NORMAL LIFE: The 'Old', the 'New' & The Unborn

What a weekend! It's official - summer has well and truly arrived in Finland. After finishing work on Friday, I rushed home to get the cleaning out of the way. Later in the evening, I headed to my local bar where I awaited the arrival of my friend and his partner. On the tram, two girls in their twenties ranted at each other in a drunken stupor. Listening to Finns communicate in Finnish is bad enough without having to listen to them when they are drunk? Right now, their garbled utterances sounded as if though they were talking with a whole apple in their mouths.

In the bar, as I waited, I watched the scene: there was a drunk couple playfully teasing eachother which bought a smile to my face. Why can't Finns be like this when they've had a drink? Leaning against a shelf with a drink in hand, I glanced towards the entrance and an old friend arrived. Internally, I prepared myself for being blanked and, as he passed nearby, he looked 'through' me as if we had never had any contact. All of this stems from a spat between a mutual friend and myself, during which this old friend sided with our mutual friend. It's pathetic how alliances must always exist within groups, isn't it?

Anyhow, the incident did nothing to dent my confidence. In fact, with my second Bacardi & Coke in hand, I propped against a railing near the bar and got talking to this rather handsome guy who had briefly glanced at me earlier in the evening; from his eyes, I sensed no sexual intent, but he had a friendly face and I prayed that he wouldn't misinterpret my approach as a request for a quick fumble. It turned out that the guy was in a relationship with an American, and that they had been together for many years. We shared experiences of how Bree has coped with living under British occupation and the New Friend gave his perspective of life with a talkative American.

As the evening drew on, the friend I had arranged to meet finally arrived. The usual songs played and I managed to persuade the New Friend to have a dance with me. For a Finn, he was special; there was something different about him, and I deduced that his time with his American partner had made him more open and receptive for non-natives.

I got the sudden urge to cool down, so I suggested we go to Hietaranta, a nearby beach. He agreed and, walking along the streets, we got to know eachother without music bombarding our ears. When we arrived at the beach, I don't know what came over me; I stripped and just made for the water. Suprisingly, the water felt warm (or at least the alcohol in my blood fooled me into thinking the water was warm) and, to the North East, dawn was well on its way with the brightening of the sky revealing what was sure to be another warm, blue sky.

After the swim, I got dressed again and teased the New Friend. Where's your sisu? I asked, questioning why he hadn't come swimming with me. It's too cold, he claimed. Finns go on and on about their sisu, which is the Finnish brand of guts and determination. My apparently brave act was further proof that those with Scottish blood coursing through their veins have got the ingredients of a 'real' man! We admired the view, watching the calm of the bay streth all the way to Seurasaari, the nearby island housing an open-air museum.

I lived nearby, and when we parted, I sent the New Friend an SMS. He didn't reply, and I prepared myself for not hearing from him; I have been down this trying-to-make-new-friends road so many times, that I have kind of accepted that I may not be everyone's cup of tea. It didn't matter, anyway, as it had been a lovely evening. All this happened on the Friday night, and when I got into bed at 4.30am, I realised that I had been awake 22 hours.

I woke up on Saturday at 11am to find Bree in the kitchen nursing a pretty bad case of hangover/dehydration; he had been to his firm's summer party the evening before. It was another hot day, a scorching 28C. In the afternoon, Bree's four year old god-daughter made a visit with her parents. The five of us ate lunch, packed up the dessert and coffee, and drove to one of the beaches in Lauttasaari; by this time, it was nearly 6pm and there were still many people soaking up the sun, reading books and magazines, lazing alongside their loved one... It was a scene, it really was, something that somehow embodies life in the Nordic countries.

The mother of the god-daughter had news - she was pregnant. Fantastic, I thought. As I digested this news, I realised just how important people are in life: there's the old friends, from whom you learnt something. There's the new friends who come into your life by total surprise, full of all things new. And then there's the unborn, the source of such joy. Parenting is the hardest job in the world; you can't resign from the post and, no matter their age, kids will always need their parents. I guess what I am trying to say is that it's all constant change; new people replacing the old, new babies succeeding their parents, old friends moving on.

We watched the god-daughter wade in the in water, excited by the prospect of soaking myself or her mother. As I looked out towards the sea, and then up at the early evening sky filled with light, I thought to myself if only life could be full of such pleasantness all the time.

Sunday was to prove as pleasant as the preceeding days. Not as hot, a pleasant breeze worked its way through the city. When I arrived in the centre, my friend was running late so I proceeded on a mini-tour of the city centre, capturing some shots on my Phone-camera. Tourists hustled and bustled in the main market place by the sea, while the city's landmarks looked their best during the best time of year in Finland. I took photos of the towering Uspenski Orthodox Cathedral, whose newly appointed gold-leaf copulas dazzled in the days sun. In the nearby Northern Harbour - which nestles alongside my former neighbourhood of residence, Katajanokka - lay a lighthouse boat. To my left, I could see the roof of Helsinki's most famous landmap, Helsinki Cathedral.




I cycled back along Helsinki's Esplanadi where my friend, the Swedish-Finnish one, and I downed soft ice at one of the well-shaded ice-cream parlours. He was getting ready to leave for a trek in Slovaki and, when we parted, we promised to meet up with his photography-obsessed boyfriend to look at the photos and savour his travel tales.

It was now time to meet up with Bree at the Swimming Stadium and, on my way, I passed through Kaisaniemenpuisto where I caught site of a clever carving, of a couple embracing, in one of the trees. Must have taken days or even weeks to perfect that carving.

As I continued, I cycled along Kaisaniemenlahti where, to my right, laid some of the most beautiful apartments in the city overlooking the modest selection of boats in the bay. A bit further on, I reached Töölönlahti and, to my amazement, came to a tree literally overflowing - and seemingly showering - with yellow blooms. It was beautiful. As I continued on my journey, just before reaching the swimming stadium, I came to the Helsinki City Gardens.

What a weekend, I thought. In the winter, human contact reduces dramatically to such an extent that good news isn't even greeted with the same enthusiasm as it is in the summertime. The summer had arrived slightly earlier than usual, with meteoroligists telling how Finland was the warmest country in Europe recently. Another reason to love this place.