by the way...

...despite the fact that, since returning home, I've disposed of 8 garbage bags of 'stuff', reorganized all of my closets, drawers and cupboards, and maintained an uncharacteristically organized apartment I still had to pluck a shirt out of my dirty laundry bin to wear to my first day of my practicum.

Shhh...don't tell anyone.

thanks deer

For years I've been frustrated by the fact that I've never seen a deer. Sounds silly, maybe, but my mom literally comes across them on her drive home from work while I take myself hours into the woods backwater camping and - nothing. At one point I got a bit paranoid wondering what the deer had to 'teach' me and why they wouldn't reveal themselves to me. While it's entirely possible that they do hold a lesson for me, I've never figured out what it is but I've also stopped obsessing over it because I finally saw a damn deer.

At the time I was struggling with a difficult decision and I took the deer sighting as a good sign; turned out, it was. Tonight while driving to a friend's place out in the country I saw my second deer, just hanging out in a meadow doing deer stuff. Although I'm not struggling through any decisions right now, tonight was definitely a good night for a 'sign'.

The transition back to life in Toronto has been a blessedly smooth and easy one. I began my practicum today and I'm excited about the experience I'm going to gain. I talked to a few friends for the first time since arriving home to make plans for the long weekend, had a great talk with my mom, and was welcomed back to the bookclub-that-never-reads-the-books with warm, open arms. I feel lucky and loved.

So don't let any of the following take away from that, it's just that I'm having a wee bit of a hard time this week. I'm trying to find the sense of this life I have in Toronto and I'm afraid that it's not here, I'm terrified that I'm going to 'break' someone in my practicum, and today while practicing at home in my living room I felt so overwhelmingly alone.

For that reason, I thank my family for being so sweet, my grandmother for her phone call, the friends who greeted me with such delight after all these months, and I thank the damn deer for hanging out in the meadow so I could see them because tonight was a great night to be reminded that it will all be ok.

reason 234 why i shouldn't be allowed in the kitchen

Ever seen the cookbook "Help! My Apartment Has a Kitchen"? If not, I can happily forward you one of the several copies gifted to me over the years by the well intentioned, usually given while accompanied by some variation of "I thought of you as soon as I saw it".

Having never lived down phone calls to family members asking how to know when broccoli is done cooking or what an ozen is (as if it's some kind of intuitive knowledge that 'oz' is short for 'ounce', not 'ozen'), I've stopped reaching out for help. Instead, I soldier on in silence, disposing of countless dollars worth of irreparably scalded pots and inedible food in the privacy of my own home. Although this has effectively stopped gifts of "Cooking for Dummies" and the like, it's done very little to improve my cooking. As if to remind me of my missing 'kitchen gene' after these months away, today I gave myself a cooking injury during my first real foray back into my kitchen.

Knowing that I return to the life of poverty-stricken student next week, I decided to get into the role a bit early by preparing a batch of soup from the most inexpensive vegetable I could think of - celery. My reasoning was this: celery is cheap, I'm broke and I distinctly remember going through a Cream of Celery Campbell's Soup phase; how hard could it be to make it myself?

To be fair, it's probably not the most difficult meal to prepare. And it may have turned out ok if I hadn't forgotten to secure the lid on the blender. And if the soup, fresh from the burner, hadn't exploded when I turned the blender on. And if I didn't have these welts covering the entirety of my left forearm. Who knew that celery soup, in addition to being an inexpensive meal, also holds the potential to scalds the @#$ out of your skin.

I will be accepting all meal invites for the duration of this poverty-stricken student year.

back home

British Airways taunted me with Finland throughout the flight home surrounding me with Finns speaking that inexplicable language, featuring Helsinki in their inflight magazine and playing "Sybellius" (Finland's unofficial anthem) on heavy rotation on the inflight entertainment system. Luckily, my seat mate was happy to distract me with incessant talk about her PhD thesis on health promotion in rural Finland. In between drinks, that is. A whole lot of alcohol was consumed in seat 28J, I think she must be still in the research stage regarding the definition of health.

The Canada customs team dedicated to implementing their ridiculous 'lets push these overtired passengers over the edge' procedures ('security measures' they call them) made the process of actually getting into Canada incredibly difficult. They put up a good fight but they were no match for this Canadian; me and my suitcase full of undeclared ayurvedic potions made it home with the help of my accomplice (aka: mom).

Toronto is sadly lacking in strangely flavoured sparking water, a city population that embraces summer with complete abandon, and men named Mikko but it's good to be home. As always, I'm amazed by the amount of space I have and more so by the amount of 'stuff' I have filling it. My first morning home found me, still in pajamas, buried in my closet pulling out clothes to send to Goodwill. I've been eating my weight in vegetables and have decided to plan all future trips so my homecoming corresponds with corn season.

Although I defied all odds by finding my mobile, I can't for the life of me remember how to turn it on. Yeah, I'm serious. Please email me your phone numbers, they're stored in the mobile phone from now on to be referred to as 'fort knox'.

unbelievable

The 'baby' in the apartment below me still cries every morning beginning between 3:30-4:00am and carrying on until well after I drag myself out of bed to practice.

Granted, I don't actually have a baby myself but I'm pretty sure that whole 'crying through the night' routine is something they're supposed to grow out of. Before the age of 2.

Sigh.

final dog story

Some final pictures from Finland. The first two are from Suomenlinna, an island fortress just a ferry ride away from downtown Helsinki. The rest are cottage pictures including one of me reading a Finnish children's book about, what else, dogs making this my final 'dog entry' for this trip. I promise.


Hobbit houses on Suomenlinna



More ferry traffic, moving between Helsinki harbour and Suomenlinna on their way to Tallin or Stockholm


Mikko & Utu whistling songs accompanied by Mikko's beloved apple


On my way to the sauna


Reading Utu a story about Koira's (dogs) where I butchered the Finnish language (but made her feel miles more confident in her English, I'm sure)

good intentions

Well, I've tried ignoring emails, news, blogs and just about anything else connected to that irritating little thing called 'reality' but it turns out, reality won't be ignored. This is my last post from abroad, I go home this week.

There are so many things I'm looking forward to: shopping at the bakeries and greengrocers along Bloor Street, taking a bath, rollerblading in the beaches, being back in my own kitchen, hiking the Bruce Trail, sitting in Yorkville watching the beautiful people drift by, early morning coffee in moonbeam cafe, painting my apartment, and rediscovering my city - it's such an amazing city.

The months before I left to travel were a waiting period of sorts, I felt disconnected and unenthused but it didn't matter because I was leaving. I remember this when I think about coming home and it worries me. Free from my job and a student again, I'm also free from the frameworks I've relied on for too long to define what I do, who I am, what I'm all about. This, of course, was kind of the point when I decided to make some changes and it's liberating but scary. 'Home' no longer holds a picture in my mind; I remind myself that this means that I'm free to create something new, I promise myself that I'll create something fantastic, and I work to keep that intention.

Yoga

In what I'm thrilled to find is, apparantly, a universal tradition, Finnish cottage-time consists of sleeping in late, eating too much food, taking afternoon naps and, in our case, yoga. To avoid 'mökkihöperö' (cabin fever) we drove into Turku for a great vegetarian meal, a movie and, first, some yoga in the Turku shala. Below, photos for avoiding 'mökkihöperö' becca & mikko style (the last one is me ;).

the summerhouse

For months I've been hearing about 'the summerhouse' - the lake, the sauna, the...sauna...and...did I mention the sauna? In what appears to be common knowledge to everyone except myself, the Finns are crazy about their saunas. For weeks after I arrived in Finland most incoming emails included the question 'So, have you had a sauna yet?'. How did you people all know this? Since arriving, I've learned a great deal about saunas, more, really, than the average person actually should have to know, including this: it's not just an outdated stereotype, the Finns really do like their sauna's. As it was best explained to me, the summerhouse is really just an excuse to have a sauna.

Originally, I was far more curious about the idea of a 'summerhouse', it's such a grand name, did summerhouse mean cottage cottage or Muskoka cottage? After a while, though, I cared less about the building and more about the sauna. The idea of voluntarily moving from lovely, warm room to cold lake and back again really didn't seem too appealing but, having had several nights of 'the sauna' I somewhat grudgingly admit that I'm a convert. It's a lovely tradition.

I can also report that 'summerhouse' translates to cottage cottage, as in a proper A-frame, wooden building fronted by a wall of glass windows overlooking the lake and a porch swing that I've made my temporary home. Pictures below.


Me & Hannu being rock people


Eppu & Katsa preparing to brave the lake


Eppu & Katsa rowing & the sauna off in the distance


Shaving

Contrary to what the Finns may think...

This


is NOT a Canadian Goose.

Stockholm

When I was a kid I, like every other girl my age, was ridiculously jealous of Vicki, the Captain's daughter from the tv show 'The Love Boat', because she got to live on a real, live cruise ship. I mean, how cool is that? Turns out, not very.

While it didn't take my fickle, pre-teen mind long to realize that Vicki had a bowl cut, a one way ticket to the land of the very uncool; cruise ships still seemed kind of neat, like a floating summer camp. This was before last weekend's 16 hour overnight ferry ride from Helsinki to Stockholm after which cruiseships, like Vicki, have been stripped of the illusion of coolness.

That's not to mean that it wasn't fun. I can't tell you how surreal it was to enter the disco in the middle of a karaoke cover of Nine Inch Nails' "I want to f* you like an animal" being belted out complete with strong nordic accent. Or how good the feeding frenzy, aka breakfast buffet, was even though they tried to be cute by disguising some kind of crazy fish pate as peanutbutter. And there was tax-free shopping (as they reminded us over and over and over) which we took full advantage of by buying a whole chocolate bar. No, it was all fun, just, not exactly cool is all I'm saying.

We skipped the bingo, magic shows, 23€ buffet dinner, disco, and lounge acts to chill on the top deck much of the time and it was gorgeous. The view presented from the deck as we approached Stockholm in the morning and of the archipelago as we departed in the evening is not something I'll forget anytime soon. Our time in Stockholm itself was lovely and lazy: meandering through the city punctuated by frequent stops in parks, cafes and an amazing vegetarian restaurant overlooking the harbour for a late lunch with the charming Christofer before returning to the boat.

Pictures below. As with the pictures from Turku, these aren't mine (except, of course the ones of Mikko - I took those ;), I'm piggybacking on Mikko's talent again. Enjoy.

Ferry traffic



Taking pictures in Stockholm


Me & Christofer, coffee by the harbour


Christofer and Mikko on the way to Christofer's gallery



Watching the sunset


Sunset from top deck


Arriving in Helsinki, Sunday morning

another hard day as a tourist

Saturday was a day of sightseeing. We began in Naantali which I knew only as home to the President's summerhouse and Moominworld. Moomins are deserving of their own post altogether but, for those reading in the west, they're the equivalent to our Smurfs only infinately better; strangely melancholic but strong and optimistic at the same time. People often have 'their' character, the one they identify most strongly. Growing up with the Smurfs, I had a choice of Smurfette or uh...Smurfette (the only female character whose distinguishing characteristics were limited to her long blond hair, her love for strong smurf, and her disdain for brainy smurf) the Moomins have a far richer cast of characters and they're just amazing, click here if you're curious.

I expected Naantali to be like our Canada's Wonderland/Vaughan area where the amusement park came first and the suburbs built up around it. Instead, Naantali was a gorgeous seaside town with weathered wooden homes, cafes and artisian shops. Moominworld, along with the exasperated parents and overexcited kids that I'm sure accompany it, is relegated to an island slightly offshore from the town.



After Naantali we returned to Turku to visit the castle, old town and have dinner. Unfortunately, the sightseeing was kind of limited to this ferryride across the river. Due to the demands of the increasingly hungry tourist, the castle was closed by the time we got there.



After dinner we headed to the park to say hello to the ocean, play along the shoreline, and bask in the evening sun. It was a very good way to end the day.

a dog show of another nature

My tendancy to judge a city by its dogs was questioned this weekend while visiting Finland’s oldest city, Turku, where I was exposed to another kind of dog show altogether.

The Finnish saying “ulkoiluttaa mäyräkoiraa”, which loosely translates as “taking the dachshund out”, refers to picking up a 12 pack of beer typically called a dachshund because of its shape. As the weekend approaches and the weather holds there is a noticeable increase in the number of dachshunds making the rounds. Last weekend’s visit to Turku coincided with an annual music festival ‘Down the by the laituri (pier)’ held by the river running through the city and, let me tell you, it was a veritable dog exhibition.

I’m beginning to think that it’s just my city that holds an intense dislike for pesky people cluttering up the sidewalks because Turku, like many cities I’ve visited, seems to understand that cities are meant to be lived in as opposed to moved through. Accordingly, those attending the festival weren’t simply allowed to enjoy the public spaces, they were encouraged to. Roads were closed for pedestrian traffic, people lined the riverbank (dachshunds close by), and long lineups for riverboat restaurants were made more bearable by restaurant service while they waited.

Questions about people being ‘allowed’ so close to the river’s edge (what if someone fell in?), public drinking and, my god - is it always so easy to find parking here? were met with patience and a furrowed brow as if to say “What else would you expect?” and I began to feel like a gauche North American. I would expect to park at least 1/2 an hour away, that the areas where we were allowed to have fun to be clearly marked and cordoned off, and a very heavy police presence lest someone lose themself and try to drink in public - in the daytime no less.

In one of those stupid tourist moments, I was thrilled when a woman (who had clearly spent several hours ‘taking out the dog’) bumped into us and was moved to yell “VOI VITTU”. Voi vittu just so happens to be my only Finnish swearword and, although I don't have an exact translation, I know that it is very, VERY bad. Probably the kind of phrase that I would never actually use if I knew what I was saying but damned exciting to hear it in real, live action from the mouth of a real, live Finn and actually know what the heck they were saying because, believe me, THAT doesn't happen very often.