Finland Day Three

Whenever you watch a scene in a film where two people don't speak the same language, things usually start off in a slightly confused manner, but quickly the two protagonists find some way to succinctly communicate, usually involving drawing in the sand with a stick. They soon converse effortlessly and are eventually able to fashion a base camp, and escape the smoke monster (maybe that's just Lost.) The floor of Osmo's Gran's flat wasn't covered in sand, but by Christ we tried our hardest to chat when Osmo wasn't around to translate. Osmo's Gran speaks much better English than I speak Finnish, but not quite enough that our conversations didn't break down into a kind of pointing and Finnish noun learning exercise. At one point, while Osmo went for a bath, our inability to communicate frustrated him into shouting translations through the wall. I have a new found respect for anyone trying to get by in a foreign country without knowing the language.

Osmo's Gran's Living room

 Osmo showing a picture of himself when he was in National Service

On Day Three we went into Kuopio town centre, Osmo was still mentioning going to see Minna Canth's statue to celebrate Minna Canth day, but I think this was really just to get the whole surname pronunciation out of his system.

Osmo and his Gran

We went over to the famous Kalakukko bakery, and I tried to take photos of the women making the Kallakukko's. I didn't realise what a traumatic experience this would be, its not often that you find yourself in a foreign country, in a workplace, trying to take photos of women who don't want to be photographed full stop, let alone when they're working, and who don't speak English, with your friend and his gran watching. The more they ignored me, the more uncomfortable I got, and eventually found myself doing a little toe to toe dance of indecision, whilst nervously whispering my inner monologue out loud. Imagine Rain Man with a camera.

 A nice Bakery lady who really didn't want her picture taken.

I'm not sure if the KKK actually had anything to do with this supermarket. I hope not.

The Kuopio flats where Osmo's gran lived

After lunch (Rye bread Reindeer pizza, genuinely one of the most tasty/least authentic pizzas I've ever eaten, delicious), we waved goodbye to Osmo's Gran, and set off back to
Helsinki.

As we drove away, I told Osmo that I couldn't believe his Gran didnt like English people. It turned out that was a joke that he'd just forgotten he'd made. What a wally.

Osmo has always had a slightly obsessive side to his character when it comes to music he likes, and when we used to work together he would often play a song so many times in a row the office resembled a Guantanamo bay torture cell. On this particular journey, the constant repetition of the Mono song 'Ashes in the Snow' became his personal crusade.

We stopped a couple of times to take photos, but throughout the holiday it was difficult to spend any prolonged time outside because it was too bloody cold. Standing still in the snow, adjusting small dials on you camera isn't something that's easy to keep up for long periods of time.

Some images Osmo shot for a mini project. For once I found out what its like to be the one dressing up weirdly for some photos.

When we got back we joined Miika, Osmo's ex-pro footballer/musician mate for a late night Sauna. Miika is probably the most fervent Liverpool fan on the planet, he watches every single match, including youth and reserve team matches, and is very passionate about the whole thing. Don't mention Lucas Leiva to him.

The sauna is over the road from Osmo's flat, and is apparently one of the best ones in Helsinki. We paid, and bought some beers at reception, and then walked through a set of doors. At this point, walking through into a tiled room, with loads of naked blokes lying around, drinking beer, and playing chess I kind of thought 'wow, this Sauna is big, and not even that hot.... I can't believe they always bang on about how hardcore Finnish saunas are...' It turned out that this was actually the changing room.

We changed into our towels. Whilst Osmo and Miika had medium sized blue ones, I was somehow lumbered with a massive, ankle length pink one. The only way to intensify the Mum-sy vibe I was giving off more would have been to wrap another towel round my hair.

We entered the pre-Sauna showering area, past a table where Men could have a massage (front and back!) from an old lady. After showering we walked through a big door into what I naively assumed would be a corridor with a series of doors leading to our own small 'mates only' Sauna room. Instead, I was faced with a huge dark room, with about 30 big blokes slowly sweating on the benches at the end. It was king of like finding your seat in front of the Holte End at Villa Park, in the dark, under the watchful eyes of a load of burly men. Except everyones naked.

I do like the heat of Saunas, but the best bit was getting to go outside in the snow, in nothing but your big Mum-sy towel to have a beer and a cigarette.