NORMAL LIFE: Stepping Back In Time With Friends In Tampere

Leaving Tampere always bring about a feeling of depression. The place that was my home for more than two years is more of a home than ever, even though I am now living in Helsinki, 170km to the South. It is not a place in itself that makes you feel at home, it is the people that welcome you into their life, keen to share experiences and make memories together. When I was living in Tampere, I had some wonderful experiences and, when think back (refer to the Flashback section), I realize just how lucky I have been to have lived in such an unlikely place. I didn’t make as much of it as I could have, but to some degree, fate chose it to be that way.

Alan is a perfect example. Now a solid, firm friend, it is hard - and annoyingly so - to believe that he lived within 100 metres of the same place I lived in during my first two years in Finland. Fate, however, and my lack of interest in the not-so-fabulous gay bars of Tampere, are what kept us apart.

Anyway, I spent last weekend in Tampere, heading towards Mama Savolainen’s house straight after work on Friday. I got to her place about 6pm and marveled at how comfortable her eldest daughter, now aged four, feels with me even though we are not able to communicate that well; she hugs me, tickles me and tells me stories which I do not understand. But she doesn’t mind if I don’t respond and I don’t mind listening to her – it’s such a welcome change to be in a family-orientated environment with two young girls screaming, the TV volume high and a mother who, as time wore on, relaxed and told me all that was going on.

The girls were in bed by 9pm, and the cork was removed from the wine bottles; a cheap, white South African for me, a well-deserved red South Africa pinotage for Mama Savolainen. Curled up on opposing sofas, and in our pyjamas, we spoke of the highlights since our last encounter as well as some annoying incidents and plans for the future. I helped to plan Mama Savolainen’s forthcoming trip to London, while she promised to put me in contact with a friend in Australia ahead of my planned one-year stay there.

It was a great visit because Mama Savolainen’s husband, who speaks very little English, was away so we were both free to gossip and chat without running the risk of ignoring or leaving someone behind. The eldest daughter woke up a couple of times in the night, but in true maternal spirit, Mama Savolainen would scoop the young one into her arms, kiss her cheek and carry her back to bed. When she would return, she would take a sip of wine and sigh. I realized that this was a huge release for her as we continued to talk about grown up stuff.

When I got into bed in the early hours of the next morning, I realized that deep down in my heart Mama Savolainen was my best friend; the first person I had ever met in Finland, we have been in constant contact since our first encounter, when I knocked on her apartment door, curious of the English-sounding surname of the one who lived within. She has been there when I have been low, I attended her wedding, saw her bring two beautiful young girls into the world and, now, I would describe us both as ‘mature’ when I consider what we have both endured over the last six years.

Fortunately, the kids managed to be kept away from me until after 9am – deafness is a blessing when you are able to switch off the device that actually helps you to hear. After breakfast, Mama Savolainen and I watched a TV documentary in which Bree would have his five minutes - although he was on TV for much longer than five minutes - of fame on national television. When he appeared, we both shrieked like girls – god, he looks great on TV, I thought to myself. I was very proud and, after the broadcast, called him to tell him just as much.

After the broadcast was over, Mama Savolainen wanted to show me some clips on YouTube, the online entertainment portal. It wasn’t long, however, before I had hijacked the computer and started searching for clips from the good old days. We laughed at old Coca-cola adverts, Starship’s hit, Nothings Gonna Stop Us Now, and Patsy Kensit’s hit, I’m Not Scared. It was a simpler time and this brief, but memorable trip back to the eighties was a welcome respite from the endless screaming of children who, just minutes earlier, had enjoyed learning the moves to The Birdie Song! Beam me up, Scotty!

It wasn’t long before I was on the bus to meet up with Alan (formerly know as Mr. Finland on this blog because I couldn’t think of a better name). I think Alan is a good name – it’s a masculine one, conveys strength and the minute I met him in the car park behind Lidl, I thought of him as an Alan. We went for a walk around Stockmann’s, catching up as we meandered our way through the plant section, the electronics department and the sports gear. We ended up in the café where, over coffee, I noticed for the first time how miserable he seemed. I thought it must be the winter, or a lack of one what with the unprecedented lack of snowfall.

Admittedly, the first thing I had moaned about in the morning was how grey it was: with such a thick, low hanging band of dark cloud, you could detect very little difference between the light of day and a coming dawn or a soon-to-arrive dusk. We decided to give the town a miss, and headed to Alan’s place where, after dumping my bags, we had a nap. Thankfully, after I woke up, Alan was in the kitchen, preparing dinner and seemed already in a much better mood – sometimes a little sleep does help!

How would I describe Alan? Well, he’s beefy so he’s nice to look at (Bree will kill me for saying that!), he’s very creative as demonstrated by the trendy interior design of his apartment and he’s fantastic - in more ways than one - in the kitchen. I have often wondered why he is single, but I suspect he is still nursing a broken heart after splitting up from his ex-boyfriend around a year ago. But he seems determined to enjoy life though and, over a wonderful dinner of Salmon, fried onions and mushrooms with cream set atop basmati rice, we chatted about our forthcoming four-day trip to Lisbon. Just the thought of sunnier, warmer days is enough to bring smiles to our faces.

After dinner, Alan wanted to show me an old video (using a VCR, believe it or not) of music that had been copied from MTV over the years. We were stepping back in time, listening to countless Michael and Janet Jackson tracks as well as other eighties music by artists whose names I can’t remember! It’s always fun to leave all things current behind and go back to what at least seemed like a simpler time. I love the Janet Jackson track, Together Again.

Having downed a bottle of Spanish white wine during the dinner, we had now started to consume the concoction I had bought with me from Helsinki in a bacardi bottle; Long Island tea consisting of equal measures of Bacardi, Gin, Vodka and Whisky. It’s strong stuff, good for putting you in the mood for the night ahead! I noticed, gradually, how much Alan had changed throughout the day: from 'deep-in-depression' mode to 'pleased-to-see-me' mode to 'ready-to-party-now' mode.

Midnight came before long and it was time to take a taxi to Mixei, Tampere’s oldest gay pub/club. On this day, Mixei was celebrating its 18th birthday and when we walked into the place, it was barely a third full. I wasn’t overly surprised since, according to Alan, everybody goes to Helsinki these days. It was nice to be there with Alan, though, because sometimes the bars in Helsinki are so full of guys who are up their own arses.

By this time, my hearing had become slightly muffled as the alcohol started to take effect, relaxing every sinew in my body. Upstairs, we ate cake (what a strange place to eat cake, I thought), before burning it off on the dancefloor downstairs. As usual, Alan and I laughed and danced, teasing one another, jostling playfully the way good friends do. The venue might not be A-list, but the company certainly was and when we rolled into McDonald’s at 3am in the morning, I was thankful for the stabilizing effect of the food. It goes without saying that I slept very well that night.

When I woke up around 10am the next morning, my first thought once again was: ain’t it bloody grey?! This time, though, there was a thin blanket of snow, and wisp-like snowflakes were slowly floating down to earth. After breakfast, we went to see some apartments – Alan is thinking of moving. I think he is getting restless in his current place and wants to move on to his next project. During the day, we saw four places and agreed that the first one had been the best. Slightly out of the way, but in the best location and condition.

Tiredness once again caught up with me as if though it were a merciless riptide and, while Alan prepared lunch, I napped. “Why was I so tired?” I kept asking myself. To be honest, I don’t think I have quite recovered from my trip to South Africa, which ended a mere twenty days ago. I can’t even begin to explain how depressing it is to go from plus-30 temperatures of day-in-day-out sunshine to monotone, forever-grey skies with temperatures hovering around freezing.

I felt a nudge and, beside me, Alan had knelt down and was looking into my eyes. I was so tired yet, somehow, I managed to smile, remembering our crazy night the night before. We ate a lunch of reindeer stew with mash potatoes, together with lingonberries. Yummy! After the lunch was over, it was time to head back to Helsinki, back to real life, back to where the salary comes from.

As the high-speed train hummed along the tracks, I looked out of the huge window to my right, but saw nothing; darkness had once again arrived in Finland, and so the glass projected the reflection of those passengers sitting on the other side of train. I took solace in the fact that, come next winter, I would most likely be in Australia, and not an unwilling hostage of the Finnish winter. I returned to Helsinki feeling somewhat depressed, but somewhat excited about the many plans that had yet to be made. Before that, however, was the trip to Lisbon, the Summer holidays, the brighter days of Spring and the even brighter and longer nights of the northern Summer. I reclined my seat, closed my eyes and thought to myself: life is good!