How to spend Christmas day

Eating. Later in the afternoon than usual. Allow time for a walk of around 30 to 40 minutes in order to ease post-dinner conscience. Open presents and remember to smile lots because some (a lot) people are far less fortunate. And pick up some sale bargains online, including that nice blue shirt which looks an awful lot like my other blue shirts. But that's the point in being a consumer: we are supposed to buy things that we don't really need; otherwise we'd be animalistic, taking only what we need when we need it. Here is the thing that I (now) own with the biggest differential ratio of size and expense to actual need:

Helsinki has been remarkably warm this year. But England is even warmer. While being the antipathy of "real" Christmas, it certainly made for a lovely walk. Here is a rather nice church, located in the grounds of the manor near where my parents live.

The church has a sad story attached to it. The son of the family who owned the manor was kidnapped in Turkey and held to ransom. By the time the family had got the money together it was too late. So, in memory of his life, they built this church, which stands apart from the rest of the village and has never really been a working church. But it's very ornate, and it's set among some incredibly majestic trees, such as the one below (which happens to look like a person).

Merry Christmas Finland, hello England

It was a choice between 17.15 on Friday (and possibly missing glögi and gingerbread, courtesy of my benevolent workplace) and 7.40 on Saturday (and possibly missing my alarm clock and then the plane). I chose 7.40, had more than my share of glögi, gingerbread and (interestingly) green cheese, and more than managed to wake up in time for my flight on Saturday. My ability to wake up owes no small debt to my parental wake-up call (benevolent, just like my workplace) which negated the need for my army of alarm clocks (four in total). Shortly after arriving in London, and making one or two choice Christmas sale purchases pour petit moi, I met Madeleine and we had a fantastic and super premium meal at the Gilbert Scott in St. Prancas. I considered taking one or two photographs of the wonderfully-restored Victorian architecture that engirdled us while we ate our three-course dinner. But then somewhere in my sub-conscious I am still hoping to become a successful – and very rich – lawyer and taking such photographs would certainly not be consonant with this future me. The real beauty was when I arrived home and saw the tree that my mother had decorated.

Strange happenings, Christmas tree

I woke up this morning to find an interesting ensemble outside my door. I don't have a Christmas tree myself but now apparently the hallway does. I had some friends over last night and I wondered whether they had left this surprise for me. But then they are mostly lawyers and I therefore suspect that such an artistic endeavour is beyond their (conscious) capabilities.

Flims, you're wonderful

While last weekend seems somewhat far away after the week I've had, the trip to Flims was truly an amazing experience. It was my work's Christmas *slash* 75th anniversary bash and within about 30 seconds of arriving at Waldhaus (our fantastic 5* hotel) I knew I had timed my secondment to perfection. The week before had been relatively stormy but the skies were clear, the sun was shining and the snow (brought by the mid-week storm) added a Christmassy-touch delightful to a humble Englishman like me. Of course, I twist the truth here to be more dramatic: by the time we had arrived it was already dark and our trip was relatively arduous (two hour delay due to snow at the we-never-shut-because-of-snow-sleet-or-wind Helsinki-Vantaa airport and the pleasures of flying Blue1). However, when I woke up the following day and heading over to the lobby for breakfast, I was truly in love.

I've been meaning to compile a list of cultural differences for sometime now. When I do, here's one I'll definitely add to my list: drinking songs. Yes, we probably have drinking songs in England, and I probably don't drink enough (or socially enough) to know about them. Indeed I'm pretty sure the Scots must have at least some drinking songs (maybe an adaption of a Burns' poem – but hopefully not). But we definitely don't distribute hymn sheets prior to a traditional black tie event, we definitely don't have ice-cold vodka shots (aka Schnapps) ready on our tables, and we definitely don't engage in rapturous, deep-throated and jocund singing. So much singing went on that I barely had time to finish my dinner. (By the way, I've noticed recently that every time I write the word "finish" I end up writing "finnish". I personally blame Leila White's From Start to Finnish for this particular transgression.) Of course, we all got terribly intoxicated, and of course, I adhered strictly to my work's strict RESPECT THE PRIVACY OF YOUR COLLEAGUES [especially when they are intoxicated] policy, so here is another perfectly innocent and wholly-beautiful picture of Flims.

We also went curling. This is a sport that I understood is popular among certain Scots and which looks incredibly easy on TV (it's like boules on ice and we all know that boules is best described as a past time and not a sport) but which turns out to be incredibly difficult in real life. Luckily I escaped with only my masculinity damaged. One of my colleagues dislocated his shoulder on the ice. Sure glad that wasn't me. Again, I did take one or two amusing photographs, but, since we were probably over the legal limit, I will respect the privacy of my colleagues once again. So here's another uncontroversial picture, this time of the curling hall.

Tallinn is still a free country

It occurs to me only now that anyone reading this post (or my previous post in relation to Tallinn) may think I think that Tallinn is a country. But I don't. ANYWAY, my work kindly arranged a trip to see my work's friend (aka another law firm with whom they are extra friendly) and that law firm happened to be in Tallinn. And Tallinn most certainly was free this time and most certainly was just as interesting as before. Well, maybe a little colder and a little darker, and with a bit (but only a bit) more snow.

Here's Liberty Square (above). Not sure why there is a Finnish flag in the background.

This is a fully-restored former merchants' house. The protruding steel pulleys were used to hoist salt (which sold at a premium in the North of Europe) and other goods up to the top of the house. The merchants' families would have slept on the ground floor or basement.

 

It might be getting dark but at least we can turn on the leccy. It must have been a pretty miserable (and scary) place back in the 12th century.

Hot yoga, male frontal nudity

I've been trying to find a yoga class since coming to Helsinki. I'm not exactly flexible but I've always intended to become more so. Therefore, when my colleague invited me to attend "hot yoga", my conscience (because of course I don't really want to do yoga – I've done it before and it hurts – I really just want to satisfy that part of me that thinks I should do more for my long-term health) wouldn't let me say no. And class was intense. Hot yoga is yoga but in a hot room. Because the Finnish people really like saunas and someone had the great idea of combining the two. And because the Finnish people are so sporty and in every respect physically superior to me I could barely keep up. And I don't know whether I'll be able to use my knees again. Thankfully (and unlike Finnish saunas) it didn't involve any nudity. Which brings me on to my question to you: are Finnish men preoccupied with male frontal nudity? I avoided all forms of nudity during yoga class and, like any self-respecting Brit would do, when changing for the shower I applied the towel to my waste, slipped my underwear off and—voila!—I was ready for the shower with minimal exposure. But apparently this was amusing to the other Finnish men in the shower room. Did I commit a cultural faux pas? Minä olen Englantilainen!!! I do not want to be unnecessarily nude in front of other men. But the cost is mockery.

First snowfall, Independence Day

Sure enough, the ineluctable winter has begun to set in, and we have our first snowfall here in Helsinki.

Helsinki Boat Club

Kallio – light snow

And it has fallen on the eve of Finnish Independence Day (which, I understand from my colleagues, is a day all about watching black and white television, listening to some Sibelius and watching dinner at the Presidential Palace).

Olso vs. Helsinki

Viime viikonloppuna, kavini hyvä ystavani jotka asuu olsossa. (Last weekend, I visited my good friend who lives in Oslo.) It was his birthday. And he had a party. So not only did I get a tour of Oslo but I also experienced a snapshot of what it's like to live in another Nordic country. Hence my observations are entitled "Oslo vs. Helsinki". And let's kick-off with the Presidential Palace, which is considerably more palatial than the Finnish (bungalow) equivalent and even has a Christmas tree in the centre.

Norway seems somewhat detached, both physically and culturally, from the Finland I've got to know during the last three months. In fact, I actually believe there were more similarities between london and Oslo than Oslo and Helsinki (minus the size, scale and cosmopolitan make-up of London). My ex-flatmate is Norwegian and she said, rather candidly, that Norwegians, especially young Norwegians, had got a little complacent with the cradle-to-the-grave welfare state that has been so buttressed by North Sea oil.  I see a lot of comparisons here to the sense of entitlement that many young English people seem to exude (myself included). The Fins, unlike the Norwegians and the English, have a somewhat different persona. Finnish history is the history of a hard slog and the Finnish national attitude is conspicuously Finnish self-deprecating (at least to outsiders). Of course, having oil is not all bad: take, for example, the fantastic Olso Opera House, which is not only architecturally sublime, but also operated with the most laid back and welcoming Norwegian-vibe possible.

This is the same building, but we're now on the roof. And you can follow it up to almost the very top.

I was greeted by pouring rain when I first arrived. I came from rain in Helsinki and all three of Oslo, Stockholm and Helsinki are pretty miserable in the rain. Which is why I think they're all deviations on a Mancurian-theme. But with nicer modern buildings. This one is has something (or a lot) to do with the Nobel Peace Prize.

Fortunately it had cleared up by the afternoon and on the Sunday, after my friend's birthday party, I was kindly taken to the ski slope (the site of the Winter Olympics) for some fantastic scenery. The train journey (which is akin to the London Overground) was typically Scandinavian. In other words, smooth and pleasant: the opposite to England.

Last year this place was covered in snow. Fimbulvetr – I'm not so sure.

Of course Helsinki "wins" – it has been my home for three months and will continue to be so for the next three. (While you can erase cabin fever from being stuck in a small cabin by simply leaving the cabin, you can't erase cabin fever quite so easily if you've got it from being stuck in a small city for six months.) But I love cities, and seeing another one from the perspective that I saw it was an unforgettable experience. Thank you to Matthew and Ida for a lovely weekend.

Homesickness, Porvoo

The relentless rain we are currently experiencing is pretty miserable. Of course, having lived in London for the past five or so years, and being from Leeds, which, while admittedly not getting as much rainfall as Manchester, is still pretty wet and miserable, you might think that I am somewhat well-adjusted to this kind of weather. And of course it provides an excellent topic of conversation (incidentally, I didn't realise how much I talk about the weather until I came to Helsinki, and I didn't appreciate how useful it could be when making small talk). But the quality of the rain here is different. It's not worse (assuming cold rain water does in fact have a quality spectrum). It's just different. It just doesn't feel like England.

Perhaps the comfortable shoe of weather-related small talk is now the vessel through which I am experiencing my first pangs of homesickness. I don't think attending the heavy metal bar PKRL (which is an abbreviation of perkele, a naughty word in Finnish) last night did much to alleviate this feeling. To be far, we (myself and my comrade from Stockholm) had a pretty good time. The only hairy moment was unrelated to heavy metal, and involved a mildly intoxicated Zambian lady wanting to know what we did for a living. On telling her that we were lawyers (which in hindsight was a mistake), she sat down next to us, insisted we told her where we worked (don't worry, she was convinced we worked at "Russian") and managed to extract a business card from my friend.

This weekend wasn't all doom and gloom. A very nice lady from work took us to her hometown of Porvoo, Finland's second city (I should clarify: it's the second oldest city; there are only c. 50,000 inhabitants, 30 per cent. of whom are Swedish-speaking Finns). Alexander I, the Russian Tsar who annexed Finland from Sweden, lived in Porvoo for a while and apparently had a mistress (and at least one illegitimate child) who hung out in the town square.

Porvoo is famous for being the birthplace of the Finnish independent state. It was at Porvoo cathedral that Tsar Alexander I convened the Porvoo Diet and declared that he would govern Finland in accordance with its ancient laws, which led to the "myth" of Finnish constitutionalism, and which in turn led to the ineluctable rise of Finnish nationalism, and which ultimately resulted in the reality of Finnish constitutionalism and the independent state in 1917. Unfortunately lepers were not allowed in this cathedral. They had to hang out beneath the bell tower, which is located in a separate stone building next to the church. And funnily enough, Finnish speaking Finns were not allowed in the church either, and they had to hang out in this red wooden building next to the bell tower.  You can see that there was a definite hierarchy in Swedish Porvoo.

Kallio, sunshine

Every city has a working-class district, or rather a traditionally working-class district that has now become "hip", bohemiafied (I made that word up) by a commingle (I did not make that word up) of yuppies, art students and trustafarians. For London, that district comprises certain parts of the East End (Fashion Fields, Columbia Road, Brick Lane, Hackney...) For Stockholm, as I recently discovered, the area is Södermalm, aka SoFo, as in Stockholm's answer to London's Soho (but really more like Stockholm's answer to the East End). Since the sun was shining, and since I hadn't really been to Kallio until now, I decided to go for a wander. I'm sure that I didn't stumble upon the coolest places and, since it was a Sunday, they would have probably been closed anyway, but here are some nice photographs.

Predictably, Kallio is deserted, and also predictably, there is a great big church which dominates the skyline.

It's the working-class district so high-density housing is part of the bargain. However, unlike the ex-working council estates in London, the surrounding area is clean, quiet and strikingly harmonious.

Or it could just be that the residents are in hibernation.

I felt a little more at home when I saw a sign for an Indian Market.

And if I wasn't feeling at home already, I saw this bus parked in the market square. Of course, one can't really blame the Finns. With Helsinki being so expensive, it must be hard to resist a flat-pack sofa.

 

All Saints' Day, lonely weekend

Saturday was All Saints' Day, a Finnish bank holiday, despite hardly anyone in Finland being Catholic. This meant that almost all the shops were closed on Saturday. Not knowing many people in Finland, and in the absence of not being able to spend at least some of my weekend shopping (most shops are closed on Sundays), the upshot is that I've scarcely left the house for 48 hours. I've also slept quite a lot and consequently I'm having trouble separately dreamworld from reality. At least being a hermit has allowed me to practice my Finnish. My favourite thing about Finnish is that it's so crazy not even Google translator gets it right. Makes me think that nominally I'm learning a new language but really I'm learning a secret code that someday will help me to take over the world. With the help of the Finnish army.

Minä puhun suomea vähän nyt. Totta kai, minä asun Helsinki enkö niin?

I can speak Finnish a little now. Of course, I live in Helisnki don't I?

Despite my uneventful weekend, I did have time to notice that something big is happening in the central square. My conclusion is they've either begun constructing the winter ice-rink or someone has made the most controversial town planning decision in Finnish history.

P.S. There were no fireworks for me this weekend. This is very sad because I've always loved fireworks ever since I was a little boy. I thought about getting some myself but they're illegal on any day but Independence Day. I also have no idea where to buy them from.

Anteeksi, saisinko ilotulitus kiitos?

Excuse me, where can I buy fireworks?

How to Marry a Finnish Girl

While browsing the Academic Bookshop I stumbled upon a book called How to Marry a Finnish Girl. It seems that some dude from Brazil has written a book about his love for Finnish women, or rather his love for chasing Finnish skirt.

Included in this *cough* illustrious book are chat up lines that range from the cheesy ("Can I have your autograph, Miss Finland?") to the crude ("Let's go ice-fishing so I can put my rod in your hole") to the quite amusing in a rather juvenile kind of way ("Tell me your name and I'll write it in the snow with my yellow pen"). The book goes on to describe how Finnish men have trouble expressing their emotions (which apparently leaves ample opportunity for the effeminate foreigner) and claims that Finnish girls are better than Swedish girls because they hate their fathers. Naturally I'm tempted to buy a copy and send it to Timo Soini but unfortunately it's quite expensive.

Deceptively pleasant

While I am writing somewhat retrospectively, I thought it nevertheless worth documenting some of the more pleasant times in Helsinki, times prior to my demise into full-blown autumn. The trees are now leafless, and seemingly lifeless, and the clouds make the skyline grimmer than the burger grills that occupy some of the wider and more populous street corners. My first few weekends here were quite pleasant, replete with sunny skies and warm weather. Dare i say that i actually left the house without a jacket (unfortunately I do not have photographic proof of this phenomenon)? In the photograph below, we have two giddy and carefree Fins talking on a sunny afternoon. Naturally the street is otherwise deserted (it's Helsinki of course) and I know they must be Fins since there's only a three or four non-Fins living in the whole of Helsinki (myself included).

Naturally now that these brighter days are gone I've begun preparing myself for winter in earnest. Anyone that knows me knows that preparing for seasonal change is a synonym for updating my wardrobe. Or at least buying a new coat, and a new shirt or pair of trousers to go with said coat. So I spent some time thinking about what I needed most and I purchased a big down-filled coat, which really is more like a duvet, and makes an excellent pillow if I want to sit up straight in bed. When I first bought the coat it was still quite warm so I didn't wear it out. I also tried on the coat either half-naked or with only a t-shirt to cover my torso. Of course, now that it's actually getting cold, I'm wearing several layers, and when it gets colder I'll add some thermals and two or three extra jumpers, a scarf and a hat of some description. The thing is, while it fitted perfectly well when i was half-naked, or when my torso was covered by only a t-shirt, it doesn't fit so well with a jumper, not to mention some thermals, two or three extra jumpers, a scarf and a hat of some description (not sure how the latter would affect how it fits but the point is still made). So I have a problem (see below).

While everything may look hunky-dory, and while my lovely new cardigan (which I bought shortly after the coat) is sadly much more photogenic than me, there is no way that coat is going to close up without cutting off circulation to at least some part of my brain. The question is: what can I about it? I can't return the jacket (I bought it more than a month ago now and I've worn it at least a few times) and I dare say it was quite expensive (duvets with sleeves don't come cheap). I'm tempted to buy something new, such as the wonderful jacket by some lame-ass but somehow now cool 90s french "designer", but I'm struggling to see how it could be anything more than a total waste of money.

Tallinn is a free country

We've had more rain this autumn than *insert some long, mouth-opening time period, which i seem to recall was more than a decade*. My colleagues tell me that this means one of two things: either we're in for a really bad(ass) winter, or we're in for a mild winter, or presumably somewhere in the middle, because they're clearly hedging their bets. Regardless of how cold it is in Helsinki, it'll certainly be cold in Tallinn, at least if my recent expedition is anything to go by. Here's a photograph of Madeleine at the dock.

Cross-referencing longitude is not a sure-fire way to predict how freezing a place will be. Tallinn resides somewhere south-east of Helsinki, underneath Russia, propped up by another ex-communist country, which most likely possesses an equally beautiful "old town" but is otherwise full of concrete monstrosities similar to the above. I was therefore a little shocked to notice a 3 degrees weather report on the catamaran, compared to Helsinki's now seemingly very generous 7. Fortunately, unlike some other cold countries I know, it turns out Estonia handles it well (unlike the interior decor of their churches). This is especially true when it comes to alcohol. Warm wine, warm beer. From a very nice man in a grey snow-flake jumper. Yum! Unfortunately Tallinn does modern art museums less well, to which the following is testament.

Things that happened in September

I played football here and learnt the hard way just how sport-crazy the Finns are. This photograph was taken after the game when I was by myself because I had forgotten my towel and consequently couldn't sauna. By the way the grass is fake.

I enjoyed the last remaining days of summer and took random pictures of architecture in Helsinki. I can't quite remember the significance of this particular building but it is rather typical of the neo-classical design that can be seen around old part of the city.

And lastly, I watched the last remaining sunlight soak the tallest buildings, knowing full well that just as the sun sets at the end of each day, so too must it set on the warmth and gaiety of September.