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.

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.