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).

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.

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.

 

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.