So SOUMI! Part Kaksi

I launch my upper-body-workout-in-a-suitcase into the back of our extended VW and chump in with squister. We rock out hard to the Juno soundtrack, playing the first twangy number every other song until we learn the words. “If you were a wink, then I’d be a nod. If you were a seed then I’d be a pod…!” Ah, so romantic. We also listen to Regina Spektor, whom always dishes out advice I’d love to accept… “Maaaybe you should kiss someone nice, or lick a rock, or both!”
We arrive latish at a hotel halfway to our destination, Viraat, where we’ve rented a cabin on a little inland lake in order to do the same thing we do at home… swim, sauna, walk and sit. Hotelli Urku used to be a factory where they built pipe organs, and the layout and decor speak to that fact tastefully. Leah and I wake up early and go for a power walk, during which we require ourselves to skip frantically every time we cross a muddy bridge on the trail (a significant amount of skippage). We find a playground and proceed to perform erotic Finish pole dancing on the kid’s jungle gym, just to spice things up Soumi style. Miraculously I do NOT fall on my head as I slide the wrong way down the pole, and we move onto frolicking in the fields of wildflowers surrounding the park.
Again we pack up the car and head north. We arrive at a quaint camp just outside of Viraat and promptly make our reservation for an evening sauna and Papa Kurtz regresses to his boyish self and jumps around on the trampoline before renting out a little wooden rowboat in which to bob around the lake. Too much time in the car makes Lucy a dull girl, so I snap on my gogglies and freestyle (rap) out to McFeelee and Dad halfway across el lago. My ever-supportive father points out a rock on the other end of the lake as my goal and I begin (unbeknownst to me) my triathlon summer training.
It’s now 8:00 and time for our first fab Finn sauna. The building is set on the bank and surrounded by pines and white birch trees, giving it the woodsy privacy we cherish as Yooper-Finns. The dock floats out over the cool water and the sun is set low in the sky, though by now we know this is just a tease, and even at midnight we’ll see the top of Ra’s bald head shining like a fuzzy peach. 1! 2! 3! 4 Kurtz cannon balls with enthusiasm! The sauna has an electric stove and isn’t nearly scalding enough for my hot-blooded mama, so we’ve been hitting that baby with ladle after ladle of sweet-water, cooking ourselves like steamed veggies.
Dad: “Hey Leah, the bottom is nice. Can you touch?”
Leah: “AAAAAaaaaaaaaaagh! Ewwww, gross!!!”
Nice work Padre, the muck bottom trick always works on the squeamish squeester. Aaaah hahaha.
We venture into Viraat to find some food and come across our first Pizza and Kebab shop… an interesting combination that is apparently the cats meow in old Finlandia. We eat our fill and we girlies go back to el campo and our adventuring parents move onto Viraat exploration. My great grandfather Koivunen was from Viraat, and the town center on Saturday night is hoppin with people. A Lovely night for my momma to acquaint herself with her Finnish roots.
Onward and upward in the morn, we push forth to Oulu where we’ve rented another cabin, this time minutes from the seashore. The beach is long and lovely. Bikers, runners, and swimmers sprinkle the sand and sidewalks and windmills swing their heads towards the breeze, standing like watchful giants along the distant shore and out at sea. There is a lookout tower at the end of a pier, and we walk the stairs to “patiently” wait for the sun to set. Since we don’t actually have the attention span to wait longer than fifteen minutes, we give up at about quarter past twelve and head down to our cozy cabin, Leah and it banished to the “kid loft” as it were.
We wake and mosey off in our separate directions, Mom and Dad up 40 minutes north to Kuivanimi to take in the lovely little town of her great grandmother, and Leah and I to downtown Oulu, a short walk made much longer by Leah’s foolish trust in my sense of direction. “Of course this leads to the downtown… its heading in relatively the same direction I ran yesterday.”
“You mean you didn’t take this route?!”
“Well no, but you like me and you like walking so what does it matter?”
“SISTERRRRRR!”
After posing on some statues of a mountain with tits and a worm alien (Leah also managed to fall off the worm alien while riding it… perhaps she needs to read the Dune series) we came across the outdoor market. I ate some whole fried minnows, the look of which made Leah vomit in her mouth twice, and we bought some superb Finn strawberries. After feasting we set out to find the cheapest cellular device in Oulu, failing miserably as each shop sold equally expensive phonage. We are finally directed to a store that had not only mobiles, but ICE CREAM! Nice combo once again Finland. The cute boy at the counter was more than helpful. He outfits me with a cheap-ass Samsung and a SIM card, and surely as a gesture of goodwill to foreign ambassadors, gives us FREE ICE CREAM!!! Thanks Jonas. You da bomb. I ever so boldly invite him and the lovely girl working behind the counter to hang out with us and be out tour guides, but he gets super shy, says he’s busy and using my acute skillz of people reading I understand he has a gf that would not approve... though as consolation for our rejection he says if we come back again we’ll get more free ice cream. We didn’t go back. Why Leah, WHY?
The rest of our stay in Oulu we spend walking the beautiful and abundant trails and parks woven all through the city. Sampling coffee, food and desserts in addition to creating mythical monster creatures (Leah says my monsters are shit) we take pictures lying in wildflowers (also known as THORNS) and following the blue dots to our destiny. That was my technique… but dashes painted on the sidewalk most OBVIOUSLY lead back to our cabin. Somehow I convince Leah to follow them with me, until her better judgment takes hold and she leads the way home.
M & D are back from Kuivanimi and have found Great Grandma Koivunen’s old house! The neighbor confirmed this fact in broken English. They visit a local church graveyard and take photographs of the stones there. My great grandparents met in Ripley only after their families immigrated to the United States. It’s something of a marvel to think about people’s fates, their paths crossing only after they have made a thousand decisions and experienced a million things that finally lead them to find a person to share their life journey. And everything my ancestors did for themselves they did for me as well. I could be Finnish, Slovenian, English, French, German, Scottish etc, etc. Instead I’m a Yooper and I’ve been gifted a happy life, a loving family, an education and more privileges and comforts than I rightly deserve. Jumping too far forward, at a restaurant in Tartu Estonia we discussed beggars asking for something for nothing. Matt said he always gives something if he can. When his student responded saying “I don’t want to give money because I don’t know what they’ll use it for,” his response was “who cares.” When the frustrated student said “Well why don’t these people help themselves? I have had a worse life by comparison to many of them.” And he responded with “Why not ask for something for nothing. We ALL get something for nothing.” Anyway, I seriously diverge. That conversation stuck with me and seemed appropriate now, as I think of all of the people in my lineage blazing trails of opportunity, or at least circumstance for me to do with what I will. And I suppose that is exactly what I’m doing over here across the pond… I have been granted A LOT for nothing, and I try not to forget it.
Driving south of Oulu we call out for a pit stop and roll into another pizza/kebab joint (weird). Eating our pizza and chatting with the friendly Turkish owner my dad asks him what brought him up this far north. “Did you move here and fall in love with a Finish girl and decide to stay?’ “Ha!! FUCK Finish girls,” was his response. Wooooah buddy. Those little blonde bombshells must’ve done a number on his heart/ego to evoke a response like that to a perfect stranger. Still, the man was nice enough. An hour and a half down the road I receive a call on my cell and his friend in broken English tells me that my mother’s purse is still at the restaurant! Momma Jeanne’s eyes just about pop out of her head in panic, but after some frantic flailing we decide to find a place for the night so that Leah and I are spared the extra 3 hours in the car required to retrieve her ever important wallet/passport/credit card/checkbook carrier.
We pull into an airplane museum with pre-WWII bombers on display on the lawn next to the parking lot. We walk inside and suddenly it occurs to me that EVERY plane has a swastika painted proudly on its side or tail. I can’t read any of he accompanying literature, but again NAZI was all that came through. I started to feel uncomfortable and said as much to my mom… “Mom!” I whispered. “Are these people all white supremacists?” She laughed at me and told me that Finland had a complicated history with Germany and the Nazi’s. The Germans came to Finland’s assistance when Russia tried to invade, so the Nazi’s actually helped to save Finland from the “Reds.” Then of course there was that whole killing of millions of innocent people and trying to conquer Europe and the world so that the supreme race might reign… Finns aren’t so much into that and later found themselves fighting their saviors. Phew. I was worried they’d see through me and find out I’m just a yogurt covered pretzel. No joke, I’m terrified of skinheads even if I fall into their “approved” category. Yes.
The NON-Nazis directed us down the road to an old farmstead turned bed and breakfast. It was cutely picturesque and rested on a little inland lake, with a sauna, a smoke sauna, a barn with ponies and other furry creatures, and a main hall where they feed the guests. Leah and I walk in and burst into giggles, because somehow my parents seemed to have dropped us off at a Finish retirement home. The cafeteria was packed with 65+, all gorging themselves with fish salads and hot meats. Combined with the suffocating smell of old people wearing perfume and cologne it was hardly bearable. We asked sweet Fanni, our sixteen-year-old guide why there was this inordinate number of over-the-hill patrons and she explained that there is an outdoor theatre that’s putting on an original Finish production tonight, so they are hosting dinner and a show. COOL! If only we spoke Finish. When the crowd thins out Leah and I ask how much the buffet costs… 20 Euros each! Woah! Fanni says we can probably just eat the “salads” for 10 a piece and we agreed, only to find that most of them are raw fish swimming in cream sauces and goo. Yummm. Once again giggling with lack of maturity we plopped down at a bench and began slurping our meal. Most of the salads, I’ll admit, are not my favorite, but it is really nice because much of the food is apparently very traditional. What luck to stumble across with no planning! We fill ourselves up and go for a little jog. Our parents return with Mom’s purse and all its components and Dad and I do a triangle swim around the lake, he in his rowboat, me with my gogglies. Before bed we toast in the easy electric sauna and melt into little puddles of American mush. Sooo relaxing.
Next stop Helsinki! After some fine dining (Dad orders pizza for the third time in two days), Leah and I venture out on our own to a café for some lattes and internet action. Tomas calls me and tells me his friend is playing music at a club called “Jenny Woo” and I should go. Because I am a complete idiot, somehow it did not come through to me that HE would be there. We ask the barista if she knows where the club is, and she starts laughing… hmmm to what kind of joint is he sending us? She points her finger kitty-corner to the café and says, “It’s right there on the left side of the street.” Leah and I walk up to the door and sheepishly crane our necks to see past the bouncers. No live music. Huh. Wrong place? There is a cover charge and we’re about to walk away when Tomas emerges, gives me a hug, says a few words to the doorman and waves us on through. We grab a beer (more for something to do than anything else) and wait for Tomas to come back inside. He introduces us to a table of his friends in the corner and we all shoot the shit for an hour or two. Tomas’s friend Antti, a big guy with a Donald Trump comb over, a suit and twinkling eyes, offers to walk Leah and I back to our hotel on his way to his apartment. He is so friendly, like the rest of them, and I’ll see him with Tomas again in a few weeks. I’m so grateful that Tomas has gone out of his way to pick me up from the airport and introduce me to his friends, and I tell Antti as much. “Why wouldn’t he?” He says. “Some hot American girl writes him and asks to be picked up from the airport. What else would he say?” Ha! Oooh Antti. Turns out this bit of blunt was just the tiniest tip of the iceberg. Antti has no filter, and I’m happy to call him my friend, but we’ll get to that. On to Estonia.