These are the Eastern suburbs of Helsinki from above, at night. The bright spot to the far left is Vuosaari harbor. The black triangle cutting in to the top third from the right side is Vartiokylä bay. I grew up running around it and taking a plunge at the end. When my family moved to this part of town in the early 80s, our street was unpaved and ended in fields of crops and horse stables. The houses were all built right after World War II. There was an old broken horse-pulled rake of some kind lying by the side of the road for years. There were meadows and forests and a brook.
Now most of that is gone. The brook is still there, protected. But the meadow is tiny, and the forests, fields, and horses are gone. I am glad I had a childhood where I got to climb trees, jump around in ice cold water, and roll around in the meadows. The kids who grow up there today will not have such a childhood.
(Helsinki, Finland; March 2018)
This was Helsinki in mid-March, caught underneath the ever-swirling polar vortex of the winter and spring of 2018. The cruise liner looks like one that shuttles between Helsinki and Tallinn, the capital of Estonia. All cruise liners on the Baltic Sea are icebreakers, too. One has to dress according to weather, you see.
One bleak Saturday we stopped by at the Helsinki Art Museum’s permanent exhibition of Tove Jansson’s works. You know, the author and artist behind all things Moomin. There were two large frescoes, one showcasing a party on the countryside and another a party in the city. All very 1940s post-war joy. And then I saw a little moomin, hiding away behind flowers and a glass of champagne. Right there, in a quite seriously adult piece of art.
(HAM, Helsinki, Finland; March 2018)
In February the days are lighter already – and this past winter they were terribly cold, too. What a surreal feeling, then, to lounge in a tropical climate in a bathing suit, sipping cooling sparkling wine, and looking out at an icy winter coast landscape.
This is Finland – or some of it. We still have 75% of our land covered in forests. Nobody thinks of that as contributing to the “lungs of the planet”. Why is that, by the way?
De-icing aircrafts is the constant messer-up of winter flight schedules. You can do it like they do it on Heathrow: spend 10 minutes drenching each wing, minutely combing through every square centimeter of the wing with the flashlight, causing an average delay of 1 hour for a rush-hour departure. Or you can do it the Finnish style: zap-zap-final-finishing-look and done. All in a matter of 2 minutes. It saves drenching the airport in toxic liquids, and somehow, saving time and substance does not seem to cause any more accidents. Because ice on wings can be deadly.
The laskiaispulla (FIN), or fastlagsbulle (Swedish dialect in FIN), fastelavnsbolle (NO) or semla (SE) is one hell of a calorie bomb: sweetbread carved out to harbor a clump of juicy, bitter-almond tasting marzipan (or raspberry jam for the heretics), with a cloud of whipped cream on top. But what else do you want on a cold February Shrove Tuesday when the body craves for energy?
In London, Heathrow airport closes after 5 centimeters of snowfall. If it can be expected, flights are “proactively canceled” even two days before, to ensure smooth running of most critical services. News broadcast snow warnings, and travelers are stuck on the airport for days.
Nearly frozen water moves slower than summer water, viscous like icy cold schnapps in a glass. Yet it is warmer than the air: the rocks have white berets of ice on their heads. Even last year’s reed remains have puffy dresses of frozen seawater.
(Helsinki, Finland; January 2018)
When one walks up the steps to the Atelier Relaxium lounge at Copenhagen airport there is an entire explanation of how the colors work: choose a space according to your energy level and needs. The explanation is needed to blunt the colors that hit the visitor at entry. All the food and most comfortable chairs are in the Red space, which is seriously RED. Hurting-my-eyes red. Actually, so is the yellow and the orange. After my initial shock I went looking for calming blue and green – and noticed that instead of calming down on a couch or chaise longue I would need to sit up straight on a blue or green dining room chair. Not much Relaxium going on there. Whoever painted this lounge did not quite get the intuitive effects of colors on people.
This blue marble 