IT’S FUN TO BE TROLLED IN FINLAND
From saunas to smoked fish in the north
ONE day way back in 2004, the Irish people woke up to the wonderful news that we were the happiest people in the world. We’d long known we were amongst the chummiest nations on earth, and certainly amongst the partiest, but the happiest? Joy was unconfined.
But some people weren’t happy about it. Even in Ireland.
In fact some nations were so unhappy about the results that the differential they created only increased our own happiness quotient.
Whether this also applied to the Irish in Britain wasn’t revealed in the survey. But I like to think we were the Happiest Diaspora in the World. But today, it’s all academic. Because for the last five years Finland has been placed at No 1 in the World Happiness Report. We appear to have fallen to what I can only describe as a miserable no 13 in the last report. And it’s odd. A celebrated Finnish joke goes:
Jarkko: “Yesterday marked 21 years since I arrived in Finland.”
Jani: “Did you celebrate with a beer and a sausage?”
Jarrko: “No. I’ve become Finnish. I told no one. I sat in the dark in silence and thought about herrings.” Jani: “That’s the spirit.” I was mulling this over en route from Helsinki to Tampere. Notwithstanding Jarkko and Jani, I realised that the things that make a country happy, quite often don’t have much benefit to the tourist — ace health service, excellent education, exemplary crèche facilities and so on. Now, I know that’s a pretty churlish thing to say, but as tourism is a reasonable slice of the Finnish financial economy I thought I might bring it up in conversation.
I mentioned it to my guide in Tampere, Aino, but it didn’t wipe the smile off her face one whit. In fact she was incorrigible. Happy, really. Thoughts of Jarrko and Jani wafted away as I inhaled wisps of smoke from a birch fire. Undoubtedly firing up someone’s sauna.
Our first stop was Pyynikki Observation Tower. Finland is not particularly blessed with mountains, so from this hilltop vantage point you get an utterly splendid panorama of ancient forests and lakeland — gnarled birch, hazel and ash — and loughs stretchLook ing into the distance, northwards beyond the Arctic Circle. But it was time for lunch. K ant tar el linokko ski us au st a is probably the longest dish I’ve ever ordered – a potato and mushroom combination, served with salad and delicious onion bread. To be fair, Aino did the ordering. Finnish
is, after all, not an InodoEuropean language. Good afternoon is “hyvää iltapäivää”; so I’ve always felt sorry for the Guardian journalist who evidently struggled with the lingo. He wrote that the author of an article carried by The Guardian from Finland’s Helsingin Sanomat newspaper was
Jatkuu Seuraavalla Sivulla. A reader subsequently advised him this was not the author’s name but the Finnish for “continued on the next page”.
But don’t fret. In the restaurants and cafes, in the hotels and shops, English is widely spoken
The fabled Moomin Museum in Tampere carries the work of Tove Jansson, the creator. She wasn’t a Tamperian, but left the town much of her original artwork.
Her drawings of the bulbous-headed family lead to the centrepiece of the Moomin experience, the remarkable Moomin House.
In ancient times, Scotland’s glens and hills were covered by the great Caledonian Forest. Much like Ireland, it was said that a squirrel could make the journey coast-to-coast without ever touching the ground. In Scotland, centuries of deforestation and overgrazing (mainly sheep) removed most of the timber. What was left was the bleak, but imposing landscape of the Highlands that we know today. But rewilding process has been undertaken by the not-forprofit organisation Trees for Life. The Dundreggan Centre just north of Inverness has opened, and is a fascinating place to learn about their work, and to find out what the ecosystem of Scotland used to be like and educate the public on the concept of rewilding. The 23,000-acre Alladale Wilderness Reserve has already planted nearly a million trees, and the Affric Highlands project will start restoring 500,000 acres stretching from Loch Ness. If you’re in the area, pop along and tell them this column believes they’re doing an excellent job. out for Moomin fans from across the world congregating here. But you’re unlikely to journey across the 60th parallel north to see museums — you’re more likely to have come to Finland for the lakelands, the woods — and of course the saunas, the only Finnish word in the English language. It certainly is a national obsession — wisps of smoke wafting from amongst the birch trees means someone is firing up the stove.
For a couple of euro you can go to the public sauna. After sitting in the steam, the plan is — winter or summer — to plunge into the icy waters of a nearby lake. At times like these the one thing you don’t want to do is think.
When I witnessed such a scene it would have to be said the participants didn’t look very happy. In fact they looked as if they were part of some bleak Ingemar Bergman movie. Yes, I know he was Swedish, but I’m sure you get the picture.
But as soon they got out they looked happy again, ready to enjoy this easy-going, quirky, northerly town.
I’ll probably go back one day.