One week in Helsinki
One week in Finland babyyyy! (Said in the voice of Luke McGregor from Luke Warm Sex with accompanying sound clip).
Here are some of my main takeaways after the first 7 days.
Yes, Finnish people all speak English, but signs do not speak English, appliances do not speak English, supermarket products do not speak English. Nick went to the supermarket to buy ingredients for baking ANZAC biscuits, and was gone for a loooong time. Me and Google Translate took a comfy seat on the tiles in front of the washing machine this morning to do my first load of washing. Nick and I have signed up for Finnish classes.
It gets cold. And unpredictably so. In one moment the sun is shining and it feels like 15 degrees, the next moment feels like those times in my Tasmanian childhood when people would say ‘it must be snowing in the hills’ (which is to say, the coldest weather I have ever experienced). I accidentally took a video of a wall yesterday in an attempt to unlock and click a snap using only my nose in an effort to not have to remove my gloves.
The joy of apartment living just keeps on giving. It’s toasty warm all the time. Our sauna, (the one in our apartment, that is for our personal use) has it’s own window for taking in pleasant views mid-sauna. We can put hooks in the walls. The mail gets dropped right at our door, in our door to be precise (does the mail person have a key to all the apartment buildings?!) There is a drying rack above the sink hidden behind cupboard doors so nobody need see our unsightly drying dishes. There are cupboards everywhere, there are large storage rooms for bikes and skis, then there’s a whole ‘nother storage locker for … well, we’ll just have to buy more stuff to store! The courtyard has a frame to use for beating your rugs … although my translation of our apartment regulations informs me that beating hours are restricted on Saturdays and festive eves. Best of all, the apartment courtyard comes with its very own hare.
Finns drink a lot of coffee. They just don’t drink the same kind of coffee that Melburnians drink. I am very grateful for our espresso machine. A moment from this weekend: Nick orders a double ristretto 3/4 flat white, the barista asks 'are you from Melbourne?’.
Seagulls would like you to know that their lives are difficult, and they make it very clear when they open their beaks to give voice to their pain. Here, listen to what I mean.
