A Proper Goodbye

I’ve never been good at goodbyes.  Then again, nobody really is; it’s not a skill you’ll ever see on a resume or hear somebody brag about.  Rarely does a person walk away from somebody important to them and think “Yeah, I said everything I wanted to say.”  A proper goodbye, one that truly conveys your feelings and how important that person is to you, is something that takes a lot of emotional effort and articulate language that few of us can muster.   To me, though, a proper goodbye is just an impossible ideal; I’ll never be able to say a long lasting goodbye to a loved one without wishing I’d said more.  This post is my attempt, however imperfect, to relate all of the joy you all have brought me and to properly say goodbye to all of the wonderful people I have met this past Spring.

I’m not one to use superlatives or exaggerate stories or experiences.  You’ve probably never heard me say something like “That was the greatest night EVER!”, and if somebody asked me to name my favorite band, food, or movie, I couldn’t give a single straight answer because I know my preferences change with the time and my mood.  So when I say my experience in Vaxjo has been the greatest experience of my life, it is something I truly mean and a statement that holds great weight in my mind.

I remember flying into Copenhagen in  January as clear as if it were yesterday.  It was a cold, pitch black night and I was staring out the window trying to guess the names of the light clusters on the coast of Norway as we flew over.  For the duration of the trip, my mental state was on autopilot; I had relinquished control of my life to an unknown and all I could do was placidly allow the forces already in motion to take me to my new home.   I had no idea where I was going and knew nothing about where I would live or who I would meet.  The plane was fairly empty so there was nobody sitting beside me.  I had no working cell phone.  Physically and mentally, I was completely alone.

When I finally pulled up to a snow covered Vallgatan, I wasn’t quite sure what to do.  We (the other exchange students in the van and I) were dropped off in front of a building we had never seen before and told this was where we were living: “Here’s your new life! See ya!”  I walked up to my floor to find Astrid and several girls from last semester who were leaving that very day.  They gave me the warmest welcome a stranger could possibly receive, offering me breakfast, leftover food, and just doing everything to make me feel at home.  It worked.  I’ll never forget that initial meeting.  In the most northerly, coldest, and darkest place I’d ever been, I was warm and among friends already.

Such has been my experience in Vaxjo.  Never before have I met a group of people more open, welcoming, friendly, and unprejudiced.  While we all formed our own close knit social circles, nobody was interested in the exclusion or separation that I witness daily in the social environments of my home.  Despite being the most diverse group of people I’ve ever been a part of, the international community in Vaxjo was also the most homogenous (in terms of social fluidity). 

It’s hard not to become close with people when there are no barriers to separate you.  And while the drinking, partying, and socializing has been fun, the lessons you all have taught me will resonate the most.  You all have taught me so much about the world, about myself and, most importantly, reminded me of what is important in life.  You have redefined my life goals, made me less cynical and more selfless, and helped me to understand and accept the person that I am.  Mentally, emotionally, and physically, I am stronger than I was five months ago.

Yet all good things must come to an end.  I almost miss the unrelenting cold and the frozen lake.  In the cold, dark of winter, I wasn’t worried about the eventual departure looming ahead.  The dawn of spring meant beautiful weather, but, in my mind, it was also the beginning of the end.  As much as I wanted to ignore and forget it, I could not avoid the goodbyes that were coming.

Some of us, myself included, are afraid of saying the wrong thing and having our feelings misinterpreted so much that if we can’t find the right thing to say, we say nothing at all.  I’ve done my best to make all of my farewells as personal and meaningful as possible, but if I couldn’t for you, please don’t confuse my good intentions with cowardice.  More importantly, though, do not confuse my words as a polite yet hollow gesture.  If I wrote on your flag, it was not out of a sense of politeness or reciprocation: I meant every word.

Maybe we all mean what we write when we write it and I'm just assuming the worst in people.  But as time goes on, the wishes and promises made on our goodbyes will lose their weight.  We'll all resume our lives at home, get jobs, meet new people, and become occupied by other things; before long, our time in Vaxjo may be a distant memory.  Maybe you promised to visit all of your friends but now you're content with your life and a flight over an ocean is something you just can't afford.  Similarly, maybe you don't want every person you met to come visit you.  I myself promised several girls I met in Lappland that I would visit them in Kalmar, and I never did even though it was only two hours away.    I still feel guilty about it... Sorry Alexandra and Evgeniya :(

I'm saying all this because I don't want any of you to assume this of me.  I will never forget our time together and if I asked you to come visit me, the offer will remain no matter how much time has passed.  Wherever I am, you will always be welcome in my home.  Don't ever let the harshness of the world change who you from the friendly, open person you were in Sweden.  Go home and make your countries, and the world, a better place.  I love you all and thank you for the greatest time of my life.

Goodbye.

Journey to the Land of Forever Winter pt 2

Husky Safari

Our first activity was a trip to a husky kennel outside of Saariselka.  When we arrived, we were funnelled into a round, wooden Saami hut, fed tea and cinnamon rolls around an open iron hearthplace and allowed to ask questions about the facility and the huskies.  Huskies are not native to Finland at all, actually; they are native only to Siberia, Alaska, and Canada.  Until recently, the Saami people only used reindeer for transportation by sled.  I couldn't help but wonder how genuine the experience was given the lack of husky history and culture in Finland: was the kennel here only for tourist reasons, or do the natives actually use them for legitimate purposes?  Soon thereafter my brain answered "Who cares, PUPPIES!!!"  They took us out to a caged area where we could play with some of the younger dogs.  They were all very well trained, friendly, and allowed everybody to pick them up.  They were puppies, though, so I had the pleasure of having one gnaw on my hair and ear before letting him down.

Just adorable.  The dog is pretty cute, too

Puppies!

The love of goofy animal pictures is universal

After the dogs nibbled enough holes in my gloves and my head, we were shown the basic skill set needed to drive a sled.  To my disappointment, they didn't teach us any vocal commands, so I didn't get to yell "MUSH!"  We divided into pairs and were assigned our sled.  Each sled had five dogs.  It's amazing how much power and endurance the little guys have; they really weren't even big dogs, just lean and fast as hell. We were led in a train guided by several snowmobiles, so the ride was very linear and scripted.  We would stop every so often so that stragglers could catch up or to switch positions.  Whenever we stopped, you could see steam rising off of the dogs bodies and they would roll in the snow to cool off.  The two dogs closest to our sled were less interested in cooling off, though, as they would become possessed by demonic feral instinct and ferociously barking and snapping in each others faces.

It's a lot colder than it looks...

Gorik and I

If you'll notice, my driver, Gorik, doesn't seem as happy as I am.  They encourage the drivers to ease pressure on the dogs as much as possible by pushing with one leg or getting off and running along and pushing the sled, especially when going up a hill.  I'm completely out of shape, the dogs run fast, and we were in sub-zero temperatures, so both of us were exhausted after our shifts.  The whole ride took about an hour.  After we finished we were allowed to take pictures with our dog bros.

My leading sled dog bros

Norway and the Arctic Ocean

Our next event was a bus ride to Bugoynes, a small fishing village on the coast of the Arctic Ocean in Norway.  As if we hadn't had enough time on the bus already, we spent another 5 hours driving further north.  The temperature actually rose as we approached the Arctic Ocean because, even this far north, the warm gulf stream waters regulate the region's temperature, which usually stays above -10 (14 F).  It is so far north that for two months in the winter there is absolutely no Sunlight, and two months in summer there is daylight all day.

Our first stop, and most memorable, was our dip in the Arctic Ocean.  Somehow, it had become a thing for visiting tourists to take a dip in the icy arctic waters (the bay is very inviting).  The Norwegians didn't understand why but since so many people did it they built a Sauna close to the water so people wouldn't freeze to death.  I like Norwegians.

The cozy Arctic Beach

So we warmed up in the Sauna before taking our dip.  Despite the Sauna's purpose, it's still a decent walk from the actual water's edge.  Most people make the mistake of running to the water; this is the wrong way A. because you look like a sissy and B. because the frozen ground hurts like hell when you run.  Our guide, Stewart, instructed us the proper Finnish way to take a dip is to walk in calmly and deliberately, showing no emotion.  The hardest part of the walk was over the rocks; there is no clearly defined path right to the beach, so we had to walk over slippery frozen, watermelon sized rocks to reach the shore.

This video is my second dip in; the first time, I lost a sock, hence my asymmetric dress.  If you'll notice, the ocean stole my second sock this time around...

Anyways, after our dip we went to a restaurant nearby where an old Norwegian guy gave us cod soup and showed us a video he made of his town.  The man was like the Grandpa everybody wishes they had: you could tell he couldn't wait for each busload of student tourists to come so he could show them his video, which was a just a mash up of pictures of the town in no apparent order to a bizarre soundtrack that didn't make any sense.  Lots of the photos had bizarre color filters and photoshop effects that he undoubtedly thought were fascinating.  Every couple of pictures he would stop the video and enthusiastically point out "This is the church!" or "This is the Midnight Sun in Summer!"  He was proud of his video and proud of his town.

The town's main industry is actually Norwegian King Crab fishing.  In the 1950's, some crazy Russians transplanted the King Crab from the Bering Sea (In between Russia and Alaska; the same crabs as on Deadliest Catch) to the icy waters outside Scandinavia.  The crabs thrived, so now this town is basically the Norwegian version of St. Paul Port on Deadliest Catch.  Cool stuff.

The Northern Lights

While in Saariselka we tried to see the Northern Lights a few times.  They typically come out between 9 p.m. to 2 a.m., and the best view is on the hill overlooking town.  The hill is, of course, also the windiest place in town, and when the cold drops to -30 C, it doesn't matter how many layers you have on, you can't stay out for much more than an hour.  The cold made it difficult, but we still managed to see the lights twice.

Unfortunately, the lights were pretty underwhelming.  All the pictures you see of them are like the one above, with very bright, vivid colors (to clarify, the above picture is from google).  The first lights we saw we actually thought were clouds because they were a dull grey and looked like somebody just took a huge paint roller to the sky; nothing like what we expected.  The second time they were much better: they formed the actual ribbon shapes they are known for and were a light bluish teal color, but still very grey.  On photo, though, it came out like this:

The lights are no doubt fascinating, but it's still disappointing to realize that most of the beautiful photos you see of them aren't what you'd see with your actual eyes.  The green in the photo was barely visible to our eyes, and the lights are only that bright because it's a long exposure picture.  Most pictures of the Northern Lights are long exposure, allowing the light and color to stack, making them much more prominent.  Still, freezing my feet and fingers off was totally worth that picture.

Reindeer Farm

Our final destination was a Reindeer Farm outside of town.  Most Saami people are reindeer herders / farmers, so they are everywhere.  Reindeer are like regular deer but with antlers: they are dumb and poop everywhere.  We visited the farm at the time when the reindeer were shedding their antlers (which they do naturally) which is why some of them don't have any in the photos.  

We got in these little sleds and the reindeer pulled us around a tiny track at a snails pace.  It was weird and and made me feel like I was a fat tourist.  Then we went into a traditional Saami hut, ate processed wieners and listened to a Saami woman sing.  It wasn't all that remarkable.

So that's about it all of my experiences in Lappland.  After the reindeer farm we started our return trip to Sweden.  

Journey to the Land of Forever Winter pt 1

Lappland is the far northern region of Scandinavia known for its frigid climate, the Aurora Borealis (northern lights), and as the home of the Saami people, an indigenous population with a shamanistic, pagan culture that relies heavily on reindeer herding.  We travelled to Saariselka, a small town in the center of Finnish Lapland 250 kilometers north of the Arctic Circle that is covered in snow for all but two months of the year.  We began our journey with a five hour bus ride from Vaxjo to Stockholm and then boarded a cruise ship that sails between Stockholm and Helsinki.

Our travel path from Vaxjo to Saariselka

The cruise takes seventeen hours, but is a popular choice because it is cheap and, much more importantly, you can buy alcohol duty free on it (earning it the nickname "The Booze Cruise").  Even though the price really isn't significantly better than in Sweden or Finland, the Nords jump on any opportunity to save money on alcohol.  In addition to the duty free shops there were plenty of overpriced restaurants, bars, clubs, a casino, and a Finnish guy with an accordion, beret, and that stereotypical striped French turtle neck who was trying to sing French songs (to the displeasure of my fellow French travellers).  We sailed overnight and arrived in Helsinki at 10:00 the next morning.

Helsinki

Helsinki is the capital of Finland and a beautiful city with a short yet interesting history.  It has a unique blend of Swedish and Russian culture and architecture as both countries have controlled it in different periods of history (it was actually founded as a Swedish settlement).  I loved the city so much that I'm going to write a full blog post on it later; for now, I'll just leave a few photos...

The Baltic Sea frozen solid

The Orthodox Church

Statue of Alexander II

The Lutheran Church

The Harbor

A lovely day for a nice walk on the frozen sea...

The Gulf of Finland from our ship

The Santa Claus Village

The bus ride out of Helsinki took another 17 hours before we arrived in Saariselka.  Everything slowly became a purer shade of white the further north we went; non-evergreen trees appeared as stationary white clouds floating above the ground as their branches were frozen solid.  We made frequent stops at gas stations that could be called the Finnish equivalent of WaWa: they had a restaurant, a grocery store, WiFi, just about any kind of food you could possibly want on the road, and staff on duty 24 hours a day.  

As I got off the bus on one of our more northern stops, I became acutely aware of a booger protruding out of my right nostril.  I unashamedly went digging for gold but, to my surprise, came out with nothing.  After several more fruitless attempts I realized that this phantom booger was, in fact, nostril hair that had frozen after only several breaths.  Man, we had arrived.  Ok, not really, we still had about six hours left of northward driving before we arrived in Saariselka.

Before we made it to Saariselka, though, we stopped at the Santa Claus village, a tourist trap that lies right on the Arctic Circle in southern Lappland.   Did you know that Santa Claus lives in Finland? I sure as hell didn't and remained suspicious of this Finnish impostor, but everybody else went into a Santa fueled frenzy (complemented by sleep deprivation).  Every year, the village receives thousands of letters from kids too young to know that Santa actually lives at the North Pole.  If want to spread this deceit and enjoy lying to little kids, you can buy post cards which the villagers will then send to your niece or nephew on Christmas.  Or, if you're feeling particularly lonely, you can have a post card sent to yourself, which apparently people do.

The coneheads never went home; they just went to Finland

The village is run by Santa's little helpers, who have to hang up their dignity along with their clothes every morning before putting on their bright red onesies and pointy hats designed for a conehead.  They were basically larger, hairier, more masculine versions of the demonic mall elves in "A Christmas Story."

Anyways, the main attraction here is that you can get a photo taken with Santa because, unlike the Santa in your local mall, this one is real.  You get to wait in a long line outside of a sealed room where Santa sits.  Along the walls are pictures of celebrities and Japanese businessmen (I have no idea) with Santa.  The only one I recognized was Conan.

Alright, this place can't be that bad if Coco came here

After you get out of the room you get the chance to buy your photos.  Five post cards for only 30 euros!  Nothing says the Christmas spirit like capitalizing on tired parents with young children (or, in this case, college students...).  The whole experience was fun, from my perspective at least, as I watched the little child come out of college students from around the world to throw money at an attraction designed for young children.  That being said, it's probably the most disingenuous and touristy place you'll find north of the Arctic Circle.

Saariselka

Six hours later we arrived in Saariselka, a small village nestled in rolling hills covered in taiga forest and snow.  The town has one main street with a grocery store, a few hotels, and several restaurants and souvenir stores.  On the outskirts are log cabins and a few streets of suburbs, if they could even be called that.  We stayed in a wooden cabin with all the basic amenities and, since this is Finland, a sauna.     Saunas are, in fact, a Finnish creation, which came as no surprise to me because they are everywhere. In Finland, it is a common practice to warm up in the Sauna at 80 - 100 degrees depending on humidity and then go for a swim in a hole in the ice.  If you don't have a heart condition, studies have actually proven that this practice has many positive health benefits.  So when you see pictures like this:

             

                    Or this:

You can bet your ass they're not just goofy internet memes.  Now, I don't know how often people drink coffee on a porch in neck deep snow, but here's a couple pictures I took of some old people swimming in an ice hole in Helsinki:

Just another morning in Finland...

I used the sauna in our cabin once.  After spending 15 - 20 minutes in 70 - 80 degrees (158 - 178 F), we rushed out, jumped into the snow, and then ran back in.  It was a strange sensation; I don't think my body knew how to react to such quick and drastic temperature changes because I was left with burning, freezing, tingling sensation like I had rubbed mint toothpaste all over my body.  It was so cold it still took several minutes to get warm again.

Anyways, our cozy cabin had heated floors but was otherwise unremarkable.  What was remarkable in Saariselka was the 1.5 km sledding slope, which is supposedly the longest one in Europe.  Here is a video of me talking to myself while going down it.  When I yell for apparently no reason it's because I pass a couple of my friends, not because I'm a maniac..  Just kidding I don't have friends which is why I talk to myself.

Saariselka also has skiing slopes and some hills with great views, but is otherwise just the hub for other activities in the vicinity.

Just, you know, shoveling the roof

A log Cabin

View from the top of the sledding hill

In the interest of keeping this post at a reasonable length and because I want to give my other experiences the length and description they deserve, I'll finish this post here.  In part 2 I'll talk about the most memorable experiences from the trip, including a husky safari, a trip to the Arctic Ocean, and seeing the Aurora Borealis.