The Bunnies of Helsinki

Even though there are lots of parks around, I've been kind of surprised at the relative lack of animals in them.  I mean, I know I live in a city, but I live in town in Columbia, too, and my yard is full of squirrels (and lizards and frogs and toads and snakes and birds and possums).  Moreover, Helsinki seems to have many more parks with big trees.  With the killer chesnut trees across the street, I'm always shocked that the place isn't overrun with squirrels.  Guess it's the dogs in the area.

I have now, though, finally met urban Helsinki's "big" mammals: bunnies.

About three weeks ago, I was taking Ted out about 11 at night and no one was around.  In the distance near the building in the kids' part of the park, I could've sworn I saw a rabbit and, when Ted started running, I realized I did.  (Imagine Tweetie Bird here.)  I'd heard about the rabbits but hadn't yet seen one, so I had really mixed feelings: on the one hand, it was cool to see the bunny, on the other hand, I wondered about the tensile strength of the leash.  Rabbit dove between the fence and the building and disappeared.  Ted stopped right before the building and my arm didn't go out--whew.  But Ted didn't forget the bunny.  For the next 3-4 days his primary concern morning, afternoon, and evening was getting back to the spot where the bunny disappeared.  Pretty funny reaction given that he almost always ignores the wildlife in my yard in South Carolina.

I was talking to one of the staff here--hi, Maria!--and she told me that the bunnies in town actually aren't native to Finland.  They were introduced as pets that were let out or something like that and did what rabbits do.  Something about the layout of the city, wildlife management, or whatever seems to keep them in the city and the native species in the countryside.  Whatever the case, they were pretty much what I expected from wild bunnies: grayish brown with a big, white tail.  Both Ted and I had looked for more, but not a one in sight since

Until last night.  Once again we're out around 11--I swear I do that ca. half the time and don't see bunnies!--and we've just gotten to the end of the park.  No one's around, and we're walking back towards the Towers, nearing the building.  Suddenly a bunny goes right across the path and Ted takes off.  Truly.  Ted. Takes. Off.  I had no idea he could run so fast.  The leash unwinds like a fishing line with a marlin at the end, and I figure this is it: I'm hitting the ground or dislocating my shoulder because I sure as ---- can't let go.  I'll never see Ted again.  And Ted's got all these rippling muscles now.  And he's a pony in a dog suit.  So I brace just as Ted hits the end of the line.

Next thing I know Ted is flat on his side. 

But his head is still up tracking the bunny.

Now before those of you who know about Ted's abilities at injuring himself freak out, let me state categorically--he's fine.  He didn't even take a bad step.  I think he was torn between being shocked and obsessed, though, because he stayed in that position until I walked up.  Then he stood up and resumed the crouch/prance step that basically said, "Please, please, let the leash go.  I want to chase that bunny again.  And again.  And again."  (Of course, by now the bunny was across the street and well out of sight--thank goodness!)  So he pranced and I pulled our way back to the Towers.

Of course, this morning Ted the obsessed bunny hunter was ALL over the area those rabbits come from.  I figure this now means he'll be like this for another week at least.  Better warn my neighbors!

Imagine this with snow and/or ice.  I may not survive Helsinki, although I really didn't think bunnies would be my COD.

Adventures in a Small Kitchen

As I was heading to the store this evening and strategizing how I was going to make dinner, I started giggling about how I was getting used to some mighty odd contortions just to make pretty simple dinners.  Given how basic the Towers' kitchens are (more details below) and how lazy and cheap I can be, I've made it one of my challenges this year to cook good, nutritious, and non-boring meals in my apartment.   Yep, too lazy to walk down the hall to the oven, that lazy.  It's entailed some real inventiveness--and, at times, long for my BIG, fully-equipped kitchen at home.  (Yes, compared to my kitchen here, my one on Candleberry is big.  Chew on that.)

My kitchen here really is just a 6-foot stretch of counter into which they've managed to fit a sink, two electric burners, and a coffee maker.  Yep, that gives me about a 3x2 surface for all meal prep.  The microwave is small and weak but perfectly functional and is, thank goodness, a wall-mount.  The fridge is the best of those under-the-counter ones I've ever had, but it is small.  No once a week groceries for me.  The "pantry" is a shelf in my clothes closet and a spice rack above the burners.  Both are totally functional, although I keep waiting for coffee in my undies and all my spices to collapse into dinner.  That's when I go to the Chinese restaurant next door.

For all my kidding, the only thing that's annoying are the electric burners--and they're more amusing than annoying.  Now I'm not one of those folks who "can only cook on gas" (get over yourselves).  Electric or gas, both are fine; you just have to deal with them differently.  With the ones here, though, let's just say that I'm glad I learned to cook on Wekiva's old stove and the two cranky and microscopic ones I had in Dublin and Dole.  The burners aren't coil but are like a hot plate: solid metal.  It means that they take FOREVER to heat up, but once they do, they don't give up their heat for anything; yes, you are in danger of burning yourself for at least an hour after using one, and I'm shocked that they don't set the countertops on fire given that they're embedded into them and anything hitting the metal surrounding the burners sizzles (no joke). They're also REALLY close together.  I mean REALLY.  My big saucepot is 8" across, and I can't put that and my small frying pan on the burners at the same time and have both pans actually fit.  Think of it as campfire cooking, with each pot precariously balanced on its burner.  It's actually kind of handy if you think about it; I can sautee and sear on the same burner in the same pan without having to adjust the heat. :-)

That last crack gives you an example of some of my cooking contortions, so on that note, here's to all the ways I've had to become inventive in the kitchen!

1.  My mallet is my friend.  Not only does it tenderize meat, it makes bread crumbs, contributes to stretching pastry dough, and creates killer mashed potatoes.  I should note, however, that you should never, ever use the pointy side on the potatoes.  Without a dishwasher, you'll never get the thing clean.  I've learned the hard way.

2.  You can fry almost anything if you try.  While I realize that this shouldn't be surprising to anyone who's lived in the South as long as I have, it was an epiphany given that I so rarely fry things at home.  While I haven't gotten into the fried vegies yet, fried bread in butter is 100% times better than toast on frosty mornings.  (Yes, you can call my cardiologist.)

3.  I'll take plastic, not paper.  When I shop for things now, I pay attention to their containers not because I'm trying to be environmental, but because I'm trying to get free Tupperware.  I've managed to accumulate a nice collection of mixed containers and just tonight treated myself to a 1.5 liter container of Diet Coke (my first of the trip) because Ted and I need a big water bottle when walking.  The only problem is that some don't microwave well.  That's when I learned how to scrape plastic off the glass shelf.

4.  A cutting board is an all-purpose tool.  Computer lap desk.  Need I say more?

5.  Garlic presses are annoying but essential (at least given how I cook), since they don't seem to sell pre-chopped garlic .  Think about cleaning all those stupid holes without a dishwasher, though.  I've gotten so that I squish something slimy through it to get rid of the garlic skins, then wash the slimy out.  I was pretty proud of that one.

6.  The most useful tool in the kitchen: the Euro-whisk (bet you thought I'd say knife, huh.  Actually knives are third place after scissors).  When you can't face anymore inventiveness, the Euro-whisk makes a killer cup of cocoa and mixes a lot better than those straight-handled whisks we have at home.  (Yes, my kitchen came with a whisk and cheese slicer, which I never use, but didn't come with measuring cups.)

On that note, I'm going to take my cutting board and start editing!

Finnish Bureaucracy: A Case Study

One of the few ways I've found the clichés about Finland to be accurate are those involving bureaucracy and meetings.  We've had several meetings where librarians, technology staffers, international faculty orienters (rough translation of their title), and statisticians have explained to us what they think we need to know about the university.  (I was about to type "drone on and on" to us, but that would be rude.)  It's particularly funny/frustrating given the amazing guidebook that the Collegium itself gave us when we first arrived; it really does answer everything, although, now that I think about it, I should've been forewarned by the long section on organizational structure that even began that booklet.

From the point of view of a foreigner who's only here for a year, these meetings can be absolutely hysterical once you get over the mind-numbing boredom.  Let me give today's example.

Today all new fellows who are officially employees of the University of Helsinki have had to attend a 2-hour orientation of the online reporting system UH uses to keep track of all our research and other activities.  While I'm not a huge fan of administrative meetings and the numerical accounting of academic work, I understand why administrators feel they need to do it.  Besides, I'm only here for a year.  It's not my job to reform the Finnish education system!

So I sat down at 10 am with my laptop in our seminar room to learn everything I ever wanted to know about Tuhat, the accounting system.

OH     MY    GOD!

Let the mind-numbing boredom begin.

It took 20 minutes for the presenter to get us to the log in stage, because after all, we had to learn everything about the place of Tuhat in the university system, the complications of integrating it into the servers, the connections between Tuhat and the libraries, etc.  The log in section moved at usual speed, which would have been way too fast for someone who wasn't familiar with the system or a native English speaker.  I'd already gotten bored enough that I was about 8 screens ahead and coming up with a list of questions.  It has almost certainly made me annoying, although it at least made me look as if I was paying attention.

When we got to the page where we're supposed to report our publications, there was a list of ca. 10 different types of publications.  Instead of explaining the categories or telling us where to find the explanations, the presenter moved right into the most obvious category ("scientific publication," alias a research monograph).  Then the minutia festival started in earnest.

To illustrate what we were supposed to do, she asked our director to let us use his page.  Although he did so, about every 10 minutes thereafter he punctuated the meeting with comments about how this wasn't really representative because he'd spent so many years at other institutions, he hadn't imported his work into the system, etc.  It was quite sweet actually; a group of us wanted to go up and tell him not to worry, he was the Director of the Collegium, and we thought he was a good scholar.

In any case, she pulled up his article and proceeded to go through EVERY single possible permutation of the record about it, being sure to read to us every category, subcategory, and subcategory of a subcategory.  Then there were detailed discussions between her and another library staff member about how things were classified within the library system, the way the coding really looked without the nice user interface (demonstrated to us, of course), etc.  At one stage I went out to go to the bathroom, which is on a separate floor.  When I left they were discussing how to determine the best key words for a search; when I came back ... well, you guessed it: same topic.

By this time, my fellow fellows and I reverted to our undergraduate days.  I'll admit I started it--needed something to do between checking Facebook (stinks when most of my friends are in vastly different time zones!).  Emails were soon flying around the seminar room about the mind-numbingly boring and pedantic presentation.  One involved someone faking a heart attack, with the other two promising to carry him out.  Another involved a fellow just packing up at about 11:30 after sending us an email telling us that his grandmother had just had an accident.  Meanwhile, I was chiding one of our Collegium staff members who was spending time reading "The Independent" and BBC World News. :-)

My colleague with the injured grandmother missed, however, what has been the highlight of the presentation thus far.  After we finally got away from article minutia and moved to how to use this system to make our cvs--completely useless for those of us who already have a long academic life and/or who aren't going to spend their lives at universities where this system is used (Finland, Denmark, Scotland, and England--one of our chief administrators here asked a question that had clearly been bugging her for awhile: given that most of us are on short-term (1-2 year) contracts, how is she supposed to convince us that it's worthwhile for us to go through the hassle of completing this online accounting--other than through the obvious method of harassing us until we comply?  In other words, as Minna asked, what's the use of this system to people like us?  

Here's where a great aspect of Finnish style comes out.

The presenter thought for a second, looked around the group, and gave a totally honest answer: 

It isn't useful.

(At all. Period. De nada. Nichts. Ne...pas. Never in a bazillion years.)

I thought I was going to die laughing.  Let's hear it for the proverbial Finnish honesty!

I guess I'd better go back to listening to the presentation.  Yes, even after admitting it wasn't useful to us, they are debating the ways it is not useful while we're sitting here. :-)

We Experience Ruska

About the end of September/early October, leaves started changing here.  That marks the beginning of ruska, which roughly translates as "autumn" but, from what I understand, plays more on the emotional connotations that are used less frequently in English, such as "autumnal," "the autumn of our lives," etc.  It seems a bit like the concept of evanescence in Japanese culture, this sense that you have a final gasp of beauty before all things fade (and all thing WILL definitely fade).

While not as spectacular here in Helsinki as it is further north and certainly not like New England, it's still pretty beautiful.

This first picture is from a park near the water in Helsinki; I took it while I was waiting to head to a friend's house for a dinner party.

Of course, this is from our fabulous viewing deck.  While the colors were not super spectacular, I liked the way they stretched all the way to the water.

Surprisingly, though, given the number of trees in the area, the colors haven't been so dramatic everywhere.  I think it's because, in general, Helsinki doesn't seem to get those sudden changes in climate that high mountains and NE do in the States. I mean, if it's 55 degrees here during the day, it tends to get down to all of 45 degrees at night.  We've also had lots of rain recently, so what you really have is a mush of leaves on all the walkways.  At least so many people walk and the leaves get pulverized so quickly that I have yet to slip on them!  Give me time.

Two Month Musings

It's hard to believe I've been here two months, especially since my time at the Collegium has really only just started, but in keeping with my two-month anniversary, I thought I'd share more weird musings I've had during my time in Finland.

1.  Why does everyone, including myself I might add, assume that living in Helsinki is like living in Antarctica?  Don't get me wrong; it's colder than SC, but in September and August a furnace is colder than Columbia.  The weather has been absolutely lovely, and even the Finns freak out if Helsinki gets below 0 degrees Fahrenheit.  From what I hear, that makes much of the upper Midwest a lot colder than Helsinki.  That being said, I'm still going to start the counter on the blog of the number of days below freezing once it happens. :-)  And, yes, you can remind me of this entry come February.

2.  I am truly fascinated at the number of Finns who are already going for walks with those ski pole/walking stick things.  I hear it's to get ready for the cross country (what they call "Nordic") skiing season.  While it makes sense, it certainly looks more than a bit dorky to this foreigner.  And, yes, you can remind me of that when I fall on my rear on the ice come February. :-)

3.  I'm constantly fascinated and amused by the politics of laundry here in the Towers--and will be thrilled to have my own machines back!  Some people dutifully follow the instructions, others can't read the instructions, and still others somehow can't figure out that they have to reserve the machines even though they've lived here for months!  Me, I'm just grateful if I can get my trousers dry in less than 2 hours! (Bet you were waiting for an allusion to February here, weren't you?)

4.  Speaking of the Towers, I have the best shower ever created by man.  I mean, I thought my shower in Columbia was good, but this one's better!  I must figure out how to re-create it.  I'm in love.

5.  I could write a entire monograph about Finns and dogs, especially on the trams.  My favorites are the kids, because they haven't learned yet to be repressed/polite.  Several times a week I have a kid sit down or next to Ted and have a conversation with him while petting him.  Often the parents end up playing translator, and us two adults are killing ourselves not to laugh.

6.  Even though I'm not watching prices obsessively (and I purposefully haven't been looking at exchange rates), I remain astonished at the cost of food: well over $15 a pound for even mediocre cheese, hamburger at $15 a pound, nuts at $20 a lb., and most things at least 50-100% more.  That's echoed in dinner prices, too; tonight I'm going out to dinner with friends from the Collegium.  We're going to a mid-priced restaurant, and I figure that I'll pay at least $90 for a starter, main course, and two glasses of wine.  Alcohol is the real killer: a 1/2 liter of beer runs at least $10 in most Helsinki bars.

7.  Finally figured out how to do a dinner party here at the Towers: have it on the Viewing Deck.  It's enclosed and heated, with lots of space and a panoramic view on three sides.  This November I think I'll do one of my "Mexican evenings" (If Patricia Beatty is reading this, she just cracked up and got nostalgic simultaneously.), make enchiladas, etc., and set up there.  Already checked with the staff, and they're fine with it.

8.  Means I'd better buy tortillas and a few other things when I go to Fort Worth in three weeks.  They have a remarkable selection in Stockmann, but it's not complete.

9.  I continue to love Sundays in Europe, even though (or probably because) they're not as strict as they used to be.  It's still the common thing that most people don't work and stores don't open on Sunday, but there's still a lot to do--unlike during my days in Dole when they rolled up the sidewalks!  It's just done at a nice, leisurely pace.  Makes me feel like I'm not committing some sort of academic heresy by taking a day entirely off things intellectual once a week.

10.  I'm constantly amazed at how different my experience living abroad is now from what it was like when I first went to Ireland or France.  Not the countries, although that, too, but my personal approaches and ways of coping.  Then again, that topic could cover pages, so I'll save it for another entry.

Ted is snoring, and I know I've forgotten half the points I meant to blog about, so that's a sign that I probably should go get ready for this evening.  The question du jour is (I've been reading a lot of French recently) do I try moose, have reindeer again, or go for something I love and don't make, like duck confit? :-)

Weird Dietary Twists

I'm in the middle of my usual European "eat like a healthy human being" kick.  Translated that means I always eat healthier and lose weight in Europe.  I put it down to a combination of exercise (I almost never have a car), poverty (I look at European prices and NEVER buy anything pre-prepared, although this year that's less of an issue), space (I never have a fridge of any size to store pre-prepared and frozen stuff in), and sheer unadulterated laziness (I refuse to lug a bottle of Coke or anything else that weighs a ton and is not absolutely necessary).  Now if I could just manage to keep these habits back home!

One really odd thing I've noticed this time, though, is that I'm CRAVING sweets and that, when I do eat Finnish desserts, they don't seem really sweet to me.  Don't get me wrong: chocolate is chocolate is chocolate.  It's just that when I treat myself to things like pastries they don't seem as sweet as the stuff we get at home.

Out of curiosity I've done some digging around Finnish recipes and it does seem that their baked goods have less sugar in them, but I actually think the reason is more insidious: corn syrup.

Since I've been here I've had VERY few things that have corn syrup in them, and let's face it, a cup of hot chocolate does not have anywhere near the punch of the corn syrup saturated goodies in the US.  Most of my cooking is from scratch, and when I do want something sweet, I add sugar to my coffee (or make hot cocoa, like tonight), buy good quality ice cream, or stop at the local bakery.  And when I decide I'm actually going to pay for baked goods, I make darn sure that I'm not buying something mass produced--and, therefore, filled with corn syrup.

Since the strength of this craving is actually freaking me out a bit--and I feel great save for it--on Wednesday I'm going to try to go "cold turkey" for sugar of any sort for a week.  (I have dinner at a colleague's tomorrow and don't want to be rude!)  They say that it takes that long for things like sugar cravings to clear your system.  Wish me luck! 

If it works, it'll be great, but boy, will I be A LOT more paranoid about corn syrup and the various -oses when I get back home!

Official Photos & the Hattifatteners

This past week we all got copies of official photos that were taken in early September, and I thought I'd share some of them with you.  The idea is that that they use the group photos on the website and Collegium publications.  The individual photos here are more for a pr magazine that gets sent out to a more general population; that's why Ted's in them--he's the human interest story.  My "official" individual photo is already up on the Collegium's website (my page).  (BTW, the group photographer was Veikko Somerpuro; we were asked to give his name if we distributed his photos anywhere, which seems only fair.  The group photos will blow up MUCH larger if you click onto them.)

 

Here's everyone for this year, at least as of the fall; some of the folks only have a 4-month appointment unfortunately.  I'm in the second row, as you can see; my fellow EURIAS fellows are the man behind and slightly to the right of men (William, who's the archeologist at Pompeii) and in the front row with the blue sweater (Rogier, who works on the philosophy and institutionalization of science).  Among the others you may have or will probably hear about are some of the other front row folks, who are the pub and Töölö Towers group, and the staff members, who are on the far right side sitting on and around the ledge.  They've really made my move here so much easier!  Kneeling near the back are some of the Russian scholars you may have heard me mention, too, who are part of the pub and dinner crowd and who are in the same hall as me, as is the short haired woman kneeling in the back.  Here it is: faces to go with the setting!  (The photo was taken on the steps of the original University of Helsinki building which is just around the corner from the Collegium.)

Here's another big group photo, just taken from a different angle.

Compositionally, I think I like this one better, although I could've lived without being right in front.  I think the other one does better at letting you see everyone, though.

A few days later, Antti, who handles our PR (among many other things), came to take photos for our brochures.  He really wanted Ted in them, so we had to figure out a day when we were both free AND it wasn't raining.  Then, too, part of the gimmick was to have something representing our research in the photo.  For William and Rogier, that wasn't too bad; you can find lots of archeological and scientific images.  But ghosts!  Antti solved the problem by bringing a stuffed version of famous Finnish ghost character called a Hattifattener from a TV series, "The Moomins."  That's the white thing in the photos, and my favorite description of it comes from one of my favorite blogs about Finland from an expat's point of view: Note from Lapland (The link is to the specific page about the ghost character, but the whole site's a hoot).

In any case, Antti instructs me to play with the Moomin while trying to keep both Ted and me in the shot and making it obvious that it's the Moomin ghost, the Hattifattener.  Supposedly every Finn will get the reference, although from a non-culturally-saavy perspective, you can interpret that Moomin in a series of not-so-straightforward ways  (I'm TRYING to be clean here.)

Antti took dozens of pictures, but these were the three he thought were the most successful.  As you can see, Ted thought the Moomin was meant for him.  Antti thought Ted's antics were hysterical until he realized that Ted mean to disembowel it--not exactly the fun and fuzzy image he was apparently going for! :-)

Here you can see the Moomin really easily, but I just look too precious for words.  It didn't make the cut.

Here I'm trying to keep Ted from tearing apart what is clearly a terrified Moomin and to look like this is all in a day's work.  Not exactly the most academically respectable image! :-)  About 5 seconds later, Ted had jumped up on me in his pursuit of the Moomin.

Finally, a reasonable picture of both Ted and me, although I will remain speechless about the Moomin!  This is the one that's going in the brochure.  I'm actually quite happy with the picture, although it made me realize that I need to get my hair cut soon!  (The appointment is next Saturday.)

Given that USC has still not even managed to publicize that I got the EURIAS, I'm a bit amazed and amused at the very professional pr machine here.  I guess here it's okay to be a European historian. :-)

Moomins -- what was the designer on when he thought of those?

Finally--the decorated apartment

I'm sorry I've fallen so behind blogging this week.  For some reason, all the social and professional aspects of the Collegium have hit in spades since last Tuesday!  I'm hoping that life will settle back to normal next week.

In any case about a week ago, I took a series of pictures to show you how I've added some color and liveliness to my white and tan, Ikea-modern room.  (Don't get me wrong.  It's quite comfortable, very convenient, and in great repair, just not super homey).

So here they are with Ted as the demonstrator--think of the flash girl in magic shows.  (Oh, that's a horrible image!)  Voilà, entryway.

As you can see, an entryway is an entryway except that it's now become a depo for scarves, mittens, coats, shoes, and Ted stuff--including the very flashy blue poop bags that come directly from Stockmanns.  (Think of it as buying dog poop bags at Bloomingdale's; ludicrous but easy to get from where I work and cheaper than buying plastic grocery bags.  I'm still wrapping my mind around gender-colored bags for my dog's excrement, though.)  I love just being able to kick my shoes off as soon as I get in the apartment and to assert that, by doing so, I'm just respecting cultural norms!

Looking back towards the kitchen living room, it doesn't look like much has changed, but I've actually added a lot of things to make it more comfortable.

I've just let things drape so that it adds some color to the space.  I was actually amazed what a difference colorful scarves on the closets and orchids on the window ledges made.  With the kitchen, I've actually now got it set up so that it can be used to cook decent meals, complete with wine and various vinegars and oils.  The mini fridge works amazingly well: I can even keep meat and ice cream frozen in the tiny freezer compartment!

I will, though, find a way to hug my dishwasher and deep sink when I get back.

As you can see, I set up my dining table as my desk.  It just didn't make sense to have it in the middle of the room all the time, and it actually gave me some sense of discreet spaces.  It's also very handy with the two computers, as I've learned since the NFL has started: I can enter things into my database with the Niners playing the background!  :-)  You can also see the blue chair in the bottom right.  It's actually quite comfortable, although lime green and itchy.  I threw one of the extra, hotel-style (read unfunctional) blankets from the bed on it and set up a desk lamp there on what used to be a second bedside table (like Ted needs a lamp!).  Lovely reading spot!

This picture of my couch makes it look much starker than it is primarily because I took it on what seems to be one of the last really bright days of the summer.  I broke down and bought navy blue covers for the bed and couch, so that things are now relatively harmonious (I can't believe I just used that word for "design"!) and the fabric no longer itches!  It also makes it easy to keep the place from smelling like Ted and looking like a kennel--just throw everything in the wash once a week!  Basically it means that the apartment has lots of shades of blue and purple now, rather than unmatching purple, lime green, forest green, tan, white, black and turquoise I started with.  (This list makes it sound bright.  Believe me, it was far from bright and all of the shades clashed.  With the pillows piled up and the second of the bed blankets draped on top of me, it's a nice place to swatch TV, although I'm going to hit the local Goodwill for some sort of floor lamp so that I can read there.  (The light in the living room area is intentionally dim--atmosphere or something, they told me--and it'd blind me to read on the couch.)

Now the bedroom, which has become one of Ted's favorite places--other than under the dining table when I'm typing (like right now).

It's amazing what a difference the blue sheet, some big pillows with blue pillow cases, and the orchid make.  When I came here, they were lovely about giving me extra pillows but they were all tiny, so stacking them up to read in bed just wasn't happening.  I figured I'd live with it since all the pillows I saw in the stores were 90+ Euros.  I'm just too cheap for that!  Then one day I walked into Stockmann's and found these huge square pillows for all of 15 Euros each.  That I'd pay, so now I'm a happy camper.

Ted has also discovered the joys of a queen-sized bed, especially since there are two, separate duvets.  He considers that as "one for you, one for me."  Then, of course, there are times, like this one, when it's "all for me!"

Oh, and you can see a bit the rugs I got, too.  The floor was so slippery here that I had this image of Ted flying off the bed one day, sliding, and me paying for knee surgery again.  Basically any sort of real rug was going to be expensive, not to mention a pain to keep clean.  Then one day I got this brainstorm when I saw a bunch of bath rugs on sale.  I managed to pick up 3, good-sized ones for about 50 Euro total: 1 big one in blue, 2 medium ones in white.  If I throw them in the wash every week they stay nice, and it's become part of my Friday entertainment to see in what pattern the cleaning staff will lay them out when they're done!  On the mundane level, Ted's sliding around much less now, and it's nice getting dressed standing on the soft rugs.

In fact, here's the final testimony to how well we've settled in to our little apartment: Ted laying on the bed, trying--and failing--to look innocent after stealing one of my pairs of socks from the closet.

Next will be more random musings or pictures from my latest exploration of Helsinki neighborhoods!  Good night and time for pizza!

My First Finnish Gale

Last night Ted and I experienced our first Finnish gale, and it was interesting.  (For anyone who's a weather buff, the  Finnish national weather service has a nice, English-language website; this will take you directly to the weather for Helsinki, but it's easy to move to the satellite and regional views.)

About 11 last night you could really hear the wind pick up, and since I'd checked the weather report before I went to bed, I knew that they were expecting rain, sustained 45 mph winds, higher gusts, and 15+ foot seas in the waters around Helsinki.  Pretty exciting, but since I'm in a 11-story, cement-and-steel building I didn't think much about it and went to bed like I usually do, with my windows open.

I spent all night being woken up every hour or so by noises from the wind, especially the sound of covers and other materials blowing around at the construction site next door.  (I know, I could've gotten up to close the windows, but that would've taken effort and left the house really stuffy!)  When I got up around 6 you could see a really pink sky with the trees waving all around; when I finally took Ted out at 8:30 it looked like someone had dumped branches all over the walking paths.  Nothing really big, but the twigs were everywhere.  (It seems too early in the year for the leaves to be affected.)

By the time I headed to the Collegium I was worshiping the Land's End "SunShower" parka that I'd bought before I came here.  Despite the sideways rain, I could zip it up, put the big hood on, and remain completely dry.  Even better, I didn't die of the heat!  It was so nice not to have to rely on an umbrella that wouldn't have lasted 50 feet anyway!  I also understood why so many adult Finns seem to own galoshes (sp?). 

When I got here I ran into one my colleagues who lives on one of the islands connected to downtown, and she told me that it had been pretty wild where she was.  Not only did they have branches down, but some roof tiles.  It seemed like it freaked her out a bit, and I suddenly stopped being envious that I didn't live on one of the islands!

Now everything's blown over, but I'm imagining how "pleasant" those will be when the weather's in the 30s and 40s.  I have a hunch this is the November weather folks here warn me about.

Seurasaari

No, that's not a new stage in my 3-word Finnish vocabulary.  It's the name of this great open-air museum about 4 kilometers (2.5 miles) from the Towers.  Several people had recommended that I go there, and since the weather was absolutely perfect yesterday, Ted and I wandered off.

Let me warn you now: many, many pictures!  In fact, I'm going to keep the ones here fairly small, but if you want to see bigger ones, just double-click on them.

In any case, to get to Seurasaari you can walk or take a tram or a bus.  I figured I'd take one of the trams about halfway there, then wander through the burbs as a way of getting to know more about Helsinki.  So Ted and I meandered about 3 blocks down the road to a different tram stop than the one I usually take--getting to trams is just so hard in Helsinki! :-)  -- and waited a whole 5 minutes for tram 4.  Here's two views from the stop, one looking back towards downtown and the other looking out to the burbs:

It was really nice being on a tram that wasn't packed.  In fact, the only people sharing our area were a family with two little kids who were just fascinated by Ted.  After I got him lying down, I managed to communicate that it was okay to pet him.  I wish I'd been able to get a picture of two kids, kneeling on the tram floor, petting Ted for about 10 minutes!

Once we got about 2/3s of the way to Seurasaari, we hopped off.  It didn't seem like much to look at, but, what a surprise, as soon as we got a bit off the main road, we ran into more parks.  Just as good is that we ran into some beautiful, single-family homes.  I realize that wooden houses are traditional here, but I know that I've owned a house too long when I kept thinking about the maintenance costs and hassle of taking care of the small one on the left.  Still, I could be forced.  (Anna, if you're reading this, are some of those houses there the old mokki that are now so posh?)

I later found out that one of the houses I walked past yesterday was the President's, which fits my impression that Seurasaari is now in a pretty nice neighborhood.  I kind of thought so, but that's a story for closer to the end of the blog.

In any case, we eventually meandered our way through this lovely neighborhood and alongside the shoreline to the island itself.  Sorry, I forgot to mention that Seurasaari is the name of an island, and the park/museum also called Seurasaari was set up ca. 1900 as a way of preserving old Finnish buildings and providing people from urban Helsinki with a way to keep in touch with their rural roots.  It's a classic 19th-century nationalist move but fun nonetheless.  What this Finnish professor convinced the government and other patrons to do was to relocate a bunch of old Finnish buildings that would've been destroyed anyway to an island where folks from Helsinki already went for weekend "days in the country."  There they could wander around, picnic, swim on the beaches, and generally enjoy themselves while now strolling through their cultural heritage.  To find out more about Seurasaari, click here.  (And, yes, I love that the Finnish National Board of Antiquities abbreviates as NBA; it would seem to make sense, but that's if you're thinking in English.)  That's the island to the right as I look down the inlet back towards downtown.

 After walking across a lovely, old-style bridge

(This picture was taken as I was walking across the bridge.)

we were faced with our first challenge of the day: go directly to the buildings part of the open-air museum (some of which Ted couldn't enter) or go on the walk around the island called the President's jogging trail.  (It gets its name from a past president of Finland who used to go jogging there.)  I decided to make a day of it, so off "jogging" we went.  Actually the biggest challenge was not to treat the walk as a "project," but once I got into the habit of stopping every 50-100 meters just to take some deep breaths, close my eyes, and enjoy, I could just feel any sense of "project" flowing away.

The walking path really was lovely, a real get-away from any sense of "city," and for most of it you could look through the trees and shrubs into inlets of the Gulf of Finland.

Although there were other people around, it wasn't outrageously crowded either, which made the whole thing quite nice.  I mean, Ted had a brief play with a 5-month-old Golden and I watched him and this very elderly Finnish lady have apparently a nice conversation--after which she sincerely and forcefully assured me that she hoped to see us again--but if I wanted to dodge people I could.

Once we got about halfway down the west side of the island we started running into buildings.  I'm probably getting this out of order, but the first I remember was the old harbor master's house.  Back in the 19th century the boats from Helsinki would dock here, people could wait on the ground floor if it started raining, and the family could live upstairs.  One of the things I thought was really cool was the carving on some of the wood, especially the boards crossing in front of the house at the roofline.  (Is it bad that I'm pleased that I no longer know the technical term for those?!)

Just past here, I managed to avoid the temptation to hit the restaurant and cafe (in the distance in this photo)

and keep clambering over the granite.  (I'm still wrapping my mind over how HUGE granite blocks just pop up in the middle of nowhere here in Helsinki!)

I figured Ted and I could have a lunch break at one of the "scenic" points at the far southern end of the island, which were well marked on the big maps posted about every 1/10th of a mile.  Unfortunately the paths OUT to the scenic points weren't so well marked, and while I have every confidence the points are quite scenic, after watching Ted go up to his hocks in mud a couple of times, I opted for the paths of discretion.

On those more sensible, or at least not as muddy, paths, I eventually came to a crossroads where you could head directly to the main museum complex, go to the restaurant, or keep walking along the shoreline and see some of the museum buildings.  I gratefully sank down at a picnic bench, and after a few minutes watching a group of Italians who seemed as lost as we were (despite the frequent signs!), Ted settled down, too.

Then I got one of the biggest laughs of the day, given the Finnish rep for technological expertise and delays I've had getting a cellphone established.  Right at the far end of the open-air museum was this.

I don't quite get the bottom, unless it's now intended as a kid's play area, but it did crack me up having an old telephone booth as part of the open-air museum.

Since I couldn't quite follow the maps, I guessed at the path that would keep us closest to the water and still let me see some of the museum, even with Ted.  It turns out I hit the jackpot.  Right around a corner on the path I ran into whole farm complex made out of old wooden buildings from the 19th and 18th centuries.

 One of the great things about Seurasaari for us non-Finnish speakers is that the information boards for the buildings are often trilingual with English as the third language (as opposed to the ones that tell the rules for the park; those are only in Finnish and Swedish.  Viva anarchic English speakers!)  Here's one of the ones for this farm complex

 The people who set up the museum were really quite clever, too.  Aside from the nice commentary and chose of buildings, they knew how to attract an audience.  There were some complexes that you had to pay to get into while others, like the one above, where you only had to pay if you actually wanted to enter the buildings.  They also set it up so that around almost every corner in the museum section there was some interesting building to see. 

From my perspective, I just kept imagining people living in some of the buildings I saw--not all, granted, because about half of them were just storehouses--and was amazed at the skill shown in carpentry and joinery.

One of my favorite buildings, and certainly marketed by the museum as the high point of their building collection, was the church dating from, if I'm not mistaken, 1675.

It was a lovely, simple building.  I especially liked the red paint, which I understand is a very traditional color.  We also here finally got to see some of the red squirrels of Finland.

Given the menagerie that lives in my SC backyard and the huge horse chestnut trees in "my" park, I've been astonished to see so few squirrels here; then when I did see one, they made me smile: they're about 2/3s the size of the big gray squirrels and have rust-colored fur, huge bat ears, and a long black tail.  Quite cute actually but not nearly as bold as the ones I'm used to, even out in the protected island.  I learned later from one of my fellow residents at the Towers that actually red squirrels are somewhat more delicate than the big grays, which are an artificially introduced species (and a delicacy enjoyed by some members of the Slow Food Movement in the UK), and in some EU countries red squirrels have to be protected.  Protected squirrels--amazing.

Squirrels and buildings were not the only red things we saw on the island, but this one is definitely odder.

Yep, that's a mushroom--a real one, not a Photoshopped one.  I have NEVER seen anything like this in nature!  I mean, I've heard that mushrooming was a big deal in Finland and mushrooms have a special place in Finnish cuisine, but I can't decide if I'd be tempted or appalled to be served something like that.  Maybe that's why no one's harvested it yet.

By this stage Ted and I were starting to drag, so when we got to the bridge again, we sat on one of the benches and shared an apple and our last bottle of water.  (When traveling with Ted, you always bring LOTS of water!)  After watching some kayakers come from Töölö to Seurasaari, I figured it was time for me to recreate their trip but on land. (Can you imagine Ted in a kayak?  Frightening.)

Slowly but surely we slogged our way around the bay; you know you're tired when you walk right in front of the president's house and the only thing that goes through your mind is, "I wonder who the big-wig is with the manicured flower beds."  (It seems to me that most Finnish planting is a little more wild/natural, which I actually prefer.)  In some parts, particularly near the beginning, the look was much more rustic, however.

5 hours later, Ted and I staggered up to the Towers; neither of us are used to real, long walks--normally we go for an hour or two.  I made the mistake of sitting down in one of my wooden chairs to download these photos, which meant that getting up was like unfolding a pretzel.  Ted had the right approach.

Yes, within less than 5 minutes, he was asleep on the floor only cracking his eyes when I turned on the camera and moving when he woke himself up storing!

My dog had the right idea.

Unfortunately today was spent catching up on all the stuff I didn't do yesterday because I was at Seurasaari, but I did find the time to buy tickets to "The Nutcracker" for December 22.

Kay Gets Oriented

Last Friday the staff at the Collegium organized a long orientation session for us, one of several that they have done or will do by the end of next week.  It's another of the ways they've been absolutely lovely about providing us with information, guidelines ... you name it--and being sure that we can settle into things as quickly as possible.  The whole process made some of the differences between the system here and the ones I'm used to (US, British/Irish, French, and even German) even more striking.

Because for this year's purposes I'm an employee of the University of Helsinki as well as the University of South Carolina, I have two layers of benefits and bureaucracy I need to reconcile.  Because I'm a EURIAS fellow, they negotiated some additional perks for me, but there are also some aspects of the bureaucracy I don't need to deal with.  That actually means 3 layers.  The challenge is keeping things straight, something that I'm finding hard even though, as most of you know, I'm pretty good with bureaucracy.  In any case, the best way to explain this without, I hope, boring you to tears is to describe the day.

We began our 4-hour tour through the labyrinth of university bureaucracy with most of the fellows sitting around one table surrounded by several tables of staff (the big orientation for the Finnish fellows was in August).  The chief fellow coordinator at the Collegium, Minna, began the presentation by describing the organizational structure at the Collegium itself and referring us to this amazing handbook that they'd put together for the fellows and that they sent me back when I was in SC; she describes it as their Bible, I think of it as a model for handbooks that should be given to all new faculty.  It was slightly funny having people introduced to us that we'd already met, but my impression is that they'd had problems in the past with some fellows assuming that the entire staff should instantly drop everything to help them in whatever quest they might have, an embarrassingly common problem in academe.  Some of the high points were

1.  having the existence of the free, bimonthly, half-hour massages confirmed.  I'm already signed up for my first tomorrow!

2.  listening to Minna stress repeatedly that they'd do or buy anything "reasonable" to help us with our work.  Considering I've already got a research budget of over 5,000Euro that they urge me to spend buying books in addition to likely research assistance come October, I keep trying to imagine what some of the previous fellows have asked for.  When I've asked a few staff, they just smile knowledgeably and say I'd be amazed.

3.  having the concluding statement be the completely honest and too often unexpressed point that they will do anything possible to help us because they plan to take credit for our accomplishments for years!  I thought I was going to lose it laughing when she said that.  It's so refreshing to have someone be that straight with you--and so very unSouthern.  (And it's not a language issue.  Minna got a PhD from UCLA; she has fluent English.)

We then moved to the pension and benefits system.  The poor person tried, but I don't think any of us was particularly interested in the organizational tree of UH and most of our benefits needs are individualistic.  Here, though, in the middle of this presentation was the high point of the day's talks for me.  Brace yourself.

I now have a Finnish pension when I retire!

Yes, you read correctly.  Granted the pension will probably be minuscule because I'll have only been here for one year, but I'm eligible for full Finnish pensioner benefits.  God, I love European social services!

The other highlight of a very informative but tough day was during the presentation about the university libraries.  The system is more complicated that those I've dealt with before because of my topic: I actually end up getting material here from ca. 8 different libraries.  Mind you, most of the time in the States at a big, research school, you borrow materials from multiple libraries.  In any case, as the librarian was explaining the borrowing privileges (I mean, I can only renew 50 times. :-)   ), cataloging, etc., we hit the section on overdue fines.  Then she stopped herself laughing.  Why, you ask?  (At least I did.)  Because professors here, like us, don't pay overdue fines.  I looked so shocked that the room just cracked up.  Ah, Europe: the weird combination of egalitarianism and classism. :-)

We wrapped up the day with a lovely reception where I got to meet a few more medieval/early modern Europeanists as well as chat with other fellows.  I must admit, though, when I got home about 6 pm, I collapsed on the couch; Ted got pets, no walk, that evening.

A pension, massages, and no library fines.  How ever will you put the girl back on the farm? :-)

Oh, and I've been told by several people how much they like to hear my laugh and how cheerful I am. Well, the people in Helsinki have been lovely thus far, although I could wish that the tram drunks weren't so magically attracted to me (one friend blames it on a perfume of Mad Dog 50/50, but it can't be; it would cost too much to import!).  I think it's pure, unadulterated relief at spending my days researching again, although I'm still not in quite the routine I'd wish.  Suppose I can't tell them that. :-)

Oh, and if you want to read about Ted the Towel-Tugging Terror, he's been written up on cheungsabbatical.blogspot.com, a great blog by the Canadian family who's living up on the 11th floor.

Park Photos

Enough folks responded to my encomium of my neighborhood park that I thought I'd post some photos.  (Un)fortunately my camera's battery died after about 7, but I think it's enough to give you a feel.

In any case, this is the porch that I spend my late afternoons and evenings on.

 

See what I mean when I say it's just big enough for the two of us and somewhat covered when it rains.  See, also, why I worry when Ted manages to pull a sock off my foot and starts shaking it around!

Then once I walk across the street, I have a couple of choices for a view (usually these are appreciated in the morning and evening when Ted is busy, if you get my drift).  The first is to the left: the soccer field.

Here it looks a little more barren because you can't see the soccer nets and the benches all around it.  One of the smart, design features here is that the soccer nets move, so it's possible to set it up so that people can play a regulation-sized soccer game and yet other folks can still use the area for things like boules or just hanging out.

I saw this a few days ago and had to include it here.  Is it just me, or does it look like this lady is walking an otter?  (Please excuse the somewhat blurry image.  I took the picture from a distance, because I didn't want her to realize I thought her dog was the strangest looking thing I'd ever seen walking on gravel.)

Okay, now that I've made my first rude comment ....  If you look straight ahead from where I was standing when I took the picture of the soccer field, you get the entrance to the children's park.  It's fenced off both to protect children and to keep dogs out.  Trust me; there are these little Scotties with Xs on them on signs all over!

The park runs for about half of this VERY long block; basically it's about twice the size of the normal block I'm used to.  It's not that Finnish blocks in general are particularly long--they aren''t--it's just the way this one was set up.

In any case, if I head to the right to walk down the lovely gravel paths that I take Ted on several times a day, once I get past the building that provides one of the indoor play areas for the kids, I get to the second, big, open area for children.

Some of the coolest stuff is actually a little hard to see from these pictures.  For example, in the top picture, you can see in the background a ton of kids' toys in all sorts of animal shapes and a big, blue area that's actually a small wading pool.  In the bottom picture, you can see a bit more of the wading pool and these great, ca. 3-foot tall camels, elephants, and rhinoceros that the kids can ride on--and that Ted barked at when he first saw them.  Also, during the day kids are running all around the grass and riding these trikes that come with the play area all around the paths.  Let me see if I can blow up these pictures to give you a somewhat better sense of how this works.

Well, better, but by no means perfect.

Once I get to the end of the block, the view back up the path is like this.  The play areas are on my right now; they were on my left as I walked down from the Towers.  I love the huge trees; some of them are at least 6 stories tall, and they are much broader than this picture makes it seem.  I have no idea what they are!

Turning back around so that the play area is again on my left, I go across a street into another park.

As you can see, while doing these walks, Ted takes his responsibility to pay attention to me very seriously.  And, no, he's JUST sniffing!

Then you cross a bike path and come to a big boat dock for private boats.  The beach is off to the left, and there's a walking and biking path going alongside the water for miles.  Here's a few shots of the beach itself.

Ted loves chasing the geese, at least as much as he can on leash.  The Finns so far have cheered him on, when they say anything.

So that's my park and the 2-block walk to the beach in pictures.  While Ted can't actually go on the main beach, there are lots of areas nearby where he can walk or swim, and I can take him for walks right next to it.

To give you a sense of what this is like and how close it is to where I live, here's an overhead shot.  (And, no, I take no credit, although I did think about how to convince people I did this!)

The red circle near the top and slightly left of center is the Towers.  You can see what I mean about the park outside my door.

Time for bed and a LONG charging of my camera's battery.  Next entry: my official orientation--or Kay joins the Finnish pension system.