One last stop in Oslo before the summer break calls for a little luxury. Some sushi by the fjord, and a fantastic breakfast at the Grand Hotel café. Quality time at the office, and a little more sushi at the airport.
And then I could see my home from the air through the haze of a hot day over the sea and summer had truly arrived.
(Oslo, Norway; and Helsinki, Finland; July 2014)
In brilliant sunshine began a perilous voyage. As we cast off, little did we know that mother Nature had decided to let the sun bask on the market square while shrouding the archipelago in thick mist. Soon the sea smoke rolled in and wrapped our little boat in a blanket of nothingness. No sound, no horizon, no nothing except for white stillness.
According to the charts, somewhere near us was a smattering of rocks breaking the waves. Perhaps starboard? Port? Who knows, even sufficiently deep under us fortunate souls? We wound down the engines and let the ship glide, hoping to discover our destination. Anguish, what does one do when the gadgets point to a few meters ahead but there is nothing but whiteness in sight? Hoooooonnnk the captain called with the horn, hoping for a yip, a yell, a hello, over here!
Indeed, over there it emerged from the shroud: Söderskär islet, all alone in the world between Finland and Estonia.
Once upon a time not so long ago a mariner pilot, the lighthouse master, the lighthouse guard, and their families called Söderskär home. Tempests, swells, and scorching sunlight were the bountiful bonus on the job – and off the job. Life was rough and lonely until some years ago when the light was finally extinguished forever. What once swept the horizon with a bright beam turned into a dark tower looming in the moonlight, the ghost hand that waves homebound ships welcome.
And suddenly dark towers and a gray white world were wiped away by the June winds and all that was left was a brilliant blue. On a beautiful day even a lightless lighthouse can come to life.
I stood by the lantern and looked over the cobalt vastness. Virgina Woolf’s poor heroine never made it to the lighthouse. Tove Jansson’s moomin family did complete the voyage, and spent a summer discovering themselves and the world beyond the known. At a lighthouse islet there is no escaping reality, no fleeing from the now whether it is sunshine, storm, or snow. Close your eyes and try to dream but the sea is always on the other side of your eyelids. Everything changes but the sea is constant.
“Moominpappa leaned forward and stared sternly at the fuming sea. ‘There’s something you don’t seem to understand,’ he said. ‘It’s your job to look after this island. You should protect and comfort it instead of behaving as you do. Do your understand?’
Moominpappa listened, but the sea made no answer.”
(From Tove Jansson’s Moominpappa at sea)
(Söderskär, Porvoo archipelago, Finland; July 2014)
Helsinki looks quite different when one is hanging from the top limb of the Ferris wheel. Oh the beautiful roof terraces and detailed skylights and mansard roofs! The sun deck of the cruise liner beckons and the grass is always greener on the yacht club island. And then we look down and it is as if the sea is impossibly far below…
Fear of heights is really fear of falling. But when we are tucked safely into a cocoon like a Ferris wheel cabin, why are we afraid of falling unless we decide to open the door? Scientists claim a mild fear of falling is essential for survival and an evolutionary benefit. Guess that makes my sister the more advanced one of us two.
(Finnair SkyWheel, Helsinki, Finland; June 2014)
Sometimes life throws us spins in a way that makes it impossible to fit tradition into the swerve. We reluctantly let go of unwritten rules, adapt, and survive. You may think I am going to tell you about a dramatic change in our family, and you may laugh when I let you know it is only about where to spend the midsummer – or rather, where not to spend it.
But for us Scandinavians, midsummer is sacred. Never expect anything to be open in any city or town – nor even service. Or functioning traffic lights. Helsinki is deserted. Everybody is gone to the archipelago, countryside or lakes.
Midsummer is fresh birch branches inside the cottage, a barbeque with friends and family, a hot sauna and a cool dip in the midnight sun, summer dinner, games, laughter, fishing, and sunlight at 3 am. But sometimes, when life almost throws us off-track in the bend, we end up spending midsummer in the city. Instead of a hot sauna we have flowers, and instead of fishing and games we have time together. And there will still be summer dinner and sunlight at 3 am. The Earth will still turn.
(Helsinki, Finland; June 2014)
“One does not travel by plane. One is merely sent, like a parcel.”
(Karen Blixen)
(Copenhagen, Denmark; June 2014)
the
sky
was
can dy lu
minous
edible
spry
pinks shy
lemons
greens cool choc
olate
s.un der,
a lo
co
mo
tive s pout
ing
vi
o
lets
(e. e. cummings)
(Copenhagen, Denmark; April 2014)
“and it’s spring
when the world is puddle-wonderful”
(e.e. cummings)
Time-out in Sweden. Enjoying the sun.
(Sweden; April 2014)
Polka piglets. I am not kidding. That is how the Swedish national candy, also known as peppermint rock, translates into English. Polka was fashionable when the poor widowed mother invented the candy in the 1840 and set up shop in Gränna, terraced above lake Vättern.
Out of all the ways to make ends meet for her and her children, she chose to take a leap into the unknown and become an entrepreneur. Out of all the things to sell, she chose pastries and her very own white, delicious mint candy with red swirls, which she named after a trendy dance. What a lovely, bright, courageous woman she must have been! And how proud she would feel if she knew her legacy has grown into a national symbol and a town making a living on polka piglet tourism.
Gränna with its polkagrisar, blue sky, lake Vättern, and quaint streets, was the perfect stop on our family trips down through Sweden into central Europe. We took a long time choosing one or two bright-colored bars. Oh the luxury of adulthood and own money! Today I failed to choose and ended up with quite a bunch…
(Gränna, Sweden; April 2014)
Oh yes, yet another castle, in yet another city. How dreary it must have been to be a soldier stationed in this damp, cold fortress. There was probably little consolation in the gorgeous view overlooking Gothenburg city on one side and countryside on the other. The threat of attacking Spaniards, Poles, Danes, and crazy village people was real for centuries. Gothenburg used to be a burg: protected from all sides. I wonder whether the city walls would have given rise to a sense of security or a feeling of looming threat?
And on we move from lamenting on the bloody history of Gothenburg, Tallinn, and Vilnius; and into the luxury of cozy, chattery cafés in the old town. Heavy thoughts are easily dispersed by giant cinnamon buns and meringue clouds. The Danes won’t be attacking any time soon, so hot chocolate all around!
(Gothenburg, Sweden; April 2014)
Every day we walk in beauty. If we only remembered from time to time to look up and notice this crazy gorgeous blue marble. It is not what you look at that matters, it is what you see, said the naturalist Henry David Thoreau. I wonder how many passers by did notice the wonderful cherry trees in bloom by the botanical gardens in Gothenburg? Or the tulips planted one by one in long zig-zagging rows? Or the bird’s nest hanging on a branch right over the busy Kungsportsavenyn street?
Looking is ignorance in disguise. Seeing is mindfulness, concentration, and a non-stop learning experience.
(Gothenburg, Sweden; April 2014)
This blue marble 