Windmills, water, and linden trees – is it Amsterdam? No, it is Turku. Doing a domestic trip for once. With much networking among the biotech lot, much bubbly, and much late-night wisdom.
(Turku, Finland; September 2015)
Tag Archives: Scandinavia
Back to reality
Boom, back to reality. Alarm clock set for 4.30 am and a commute to Copenhagen. From there we took the train over to Sweden and Malmö, and locked ourselves up in the hotel for the next 4 days.
I escaped twice: once to a meeting in the modern docklands, and once to a dinner with a friend where we spoke more of sailing and yoga than of science and work.
They say Malmö is troubled with cultural issues, violence, and unemployment. I say Malmö has its beautiful moments – and quite a few of them. You just need to find time for them. Just like a walk in the docklands during a 4-day-after summer-kick-off stunt in a hotel.
(Malmö, Sweden; August 2015)
The curly tip of Sweden
Sweden ends in a cute curly tail in the South. I hear there are seals down there. I waved at them. Hope they saw me buzz by.
(Above Skåne, Sweden; August 2015)
Interlude
It was sunlight of a tired day, still pushing through the old windows. It was words, and a cello. It was a bird on the roof, suddenly emerging through spoken letters and taking flight in the room. It was poetry and incredible voice artistry, the most unusual sounds from a cello, and a quirky violin.
Live today. Tomorrow you can’t anymore.
(Halosenniemi, Tuusula, Finland; July 2015)
Light Northern night
Even the midnight skies above Helsinki are light. All you fellow northerners, do remember to savor and soak in these moments so we will survive another 9 dark months. Live today.
(Helsinki, Finland; June 2015)
One cold midsummer
Last midsummer was cold. This midsummer was cold and rainy. But there were still flowers. And cuckoos. And a light night. But on an average summer, there would not be lilacs anymore, and the fields would be green with wheat sprouts. Global warming, where did you go?
(Loviisa, Finland; June 2015)
Any random Saturday
Any random Saturday one could be tidying the house and doing the laundry – or one could relax by the sea. Summer is short. Which one do you choose?
(Helsinki, Finland; June 2015)
Summer just below the Arctic circle
On summer nights it is easy to forget that we are barely below the Arctic circle. That just six months ago the day was less than 6 hours long on Helsinki latitude, and not many minutes longer on Oslo latitude. That the Oslo fjord was frozen, Holmenkollen ski jumps busy with daredevils, and there were no ice cream stands and flower arrangements on Aker Brygge.
The Nordic summer is short and bright, and the Nordic people live, live, live through the summer to sleep, sleep, sleep through the winter. There is no in-between. It is do or die, and on this summer night we did do: a splendid sunset dinner on Tjuvholmen.
And what a surprise when the hotel key fit the Arctic Room at the Ladies’ Floor of the Grand Hotel. There were reindeer hides and horns, a dream catcher on the wall, and Sami yoik music in the CD player. There were the lovely Sami poet Nils Aslak Valkeapää’s writings waiting by my bedside. Sleep swept me away and I did not even have the time to count the reindeer on the wall.
the landis differentwhen you have lived therewandered
sweatedfrozen
seen the sunset risedisappear return
the land is differentwhen you knowhere arerootsancestors
(Nils Aslak Valkeapää)
(Oslo, Norway; June 2015)
Above the rooftops
Samba carnival on a rainy cold June Saturday. It’s a stubborn weather curse. But we had sparkling wine above the rooftops. It may have been worse for the dancers.
(Helsinki, Finland; June 2015)
About celandines and the fleeting nature of it all
I saw them in the park, the little celandine suns. While kneeling to snap a photo I was joined by another photographer, with more serious equipment and the same intent: to snap a memory and impression of the golden and green and this particular spring day.
This is the essence of photography: it is not about taking beautiful pictures, but about recording reality. Most often it is about our human weakness of not accepting the elusive nature of time and precious moments. Photography is an incredibly technologically advanced method of attempting to store deep emotions, feelings of belonging, and moments that once were and will never return again.
As I carefully tread through the grass without trampling on the celandines, I reflected on the incredible size of market and business around clinging to past moments. I thought of how important it is to so many that share what we once saw and felt – the basis of social media. And I could not help but wonder, what would happen if we accepted that nothing is permanent? That after enjoying a moment it is time to let it go? That life is stock-full of moments and we might enjoy them more if we breathed through those moments with eyes open instead of fiddling with our smartphones?
(Helsinki, Finland; May 2015)
This blue marble 