It’s always interesting to spend time in another country, especially one that is same-same-yet-different to my one. It’s often the subtleties in how the small bits of life get lived.
Ladders to the roof
All Finnish homes have ladders to the roof, specifically to the chimneys. Harry reckoned it was for cleaning the chimneys. We confirmed this over dinner with our friends. Insurance requires regular cleaning of chimneys. Simple.
I spent most of my youth in the UK and Ireland where chimneys were common, but ne’er a roof ladder. I do remember the chimney fires 🔥
Apartment blocks at home in Australia have all the letterboxes in a cluster outside the building. In Finland each apartment door has a letterbox, amazes me. Although my sample was small, two apartment blocks in fact, so subject to further research.
I’m pretty sure that Helsinki day travel pass also includes access to shared-use bicycles (further investigation needed).
Yesterday we left Helsinki and Harry drove us to Hanko, the most southerly point of Finland, it’s almost the most southwesterly place as well.
It’s a picturesque town, at the end of a peninsula, with beaches facing south, west and north. This, along with the many, many islands, would be a great area to explore by sea kayak. Close to the waterfront are a few old and pretty villas, some were visited by the Russian nobility in the late 19th century when the town was a popular spa resort. Also close to the water are new apartment blocks, apparently favoured by wealthy Helsinkionites.
We didn’t have a lot of time in Hanko, it’s a place to which I would happily return to wander the local beaches, parks and streets. Harry drove us further north to where our friends have their sea-side summerhouse. Again, to me, this “sea” appeared lake-like. They had prepared the sauna for us so it was divine to sit on the timber bench and allow the heat and humidity build. And no, we didn’t brave a dip into the sea afterwards! Standing in the cool air was sufficient.
Dinner started late, and lasted well into the early hours of today. Time spent eating, drinking, chatting, discussing and laughing.
This morning we returned to the table for more companionable feasting with these fine friends. Then we visited a local church constructed from granite, wandered the graveyard and walked a trail through the forest. The Finnish tax on religion was discussed. All taxpayers here pay tax, via the tax office, to the Lutheran Church, or to the Finnish Orthodox Church. It is possible to opt out. In our friends’ time they had to make a formal declaration that they were leaving the Church. (This process was simplified in 2003). It interests me to learn of how our countries are different despite the many similarities.
Whilst driving through the Finnish countryside we observed many tractors out working the fields, busy at the start of the growing season. The birch trees have suddenly sprouted out a light-green fuzz of leaves.
From the bits that I have seen, the country landscapes of Finland are quite homogenous. Same species of trees, same brown tilled soils between low clumps and hills of trees. Houses and barns of mostly oxide red, with some in pale yellows and a smattering of light blues. No fences, apart from those protecting the motorways from moose and deer.
Returning to Helsinki was a smooth ride along the motorway at 120km per hour.
Pirttisaari is off the southern coast of Finland, easily accessed via the (free) ferry that departs from Kalkstrand. This is the Gulf of Finland, unlike the “sea” as I usually know it! Not a ripple on the water before we boarded. However the wind soon came up and we wrapped up tight against the cool breezes.
We shared the ferry with some tradies who got off at the first stop at Bodö island, their spirit levels clues to the work they had ahead. At the first stop, the narrows of Pirttisaari, one passenger handed over a few shopping bags to a couple who were waiting at the wharf. They had a small three-wheeled electric cart to get the bags home. There are no cars on these islands. The other two passengers on the ferry were obviously headed on a camping trip, with backpacks, bags of food and supplies, and a trolley to cart their gear once on the island.
It was interesting to observe the small details of island life. When we docked at the wharf, the deckhand passed over a bundle of newspapers to a woman who had come down to meet the ferry. Later, when we returned to catch our ferry, a man rowed ashore to collect his newspaper.
Harry’s mother spent many summers in her youth on this island, visiting her grandparents and staying with her aunt. Harry himself visited as a child. Off we wandered, following the track into the island and his childhood memories brought him to the two summerhouses once owned by his family members.
This island was soft: soft sounds, soft underfoot on the track and soft with its moss-lined forest floors. We came out of the woods and wandered along the hard, granite shoreline.
The rock slabs were beautiful, greys, blacks and occasional sparkles of pinks. I kept imagining the rock cut and polished, perhaps for a kitchen bench top, and then the memory came to me. I once had two beautiful polished pink and grey granite steps put in a home I was renovating.
We wandered the tracks, along the shore, through the forest, and brought ourselves back to the wharf to await the return ferry inside the little shelter hut.
The sun had gone and the skies were clouded over. We snuggled tight on the deck as we returned to the mainland.