Already on several occasions I wrote about the peculiar relationship between Finns and alcohol. Even though some of the readers find such topics worn out, interestingly enough there are some intriguing observations about this that continue to make my head spin.

I don’t have many vivid memories from my early childhood, but when I think about it I still rememer the first time I encountered Finns when I was five and they were intoxicated. It was on a hot summer night on the coast of Istrian peninsula in what was then still Yugoslavia (now Croatia). My parents, my brother and I were on our summer vacation in a bungalow village and during the course of our stay we got new neighbors who already during their first night assured a Finnish-Yugoslav get-together. I remember being awaken by short bursts of loud exclamations in a strange language. After this had lasted for a while I heard my dad speaking in another language that was unfamiliar to me and the noise subsided, or I had fallen back asleep.

Without a single trace of doubt this was the event of the week in the sleepy village. In the morning dad explained how in all their drunkenness our Finnish neighbors’ volume meters became unbearably thick-skinned. Since the shouting lasted too long, he had to get up to calm them down. I can imagine that they probably woke up the whole village before they reached their hut in the wee hours.

Fast-forward twenty some years. Not long ago this and other accounts of similar type suddenly all make sense. It was like staring at scattered pieces of a thousand-piece jigsaw puzzle for two years, and then solving the puzzle in two minutes. Only recently I have begun understanding what had happened that summer night and why.

Despite the fact that many prices were being readjusted for the pocket of a foreign visitor, Yugoslavia was still a budget traveler’s dream. Whoever could afford to get there, didn’t have to worry about prices once they got there. Nowhere else, but there, have I seen anyone light up their cigar with money, a Yugoslav Dinar bill. So you can imagine that in a place like that stocking up on booze couldn’t present a financial burden. Especially not if you came from any of the Nordic countries where one suspects some sort of a fine has been added to the price of that watered-down pint of beer. While in Yugoslavia for that same sum you’d get a liter of delicious šljivovica and still have some left. The decision is all too obvious: you quit drinking beer. And that’s probably what our neighbors from Finland had decided already during their first night there. Who could blame them?

However, I can imagine that such vacation alone might instigate a month without a drop of booze, even though it is the month of January that is traditionally reserved for serious detoxification. Even though it might not be the quantity, but rather the method of consumption that makes this peculiar relationship problematic, excessive alcohol ingestion is a serious issue in Finland and many are very somber about it. A third of the population, to be more precise. That’s roughly how many have decided in the beginning of January that they will abstain from alcohol during that month. I’m quite sure it takes a steady diet of something a tad bit stronger than Coke Zero before you decide to resort to sober life for 31 days.

But where does this type of secular nationwide month-long ethanol renunciation come from? There is a dispute about who exactly had instigated the custom in Finland, however, it is most plausible that it originated in the 1970s when a gentleman named Niilo Hakkarainen, a CEO of a paper factory, suggested to his workers to stay clean for the month of February. Obviously some took it seriously and more than thirty years later that humble proposition acquired a status of a serious national challenge. It even got upgraded; the challenge shifted from the shortest possible to the longest possible month.

According to a recently conducted poll 35% of responders promised themselves to stay away from alcohol, but only about a 17% of the population has managed to keep that promise until the end of January in 2007. If they don’t manage to spend the whole month without a drop, it can be at least something to look forward to for January 2009. The good news for those is that the rate of success is on the increase.

If you think you can’t make it, worry not, there is plenty of support out there, if you need it. Finnish Center for the promotion of health and Paihdelinkki (English version AddictionLink) are just two inspirational and supportive examples. The former organization even set up a separate Web site Tipaton tammikuu devoted solely to the challenge. There you can track your daily progress or even challenge your friends or family to do the same. Information is abundant and support is offered in different formats ranging from vibrant forums and various self-tests to plain fact calorie counter for those who need to crunch numbers before they act. Center for the promotion of health even created a desktop calendar, if for some reason that’s exactly what you’ve missed in your previous attempts to stop drinking (both PC users and Mac users served).

If none of that helps, then as a last resort it might help to know that the tax on alcoholic beverages has again been substantialy increased at the beginning of the month.

I admit, the forbidden fruit of January can be a tough nut to crack. At least it was me who got cracked before I cracked it; I had blithely enjoyed my sauna beer just a couple of days ago. I lasted eight days. But then again that kspt sound the beer can made when I opened it definitely did not cause any moral introspection.

Cheers to all those who will last for three more weeks.

Mladen

Last two months have been quite busy, but mostly in the sense of traveling and meeting people. While at the same time I’ve tried to stay away from computers as much as possible. And it’s been great.

I’ve spent whole June traveling throughout Slovenia and Croatia and made two trips to Venice. As you can imagine one month’s time is enough to visit a lot of places. Thus I’ll mention only those that have really made a lasting impression on me.

Istrian peninsula in Croatia is a gem. I especially like the northern part which is dotted with small, picturesque villages on hilltops. The towns of Motovun and Grožnjan are an absolute must if you are in the vicinity. Both have served as a settlement since the medieval times and still retained some of that spirit within narrow, cobbled and winding pathways between stone houses.

Another great place I’ve visited in June is the Croatian coast with its thousand or so islands. The nature is absolutely fantastic and in spite of the often unfriendly and even plain rude service, I’ve really enjoyed island hopping on the northern islands of Krk, Cres, Lošinj, Ilovik and Murter. The sea on all these islands is crystal clear and since I’ve been there in off-season period in most of the places I’ve visited it was not hard to find a quiet spot and a private beach.

On this same trip I’ve also managed to visit National parks of Plitvice lakes and river Krka. It’s simply unbelievable how much water runs through these places and how green both of them are.

And the result of the similar geological processes and strucutres in Plitvice lakes and river Krka waterfalls is Križna cave in Slovenia. Now, in Slovenia there are around nine thousand caves of which I have visited only a few, but Križna cave is something special. As they want to keep the cave in as untouched state as possible, they only let in four people per day. And since it’s a water cave it is not possible to enter it if there’s been much rain in the preceding days. So it’s not exactly easy to get in, but it was definitely worth the effort and schedule juggling.

You enter the cave in caving overalls, rubber boots, with a helmet and a head lamp, which all make you fell you’re ready for a real adventure. And that’s exactly what it was. In the cave there are more than a dozen lakes, so practically the whole four hour trip is done in small rubber boats. Besides plethora of stalagmites, stalactites and columns, you also get a chance to experience moments of total darkness and total silence. And believe me, such a place is a treasure today. Once you are 70 or so meters below the ground there’s no way any light or sounds would get in … except for those you bring with you. Although the feeling could be nerve racking (imagine being lost there!), it is absolutely relaxing.

I could go on and on about this and other places, but I’ll rather let you enjoy some of the pictures from these short trips I’ve made in June–you can find them in the gallery.

Now I’m back in Finland ready for new adventures, so come back soon.

Mladen