falls into place in my mind – I let the scenario of me snatching the case or switching it with a duplicate play in my head a few times. It’s so perfectly Ocean’s Eleven that when I let myself return from my fantasies, I have a stupid grin on my face. Being a friend of heist movies is rewarding sometimes, it seems. The Japanese man calms down and everything sort of cools off.

And happiness finally finds me, wearing the guise of good food and an unintentional movie genre reference. I walk back to the reception, where a pretty receptionist is stuck working through the holiday weekend, and worse – she’s stuck helping me through the day.

“Hiya,” I say with a wide, happy smile. The smile would be a warning sign if you knew me, but the poor girl doesn’t.

“Hello. Anything I can help you with?”

“Well, depends. Do you know if there is anything to do here today?”

“Well, not much, but we’ve been putting together a list, one moment!” she’s visibly happy that someone’s asking after the hard work that has been done, pulls out a paper and starts telling me which bars are open in the evening. I listen, smile and nod. And then ask the question that makes her smile drain from her lips and feel embarrassment for her home town.

“No, I mean is there anything to do today, during the daytime? Some art stuff happening in the parks or I don’t know, something?”

“Oh…Well. No, I don’t know about that.”

We ponder for a while if there is anything happening, checking the local newspaper and all, but the city is pretty literally dead. The only things she can think to do before the bars open is hang around at the hotel restaurant or go to the sauna section. She apologizes, I tell her not to worry and head out to explore the city.

My background with Tampere is a pleasant one. There are no ex girlfriends here, no bad work experiences, just a lot of friends who live here. I’ve come to the city several times before and I shouldn’t be a stranger to the place. But truth be told, I’ve never really had the chance to wander around and get the feel of the city.

I do what I always do in a new city – Make a mental note where the hotel is, pick a direction, walk, find awesome. It usually works pretty well. And this gives me a chance to finally formulate a map of all the places I had been to on my previous visits. I head towards Pyynikki, and somehow manage to take a wrong turn and miss the view tower (which might actually be open, unlike everything else). I see lots of pretty buildings, freezing my ears off. (note to self: buy ear muffs) But otherwise the trip is pretty uneventful.

On the way back I realize the first thing that I’ve forgotten to take with me – ice skates. There is a rink open, and I remember thinking, half-joking at the time, if I should take them with me. I watch couples enjoy the evening moment and a father teaching a kid skate for the first time. It’s nice to think that all the presents this Christmas weren’t video games or DVDs.

I am clearly getting into the winter mood. It’s a time for warmth, beauty and happiness. I find myself thinking of the cute receptionist on my way back to the hotel and how I want to ask her something when I see her again. She’s sitting at the reception desk when I get there. I walk to her, and manage to get words formed from underneath the mask of ice and snow covering my face.

“You mentioned something about the hotel having a sauna?”

First posts and all that. Lots of pressure. Need to set the over-all themes and moods and things like that. My previous big blog started with “I’m single again” and ended up being about my life as a nerd. So, they matter.

I’m at the Tampere railway station, waiting for my train to Jyväskylä to arrive. The weather is close to what postcard-makers have their wet dreams over – brisk, cold, snowy. Very snowy. The sort of snowy that covers statues just perfectly so that you still see the form, but it still conveys the image of purity with the white veil that hangs on it and says “perfect to ski here, mate!” in an Australian accent.

Your friends who get the postcards you send to them made in this weather will look at them and gasp in awe – “Oh dear, Poodles. The Wellingtons are in such a pretty place. Should we go there as well next year?” They won’t, of course since they have to deal with that nasty sex scandal when the winter comes. So your secret will stay safe. Those magical postcard moments come with a price. Why do they think there was no-one in the picture of that beautiful building draped in snow? It’s so damn cold and windy no-one sane would go outside.

I’ll get to my current situation in a few posts time, hopefully, but let’s rewind a couple of days and get to the beginning of this all. Xmas Eve. I’m sitting home, getting ready to spend the next couple of days in Christmas bliss – listening to hip-hop and pop punk, drinking Pepsi Max and re-reading Warren Ellis’ Transmetropolitan. Someone on this Earth needs to uphold the important holiday traditions, so why not me. I start chatting with a friend on Facebook and the next thing I know I’ve made a pact with her to get the Hell away from where we’re currently at (I’m in Helsinki, she’s in Geneve) on the first train that leaves on Christmas Day and reporting what happens on our trips via the Internet. There are few things that I’m very vulnerable to. One of them is crazy ideas like this.

So, quick reservation of train tickets, book rooms at hotels and pack the bag. On Christmas Day I wobble to the train station around noon. The only people around are a bunch of Romani kids flirting with each other and trying to get smokes from passer-bys. Few moments later more people start arriving. Black, gray, black, dark brown, blue jeans. Occasional young blonde thing in a white coat. A blur of people dressed in camouflage from being noticed rush by. This is Helsinki on Christmas Day. Hurry, worry, anxiety. People call their friends how they’ve missed the train and swear how everything is shit. How the timetables on the internet weren’t accurate (even if they were) and how now the Christmas is ruined because of it. A guy in a pilot jacket with a big dog exchanges glances with the dark-skinned workers rushing through the station.

The train arrives. I get a seat opposite to a young woman who is knitting socks for her godchildren. First sign of Finns being more than just dark and depressed on this trip. She’s going to Hämeenlinna, so she’s there only for the first half of my trip to Tampere. We don’t talk much or anything like that. Just small-talk, laughing at the situations that rise in the train (and there are a lot of those). The usual stuff. It feels so normal while it’s going on that you don’t even realize how out of place it is in a Finnish travel environment. She hops off at Hämeenlinna. For a moment I wonder if I should have gone there instead of Tampere.

I really start missing the woman when the seat she leaves vacant is filled by some kid who keeps telling his dad stories of what he saw on the Duudsonit DVD set he had gotten for a Christmas present from his mom (apparently the parents are divorced and the kid was with the mom for Christmas Eve and heads to dad’s place for the rest of the holidays). His father protests and says he doesn’t want to hear about it. But still the kid continues. He’s so fascinated by the people who had put hooks into their skin and pulled a car several meters with wires tied to the hooks that he doesn’t realize how awkward his dad is being about it. The dad’s too old and too proper for that shit, and his ex-wife is ruining his kid with that garbage when he’s not there to keep guard. He will probably make them ski and play some video games when they get to where-ever they were going. Just so that he can keep control of how fast they are aging.

To distract myself from the kid, I put on some music and I find myself thinking how awesome Tampere will be. Full of Christmas festivities, parks filled with performances and art. Maybe a Christmas Day market. At least a lot of people who are doing interesting stuff. And a beautiful weather.

At this point, imagine a fast cut some hour or so forward, to me standing in the middle of the empty main street of Tampere, wind blowing snow everywhere. No cars or people are in sight. And it’s getting dark (even though it’s like 3pm)

Suddenly I wonder if I really should have hopped off at Hämeenlinna instead. The magic post-card moment is peeling my face off with it’s magical postcardness.