14.02.2006: My Wintry Valentine

It's Valentine's Day, and I've spent it in Helsinki with The Lovely Maya. We've been exploring the Finnish capital for three days now, and I have to say it's a very agreeable place to be. It doesn't have the architectural jewellery box of St. Pete's (where we spent the previous week) or the reputed storybook medieval charm of Tallinn (where we're going next), but it does have quite a lot of other stuff going for it.

For a start, on first impression the Finns are a very open, cheerful, educated and culturally 'together' bunch of people. They're also admirably well-read, and they seem eager to point out their country's close relationship with the printed word. "We're great readers", a number of them have already told me. The vast Finnish library system is among the most frequently mentioned sources of national pride, and there are more bookshops per square kilometre in Helsinki than I've seen in any other city I've visited. The consequence, of course, is that Finns really know their stuff. Their education system is considered to be pretty fabola as well, and I'm told that educational authorities from other European nations often swarm around Finnish schools trying to nut out what it is the Finns are doing so right.

Their capital is, as I said, not likely to inspire the kind of stomach-butterflies that can result from a stroll down the Nevsky Prospekt in St. Pete's, but it has more than its fair share of understated elegance. Low-key neoclassical architecture dominates the streetscapes, but there are dabs of many other styles from romanticism to art deco, and some impressive modern creations too. All of which means that the city is full of interesting little corners that poke out and snag your attention as you wander around.

As you head out of town along the harbour's edge you hit long stretches of parkland, and it's here that you first encounter the evidence of Finns' pre-occupation with saunas. They're everywhere along the shoreline. Maya and I went around this way as part of a city tour, and the guide helpfully informed us that there are an estimated two million saunas in Finland. This means that, assuming you could fit an average of at least 2.5 people into each one, every Finn could theoretically have a sauna at the same time.

The only surprising part of this is that it hasn't actually happened. Or maybe it has ... just, no-one noticed on account of being immersed in great clouds of steam.

Also out this way is Sibelius Park which, funnily enough, is the site of an acid-proofed stainless steel wonder known as the Sibelius Monument. I was pretty darn impressed with this odd piece of sculptural brilliance; it's one of those landmarks that seem fairly "ho-hum" from a distance, but which prove to be quite absorbing once you get up close. So, if you've no particular objection, I'd like to spend some time rambling at you about it.

The monument superficially resembles a set of upright pipes, surgically removed from the belly of a pipe organ to roam at will through Helsinki's suburbs. Sibelius himself never wrote a single piece of organ music, which tends to press most people's "huh?" button until they actually go underneath the structure and open their ears. The pipes shoot upwards in a great anarchic cluster, and in the right conditions this unusual design actually makes the entire monument a powerful sound source. It 'catches' air currents from the wind and channels them through itself, producing rich waves of drone-like sound. Go to the park on a stormy day and you'll find the monument in full song, resonating furiously. It's even said to refract bird calls in spring. And many of its pipes are set at around head height, so you can stick your face inside them for an intimate sonic experience.

(Btw, in case anyone's interested, you can download a location recording by the German sound artist Lasse-Marc Riek at Soundtransit.nl)

Proposed designs for the Sibelius Monument caused a furore in Helsinki when plans were unveiled in 1967. Frankly, though, I can't see why. I mean, yeah, there always seems to be a plentiful supply of crabby little naysayers around when interesting art makes its way into a public space. But as a memorial for someone whose life was, after all, about the manipulation of sound, the monument is wonderfully ingenious. Sibelius is called "Finland's national composer" because so many of his fellow Finns hear aspects of their homeland captured and reflected in his work. So to honour the man by building something which arguably functions in an analogous way to his music - i.e. by capturing the sounds of Finnish nature and drawing them into an evolving soundscape - seems like quite a masterstroke to me.

A slightly disappointing postscript to this: on the day we visited, there was unfortunately no grand performance from the pipes. The local avian population were either fast asleep or holidaying in Africa and there was no wind to speak of, so Sibelius remained obstinately silent. Still, from a purely aesthetic p.o.v. it was a nifty thing to see. It definitely passed the "Would you have this in your lounge room if you could?" test (which I often apply when wandering through galleries, deciding which of the works on display deserve most attention).

Anyway, I should stop wittering on about sound sculptures and tell you about some of the other stuff I enjoyed in Helsinki. On a historical note, Finland was released from Swedish rule a few hundred years ago, but there are still about 7% of the population who speak Swedish as their native tongue. All signs therefore have to be in both Finnish and Swedish. But an awful lot of 'public information' - from train schedules to sandwich boards advertising retail sales - is made available here in other languages as well. The most common are German, English, Russian and French. This makes perfect sense, too, because you're quite likely to hear any or all of those languages spoken in the time it takes you to walk the length of a city block or pick up supplies at a supermarket. In this and many other ways, Helsinki feels very cosmopolitan. You're never in doubt that you're in the Euro Zone, but strong ties to the Russian sphere of influence are very obvious too, and so are the cultural links to Finland's 'Scandinavian heritage' and to its Baltic neighbours.

Still, regardless of all these international ties and influences, at this time of year Helsinki feels quite cut off from the world outside. Like Sydney, it's surrounded by ocean and rivers and various other waterways, but its overall size is much smaller than Sydney (there are a shade less than half a million inhabitants), so the watery boundaries lie a lot closer together. They're all frozen right now. Result: you feel almost marooned here, which is kind of exciting. The self-assured calm and quiet of all the Scandinavian cities I've visited is present in Helsinki too, and that somehow adds to the feeling of isolation. Plus - with apologies for repeating something I said last time - if you wander out to Suomenlinna fortress in the South Harbour, you see half-buried fortifications looking out over a frozen sea, with no ships, no other land (apart from a few tiny islets) and no signs of life at all along the shoreline or beyond it. It's a truly marvellous feeling of remoteness - or at least, it is if you like feeling remote and isolated, which I do.

What else? Well, it's a very snowy city, this one. As everyone who's been reading this blog knows, I'm rather fond of the powdery white stuff (I mean the kind that falls from the sky during winter, not the kind that caused Stevie Nicks to require reconstructive facial surgery), so for me this is a bonus. I've noticed, too, how snow really becomes some places more than others, and Helsinki's streetscapes seem almost designed to look better beneath a white blanket. Maya and I went walking in a heavy storm last night, and it was just magical strolling down the further reaches of the Mannerheimintie (Helsinki's main avenue), past Finlandia Hall and the romantic-styled National Museum of Finland. "Romantic" is definitely a word you could apply to a walk through this part of town on a winter's eve; you could also throw in a "breathtaking" without stretching the truth.

Walking in the heavy snow also helped stimulate our appetites, which was very handy because we've both been loving Finnish food. Admittedly, I might be more easily impressed than usual after spending the last five months in a culinary moon-crater, and I'm aware that not everyone shares my enthusiasm. (Jacques Chirac was once quoted as saying that "Britain has the worst food in the world apart from Finland". Yeooww!!! It's the ultimate insult, really, to have your national cuisine unfavourably compared to Britain's like that.) But I personally feel the local fare is worth a mention, because Helsinki does seem to be quite a foodie's town.

It's also a great place to enjoy a drink or two if, as I do, you relish the discovery of new and unusual alcoholic beverages. The national tipple o'choice is Koskenkorva, a close cousin of vodka that's enormously strong and punchy but not as acidic. You can buy it straight (quite an experience) or mixed, but it's also the base ingredient of many other spirited concoctions. My pick of these would have to be Salmiakki ?salted licorice vodka with an evil 40% kick. It delivers the required feisty slap every time! There are a ton of other intoxicating Finnish goodies to be sampled too, many of them fruit-based. I've tried and liked a couple of the currant wines, some delicious berry liquers and one or two made from licorice. (Curious fact: licorice appears to be something of a Finnish obsession, yet in neighbouring western Russia no-one I've spoken to has ever heard of it.) Refreshing fruity ciders are also plentiful and good here. Karoche: an extended stay in this place could be very bad for Anthony's liver!

Being in Helsinki has also made me fully aware for the first time of how much of a 'language tourist' I am. In just the same way that trying the local cuisine is a cornerstone of any o/s holiday if you're a 'culinary traveller', for me (and I assume for many other people) wrapping my head around some basic linguistic concepts is an essential and joyous part of the whole experience. That's another reason why Scandinavia is such a great place to visit if you happen to be me; I have so much fun with Scandinavian languages.

I immediately loved Finnish, in a foolishly grinning, "oh wow, this is so cool!" kind of way. It started the moment I learned the word for hello is "hei" (pronounced "hey"), and that you can double it ("hei hei") as the mood takes you. By comparison to the very beautiful and elegant but rather flatly intoned Russian language I've been mangling for the last five months, it's just so bouncy! (Much like the Finns themselves.) The long compound words are visually and aurally impressive, and while you're using them ?or trying to ?you have the feeling that you're mixing white European sounds with wilder, more exotic hues.

(I don't actually know much about the origins of the Finno-Ugric family of languages, but they definitely look and feel more 'indian' than other Scandinavian tongues, as though there's perhaps more influence from traditional northern peoples like the Sami and the Eskimo.)

So I moved on gleefully from "hei" and "moi" (bye) to "kiitos" (thank you), which I memorised by tossing our hostel room key into the air a few times and catching it. From that point onward, I was asking the hostel staff to write down new words for me almost every time I passed reception. With my advanced Finnish skills blooming by the hour, Helsinki would soon be my oyster ...

Oh, and to explain the silly picture: Maya and I decided to do the self-catering thing some of the time in super-expensive Finland (where my Russian wages really don't stretch very far). While perusing Helsinki's supermarkets, we've derived much puerile amusement from the fact that the Finnish word for "packet" is "pussi".

'Nuff said on that subject, methinks.

So anyway, we've got one more day here before we jump on a ferry and cross the Baltic, bound for the much-vaunted Tallinn. I'm hoping to hit a couple of museums and galleries tomorrow. I think Maya wants to shop. We're tossing up as to whether we should head out tomorrow night and see some (get this) Heavy Metal Karaoke, but not sure yet ... guess we'll just have to see how exhausted we are after a day's sightseeing.

Thanks to all who've sent cheerio/bon voyage emails. I'm keeping up with the replies as best I can, and I'll be in touch with everyone after Maya wings her way back to the Antipodes in a couple of weeks' time. Until then ... live well, I entreat thee!

Moi now :-)