It was a perfect day. After running some errands in town and after a bit of writing I jumped on my bike and set out riding through the forest until I reached a nearby lake. And that nearby lake can never be too far away in Finland anyway. I leaned my bike against a tree, glanced at the kids splashing in the lake and perched myself on a sunny chair-like rock poking out of the water. After a contemplative moment I decided to pull newspaper instead of my swimming shorts out of the shoulder bag.

It is summer and coming from about twenty degrees south of here, I am still very much used to associating summers with scorching heat and thinking oftentimes about ways of protecting oneself from the burning sun and hardly bearable heat. Both of which is usually accomplished by staying indoors only to peek out once the sun has set. I believe I need not remind you anymore that matters such as weather are rather different around here. Although there are a few perks that are definitely still worth mentioning. One of them is tolerance.

All the technological advancements in garments aside, people everywhere still complain about bad weather. I don’t ever expect this to change. Bad is of course whenever something is falling out of the sky or even if it’s just being hot or cold. So it’s not really a big surprise that people spending their whole life living in the same place get used to the local climate complain merrily when they relocate to a different environment. Heck, some complain regardless of what is going on. Finns can be particularly vocal when the winters are not cold enough. Which is strange enough as they also perpetually complain about them being too cold too. Often both statements by the same person in the same sentence.

I’ve noticed this is no different when the summer comes. Alright, one would expect that rainy and cold summers might not be this nation’s favorite flavor of the season, but hear, hear, they spread it all over the front pages of their national newspapers when it gets too sunny and warm too. And you’d be surprised how cold this can still feel.

A couple of years ago I’ve read an interesting piece about weather and how our bodies adjust to temperatures and as a result we have different perceptions on when the weather is cold or hot depending on where we live. I can’t remember the exact details, so don’t quote me on this in your high school science reports, or anything similar. Anyway, it was the temperature differences that astounded me so much that I remembered the numbers from the article. The authors claimed how the limit for hot weather in Greece is around 35°C, while that same limit in Finland is around 25°C. A difference of whole ten degrees Centigrade.

Even if it wasn’t for reading this article I couldn’t track down, this difference is already obvious by just looking at the thermometer and looking at what people are doing outside. I think I’d have a really difficult time imagining that anyone would walk around topless at 25°C in Greece. Not only that Greeks wouldn’t go purposefully sunbathing, the thought of it alone wouldn’t even begin to cross their minds in such chilling conditions. And Finns? At 25°C, men are more than happy to take their shirts off, women will lie for hours at a time in their bikinis wherever there is anything green in town and newspaper editors will send their junior journalists on assignments as absurd as checking which bars in Helsinki would serve topless men without issuing complaints about their half unnatural attire. And it doesn’t even have to be 25°C, on a sunny day 20°C is more than enough.

Their affair with natural waters is similar. They swim in the sea and lakes all around the country at what are for me suspiciously low temperatures. Sure, they like it when the water is warm, but it’s difficult to figure out when warm is as people really do go for a swim, whether the temperature of water is 4°C and they need to cut a hole in the ice or 24°C. A couple of months ago the temperature of the Baltic sea had risen to something even my mother who doesn’t even think about dipping her toes into anything less than hot spa water would consider for a swim, just to see it drop to no more than 13°C overnight. But I don’t think this temperature swing made anyone change their mind. Ten degrees up or down, who cares.

Well, as a matter of fact, I do. Even though I don’t need a thermometer to figure out if I’m going for a swim or not. If it’s only kids gleefully splashing in the water and their observant parents sit fully clothed on the shore, I’ll try some other day.

After all it’s not really difficult to figure out an optimal climate for Finns, it is impossible. And it doesn’t really have to do with the weather anyway.

Mladen

Empty the backpack and place the stuff in neat piles on the floor around it in the most centrally located room in the flat. It’s the strategy I’ve just recently developed to avoid too many unnecessary erratic trips into different rooms as I replace separate items each to their own place after returning home from a trip. Since the amount of these few day long trips has on average amounted to almost two a week, a more efficient unpacking strategy had to evolve. But then on the other hand, this is just another sign that it’s summer time here in Finland.

Each and every single day of the summer has to be carefully planned and all possibilities have to be fully exhausted as such days are of very limited kind and thus so much more precious. I’ve already mentioned this phenomenon several times, but I really don’t think I could overemphasize it. Friday afternoons and Sunday evenings are a sellout for busses, trains and boats all around Finland as people flock to their or their friends’ and relatives’ summer cottages. These days spanning from early June to late August are no different for me either.

First all the weekends are taken. It might sound a bit ridiculous, but all of my weekends during this three-month period were fully booked already by the end of May. You must wonder what makes life so busy in the summer. My diversions range from various family get togethers and birthday parties to, well, just parties for the sake of partying and all kinds of experiments, which, believe it or not, this summer among others include also a weekend of yoga. And once you figure out your plan for the summer, it’s there to stay as you don’t want to miss out on anything. If not for any other reason, then because it ain’t difficult to imagine regrets and sorrow as winter begins approaching and days grow colder and shorter. You begin to feel contrite about possible slipped opportunities, even if it’s just a mind game. There you have it.

Such regrets would be completely justified. This passed weekend I’ve spent with my relatives on the island of Tammio in the eastern part of the Gulf of Finland could easily serve as typical example.

Although Tammio is really just a tiny patch of land lying several kilometers south of the mainland, its history is surprisingly colorful. It is really just a piece of granite rock sticking out of the sea, but it has been populated on and off for the past 1500 years as both strategic and commercial importance of Tammio swayed back and forth through the centuries. At six square kilometers the island is minuscule and everything from viking burial mounds to current summer residencies and all the historical remains in between are traversable on foot.

In spite of it’s importance Tammio was never really densely populated. In it’s heyday just a bit over 200 people considered Tammio to be their permanent home. One of the main reasons for such low population is of course that inhabitants couldn’t sustain themselves as they couldn’t get anything to grow on the island, not even potatoes. Of course, it was in the earnest interest of the state to keep people on Tammio and nearby islands as they served as strategic territories.

So it doesn’t come as a surprise that today the island springs to life only during the summer months when regular visitors, pensioners and very few tourists turn it into a sleepy community. And sleepiness is everything these people are looking for in the first place. The boat drifting to and fro Tammio, connecting it with civilization only a few times a week, partly attests to it’s sleepiness. Other proofs being that there is still no electricity and running water on the island and that paths crisscrossing the island are simply bedrock bared of moss which used to cover granite but long ago gave way to habitual walkers. No street noise, no cars, just squeaking sea gulls, wind in the canopy and waves hitting the shore form the sound landscape of this place.

It’s a bliss to spend a few days in a spot like this, exploring the island on foot and neighboring islands from a canoe. It’s absolutely fantastic to be away from all the noise, consume only as much electricity as can be harvested from the sun, drink water with a yellow tinge to it straight out of the garden well and forget about even such civilities as flushing down the toilet. Frankly speaking, I don’t really know for how long my central European mindset could leave behind all the comforts of life back in the civilized world. This time I returned home after just three days, but I think I should put myself on a test and see how long I’d last. But to do so I’d have to wipe clean my summer schedule first.

Mladen

What could be better than spending a warm sunny summer day picking strawberries. Picking and munching to be precise. With tens of strawberry fields in vicinity I can’t wait to get down on my knees and get my hands dirty. Picking is quick. In fact so quick that it’s relatively easy to get about two kilograms in about half an hour. It’s kind of fun, even though I have to admit that cultivated strawberry fields are more for the city slicker type of adventurers. You basically don’t even have to look for any berries as they are right there on the field staring right at you, it doesn’t require any special skill or endurance and even if you tried really, really hard it would be rather difficult to get lost. Which makes picking all other berries a completely different affair. They grow out in the wast forests and swamps, so you might want to put that emergency helicopter number into your mobile phone. If you are picking in the area with a network coverage, that is. Even though this might sound a bit strange, but they are much sweeter when picked like that. It could be more challenging and fun, but could also be too much for the feeble.

By visiting an open market in any Finnish town around this time of the year it’s easy to tell that we’re in the midst of the berry season. Strawberries and bilberries will soon be followed by raspberries, lingonberries, cloudberries, crowberries, cranberries, and what-you-know-it-berries as they gradually ripen in the weeks to come.

And people love picking them. According to some statistics I’ve stumbled upon two-thirds of Finns will pick berries during the summer. So if you spot a person standing in the swamp who appears to be loitering, it is very likely that they are literally knee deep in the berries (and water). Although this is Finland, it is not very likely that anyone would want to be killing their time in the middle of the swamp. Anyway, if you do happen to stumble upon such individuals, chances are both of you are in there for the same reason. Which also means you’re not only invading their turf, but also their privacy. Finns are nuts about their forest fruits and their personal space which can be on a clear day, out in the open within the radius of up to 80 kilometers.

Obviously this whole ordeal is about much more than just berries. It’s about being out and about your favorite swamp, enjoying silence and hopefully solitude too, taking in fresh air, getting a snack on the way and saving some for later. And taking pleasure in such activities is deeply rooted in cultures of all the Nordic peoples. All with the exception of Danes who live in way to densely populated areas to have developed such primal urge for the untouched nature. And the attitude of being one with flora and fauna is also a part of everyman’s right enjoyed by these peoples.

However, even before it was codified into law, which happened in the Nordic countries mostly in the 20th century, everyman’s right was a generally accepted custom. At least in Finland everyman’s right guarantees everyone the right to roam freely in the countryside, without the need to obtain permission from the owner of the land.

This custom has been an integral part of Nordic cultures where people have enjoyed it for hundreds of years. However, everyman’s right covers much more than just free roaming. One of the basic premises of this right is enjoying the fruits and joys of nature as long as you don’t cause any permanent damage. Not only are you allowed to pick berries and mushrooms, and fish without permission to a certain extent, but can also traverse the land at will and camp on it freely. And all this comes without the fear of getting shot, as might be the case in, for instance, the US where it is advised to take the ‘No trespassing’ signs with utmost seriousness. Here, the case is exactly the opposite: it is illegal to put up a ‘No trespassing’ sign and build a fence, even on your own land.

As if it wasn’t difficult enough to wrap my central European mind around such concept of practically boundless freedom, there is still more to these comforts. If you want to sell the collected fruits, not only are you allowed to do so, but are almost encouraged as you do not have to pay any taxes from the sales. Generous? If you consider that Finns annually collect more than 50 million kilograms of berries, I think it is not only generous, but also very tempting.

Even though I am pretty sure that most of berries end up being consumed before they are sold, the volume allocated for sale is still far from negligible. For some this means big business, while for others it can provide a livelihood. What has become a constant in the recent years in Finland are seasonal workers from Thailand who come here to pick berries during the summer months. They usually number in hundreds and in the matter of several weeks they pick enough berries to earn a living until the next season comes about.

Of course, these professional pickers are a bit different than you and me. First of all they have their own areas and know when and how to pick. Secondly, the work might not really be appreciated or even endured by many. The most praised and consequently the most expensive berry in Finland is cloudberry which grows only in swamps. I spoke to a salesman on the local market who buys cloudberries straight from pickers and he told me that on average these pickers pick anywhere from 100 to 150 kilograms of cloudberries per day. And during the high season cloudberries can easily reach prices of about 10€ per kilogram. However, I can’t really imagine that carrying a bucket of berries on my back and wading through the mosquito infested swamps would be fun for more than half an hour. So, I am pretty sure that every cent these people earn is well deserved.

But before you start packing your things and heading to Finland to do some lucrative business consider that this year the season has been worse than usual.

Mladen

I cannot really claim that I have ever in my life experienced a situation when I was exposed to any particularly perilous situation. Nevertheless, I could affirm that Finland is probably one of the safest places in the world. There are no natural disasters, no threats of war, famine, political upheaval or any kind of revolutions. If this place is ever dangerous it is around this day, add or take a day or two.

Why just now, I hear you saying? It’s summer, the weather is nice and relatively warm, so what could make this time of year particularly dangerous. Well, it might be exactly the weather that’s causing all the danger. Let me explain.

This coming Saturday Finns are celebrating what is probably the biggest party of the year for the whole nation. It is the midsummer or Juhannus as it is known around here. Even though midsummer should astronomically be the exact day of the summer solstice, no matter which day of the week it is, Finns celebrate it every year on a different date as long as it is a Saturday between June 20th and 26th. Which really is no surprise at all as they again prove just how flexible they are. But then again, seriously, who really cares whether it is the 20th or the 26th if the biggest party of the year is about to take place.

In Finland and in all of the other Nordic and Baltic countries Juhannus is one of the craziest parties of the year. Since it coincides with the longest day of the year this really means that the sky in most of Scandinavia will stay bright all night, if the sun sets at all. And after a dark, cold and all-night winter days who wouldn’t go crazy when it’s time for the sun to shine all the time.

Long, unusually warm days and short but very bright nights make people go nuts. I am pretty sure that every single village in Finland hosts at least four different festivals at the same time all of which are packed with people who have already been to sixteen other festivals in previous four villages they have visited on the same day. There is this urge within the nation at this time of the year to be outdoors as much as possible. As I stay sometimes all day inside reading or working on something, I have already developed a sense of guilt for not doing the same. And seriously, whoever survives the long, dark and cold winters around here has a difficult time understanding why someone would not want to come out when the ice melts. Maybe it’s that I haven’t seen enough of such winters yet. Who knows.

In the beginning I mentioned that if ever, it is around this time of year that being in Finland can actually be dangerous. Well, I already wrote on these pages about a sort of a Finnish national specialty of drowning with their zippers wide open. Although I have to say that this act is still a mystery to me. How can it be possible, especially since everyone, I mean, everyone is aware of the consequences they possibly face if they combine booze, boats and the urge to urinate. And, on top of everything, there is plenty of all sorts of direct and indirect warnings issued in the media asking people to try and avoid combining water with intoxication. But to no avail. Last year seven people drowned during Juhannus alone.

Alright, but that’s self-inflicted peril. With a tiny bit of smarts it can be easily avoided. What is a bit more unpredictable are assaults with a knife. You see, that is another Finnish speciality. Not particularly related to Juhannus, but to every season and time of the year. I don’t remember when was the last time that I did not see the news in the daily papers about someone being stabbed, usually several times. In fact, stabbing is so common that it amounts to about a third of all physical assaults. Which maybe even isn’t that surprising considering that one of the national icons is a handy dagger puukko. A useful tool, but add a little alcohol to the mixture and you might make the news either as assaulter or assaulted.

And speaking of booze, a friend of mine already pointed out in one of his comments that Finns really do not consume that much alcohol per person per year. True, but when they do, they consume a lot. Right after Christmas Juhannus is the second busiest time of the year for alcohol consumption. The state wine and liquor monopoly Alko expects to sell around 4 million liters of alcohol during this week alone. That is almost a liter per inhabitant. Which makes it a lot less surprising that Ukon juhla (as Juhannus used to be called during the pagan times) is at the same time a celebration of love, short-lived but passionate.

Mladen

Spending one of the last days in Sweden in Liseberg amusement park turned out to be almost the best choice. Considering all that unhealthy stress and tension that come along with moving, getting a healthy and constant dose of adrenalin for eight hours straight seems like the best one could do, instead of packing boxes, that is.

The owners of Liseberg claim to be the oldest, largest, baddest and the most visited amusement park in Scandinavia. I don’t know if all that is true, but I can say that some of their rides are so good that one simply never gets enough. Take, for instance, the Balder roller-coaster (in the photo above). Already from afar its magnificent wooden structure is awe inspiring, but once the tiny train rises to the top and just moments before it reaches that first 70 degree drop into the void, you really become aware of your insignificance. The feeling, alongside the constant clasping of internal organs, remains all the way until the two-minute ride is over.

Similar feelings are constantly present on other rides where the trains are shot out and reach speeds of 75km/h in 2 seconds, flip you upside down, swing and spin between 0 and 120 degrees at neck breaking speeds, catapult you sixty meters up or drop you from the same height towards the land. No matter whether the ride lasts 20 seconds or 2 minutes, I am pretty sure that the times are carefully measured for each ride to hit just the right spot between the weightless stomach sensation and puking. It’s probably as close as it gets to astronaut training for the mere mortals, especially if you can persevere for eight hours.

The last time I did a similar thing was in Helsinki’s Linnanmäki amusement park. It was great fun while it lasted, even though I did get a bit green-faced from that Viking Ship ride. But the next three days after those eight hours at Linnanmäki were quite terrible. I had a constant nausea, my head was spinning whenever I sat or lied down. It felt like a terrible hangover for three days straight. And it would be quite terrible if I got the same feeling after a similar stunt at Liseberg, since I have a day of packing and 48 hours of traveling ahead of me.

As I mentioned right at the beginning, I’m moving again. Although there are some resemblances to the last move, it is a lot easier this time as the flat needs to be emptied, or in other words, stuff just needs to be packed, or thrown away. But the trip itself will be something special.

The trip back to Finland is unlike anything I’ve done before: I’m going back by train. Once the train leaves Göteborg I’ll be traveling via Stockholm, Umeå, Luleå and finally to Haparanda, a small town right on the border with Finland. From there I continue the next day to Kemi, Oulu and Kajaani before I reach the final destination: Kuopio.

I was excited already when planning the trip and can hardly wait to board the train tomorrow afternoon.

Au revoir,

Mladen