| Tammikuu | January |
Here is a newflash from the terrible north.
I have sometimes mentioned that Helsinki is probably, after Reykjavik, the most peaceful capital of the world. That is actually an ideal situation: it is the capital, so everything important which happens in the country happens here, but it doesn't have the troubles, dangers, and pollution that most large cities in this world have. Incredible is e.g. the following:
Other dangers in bar life: when I am playing the fiddle on one of those sessions in the Irish pub, suspecting nothing, all kinds of strange figures are hanging around us, of whom I don't really take notice. I especially don't pay attention to those who are already so far gone that they are only playing dead on their stool. It then may happen that one of them suddenly falls over, in the process taking along some glasses, chairs and/or tables, and continues being unconscious on the floor. If you don't watch out, your fiddle is dragged along in such an avalanche, because usually these are heavy guys!
The cases described above may occur in any time of the year, but for the rest, January is the quietest month of the year. January is called 'Tammikuu', I think that means 'tame month'. Maybe everybody is still tired from the christmas partying. It also may be a natural effect: with so little light, you get a tendency to go in hibernation. I notice it in myself too. But that should pass by itself then.
Your reporter from Arctic Circle Country,
February Hi there everybody...
Nice, all those weather reports which nowadays inform you about entire continents. "In the Sahara it's warm and dry today. In Caracas it is hot and there are thunderstorms." But it is especially nice to hear: "Today it will be a bit warmer than average everywhere in Europe, except for Scandinavia, where it will be much colder." Well, you learn to live with it. Otherwise you shouldn't have gone and live in Finland.
Still some thing are happening, in spite of the climate. Last Tuesday, while in more southern countries people were Carnivalling, a tradition was practised here, called Laskiaiset. This is the name for the last day before the fasting period of lent, but because it literally means 'descent', all students go to Kaivopuisto, the central park of Helsinki, and slide down the hill all afternoon. Everybody in their brightly coloured overalls, the traditional students' outfit, and with help of little sledges, plastic bags and what not.
The musical business also just goes on. A few weeks ago I was asked to play in a trio in Parnell's Irish Pub. This one is situated a bit outside of the center and is a lot quieter than my regular pub Molly Malone's. I arrive there on the appointed time, and immediately hear from the barman that the other two guys will not show up. One of them had cancelled earlier; he had other things to do, and the other one was sick.
Greetings, also from the polar bears and the moose,
March Tervehdyksia uudestaan!
Of course, I ride the bicycle all the time, also into town and back, although in Finland people seem to think that 'that's impossible'.
Like I said, life has been busy, especially in the music business: playing on and around St. Patrick's day in different - not even all of them Irish - places. With this Irish wave that now seems to flow over the whole world, St. Patrick's day appears to become a universal celebration day too; not limited to Ireland and Irish pubs anymore. I played for instance on a St. Patrick's day-party in Savonlinna, where I don't think there are any Irish people at all, in a restaurant named 'Juanita'. Mexican Cantina.
April In the past few weeks there were still some heavy snowstorms every now and then, making you think 'what season are we actually in', and now in April, the sun shines again so bright and so long, that all the snow melts and causes little local floodings. Everywhere, especially on inclined streets, rivers are flowing.
Last weekend I went with a group of both Finns and foreigners on one of those traditional Finnish cottage-weekends, in a cottage in the wildernis in the north of Espoo. Isn't it wonderful that so close to the bustle of the capital there is still so much free nature. If only we would have that in the Netherlands.
So we are dragging on through the cycle that leads this country from the darkness and the frost to the light and the mosquitoes. We're preparing for Vappu, the first-of-May-happening in which all students get absolutely crazy - insofar as it still can get any crazier.
By the way, the literal meaning of Maaliskuu (March) and Huhtikuu (April) are unknown, but probably have to do with the momentary state of the snow and the ice.
Max.
May Can somebody turn off the lights...!
The actual meaning of all this, nobody yet has been able to explain to me, except something to do with 'labour day', although I wonder what that has got to do with students. Maybe we shouldn't try to explain everything.
Meteorologically May looks like this: a lot of light but still not very much heat.
I have considered several times moving into town. Although here in Otaniemi I am at only 100 metres of my work, on the other hand I am at 10 km from the city centre. There is some reason to live closer to where all the action (except my work) is happening. That cycle ride in the evening is always such a undertaking.
A point could also be that I don't have a phone here, but in favor of which side? I'm actually starting to appreciate that more and more. When I am at home, that is mostly because I need a quiet evening for a change, and it is quite a comforting thought that nobody can reach me then. No phone and too far away for anybody to drop by. Only my flatmates who keep telling me that there's a party somewhere.
Max
Note: The above was written when mobile phones were in more southerly countries still far from common. This however changed rapidly in the next few years.
June Finally a month with a name that means something: Kesäkuu = Summer month.
Also the mosquitoes are starting to get enthousiastically active. Whenever you're in the neighbourhood of grass and/or water, make sure you are armed with the 'anti-mosquito-stuff'!
Right after Juhannus I went even further onto the countryside: to the Folk festival in Haapavesi. This is about halfway the length of Finland, so not yet over the Arctic circle, but pretty close already.
Finally I got a chance to speak some spanish again. The Asturians found Finland also a bit weird:
Indeed, in the weekend the bar was filled with locals, and finnish pop music, while we were all out on the festival area. I got the impression that the Haapavesi farmers do not really care much about world music. But we didn't care about that.
You can't count on anything, but one thing people can assure you:
Max
July Heinäkuu is the 'hay month' or July. Time for hay fever. That's what I'm suffering from, so that's going nicely according to schedule.
Apart from that, things are not really the way they should be: summer doesn't seem to take place this year. True, today the weather is nice, but most of the days it still varies between rain and cool spring sunshine. Oh well, it seems to be so in entire Northern Europe, so it's not really unfair.
Here at the University it's very quiet. Of course there are no lectures, and the students don't waste their time by hanging round here. Now you would think that they would all go travelling round the world - that is what Dutch students would do anyway - but the Finnish students (almost) all go and work somewhere. To make some extra money or gain working experience, sometimes as traineeships. Those who do go on a trip, either will work abroad or didn't find any summer job, the losers.
As I said, it's quiet, except for the many foreign students who come to do traineeships in Finland. Just like last year, I moved my social life to those, because there isn't much else to do. This way, a few weeks ago we were in Tallinn, Estonia, where I played the guitar in the local Irish pub again. Yes, also there they have them; those are taking over the whole world by now. Still, they stay more interesting than MacDonald's. Or is that a matter of taste?
Also nice that there are finally again some Dutch people around. This way I get to hear a bit about how everything is going out there, and this way there were finally a few people who would cycle into town with me. I was already starting to think I was really crazy to use the bicycle all the time.
A commemorable event was also the saunaparty last Saturday. There were also guests from other universities and it thus became a big event in the saunabuilding of the campus here. Sauna, jumping in the lake, barbecue, beer and a lot of singing and guitar playing was part of the game. At some instant there were about 50 people in the (quite ample) sauna, all singing and hitting eachother with the traditional vihta (bunch of birch twigs). One could wonder if this is still the traditional Finnish sauna, but also if it matters.
Something else: the other day I was going to go out with a group of people; we would meet in the bar 'Happy Days'. I had dressed the way I normally do in these cases, and at the door of 'Happy Days' a surprise awaited me: I didn't get in! My outfit didn't respond to the code. I didn't get in because I was wearing running shoes!
Hey, it looks like it's really nice weather today! Let's go outside quickly!
August I got some remarks that I am always only writing about parties and going out. Well, it's not really that I don't do anything else here, but there just isn't so very much of jolly things to tell about the job.
When, halfway the month, I came back from a holiday -Norway all the way top down in two weeks-, in my apartment, a note from the caretaker of the building was awaiting me:
I already knew how hopeless the housing situation in Helsinki is, and that this reaches its maximum - exactly - in August. In the students' housing business, it's usual that students who go away for the summer give up their apartment, and later look for a new one for September. This causes each year -but especially this year- in August huge waiting lists at the students' housing organisations, of thousands of old and new students. I cannot apply for a students' flat anyway, but this phenomenon also results in extreme pressure on all the other categories of the housing market.
And of course: there will not be any hopeless situation or somebody will know how to make money out of it. There are tens of 'Real Estate Agents' who 'deal' between the owner and the tenant. For the tenant this means: 'to be in the way'. The service these companies give is only for the owner: they place the add, show the apartment to the desperately seeeking group, choose somebody, and make the contract, in which it says 'pay two months rent in advance'. And the stupidest of all is: the tenant gets to pay for this service, and not just a little: the fee is 1 month's worth of rent + 22% tax!
The only realistic chance is the private circuit: ask everybody if they maybe know anything that happens to come free on September 1st. And after exactly one full week, 18 hours/day, of shouting, panicking, placing ads, queueing up among the rows of interested apartment viewers, and going absolutely crazy, the good offers started rolling in. All of them from the via-via circuit. I even got to choose.
So in November I can go back, but I can also reconsider that question 'why don't I go and live downtown'. Now I know how the market works. I can look around carefully and critically which places become available for November.
Oh, and I almost forgot to tell you what kind of weather it is. Well, in August it's finally summer weather: sunny and warm but not too much. After the housing hassle I had still one week left to enjoy this. Also everybody else was in a hurry to make use of it, and with reason, because it would not last longer than a month.
Max
September 'Syys' is short for 'syksy' 'autumn', and indeed September could not have gotten a better name. The trees show a delightful colour palette. By the way, there are here really still a lot of other kinds of trees than pines, spruces and birches. Especially the maple with its red glow, as if it radiates heat, is an incredible sight.
The traditional practice of the Finns in this time of year is to go out into the woods and look for mushrooms. Those are also available in a wide variety here. Of course, you have to know which ones are not poisonous. For my part, I'm just sticking to some nice walks in the countryside.
The students are back at the university, making a terrible noise and organising all kinds of parties, since they have been out working all summer. This evening (30th September) for instance, there is the party, where the students' cap, which was ceremonially put on at Vappu (1st May), is being taken off again. Well, any reason to party is a good one, isn't it? But for my part, together with everybody else who was running around so much during the summer, I tend to sit back now and rest a bit more. 'Tis the season to be mellow.
Still, last week, we had the yearly meeting of the radio laboratory... on a ship, namely a cruiseship to Tallinn. These cruises go every day towards Tallinn and immediately back again. The Finns are very much interested in this, not because they like to go to Tallinn so much, but because the boat stays out of port for 20 hours, and according to the present law you can buy alcohol tax free if you leave the country for at least 20 hours. So for most Finns, this is simply grocery shopping.
Max
October Yes, yes, it's coming: the report from 'Lokakuu' October. I've been so busy lately that it's been delayed a bit. So you might think 'then there is probably a lot to tell'. Well, not exactly; busy work is not alway interesting to talk about.
But everybody does their best to keep the depressions away. A lot of things are still being organised. A few weeks ago, an English singer/guitarist organised a combined performance of a number of bands in Molly Malone's - the well-known Irish pub. He invited me to play together with his own band. It was meant that everybody would try to play as much as possible together with each other's bands, and in the end of the evening this resulted in a large jam-session on the stage, of which nobody anymore knew where it was going.
With our project group, we had a 'progress-meeting' with the contractor. But because he couldn't come all the way over here, it had to become a video-meeting. That's quite funny: you're talking to a big screen, and next to it, on another big screen, you see yourself. It looks just like NBC news reporting or something.
But also we went last weekend again with a large group of Finns and foreigners on a traditional Finnish 'cottage weekend' (see also 'Huhtikuu' (April)). It was the same cottage in the wilderness 35 km from the centre of town, but the area looked a bit differently than in April: no snow, no sun and no ice on the lake. We went there on Friday evening 6PM, and it was already then so pitchdark that the last kilometre, which we had to walk with all our luggage through the middle of the forest (the cottage is 1 km away from the nearest road) was a complete survival test. Even with flashlights it was not easy to find the right way, which during the day always seems so clear.
And now we just go on with everything. There are again a lot of advertisements for holidays in the warm sunny south, and there is again glögi in the shops: mulled wine, so it is getting time for christmas parties. Next time I'll tell you why that's written in the plural.
Max
November Can somebody turn on the lights...
In the meantime life goes on a low flame. Hibernation. The life cycle reaches its minimum. Back to the egg. All that darkness makes you so tired, too. Fortunately, here they fend off the depressions by already starting to celebrate Christmas. Already halfway November, the city center is full of those little lights. And everywhere they celebrate Pikkujoulu: 'Little Christmas'.
Max
December December - 'Joulukuu'; the 'Christmas month'. Well, everything is also done to confirm this; even the weather finally has changed. In the beginning of the month the heavy cloud cover finally broke: clear weather, the temperature sank below 0°C and the precipitation that's falling after that is in the form of snow. Finally Finland looks again the way it should, and nothing like the Netherlands anymore.
The sequence of Christmas celebrations is only interrupted by Independence Day on December 6th. On this day, there is a relatively silent procession with torches, commemorating the fallen in the wars, from the graveyard to the government building near Senate Square.
What concerns the music business: with my present band I played this month also in Järvenpää and Hyvinkää, only a few tens of km outside of Helsinki, but already clearly countryside. People here are in the winter a bit more depressed and stressed than in Helsinki. They also talk less easily, but, with some music it appeared possible to loosen them up a bit.
After this I left for the Netherlands, where I am spending Christmas and New Year's Eve.
Thank you for all the positive reactions (which I really hadn't expected so much!) and I'd like to wish everybody
Max.
In a bar: women, who also here usually don't have any pocket available for their wallet, just put this beside them on a table, without watching it. And after a few hours it is just still there! You won't have to try that in Amsterdam.
The dangers just are a bit different, so I've noticed. This is because, if you leave your not-yet-empty glass standing somewhere unattended, there is a good chance that one or the other sees his chances clear and empties it for you. 'The alcohol is dear' in every sense of the word: it is expensive and is (because of that?) treated as very valuable. Guard it well!
Finland at its best.
Max.
Helmikuu
Newsflash from the still-going-terrible north.
But it is still a bit annoying that it's just still too cold to do anything outdoors, while in the meantime the bright sun really invites you to do so. The days are getting longer fast, and the sun shines all day long. At sunset the whole sky is coloured yellow-orange-red-purple-blue. Magnificent.
February is called 'Helmikuu', the 'pearl month'. Probably, just like most months, it is named after the typical kind of frost we get in this time of year. (Or does it mean that you better put on a helmet?)
I too threw myself into this happening. It's nice to be a child again for a while (well... 'a while'?). Of course the pocket flasks of Koskenkorva (the Finnish wodka) appear as well. Since it was really cold this time (-15 °C), also mulled wine, hot chocolate with rum, and that kind of stuff. There even was a DJ, so there also was dancing, on the snow covered hill, in the freezing wind - the park lies right by the sea - that comes blowing over the frozen-up plains of the Finnish Gulf and freezes your nose and ears.
Is it because of the dancing, the playing around on the slopes, or the drinks - I don't know, but after a while you just don't feel the cold anymore. Or were we already frozen? Anyway I still have both of my ears.
Finnish entertainment.
Sliding down the hill in Kaivopuisto, Helsinki, on Shrove Tuesday"Do you mean: he is a sick person?"
"Err... I didn't mean to say that, but..."
"OK, allright, I get it."
So I wonder if I should still play anything on my own then. I have my guitar and my fiddle with me; I could vary a bit between those. On the other hand it's not my mistake; I could also just leave rightaway.
Then the owner of the bar comes to me and asks me if I please still will play something, since there is this reporter/photographer coming from City, the nightlife journal of Helsinki. She will write something about the bar and take a picture of the live music, but then there should be some live music in the first place.
"How much money do you want, in order to play?"
I'm thinking: Oh, is that the way we're playing it. Normally we would get about 400 to 500 Marks (€68 - €85), so...
"How about 1000 Marks (€170)?"
"Oops, that is a lot, but well, OK, it'll have to be that way then."
So I played all the songs that I could think of, as far as I could present them on my own, and as far as they were a bit in the style of Irish music, varying between the guitar and the fiddle. The reporter did come and photographed me from all angles.
The next week there was a story in City about the Irish wave flowing over Finland; Irish pubs and live music florishing abundantly. "In the picture: Max van de Kamp"...
The article in the City journalMaybe this will will cause some misunderstanding, that the typical Dutch 'van de'-names also occur in Ireland. Must be funny.
'Finland is cool'
Max.
Maaliskuu
It has been quiet for a while from my side but that was actually because it was a lot less quiet here. I was again doing so many things at the same time that I didn't know anymore what to write about.
Anyway, in March, the sun came out a lot; everybody got that spring feeling again. The orbit of the sun above the horizon here is during equinoxe just as long as anywhere, but because of the ridiculously long twilight it stays light so long that it just looks like summer. And then you step outside and notice it's still below zero. A little frustrating that is.
"You can't ride your bike here in the winter!"
- Oh? Then what have I been doing (almost) the entire winter; and apart from that, I don't call this winter anymore.
"Yes, but there is snow and ice!"
- Well yes, you just have to watch out with that. If I, dutchman, can do that, you should certainly be able to do that!
"Yes but there are so many hills here!"
- Hm, I don't think those are much lower in the summer.
"Yes well, maybe I'm just lazy."
- Look, there we have it.
Very strange that in a country where nature still plays such a big role, and where 'going out to the countryside' is a national sport, people hardly cycle. Everybody goes in the weekends to the summer cottage, somewhere in the wildernis and preferably on a lakeside, and goes sailing, swimming, cross-country skiing, hiking, into the sauna and/or barbecueing (depends on the season). In Finnish there is a verb 'ulkoilla' meaning 'to be busy outdoors, do outdoor sports'. But in daily life this outdoor air seems to be scary and dangerous.
All the students take the bus. As soon as they have a job and more money, they buy a car 'to have more freedom'. I think they could have had that freedom much earlier if they just would have hopped on the bicycle. Oh well...
Huhtikuu
The terraces open again. All the people step outside again (except, of course, on the bicycle). Everybody turns happier again. Streetmusicians stand and play their fingers red (frozen) in the center of Helsinki.
It was about 35 km away and beautiful weather, and, you guessed it: I was the only one that went by bicycle.
The usual business: in the afternoon hiking in the forest, though, since it started to bother us that we kept sinking half a metre in the snow, we mainly walked on top of the ice on the lakes. Thanks to the bright sun and the still heavy frost, the layer of snow on top of the ice had melted and frozen up again, so there was now a multiple ice layer ('multiplex'?) of together 60 cm thick. While walking on top of that, you sometimes hear the upper layer crack. Sometimes you even sink with one foot through it, which is a bit frightening, but completely free of danger.
This we noticed when we performed the other typical Finnish action: making a hole in the ice to go swimming after the sauna. It really wasn't easy to break through the ice, but with a special ice-drill, an axe and an hour of work we eventually succeeded.
Next: men and women together - no moaning - in the wood-heated sauna, because that is the real thing, according to the Finns. And a plunge in the ice hole afterwards? Well, I just got quickly in and out in 2 seconds, that was enough for me. And for the rest it's just a social event: everybody is just relaxing and drinking beer, either or not dressed in a towel, in or around the sauna building. Mind you: it was still around zero degrees (C).
And at night, back in the cottage, it is of course further drinking, singing, and guitar playing - yes, by me of course.
I'm showing a sample of the ice taken from the hole (back left), which we're going to dip in later
Toukokuu
May is the month in which in Finland craziness really bursts loose. This symbolically starts at the first of May with Vappu. All the students populate the inner city, dressed in an overall in the color that represents their faculty, and the traditional students' cap.
On the evening before, at 18.00 the statue of Haavis Amanda on the Esplanade, which is the sirene who apparently is the patron saint of the students, gets a cap put on too, and a ribbon put around her. Beforehand she has gotten a good wash.
Students dressing up the statue of Haavis Amanda on Vappu eveThe whole night subsequently everybody is partying and drinking in the city. Actually it is still too cold to hang around outdoors, but as long as you drink enough you don't really feel that.
The next morning everybody goes picknicking in the park. This actually means that the party still goes on the folowing day, until in the evening you completely collapse from malnutrition, exhaustion, hypothermia... and maybe alcohol?
Students in colorful overalls gathering before the Lutheran cathedral on Vappu eveThe sun does set, but it doesn't get dark. Sunset takes hours, and during that, half of the sky colors yellow-orange-red-purple. During 'night' the sky is blue, with a yellow glow in the north. Especially over the bays with the clear blue water, this is a wonderful sight.
On the other hand, in the morning it is now very comfortable that I don't even have to wake up to get to work. I drag myself out of bed around nine in the morning, crawl to the office and have a cup of coffee.
The other day, something became available in what I think is the best part of Helsinki to live: near the nice boulevards, right in the centre. I have had a look at the place, and after considering for a while, I have to conclude that my present place is still better. Although it was a nice and beautiful apartment in a good part of town, it was looking out at ugly grey walls, while I am here amidst the green of a lot of trees. Far from the noise of the city. A bit of countryside, which is actually one of the beauties of Finland.
I know: people wouldn't really call me up all the time, I'm not that popular. It's just a nice thought that they maybe would want to, but still can't. If I had had a phone, of course I would only be called when I least need it, by those people that I am least interested in. Whenever I want to reach somebody, I can always go somewhere to call. Isn't that an ideal situation? Long live selective availability!
Neither do I understand that all those Finns so much want to drag their mobile phones around. Kiss your last bit of freedom goodbye: people can even call you up when you're on the bicycle (o.k., that doesn't go for the Finns), or on the beach, in the car, or in the bar! Wouldn't that be horrible?
Somebody discribed this point of view nicely: "When I'm not near a phone, then God doesn't want me to be near one!"
Amen.
Kesäkuu
Summer in Finland... that doesn't necessarily mean that is gets warm as well, but at least it gets light. It's the time in which the Finns think it's necessary to party all night. Especially at Juhannus, the midsummer party. Different from other parties, here as well as elsewhere, where people massively get together, this time they disperse, to the countryside. They go to their private cottages, camping sites and other holiday resorts. And even if it rains, or it's not so very warm: Juhannus shall be celebrated, because soon it will be too cold to hang out outdoors again.
I found myself at this occasion again among a group of some Finns an a lot of foreigners: trainees who are here just for the summer and are looking around astonishedly at the strange habits of the Finns. We spent Juhannus in the traditional way in a mökki (cottage), with a kokko (bonfire), grillimakkaraa (barbecue sausages) and sauna (sauna).
Good mood around the campfire in the countryside at midsummer nightThe whole week there were courses in different folk music styles, and in the weekend was the actual festival. The guest teachers were this time a.o. a Cetlic group from Asturias, Spain - yes even there there's Celtic blood - and a 'western swing' fiddler/guitarist from Texas. The program was so full with lessons that it was hard to capture it all. And in the evenings there was also 'jamming' and dancing in the local bar. A good place by the way, which wasn't there yet last year: then we had to settle for the bar of the hotel and a restaurant.
A fiddle class at the workshop at Haapavesi"Can you tell me where we can find the centre of this town?"
"Err... I'm sorry, but there isn't much more centre than what you've already seen."
"?? It says there are 7000 people living here."
"Yes..."
"Well, where are they?"
Indeed, the local bar was actually only filled with the people from the festival; the locals were nowhere to be found. We're talking about a farmers' village here, where the local people mainly go out in the weekend.
Also quite absurd, especially for the Spaniards, was that if you come out of the bar at 2 a.m., it is as light as if it were 2 p.m. It is hard to get some sleep, but we didn't get much time for that anyway.
At the festival, a lot of bands performed from West and East: russian domra's, punk based on folk music from Tuva (in Russia, near Mongolia), salsa, tex-mex, cajun, western swing, argentinian tango, african drums, asturian reels and of course a lot of finnish folk. A good mix.
The whole night we were outdoors, and nobody then really counts with it, that although it stays perfectly light, it gets freezing cold. You put on all the clothes you have with you and you're still cold. That everybody was dancing so enthousiastically with the salsa band and the tex-mex-band, was simply a matter of surviving: dance or freeze to death. There was also a lot of applause to be heard, which was because everybody was killing mosquitoes all the time. Perfect place for a festival.
And a few hours later you sit again in the bright sun and it's way too hot again. Ridiculous. Anyway, you feel just a bit out of this world.
'Suomen kesä on vähäluminen': finnish summer isn't very snowy.
A hungarian band with strange instruments at the Haapavesi Folk Festival
Heinäkuu
This remarkable activity is mainly due to the fact that the students here don't get any money from the government: instead, they get large discounts (50-80%) on almost everything: housing, public transport, food, culture. But you cannot live on discounts alone, so some money needs to be made.
On the other hand I think that this 'worklust' also originates from ambition, meaning make-a-lot-of-money ambition. They all love to make a career fast, buy a car - not to have to take the bus, remember - a mobile phone, and maybe a boat and a summer cottage. It's all part of the game.
Also maybe typically Dutch was that they were so impressed by the low alcohol prices in Tallinn (especially compared to Finland), that advantage had to be taken of that. You can guess the result.
I couldn't believe my ears. Running shoes! What in the world is wrong with that? My jeans had also seen better days, but that didn't seem to be a problem. Anyway, since I would meet some people there, I still had to get in, I thought. I came back after half an hour, took off my shoes outside and walked in on my socks. The bouncers probably weren't watching very carefully; anyway, this worked. A little while later somebody else went back to the door to cautiously pick up my shoes.
Still now I don't understand this dress code. Inside Happy Days there were also people dressed in bear skins (stag night or something); apparently that does respond to the code. I get the strong impression that they just made up something in order to have just any dress code. Finland seems to be a 'nouvaeu riche' country: it doesn't know how to behave according to the newly achieved wealth.
Anyway, the general solution is obvious: if something of your clothing does not appeal somewhere, just take it off.
Max
Elokuu
But now I am having another story. Because August - 'elokuu' - the 'harvest month' did harvest for me something less party-like.
"Where are the keys? Please return them."
Huh? Why - I am not supposed to be leaving yet, am I?
Ah, that probably has to do with the fact that my working contract was first going to be until July 1st. It has been extended until the end of this year. I'll tell the lady downstairs that I am staying longer.
But when I did that, I heard:
"That's not possible; I have nothing free for you!"
Apparently, the flat I had been living in for a year and a half, had been reserved for me for exactly that period. This had been arranged by the Radio Lab, where I'm working. But nobody ever told me this was the case, and I never saw any written agreement or written feedback of whatever kind. As far as I knew I was just renting the place, be it with no contract.
When my work contract got extended, nobody thought of extending my 'residence reservation', or telling me that I should do that myself. Thus it could happen that I simply got thrown on the streets, with only two weeks notice. Something that would not be possible in the Netherlands, and actually neither here, but in this case apparently it is.
My boss, and also the secretary, said: "Oh yes, that's stupid, we should have thought about that." But that, and showing me where to look for new places to live, was how far their service went. That's why I started to spend all my work- and freetime hours on hunting for a new apartment.
This is why every day in the newpaper there are hundreds of advertisements looking for places to live, and also tens of advertisements offering places to live, but they receive every time tens to hundreds of replies.
The rent of an apartment, of about 30 m², is about €350-500/month. So the tenant has to cough up at once more than four times this amount! Especially this 'fee' I find just ridiculous: I am not going to pay €350 for absolutely nothing. This is simply abuse. The owners probably find it attractive, this free service, that's why most of the apartments are offered in this way. I however refuse to give in to this, and am thus left with only 1 or 2 ads a day that have been placed by the owners themselves.
But even if I would be willing to pay this much: at all apartments on offer, whole hordes of people respond, so you just have as good as no chance at all anyway.
One of these was an apartment owned by the university, where 'guest employees' stay, but which is usually fully booked out years and years in advance. Right now somebody happened to cancel, so it was free for September and October. (In November there is again something free in my previous building, and I already made a reservation until the end of next year.)
So now I am living in a fully furnished apartment of over 60 m², for €350/month, including everything. It's unbelievable. Still at 5 minutes from my work on the bicycle.
We'll keep you informed.
Syyskuu
It is also rapidly getting colder. In this month the climate actually looks most like the Netherlands (or England): humid, around 10 degrees (C), a lot of wind, days of normal length, and it is advisable to always bring your umbrella. Only there's the difference that here - even now - the sun shines a lot more. The whole past week we had a beautiful indian summer in which the sun lit up the yellow, orange, red and green of the trees, making the traffic lights look pale.
In the meeting room of this boat we had some good discussions about the way things are going in our lab. It was remarkable how, after the dinner in the restaurant, at which everybody drank a few, the last part of the meeting went obviously a lot more smoothly. Once more it is being shown how you can get a Finn to an open-hearted conversation.
Still later, after the meeting, in the bar, it is unbelievable to see how the most serious professors suddenly turn into jolly jokers.
So everything is possible, as long as you just know how.
Lokakuu
First the weather: it's getting very dark again, but still not much colder: around 5°C during the day. The trees have lost all their leaves, so the beautiful colours are gone too, and it rains often and long, in that dreary way. This may be the most ugly month of the year. Also according to the dictionary, Lokakuu is the 'mud month'...
It'd be time for a bit of snow. In Lapland, 22cm of snow fell last week, but here in the 'south' it's not happening quite yet.
Finally, we played a reggae-imporvisation, and a couple of people in the bar who looked like they knew something about this, were called onto the stage to sing something. They did, and it sounded great, although afterwards they appeared not to come from Jamaica, but from Zambia.
Oh well, what does it matter.
The research project will come to an end in the beginning of next year, and therefore we will try to get as much as possible done before that time. This explains the slightly increased work pressure.
But eventually arrived there, it gave all the more satisfaction. Playing guitar, drinking beer, hiking (during the day, when it was a bit lighter), and the wood-heated sauna, complete with a jump in the lake (which although not frozen, was still pretty cold).
A nice evening in the wooden cottage
Marraskuu
By now it's really getting dark around here. That's not only due to the short path of the sun, but the weather also plays a part: heavy clouds / foggy / rainy. And still no lasting snow. Every now and then something fell, and it was real snow too, which stayed for a while, but now there is nothing again anymore. Now if everything would be continuously covered with snow, then it wouldn't be so dark. But well, we'll wait.
Each union, each company, each club, in short each social or a-social unit organises for its members a 'pikkujoulu' pre-christmas party. Most of the time this is a dinner party (with a lot of drinks), but also often it is a not-so-organised mess. Usual ingredients are anyway: glögi (mulled wine), rice porridge with cinnamon, sauna, after which a plunge in the ice hole (unfortunately the ice around the hole is still missing), live music, a Christmas-story play, and the coming of Joulupukki Father Christmas, with flying reindeer, 'ho ho ho' and presents. Although I think this kind of Saint Nicholas has been invented by the Americans, the Finns willingly adopted him and gave him a place to live, in Lapland.
Also a lot of Christmas markets pop up in town, in order to persuade everybody to buy just as many Christmas presents as possible. Commerce enforces the Christmas thought. Oh well, at least it gives some liveliness in town. More about this later.
Joulukuu
Although the days are of course shorter than ever, it is, thanks to the snow and the clear weather, much less dark than in the previous months. But that's also helped a lot by all the Christmas ornamentations and the pre-Christmas parties, which I already described last month. I myself have been at about eight of them now.
Glögi, rice porridge and father Christmas.
In the pub Molly Malone's was even an Irish Santa Claus who, traditionally Irish, came to do a pub-quiz, with questions like: "How many Irish people speak Irish: a) all of them; b) a few; c) a few more?"
More traditional Finnish is the performance of a small piece of theatre; the peculiar of this is that it's not about Mary and Joseph and the stable in Bethlehem and all that, but about king Herodes who decides to have all newly-born baby boys killed (so this is after Jesus' birth). The other characters are: a soldier of Herodes, the king of the Moors and an anonymous figure who only carries, and turns round, the Christmas star. The play is full of singing; it is actually a musical. By tradition, during Christmas time, groups of boys go round the houses with this performance, hoping to earn a few pennies. This commerciality is, nowadays, nothing compared to all the Christmas markets and Christmas-presents-propaganda.
One difficulty in Hyvinkää however was the trains: we had planned to take the 01:40am-train back to Helsinki. But, ploughing through half a metre of snow and in -17°C we arrived at the station, scratched the ice from the timetable, and found out that this train didn't go on this particular day. Then you really notice how different this actually is from the summer, when you would just lie down in the grass and wait for the next train, watching the sun rise. Now it would be simply dangerous to stay outside more than a few minutes.
We were rescued by a bar which was open until 4am, so we could wait for the 04:15-train without freezing to death. Thus we arrived back in Helsinki at 05:30, but who cares, after all, the nights are long enough in this time of year...
This was the last in a series of monthly reports. I have attempted to describe the typical yearly cycle of life in Finland; if I would continue this next year, it would be about the same again.
Gelukkig Nieuwjaar!
Happy New Year!
Hyvää Uutta Vuotta!
Prost Neujahr!
¡Feliz Ano Nuevo!
Bonne Nouvelle Annee!
Felice Anno Nuovo!
Gott Nytt År!