Shiny, happy people…

Summer is here. And my God it is f**king glorious…

I have had this blog in the throes of being written for about 4 weeks now, but, as any of my Finnish friends will tell you – when the sun comes out – you drop EVERYTHING.

Cycle. Walk. Dance. Run. Sauna. Swim. Do ANYTHING you like.

But show your appreciation for this rare and beautiful ball of fire when it finally graces you with its presence.

Because who knows how long it will last? Days? Weeks? Months?

May has been record breaking so far with no less than 4 weeks of continuous sun and blue skies. Mid-month it reached 30 degrees, bestowing upon us the mind-boggling title of ‘hottest country in Europe’ for one, sweet, victorious day.

Honestly, it was baffling. It was all people could talk about for days. I think it will be marked in history books and commemorative plates will be made.

Myself, I’ve been out cycling, running, walking or lazing on the beach every day I have been free to do so. Yes, we have beaches! They are sandy and clean and so spacious that on the hottest days you honestly feel like you’re somewhere in the Mediterranean. Children play with inflatable beach balls. Old people unceremoniously drop ice-cream on their big, proud bellies as the sun melts it faster than they can eat it. Swans attack you when you paddle in the ocean…

Okay maybe not completely like the Mediterranean, but you get the point I’m making here.

Winter is so cold and dark that you feel completely deserving when that sun finally hits your face. You say to yourself;

‘I’ve earned this…’

as you take that first glorious sip of chilled champagne, order your first cold coffee or sit outside to eat lunch for the first time that year overlooking the boats in the marina at Kanavaranta.

The Finns celebrate Summer with such ferocious passion that I find myself in awe of them. You see people seeking out any small patch of sun available and standing, smiling, eyes closed and face beaming into its warm rays. Ice-cream becomes a viable breakfast, lunch and dinner option and bodies of all shapes and sizes are proudly and happily exposed as each passing day gets warmer.

The city suddenly swarms with tourists and coffee stands, gelato huts and food stalls appear as if they grew out of the very ground – even though they have been right there in plain view all year long. They were just hibernating for the Winter under sleepy metal shutters.

The city blossoms before your very eyes. Grass, flowers, cherry blossoms and sparkling ocean views create city snapshots that take your breath away.

It is a truly beautiful thing to witness. I have never experienced such a definite contrast between seasons before and it fills you with a sense of earthy happiness that I find hard to explain even I’m now going through this now for the second time.

It’s almost as if you feel in tune with the world.

So as you can gather, May has been good so far! Myself and The Finn have been putting the final touches to our wedding celebrations in August. I passed a really big work-related exam. And probably the biggest news of all. We bought a home.

That’s right – not content with locking ourselves into the legalities of marital partnership – we thought we would really seal the deal and buy some bricks and mortar too!

It is a beautiful 2 bedroom apartment in the quiet and relaxed area of Espoo just outside the city and I am so happy and excited to finally have a place to call our own. Despite bringing in a joint 6 figure income, buying our own home in London – in an area we actually wanted to live in and a space big enough that you wouldn’t hear your partners bowel movements whilst you’re making your cornflakes – seemed utterly out of reach.

But here it has been a dream. Maybe we just got lucky. But from my conversations with my Finnish friends – the experience we have had is very, very common. You go to the bank, you give them your details and fill out the necessary forms. They tell you how much they are willing to lend. You accept if you are happy. You find a home you want to buy. Make an offer. You buy it. We found our home on Wednesday night, viewed it Thursday/Friday. Offered Saturday. Accepted Sunday.

That was 4 weeks ago.

Today is move day.

When I first moved to Helsinki it was in the depths of a pretty harsh Winter and everything was new to me. The weather showed no mercy and I had to adapt quickly in order to figure out how to get comfortable in my new life.

With the next chapter of our life literally beginning today it somehow feels very fitting that I am moving into our new home on a gloriously sunny day here in Helsinki, turning my face to the sun and thinking…

‘I’ve earned this….’

Here Comes the Sun…

Ok – you made have noticed a slight gap in between this and my previous post.

Like, approximately 3 months.

So – in summary:

December:
Christmas in the cabin up North in Lapland. I introduce my future Finnish in-laws to a ‘Traditional Christmas dinner’ complete with roast potatoes, stuffing and an extremely boozy trifle.
The only things missing were crackers and a slightly tipsy Grandad falling asleep in an armchair with the top button of his trousers popped open from too much turkey.
Future Mother-in-law comes over to the cabin the next day under the guise of bringing us fresh towels only for me to discover that she is in fact on the hunt for leftover boozy trifle that I had been saving for myself.
Her and future Father-in-law eat it from the bowl with a spoon when they get home before even taking off their coats.
Great success.

New Years Eve:
4 of us spent a few days in a friends cabin, a few hours outside Helsinki, eating amazing comfort food, drinking wine, going to sauna and barely bothering to get out of our pyjamas.
Celebrated midnight itself by walking to the main road that looks over the town to watch everyone else’s fireworks while standing in the snow drinking a bottle of champagne and waving sparklers around like 6 year olds.
Great success.

January:
My birthday.
Last year I had 20 friends and family fly over to Helsinki from London and we all went to sauna and swam in the frozen ocean.
This year I was in Thailand with the Finn.
It was hot.
I was very happy.
Great success.

Which brings us to the most recent months of February and March.

The one thing I’ve noticed the most so far this year in Finland is an overwhelming sense of belonging.

I went back to London for a visit in February while the Finn was there on business, and I realised I have a strong, physical reaction to the city itself.

And not a good one.

I find myself rushing, stressed and anxious despite the fact I have no real place to be most of the time and I’m there ‘on vacation’.

Bustles of people are literally everywhere, everyday, all the f***ing time.

And I cannot cope with it anymore.

I am over it, quite frankly.

BUT – amongst those bustles of people, constant noise and endless traffic are all of my amazing friends. And my heart explodes with happiness when I see them and spend evenings laughing and eating and drinking and dancing with them all.

Outside the city via long distance trains are some of my closest and oldest friends and their families. I get to run around with their amazing children and see them growing as a family and expanding their homes and careers, which flabbergasts me when I remember that somewhere between only 6-8 years ago we were stumbling home, chips in hand, to collapse on the sofa after the sweet relief of FINALLY kicking off my ridiculous high heels bought with half my wages that I could only wear for roughly 10 minutes before having to sit down.

My family also live outside London – but luckily for me they’re extremely responsive to me luring them to Helsinki with the promise of big, open spaces, good food and a sauna at home.

The added bonus of my Mom retiring last December means she’s very easily mobile and pretty much a lady of leisure now. So I just pop her on the plane and bring her over whenever she wants to come. Rent-a-Mom – but with my actual Mother.

So ultimately, I will always return to London – because it holds a massive piece of my heart and is the gateway to family and friends all over the UK.

I just have to figure out some coping mechanisms now.

Like alcohol.

And a miniature taser gun.

But back to my original point – my sense of belonging here in Helsinki really cemented itself this year and I find myself feeling that this is now my city.

Not a city I am just ‘living in for now’.

I recommend cafes to locals and visitors alike and find myself rolling my eyes at tourists who don’t wait until the green man signals it is indeed safe to cross the street (despite the fact that you can see for miles in either direction – you just don’t do it!)

I have friends working in local lunch spots who send video messages to me by way of The Finn to tell me off when I haven’t been to see them for over a week.

I know where the best Vietnamese food is and which supermarket is most likely to have oat milk in stock at the weekend (it’s the SMarket in Valilla in case you’re wondering…)

I’ve widened my circle of friends and regularly meet up to have coffees, lunches, shopping trips and saunas (obviously)

And most importantly – I FINALLY know how to dress for the weather! It has taken 2 Winters and a lot of frozen toes and sweaty top lips to figure out the EXACT amount of layers I need underneath my coat and trousers to be just right when it’s -12 with a -18 wind chill outside at 6.30 in the morning.

It’s all about thick wool hats, layering and having extra space in your shoes. Trust me.

Does the cold bother me? No. That’s the honest truth. The Brits have been battling with ‘The Beast from the East’ and ‘Storm Emma’ bringing about temperatures of just below zero and a few centimetres of snow which has been enough to close down schools and strand motorists in the middle of the motorway (no, seriously)

Here, where inclement weather is expected, the end of February and the beginning of March has seen record lows of -19 (with wind chills of up to -25) but with it, it has bought an abundance of the most gloriously sunny days. Candy floss pink sunrises and deep tangerine sunsets still blow me away every time I see them.

Plus, the days are getting longer by 21 minutes per week at the minute and you can just feel warmer days, green trees, picnics in the park and music festivals getting ready to burst through the door at any moment like an over-excited musical theatre student with a solo.

So I embrace the cold and worship the increasingly longer days – my eyes on the prize that is the new season approaching.

Summer is coming…

Isn’t it?

50 Shades of Gray…

Oh come on you had to be expecting this title at some point surely?

So – last month I was lovingly tagged in a meme explaining the Finnish month of November against the visual backdrop of a giant demon warlord rising from an icy hell pit which I can only imagine is meant to represent Finland.

It read:

‘November is called ‘Marraskuu’ in Finnish which literally means ‘death month’. Because that’s when everything dies and the darkness, Kaamos, sets and the sun never rises’

What a hoot these Finns are!

Oh how I laughed (in a nervous, slightly concerned British manner)

The truth is – as a foreigner – if you ask any Finn about November they will look at you with pity and reel off a mixture of any of the following:

‘It’s just so dark!’

‘It’s just so cold!’

‘Oh the weather is just awful, not snow, not rain and it blows straight into your face!’ (I can confirm this is true and have sworn off mascara until at least March 2018)

‘You’re so brave to live here!’

‘I promise it gets better!’

The reality of November was, indeed, that it was dark (by the 31st of the month the sun is rising just before 9am and making a swift exit just after 3pm) and yes, it is cold. The weather was hanging around a steady low of 1-5 degrees and the wind took that down to anywhere from 0 to -3/4 on some days.

But, it’s Finland. I didn’t move here expecting steel drums and mojitos to greet me as the Winter months began to descend.

Nor did I expect to be able to keep rocking my 3/4 length yoga pants until Christmas day (although my recent discovery of a shop selling woollen legwarmers which go all the way up to my knees has massively increased my wardrobe options during this colder period…)

As I approach my one year anniversary of living in Finland – I can’t help but reflect – and I realise just how self-deprecating Finns are about not only themselves but their beautiful country as well.

They think their weather will feel too cold or too windy. That their food will be deemed too simple or too plain. Their language too complicated and insignificant.

As The Finn and my other Finnish friends have discussed with me before, Finns are very used to talking and being talked about in terms of stereotypes. That they are a country of binge-drinking, suicidal, socially awkward weirdos that always come second to their fellow Scandi/Nordic countries like Norway, Sweden, Iceland and Denmark for tourism and Instagram-worthy hotspots.

And as the conversation continues and my year has unfolded, it is apparent that this is simply not true. It is a country of thriving economy, incredibly creative captains of industry, an enviable food scene and music festivals that have been crowned the best in Europe.

Yes, Winter is cold but it is also a real season. The dark and the snow brings the city to life, with balconies, houses, trees and parks being adorned with sparkling lights right from October all the way through to late January.

When Summer comes the midnight sun refuses to leave, lingering like that one last guest at a house party hoovering up the empties and trying to convince you to have that one last shot despite the fact that it’s 1am and you have to be up for work in 6 hours. It is glorious and fun and the city buzzes with life and laughter.

Autumn positively explodes in front of your eyes with forests that suddenly look like oil paintings and floods of orange, red and yellow are everywhere throughout the city landscape. Scarves start to come out and hands wrap eagerly around steamy hot chocolate.

So Finnish Winter, I embrace you as I have embraced all of your seasons so far. You may not be the nicest to my hair, my face or my skin, but you do not hide your identity. You are proud in your cold, harsh darkness with a twinkling little fairy light heart.

You keep doing you Finland.

Thank you for being a friend…

This is for Barbara. For Lowenna. For Tara. For Lucy. For Marja. For Matti. For Terri. For Michelle. For Carmen. For the other Tara. For Bianca. For Dankielson. For Paul. For Sophie. For Natalie. For Julia. For Rosa. For Paula. For Nicole. For Jo Lee. For Tom. For Anastasia. For Robin. For Jane & Caroline & Donna & Perveen & Sue & Kate.

For so many more along this journey that I haven’t mentioned here but it in no way diminishes their impact.

So, this is the blog I had no idea I would be writing just two weeks ago.

Two weeks ago I was the poster child for an expat living in Finland.

I’m working the hours I set out to achieve by December and I genuinely love my studios and my clients.

I’m being asked to deliver workshops for different studios (which is mind-boggling after just 11 months here!)

I’ve joined an a Capella choir (fulfilling my lifelong dream of being in Glee…)

I’m planning a wedding and honeymoon with a man who is honestly such an amazing human I still can’t get genuinely mad when he leaves his underwear on the bathroom floor EVERY morning…

And just a few weeks ago I found out I’ve been accepted onto a course to finally study the comprehensive classical repertoire of Joseph Pilates with two amazing teachers right here in Finland. In English. Something I couldn’t even dream of having the time or finances to do in London.

I mean, come on!

What more could a girl want?

Well, as it turns out, her friends.

A week ago at dinner with the incredible underwear-litterer that is my future husband, I just started crying without really being able to explain what was really wrong.

I sobbed. You know when kids get really overwhelmed and half talk and half breathe in that weird emotional staccato state and get a bit of snot running down their face at the same time?

Yeah. That. In the middle of our local eatery on ‘date night’. What a catch. I can only imagine how many of you reading this are disappointed that I’m not single anymore.

A few days later upon discovering a flat tyre on my bike, I proceeded to kick it and throw my helmet onto the floor whilst shouting ‘FUUUUCK!’ at the ceiling.

The Finn proceeds to come towards me with an understanding expression and a loving embrace. So naturally my reasponse is to reject this heartfelt gesture and shout at him to;

‘Just leave without me because obviously I can’t come with you can I?!’

pointing to my poor, forlorn bike with the burning rage of a thousand suns.

You know, like a completely rational human being.

The truth was, my heart was aching for my friends and the comfort and warmth only they could bring me.

To give some back story, I began typing this blog in a post-sauna haze after downing the best part of a bottle of excellent white wine provided by the aforementioned Matti from the opening paragraph.

The reason I started writing it then wasn’t because I was drunk and sad. I was drunk, but it wasn’t sadness I felt but a sense of clarity for the first time in over a week.

I was depressed.

I was trying so hard to ‘fake it to make it’ that the smile on my face that had been positioned there through gale force winds and bullet-like rain suddenly seemed like it had been permanently tattooed to my face.

On one particular day during this depression if one more person had asked me;

‘So! How are you enjoying life in Finland?’

I honestly think I may have become the human embodiment of a nuclear mushroom cloud.

And please don’t mistake these temporary feelings as disdain towards Finns or indeed Finland. It is probably because of them that this period came and went so quickly.

It is not their fault that we don’t have a familiarity with each other that only comes after years and years of shared memories and experiences.

They didn’t ask me to move to their country and begin a life here. But I did, and they welcomed me with open arms and a perfectly heated sauna when I did.

They gave me a job, teaching and working in English, and paid me every penny of what I’m worth. Something that is almost impossible to achieve in my industry in London.

They sent information about courses that cost practically nothing so that I could learn their language in school and at times that suit me with other lovely expats.

They are the sweetest and most honest people I’ve ever met. I love you Finns – seriously – you’re just the best. You’re like that really cool Auntie who lives alone with cats and paints canvases in her underwear and drinks brandy in the middle of the day.

You don’t care that other people think you’re a bit weird…you embrace the weird.

And as a child who once had a school photo taken with a very questionable perm and a Star Trek badge (proudly) pinned to her school blazer, embracing the weird is something I know a lot about.

But, as usual, I digress.

The overall point is – I have been missing my friends and trying to ignore the fact that I have been mildly depressed about it.

I didn’t talk to anyone about it for this short period of about 10 days because I was desperate not to spoil this perfect image I believed everyone had of my life here.

I didn’t want to be seen as a failure.

I know some of my friends are reading this and screaming at the screen right now – but hang on! Read the next bit…

I sent a message to my best friend. She’s one of the most honest people in my life. Sometimes painfully honest. But this is why I love her and why I think our friendship has only grown stronger and stronger year after year. I have missed her every day that I’m here.

In this message I tell her how I miss her and her children and all of my friends and how I don’t want to feel like a failure.

She sends back the most heartfelt message at the end of which she tells me ‘I’m so proud of you’ and I cry happy tears.

We exchange some amusing cat gifs and I laugh some more.

The next day I reach out to another one of my closest friends. We have a catch up. She empathizes and shares some similar experiences from her own life and we laugh about other random life events before saying goodbye.

I reach out to a group of my girlfriends from South Africa who have been living in London for long enough to detest the tube system and property rental prices in equal measure, and ask for their take on things.

Within 10 minutes I have 5 different messages of support, a video message and a singalong voicenote to Mariah Carey’s ‘Always Be My Baby’.

I cried with as much laughter as I did happiness.

The next morning I wake up to more messages of love and empathetic understanding.

A few days later I chat to one of my other closest girlfriends. She is crying and sharing something extremely difficult and heartfelt with me and I hate that she is feeling this way. We talk for almost an hour and she tells me;

‘Thanks so much for this – I feel so much lighter already for talking to you about this’

And I feel so happy that I’m able to help her in some small way, realizing that even though these life events are shitty, it is actually just another moment that has brought us even closer together in the long run.

I realize that the dark, grey cloud I’ve been walking through isn’t there anymore. I feel more like myself now than I have done in two weeks.

Apparently a problem shared really is a problem halved. Who knew?

I miss my non-Finn friends, but it doesn’t mean my life here is awful. I have wonderful new friends with whom I’m building beautiful and hilarious new memories with.

But it also doesn’t mean I won’t have shitty days. (Although it does mean you probably shouldn’t kick your expensive bike and shout at your fiancé when he’s offering you love and understanding in the midst of what can only be accurately described as a fit of chaotic insanity)

But the fact is, my friends remain my friends and therefore part of my life no matter where I am in the world.

And I have so much happening in my life right here that I don’t want to miss what I can experience by being distracted by what I can’t.

I will continue to miss them – but I will also continue to live my best life and tell them at regular intervals how awesome and amazing they all are and how much I love them.

So this quote, taken from the most accurate source of real friendship ever portrayed on television – ‘The Golden Girls’ – is for all of you…

‘Thank you for being a friend,
Traveled down a road and back again,
Your heart is true – you’re a pal and a confidant.

I’m not ashamed to say
I hope it always will stay this way
My hat is off, won’t you stand up and take a bow.’

Thank you for being a friend.

Lost in translation…

I am an extrovert. Ask anyone who knows me.

If there’s a spotlight I’ll find it. And if there isn’t, I’ll find a way to make one.

I’m like the MacGyver of drama.

This is not to say I am selfish or high maintenance. I moved to Finland for a quieter and more low key life. It’s just for as long as I can remember I have not been afraid to stand out in a crowd, speak up in the middle of a conversation, volunteer to ‘go first’ or sprint across a room to get to the front of the line at a buffet.

OK scrap that last one – that is actually a little selfish. True, but selfish.

All of this changes when you move to a country whose first language is not your own.

Cut to Wednesday this past week. I am attending the launch of an incredible new company that I am working for in a very cool area of town. I’m at a bar so crammed with hipsters that I’m surprised there wasn’t a typewriter instead of a till when ordering drinks at the bar.

As I approach I realise I only know two people at this party. The hosts.

They are lovely, talented and social women who have just opened this magnificent space and all of their family, friends and local businesses are here to support them. I have only known them a short time but I already feel proud of them. I identify with their drive and passion – it speaks to me – and I’m excited to be part of it.

And then I realise it, just as I walk into the bar. They have invited all of these people here to see them. They need to work the room and connect with everyone. They are not here for me, I am here for them. And thanks to a work trip to Zurich, the Finn has abandoned me and I have come to this party alone.

This leaves me in a slightly tricky situation to manage.

As any foreigner living abroad will tell you, circulating a room at a party where you barely know anyone is not the ideal situation in which to find yourself. I get dutch courage in the form free champagne (the best sort) then I hover slightly nervously around the room not understanding anything that anyone is saying (aside from a few stray words here and there but when your vocabulary is limited to hello, goodbye and ice-cream flavours it doesn’t become particularly helpful)

Then, when I get that moment where someone makes friendly eye contact and visually ‘invites’ me to their conversation with a smile I am left with two options:

 

ONE

Walk over, wait patiently, smiling and nodding along with everyone else in the group until all eyes look to you and you realise you’re being asked your opinion on something. At which point you introduce yourself and say ‘Sorry, I’m English…’ in an apologetic tone that you can only deliver as a Brit.

They get embarrassed that they’ve been speaking Finnish and you haven’t understood anything so far.

You get embarrassed for being the ignorant foreigner and not understanding anything so far.

The conversation automatically switches to English and continues.

TWO

Walk over, channel your inner Basil Fawlty, dive in head first and announce ‘I’m English!’ which lands like a bomb, shattering any flow of conversation that has been created and ultimately demands that everyone within hearing distance now switches language.

The conversation (still) automatically switches to English and (kind of) continues.

 

Neither of these options is particularly comfortable as a foreigner – but the kind and generous nature of Finns that I’ve mentioned more than once throughout my blogs so far make these situations that little bit easier.

For example, there is nothing quite as impressive to me as being involved in a conversation in perfect English, hearing it subtly turn to Finnish as I get up to go to the toilet only for it to effortlessly turn back to English the minute I sit back down at the table.

They don’t even miss a beat.

So despite the fact I’m approaching my first year ‘anniversary’ of living in Finland – this is still a situation I still find myself in daily.

Being surrounded by a language I (on the whole) do not understand.

When going on holiday or travelling abroad – new languages are exotic, exciting and even amusing (who doesn’t love a bit of cock soup or some slightly used toilet rolls?)

But when you live in that country – it can become extremely limiting and even kind of lonely sometimes. It is the most unusual sensation, and one I have never experienced before. But not wanting to deprive people of the comfort and ease of talking in their native tongue – I often find myself telling close friends and colleagues:

‘No it’s fine – go ahead and speak in Finnish it’s not a problem I’m going to carry on cooking…’

or

‘If it’s easier to explain in Finnish you just go ahead, honestly, it’s no big deal’

And whilst my intentions are completely genuine when I say this – the result is the equivalent of being locked outside the front door of my own party. All the fun is going on around me but I have no way of joining in.

As if to demonstrate my point, just as I was writing this The Finn got a call from his Dad and he is currently reclined on the sofa in a world that is so familiar but still so alien to me. I hear ‘Johanna’ and a few times and the word ‘paiva’ (day) and ‘ei’ (no) – and understanding this smattering of words sometimes makes it feel even more out of reach for me as a language.

Like a kid at a theme park who’s not quite tall enough for that big roller-coaster unless she stands on her tip-toes.

But I’m awesome at hook-a-duck. And kids do get growth spurts.

So maybe I can try again next year.

 

 

 

 

I want candy!

Inside our kitchen cupboard at home lies a dark secret. Somewhere amongst the sustainably sourced coffee beans, just behind the organic chia seeds and ethically grown coconut sugar lies a large tin emblazoned with the much debated logo commemorating the London 2012 Olympic games.

‘Ah!’

I hear you say…

‘How patriotic! She has a tin from home to remind her of a truly magnificent moment in sporting history. After all, she is a Pilates instructor and Personal Trainer, how on brand! She must keep her supplements in there. Or maybe her home cooked protein snack bars!’

Close. But not quite. Open that tin and the only protein you will find will be a rogue soy bean that has fallen to it’s death by accident in my flurry to get inside. For you see, it contains so much sugar that it would surely die of type 2 diabetes before it had any chance to be rescued.

That’s right boys and girls.

It’s my sin tin.

After a day full of work and exercise, walking through the city, eating wonderfully balanced meals full of fresh vegetables and drinking as close to 2 litres of water as my bladder can handle, I skip to this tin with the joyful glee of Augustus Gloop when he first discovered the chocolate river in ‘Charlie and the Chocolate Factory’

It is filled with all of my favourites:

• Dark chocolate
• Dark chocolate with rasberries
• Moomin marshmallows
• Dark chocolate with candied orange
• Dark chocolate with hazelnuts
• Chocolate covered brazil nuts (shout out to my Mom for that addiction)
• Dark chocolate with peppermint (a very recent favourite thanks to my friend Rosa – fellow fitness guru, yogi and chocolate snaffler…)
• Leftover cinema candy (a rare but special appearance)

It is a thing of reckless beauty, and I am fairly convinced it is the key to my survival on some particularly difficult days.

It would be perfect. But then we come to the back of the tin. Sitting quietly in the corner like an uninvited guest at a party. Or the killer in a movie that was there all along, hidden in plain sight but you just didn’t know it.

Salmiakki.

Who the f**k invited you…?

For those of you who are lucky enough to not have experienced salmiakki in your life this far – here are some fun facts:

• Best known outside of Finland as ‘salty liquorice’
• Some speculate it’s origins lie in drug stores that manufactured cough medicine
• Gets it’s distinct ‘flavour’ from ammonium chloride (yummy!)
• Tastes like something doctors would give you to test your gag reflex
• Commonly referred to as ‘Satan’s crotch candy’ or ‘Devil sweet’ (by me)
• Highly effective human repellent
• Not candy

The first time The Finn returned back to our London home with this in his possession – it was the smell that I noticed first. I (like a normal human being) was sitting eating dark chocolate on the sofa after dinner as he quietly slipped away to the other room and came back nonchalantly a few seconds later.

I snuggled into his arm and continued watching whatever Netflix series we were binging on at the time.

I think how lucky I am and look up into his incredible, blue eyes.

*sniff*

‘What’s the weird smell?’

He looks down at me and smiles. I get distracted momentarily.

*sniff*

‘It smells like…..like chemicals. What IS that?’

He leans in for a kiss, I reach up to meet him and as his lips touch mine I think…

‘GROSS! What the HELL is in your mouth?!?!?’

He laughs at and tries to kiss me again. I rise from the sofa with the speed of a cheetah, feeling betrayed by the man that I love. Why would he do this to me? I question if I can ever trust him again.

I have some dark chocolate to take away the taste of the liquorice. I have another piece to take away the taste of the betrayal. The betrayal hit me pretty hard so I have a third piece.

From this day forward – this tortuous game would become known as ‘Salmiakki kisses’.

I do not like this game. The Finn thinks it is hilarious.

He is wrong. And we are not yet married. Something he should heed.

Salmiakki is to Finland what fast food is to America. A national institution. In the supermarket isles where you normally would go to find candy in all shapes, colours, sizes and flavours you are greeted with a sea of black and red packaging dedicated entirely to this salty monstrosity.

Vodka is flavoured with it.

Chocolate is filled with it (yes – liquid liquorice-centred chocolate bars).

Children request it from their parents as a treat.

It even got into the ice-cream (is NOTHING sacred?!)

My campaign of hate for this foul-tasting terror has become the source of much amusement to our friends and family. So much so that I’m often being asked to sample different types like an under-aged teen being coerced into trying a cigarette round the back of the bike sheds at school:

‘Just try a bit’

‘Have a little taste, this one is really mild!’

‘You just need to get used to it that’s all’

The Finn would often joke that one day I would try some soft liquorice and realise it’s actually quite nice, and that would be my ‘gateway drug’ into hard, strong salmiakki. I would laugh and respond in disgust and defiance at this ridiculous statement whilst selecting my favourite piece of chocolate from the sin tin. Ooooo – we have raspberry left…

Then something awful happened. He bought home an innocent looking bag of mixed liquorice. (In my defence the packaging is very deceiving.)

He opens it at the kitchen table and peruses the selection inside.

It looks soft and smells quite sweet actually. That’s weird.

Hang on, that that one has pink stuff inside! Everyone knows pink stuff can’t be evil!

I reach over and pick one up, looking at it with the disgust and facial expressions of a toddler examining broccoli for the first time.

I pop it in my mouth.

I chew and scrunch my face up, getting ready to spit it out.

My brain scrambles and battles with the salty and sweet flavours.

‘The texture is so nice but the salty flavour is so disgus…oh hang on there’s the pink stuff…ooooo it’s raspberry…no hang on I don’t like liq….mmmm the flavours actually work really well together!’

The Finn looks on, one third disbelief, one third smug satisfaction and one third Finnish national pride.

He opens his mouth to say something…

‘Don’t say a word!’ I warn him.

He smiles silently and basks in his small victory.

I reach for another piece.

What have I become?

Loneliness, guilt and crying in the cheese aisle at Waitrose…

I know, I know!

First blog: Finn’s are amazing!

Second blog: Saunas are a revelation!

Third blog: Boom! Buckle up – sh1t just got real!

But seriously – don’t go reaching for the Chardonnay just yet. It sounds ominous – but it’s really not that bad. I promise.

***

Christmas 2015 – my partner (hereby forward to be referred to as ‘Finn’) has not long moved in with me in my East London home and we’re shopping in Waitrose (I know, I know – name-dropper) and I find him in the cheese aisle.

Me: ‘What are you looking for honey?’

Finn: ‘Cheese’

Me: ‘…..’

Finn: ‘Normal cheese. Like, just regular cheese.’

Me: *Instantly becoming a cheese aficionado* ‘Oh like cheddar? It’s just here – just go for a number 1 or 2 – that’s pretty plain’

Finn: ‘No. Not cheddar – not strong cheese. Boring cheese.’

Me: ‘It doesn’t get much more boring that number 1 cheddar honey…’

Finn: *Increasingly agitated* ‘No. Not cheddar. Boring. Like. Just plain, boring cheese…’

Me: ‘Ummm – like edam – perhaps?’ *Picks up Edam for visual purposes*

Finn: *On the verge of a complete meltdown* ‘I don’t know. I don’t know what I want. It’s too busy in here – let’s just leave!’

A dairy-shaped monster had been unleashed. Who was this person? How could someone so calm and unwavering throw his toys out of the pram in the dairy aisle at Waitrose? Tesco I could understand, but Waitrose? It’s so calm and horrifyingly middle class.

Obviously, it wasn’t the cheese he was upset about – he was searching for home. Cheese and mustard and Finncrisp and gherkins. A staple of the Finnish diet. (And something I have now also become very accustomed to myself much to his delight…)

I will return to this story.

***

Today is 10th October 2017 – the weather has taken a turn for the worse in Helsinki and it’s been raining for 3 solid days. Summer is such a distant a memory I’m beginning to question whether it really happened or whether, in fact, I just got really drunk one particularly sunny evening and it was so amazing my mind just tricked me into thinking it went on for weeks.

This morning at 6.30am I tip-toed through the house getting ready like an under-dressed Ninja, kissed the sleeping Finn goodbye (the fact I resisted the urge to stick a wet finger in his ear is, quite frankly, reason enough to ask me to marry him…) and caught the tram into the city to teach a 7.30am pilates class full of lovely, friendly clients.

This made me happy.

Then, I grabbed a coffee from downstairs and went for a long swim in the heated outdoor pool that overlooks the ocean whilst the grey clouds overhead continued to moan and cry down on Helsinki, resulting in the pool being basically empty.

Naturally I took a sauna afterwards. This also made me happy.

And now – I’m sitting in one of my favourite restaurants (shout out to the Pompier crew in Espa and Albertinkatu) eating a bottomless lunch buffet of wonderfully fresh salads and a daily soup so incredible that myself and my partner have discussed the logistics of kidnapping the chefs and keeping them at home to start a personal soup kitchen.

(I will make sure to really enjoy this meal, as it may potentially be the last time I ever eat at Pompier…)

Later today, I’ll take a 40 minute stroll through the city to get home and do a little housework, then maybe take a nap or bake something before leaving again around 5pm to teach 2 more classes. Then I’ll return home around 8pm to spend the evening with my partner.

This is the latest I work on any day, and I only work this late once a week. Most evenings I’m in the house by 6/7pm. I earn as much now teaching 2-3 classes a day as I did with an 8 hour-a-day (10 hours a day in London time) full time pilates teaching job in the UK.

This was one of the many reasons I wanted to leave London.

I am smiling as I hear my friends and families voices in my head commenting whilst reading this:

‘Oooo – alright for some!’

‘What a life!’

‘I’d KILL for a day like that!’

‘It’ll ALL change when you have kids you know!’

Yes. It is wonderful.  And yes, I do know how lucky I am, because I’ve been hustling my British butt off since I got here to try and create this way of life, with a tremendous amount of support given to me courtesy of the Finn since the moment we skidded onto the tarmac last December.

But that does not mean life is easy, and it has definitely not always been this way.

Cut back to July – just 3 months ago. I’m standing in Helsinki airport, crying with such ferocity passers by could be forgiven for thinking my partner had either just proposed to me or just told me he was leaving me for someone else. Both were legitimately plausible based on my explosive and untranslatable outbursts.

The truth was I had just had my first, major attack of deep, dark homesickness. It had seemingly come out of nowhere, but in truth it had been building for some time and I had just been blissfully unaware of it. We were heading for Lapland to my partners family home, the cottage that I fell deeply in love with the first time I ever saw it sparkling in the snow like a little ginger bread house in a fairy tale.

Whilst there we would see his parents, whom I equally adore. They don’t really speak English, I don’t really speak Finnish – but somewhere in the middle we meet through a series of hand gestures, laughter, barnyard-esqe noises and a lot of hugging. The first time I ever went to their home, my poor partner somehow got wedged in between me and his Mother as we sunk a bottle of red wine and – much like the babel fish in ‘The Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy’ – he acted as a live, word-for-word interpreter.

These are the reasons I resist the urge to stick a wet finger in his ear at 6.30 in the morning.

Going back to the airport hysteria, it felt like what can only be described as constant waves of emotions:

‘I don’t want to go to Lapland – I want to go to London’ (I didn’t know where I wanted to go)

‘Argh – I hate London – I don’t want to go there. I just want to be alone’ (I didn’t want to be alone)

‘No it’s OK let’s go to Lapland – I love it there’ (I really do)

To the Finn: ‘I want to go to London but I don’t want to be away from you for Summer’ (Sounds clingy I know – but don’t judge me – I was at the end of a very emotional tether and I was hungry)

Also to the Finn: ‘No! You can’t sacrifice your holiday in Lapland with your family and friends and change our flights just to come to London and see my family and friends – that’s crazy!’ (Interesting use of the word crazy from me as I flung myself around the airport lobby like an out-of-control auditionee for a Spanish telenovela)

Eventually, after the most award-winning amount of patience from my partner (I was being tame when I made the telenovela comparison) and talking our way deeper into the root of the problem, it turned out that what I was feeling was lonely and guilty.

Lonely due to all the days I had spent over the past 6 months on my own, in the house with no reason to get up and leave. Or, wandering around the city trying to fill my day with something meaningful and worthwhile. Trying to motivate yourself to do something fun or productive (write a blog, teach yourself the ukulele that your partner brought you almost 2 years ago and you still only know the one song, create a personal website) becomes really quite difficult when you have no sense of urgency or deadline and your spare time feels almost limitless.

The sense of loneliness you only feel as a foreigner when you find yourself standing in the cold meats section of your local supermarket a few months prior to the airport incident looking for chicken breasts and thighs to roast for a simple dinner with friends.

Me: ‘Where’s the chicken thighs?’

Finn: ‘Here’ *Points for clarity*

Me: ‘No – just plain chicken thighs, skin on – no crap on them’

Finn: ‘What crap?’

Me: ‘Sauce – I don’t want sauce. I just want plain chicken thighs and breasts on the bone!’

Finn: *Nervously* ‘I don’t think they really do that in Finland’

Me: *Holding him personally accountable for the entire Finnish poultry industry* ‘What? How is that possible?!’

Cue an actual supermarket meltdown (with tears) and a complete realisation and deep comprehension of the ‘Waitrose cheese incident’ 18 months prior. Understanding hugs are exchanged. I love him more in that moment than I’ve ever loved anyone. I immediately hate chicken and in retrospect think this may be responsible for leading me down my eventual path to vegetarianism just a few weeks later.

Ahhhhhh – so that’s why she opened with the weird cheese story!

Yes, readers, yes it is. *smiles smugly*

Going back to my airport epiphany, I realise that this sense of ‘freedom’ and ‘alone time’ sounds absolutely blissful – but trust me – it is only attractive when it feels like a reward. When it becomes your everyday life, and all of your friends (and your partner) are only available during the evening or the weekend suddenly it’s not so attractive. Eating out alone (something I adored doing in London) actually can get lonely sometimes. The cinema is often more enjoyable when in company.  These shared experiences are what make us bond as humans.

I remember wondering what my sense of purpose was and craving the feeling of importance I had felt in London (easily and casually forgetting being so ‘busy and important’ in London that I had driven myself into 9 weeks off work and an anxiety disorder just a few years prior to moving to Helsinki.)

The guilt I was harbouring was due to being away from my friends and family all Summer, and I was only just realising that fact standing in the airport as my Summer holidays were coming to an end. Not cuddling new babies that had been born. Not meeting other halves of new relationships that had begun. Not comforting friends for whom relationships had ended. Not seeing my best friend and my Godson as much as I want (which is every day ideally – he’s honestly one of the funniest people I’ve ever met. Once, when I ask him to pick out a bedtime story he came back with a dictionary, just to really squeeze the most out of the situation.)

I know I said at the beginning of this to not reach for the Chardonnay – and as I imagine your hand is already frantically reaching for the corkscrew, let me just stop you.

And Mom – stop checking out one-way ticket prices to London from Helsinki.

This is where it gets better.

You see – this was my lowest point. But what was that lowest point, really?

It was me realising I loved my career choice SO much that I wanted to do it more often and fill my days with even more teaching and even more learning. Which is exactly what I’m doing now. I’m teaching more than ever in Helsinki. My days are nearly always busy in the morning teaching a class or private group, with a lovely gap for lunch and a workout (preferably the other way round to limit the chances of seeing my lunch again midway through a deadlift) before one or two afternoon classes to round off the day. On top of that, I’m about to embark on an apprenticeship programme with an incredible teacher here in Helsinki to finally learn deep-rooted classical Pilates repertoire – something I never had time (or funds) for in London.

It was also me realising that I had so many incredible friends and family back in the UK that I would need to arrange to see them more often in order to fill up my ’emotional battery’. And although I only go home every few months – these people do not forget me just as I do not forget them. They miss me just as I miss them. Those days spent back in the UK are filled with so much fun and so little sleep that coming back home to Helsinki is secretly a blessing….

It was also me realising that I love the Finn’s family and his his Lapland roots – and it makes me happy and calm to be in such a peaceful place. I love drinking wine with his Mom almost as much as with my own Mom, and I like letting her shoo me out of the kitchen when I try to help her cook because it makes it feel like home. I also get great enjoyment out of trying to convince his Dad to eat some salad every now and again, and have taken to corresponding with his brother solely through the use of ‘the bird’ – much to the amusement of me and his fiance.

Has the move been difficult? Hell yes.

Do I regret it? Hell no. Despite this blog, the good has so far well outweighed the bad and it continues to go that way.

But the one thing I have learned?

If you’re ever in Waitrose and see someone crying in the dairy aisle – don’t judge. Maybe just ask if they need some help.

Ode to sauna…

When deciding on the topic for my second official blog – I found that I had quite a few to choose from thanks to the glorious bounty Finland has bestowed upon me since I moved here in December.

But the biggest talking point has to be sauna. One of the cultural traditions the Finns are most fiercely passionate about alongside punctuality and not wanting to offend anyone. Ever.

Of all the sauna-related questions my non-Finn friends have asked me since I touched down here – these are the most common:

‘Is sauna really as popular as they make out?’ (There was once more private saunas than cars in Finland…)

‘Am I pronouncing it right?’ (Probably not, no, to be honest…but that’s OK…)

‘Do you really do it naked?’ (Do you take a bath in your swimming costume?)

‘Isn’t it weird?’ (Yes – I’m sure they only repeat it at regular intervals to really cement their discomfort…)

‘Do you go there with his parents!?’ (OK – sit down – we really need to talk about this…)

The first time I ever went to sauna was at my partners parents house in Finnish Lapland the first time I visited them back in Summer 2016.

No. Not with them. At their house. Calm down. Breathe.

I remember being alarmed in the most British of fashions by the fact that there was no lock on the door to the ‘changing area’ which was directly off the kitchen. Why anyone in his family would wish to open the door and catch a glimpse of my spectacularly pale British bottom was as much a mystery to my partner as it was a genuine fear for me.

But I managed – my pride in tact.

Then, much like a crufts hopeful being shown how to jump through hoops and dive through tunnels – my partner took me through the pre-sauna ‘process’. If you’re a majority of the Finnish population – you have an electric sauna. You turn it on much like an electric heater from the 90’s, something I was very familiar with having grown up in the Midlands with not much money and a Mother who would get up 20-30 minutes before she would wake us in the morning just to ‘take the chill off’ the living room so me and my little sister could huddle round the glowing red bars in our terry towelling dressing gowns eating our ‘not-quite-Kellogs’ cornflakes and slurping our ‘not-exactly-Tetley’ tea.

I’d love to stop there and keep the so-far saintly image of my Mother in tact – but the truth is what followed was a hair-brushing and ponytail construction session so violent I still can’t look at a round, de-tangling brush without experiencing a symphony of emotions.

It takes around 30-40 minutes for these things to heat up which – as well as the perfect amount of time to inflict a lifetime of hair-styling-based trauma upon your two youngest daughters – is also the perfect amount of time to relax, grab a glass of wine, watch an episode of your latest Netflix binge, and have a small snack (though I personally recommend eating after sauna, not before. Less bloat. Trust me.)

So we cut to 30-40 minutes later. I have showered and I’m in sauna (not ‘the’ sauna – just sauna). I’m with my partner who I’ve been with for just over a year at this point. During this time (sorry to burst any bubbles Mom) I’ve seen him naked many, many times.

Both intentionally and unintentionally.

Yet, sitting in this wooden box full of heat and steam – it feels different to all the other times we’ve been together minus clothes. There is nothing sexual about this. But my lack of experience betrays me and I have a hard time trying not to ‘pose’ my body in a way that attempts but fails to make me look like Sofia Vergara (mainly due to the fact that I don’t have a body like Sofia Vergara…) so I therefore end up settling for a position in which I’m hugging my knees up to my chest to cover as much ‘rolling’ as possible and in turn makes me look like the shamed, lovelorn protagonist of a 90’s rom-com sitting under a cascading shower after discovering a Hugh Grant-type has been cheating on her this whole time.

With a Sofia Vergara lookalike. Naturally. What a bastard.

Then I look to my partner. Limbs splayed out with the happiness of a starfish on a rock – he is so at ease with himself and his body that I am instantly in awe of him. He does not feel the need to pose or adjust to attempt look good at every angle. In fact he is utterly oblivious to how he looks at any angle. He is absolutely 100% at ease in his own skin. Something, I realise at that very moment, I have never been in my whole life.

This brings me to the first of many things that I love about sauna. Since this first experience over a year ago, I have become a complete sauna obsessive and had many wonderful sauna experiences. Most with my partner (we have one in our apartment so daily sauna is not uncommon – the dream is real.) Some with girl friends. Some with make friends. Some in the middle of the woods next to glorious lakes and rivers. Some on wheels. Even one with my own Mother (in a towel – I’m easing her in…)

But the one thing that I have found starkly different between Finns and non-Finns is the absolute comfort Finns have with their physical form. Like some sort of magic trick – once Finn’s step inside this beautiful, little wooden box, all become equal. Scars? Invisible. That extra 5 pounds you’re convinced you’re still carrying from Christmas? Gone. That part of your back that you always point out to yourself in the mirror because it ever-so-slightly bulges away from your bra? Non-existent.

And you know why?  I’m going to let you in on a tiny little secret.

Lean in so I can really get my point across.

To quote one of my gurus, Anula Maiberg:

‘Literally, no one cares’

And it’s so true. Literally. No one.

Most people who don’t have sauna in their life think sauna is for relaxation. And it is, of course – but it’s so much more than that.

You’re getting drunk? Sauna.

You have a hangover? Sauna.

Girl trouble? Sauna.

Guy trouble? Sauna.

Bad day at work? Sauna.

Good day at work? Sauna.

Someone died? Sauna.

Someone born? Sauna.

Getting married? Sauna.

Trump got elected? Sauna.

Christmas morning? Sauna (super fun ritual and WAY better than clammy feet in cold slippers…)

Summer solstice? Sauna + river swimming (still working up the courage for that…)

Winter darkness? Sauna + frozen hole-in-the-ice sea swimming (yeah – me either…)

Sauna is for time alone. For time together. To reflect. To celebrate. To commiserate. To share. To talk. To be silent. To laugh and joke. To discuss the things that have been really eating away at the far corners of your mind. To problem solve. To listen. To bond. To be at rest.

As well as, at its core, the perfect place to just sit and sweat it out.

On 29th December last year during my first Christmas in Lapland, a week after I left London and after a day of motor-skiing across a river, walking through a snow-laden forest pulled straight from the Chronicles of Narnia and playing ice-hockey (a game in which I balance and shuffle around on skates like Bambi’s less elegant cousin while my partner skates behind grabbing me in Benny Hill type fashion…) we go to sauna to relax and round off the day.

We laugh and talk about how fun the day was and how excited I was to have seen the Northern lights just a few days earlier.

Afterwards, I sit on the sofa in his over-sized dressing gown with flushed red cheeks, no make-up, insane hair and a sense of intoxicated relaxation that only comes as a result of plunging your naked body into fingernail-stinging heat after spending the day outside in temperatures so cold it would have Elsa reaching for her long johns.

This, he decided, was the perfect time to propose.

Sauna strips away the sh*t you don’t need. No phones. No TV. Nothing to hide behind or distract you. The person you are in sauna is the person you are after all the ‘stuff’ you think you need is taken away and you’re just left with yourself and whoever else you have decided to share that time with. Sometimes that’s no-one – and that’s great. I am almost embarrassed to recount the amount of times I’ve come home from the gym in the middle of the day, switched on the sauna and sat on my balcony afterwards in my dressing gown watching The Great British Bake Off on my laptop with a cup of tea.

Actually, I’m not embarrassed by that at all.

That should be included on my CV somewhere – under ‘special skills’ perhaps.

My overriding point is, if you ever get chance to try a real sauna, please do. I implore you. And if you get chance to do it with a Finn – even better.

(No, the sauna in your local Virgin Active gym does not count…)

And to appease your sense of worry and satisfy your curiosity  – you don’t always have to be naked. As a general rule – in traditional (naked) sauna the girls go together in their groups and and the boys go together in their groups (I know – so many more questions now – but just accept it – it’s easier that way…)

If you’re family – you can go together if that’s what your comfortable with. My 30-something Finnish girlfriend still goes with her Dad. My partner chooses only to go with his Dad and brother if we’re with the family. And obviously, couples go in together.

Just this weekend I was in a mixed sauna with old and new friends after spending the day swinging through a treetop playground and stretching across gaps so precarious it made me feel like I was at an audition for the latest instalment of the ’50 Shades of Grey’ franchise.

Some people wore costumes. Some didn’t. And still, no-one cared.

The most important rule above all others is just to be comfortable. Because if you’re not, then, it’s just not sauna. It’s just being uncomfortable and sweaty in a confined space.

And to be quite frank, if I’d wanted that, I would have just stayed in London.

 

Touchdown…

It’s 2.02pm, and I’m sitting at my kitchen table in my pyjamas. Well, a t-shirt that I borrowed (stole) from my partner when I decided it looked better on me than it did on him and a pair of plaid trousers from the Primark Christmas collection 2011. Pyjamas.

I’ve been living in Helsinki for 9 months – and today is the first time I’ve summoned the willpower to actually sit down and begin writing about all of the funny, distressing, mind-boggling, disgusting, wonderful, confusing and positively charming things that I’ve noticed since I left London and moved here in search of ‘something better’.

I do question who will read this apart from my wonderful Mom (look out for her supportive words in the comments section after every post) and a steadfast group of my fabulous friends. But apparently I have good observational skills, I like to talk (Mayim Bialik in 90’s sitcom ‘Blossom’ has nothing on me) and people sometimes laugh at my jokes – so it seemed like a shoe-in.

There are so many things that I have been studiously taking note of in bullet point form since I left my London life behind, which I hope I will have the time and energy to get round to discussing as this blog continues. Topics such as;

‘Salmiakki and why the Finns insist on calling it candy‘

‘How to drink with a Finn and not die’

and

‘Sauna. Yes – you’re naked. No – it’s not weird.’

But for today – I just want to thank Finland (before I begin slowly and meticulously picking it apart at the seams, borderline insulting it’s language and culture and potentially losing what few friends I have made here so far in the process…)

There is a reason it ranks ‘Top 10’ in worldwide polls again and again for education, quality of life, outdoor space and natural beauty. But whilst these things make a very attractive argument for leaving the UK behind (Brexit aside…) – it has been the Finnish people with whom I have fallen deeply and irrevocably in love.

Warm and friendly and a million miles away from the socially awkward and personal-space-craving caricatures many stereotypes would have you believe. Humour so dark it makes you want to be their best friend and question your friendship with them in equal measures. Comfort food so satisfying you could almost be forgiven for considering marrying a Finn just to gain a Finnish Mother-in-law to cook you rice porridge, elk stew and karelian pies.

They are generous and forgiving to a fault. I once told a group of Finns they were ‘makkara’ (sausages) instead of ‘mahtava’ (fantastic) and they warmly and enthusiastically thanked me for the compliment whilst very respectfully correcting my mistake as if they were the ones who had made it.  On the flip side, they positively lose their minds when you actually manage to use any Finnish words correctly. I genuinely believe the young girl at my local gelato shop thinks I am a fluent Finnish-speaking foreigner. Little does she know if we were to stray one syllable away from our well rehearsed script of:

‘What can I get you?’

‘One cup of dark chocolate sorbet please’

‘€4.90 please. Do you want a receipt?’

‘Oh no thank you! Goodbye!’

the poor child would be drowning in a sea of unfathomable nonsense.

They are effortlessly cool, have incredible taste in fashion and music, and welcome Summer with an infectious happiness so celebratory that it could only come as a direct result of being dragged through a Winter so cold it could rip the skin from your face.

Despite this, moving countries has been one of the toughest things I’ve ever done. Not that I’ve done that many tough things in my life. But the fact is, I decided to leave all of my friends and family behind in the UK to pursue a better life with a man I met online and proceeded to fall madly in love with, who just happened to share my passion to escape the brain-crushing insanity of London.

Me – ‘So – where are you from?’

Him – ‘Finland. Finnish Lapland actually – very far North!’

Me – ‘Really?! Wow – I’ve never met anyone from Finland before’ (Googles Finland on map of the world to check it is where I think it is. It isn’t.)

Him – ‘Well – now you have!’ (sends me a very adorable and rather skilled drawing of a reindeer which makes me think I am not the first Tinder prospect to have seen this. A fact I casually choose to ignore at the time, but remember and keep for future reference/potentially amusing blog material…)

Me – ‘Cool – Finland! Scandinavia! It’s supposed to be such a great area of the world!’

For those of you as clueless as me 2 years ago – Finland is not part of Scandinavia. It belongs to the Nordics. Something the Finns are very, very proud about. I wouldn’t discover this until many weeks later because he didn’t want to embarrass me (and, I suspect, because he also wanted to optimise his chances of getting me back to his place…)

Generous and forgiving to a fault – see?

So overall, and so far, thank you Finland.

And now, onward with the adventure.