While I'm hatching some other thoughts for a more interesting post, today I'll talk about food. (Who doesn't like food?) First bread, one of my favorites. Rye is a grain hardy enough to grow here, so Finns eat a lot of it. The bread aisle would be virtually unrecognizable as such to an American shopper. Sure, there are 'toasting breads' (into which almost all American bread would be categorized) that come in a boxy loaf ready for slicing. But most of the rye bread comes in serving-size pieces. These can be dark, flat rolls sliced in two that are in squares or circles. But they can also be round, flat loaves with a big hole in the middle. Oats also grow here, so you can find these breads in the oat version as well. Then there are the crisp breads, or 'näkkileipä'. We have Rye Krisp at home. Imagine that in about 50 varieties including sourdough and nearly paper-thin, rye and oat, and you have some idea of what the bread aisle looks like --tons of these two types of bread with a small 'slicing bread' section. (There are also 'karjalan piirakoita' but I've already talked about those.)
While we're on grain products, I'll mention the sweeter breads. I say "sweet-ER" because nothing here is terribly sweet, as you can also see by the fact that the sugar and the flour are not in the same grocery aisle. There's "pearl sugar" in the flour aisle -- that's what you can sprinkle on top to make it look pretty and add just a little sweetness. I grew up eating something called 'nisua', which is actually an old word for 'wheat' in Western Finnish. This is a semi-sweet bread made with egg and cardamom, braided into a loaf that you slice. (Any Saranpas reading this will be salivating about now.) You can find this bread in great quantity in the markets here, but it's called 'pulla' (related to the Swedish word 'bulle' or roll). This is in its own aisle section together with cinnamon rolls and other baked goods to be eaten with coffee. The sweeter things like cakes and pastries are in their own little section, and there are a lot fewer of them.
I spent some time studying the sugar aisle yesterday because I was looking for brown sugar so I can make some banana bread from my overripe bananas. Most of the sugar was cube sugar for coffee. There was also some loose sugar, but none in the large bags you can get at home -- here it's in small boxes, because you don't need a lot of it for baking. There's also vanilla sugar, which is sugar that has been 'cured' with vanilla bean, and there's 'farina' sugar, which is somewhat brown (but doesn't clump together like ours). I did find brown sugar, imported from Denmark.
The candy aisle was next in my research. Given the fact that Finns eat breads and cakes that aren't as sweet, what about the candy? There are American and Swedish and Finnish chocolate bars along with fancier Swiss and German ones, but these are lower down, not at eye level. What is at eye level are rows and rows of bags. These bags have combinations of licorice and gummy candies, which tend to be less sweet than chocolate bars. I tried a 'seven-flavor' assortment last weekend that was not exactly a rousing success with me. I don't mind salmiakki (ammoniac, or, as some would say, pee-flavored), but I would never think to combine it with chocolate, strawberry and licorice together. But many of my Finnish and Swedish friends love salmiakki. Salt licorice is another very special flavor that is an acquired taste. I really do think desserts are very culture-specific, moreso than other foods, and perhaps it's because these foods are used as rewards when we are little that we attach to them so tightly.
Well I've blathered on about food, but I do need to mention a few things Americans might find quirky before I wrap this up. I got to visit a Finnish family in April and we had a wonderful dinner. Included was a selection of meats, but when they told me one of them was horse, I thought they were joking around. However, they were serious. I did try it, and it had a smoky flavor with a consistency I couldn't compare to anything else. Finns also eat blood pancakes (I saw them in the market, between the spinach and mushroom pancakes), fish baked in rye bread and herring-beet salad. Finnish milk products deserve their own post because there are so many of them.
This post about food wouldn't be complete without a description of what my friends Jim and Chris and I ate at the lovely Kielo restaurant before they left. They offer traditional Karelian fare using local produce and meats. We had herring on karjalan piirakka, barbecued boar and some amazing vegetable pancakes made from carrots, bread crumbs (probably rye) and other wonderful things. And the mushrooms! This is a mushroomer's paradise. I'll try to post one I parked my bike next to, not five feet away from my building.
Supposedly Berlusconi said something like British cuisine would be the worst in the world if it weren't for Finnish food after some meeting here. (It could have been someone else, but it's always easy to blame Berlusconi.) I wonder where he was eating. I like it just fine.
Thursday, August 30, 2012
Saturday, August 25, 2012
University life and a bike stroll
Today I wanted to talk a little bit about how different university life is in Finland, but I also took a lovely bike stroll. (It wasn't a "ride" because I had no destination.) So I'll include both in this post.
First of all, university students are not neatly divided into "undergraduates" and "graduates". Since Finnish students specialize earlier than American students, it's as if they finished all their breadth requirements before they even set foot in the door. They are more like juniors when they begin (and I had no idea that the freshman/sophomore/junior/senior division is a very American idea). They are expected to get their masters in three years; there's no penalty if they stop at the bachelor level, but, at least in my discipline (English and Translation), they probably need an MA to get the kind of job they'd like.
In order to get into university in the first place, students have to take entrance exams. They don't run through a checklist of high-school activities (SAT, volunteering, sports, letters of rec, grades...) in order to get the most possible financial aid at the best possible institution. University education in Finland is free. You take exams and are then given a spot in your chosen discipline if you score high enough. So my students will have already read books on translation theory and studied English, and they will have scored high on the tests.
Students have a lot of rights in Finland as well, and they are aware of them. One colleague warned me that I have to stand up to them. I'm going to wait on this one though. The students I had in Tampere were very accommodating and respectful.
University life in Finland is very hierarchical. I have gotten a lot of mileage out of having a PhD, where most people at South Eugene High School were probably barely aware that I had one, much less where it was from. I've had three people bring up my Yale education and I have lost track of the number of times I've been shown deference "because you have the PhD". There is going to be an opening convocation, and I have been urged to order a Yale gown to wear "because it will increase our prestige". This is a lot to get used to for me, though I suppose it could be fun.
There's a difference if a meeting starts at 9 or at 9:00. The former is 9:15, the latter 9:00 sharp. All classes start at 15 past the hour and end at 15 before. So a two-hour class actually takes 1.5 hours.
The last thing I want to talk about is the get-to-know-each-other event planned for the beginning students (so that's "juniors") and all teachers who want to go. It's a kind of retreat at a place called Mekrijärvi (Mekri Lake), where the University has a research station. You can see it here:
http://www.uef.fi/lumet/mekri
If I understand right, the retreat will involve advising activities, eating, hiking and sauna. Sauna! With students! Naked! This is going to get me quite a bit outside my comfort zone. And there was this note also: "omat saunajuomat mukaan" -- bring your own sauna beverages. Is this to be interpreted as alcoholic beverages for post-traumatic imbibing? The schedule for the next day, however, sounds more appealing: a hike to the cottage of one of Finland's most famous "runo"-singers, Simana Sissonen, on the shore of the lake.
Now for the bike ride. Today the sun was brilliant and I had spent too much time at the laptop, so around 3 I went exploring around the neighborhood. I went down my street in the opposite direction to the way I usually go to school. What a treat! Just around the corner, it became very woodsy, and after about a minute, a small bike path took me down towards the lake. There I saw the (in)famous "Joensuun jääkarhut" [Joensuu Ice Bears] swimming club. It was a sweet yellow wooden building, smaller than I had imagined, with a dock out into the water. Several people were there swimming (probably post-sauna, since it's Saturday). There was a beach next door that was open to the public, so I finally touched the water of Lake Pyhäselkä. Then the bike path meandered along the shore, going into areas of row houses and more expensive villas as well. Then out of nowhere, a brand-new market appeared. All of this was within about 15 minutes of my apartment.
I love the way city planning is done in the Nordic countries. They don't scrape the lots bare to put in houses -- they leave as many trees as possible. They take views into consideration -- not only the views from your house, but also the views from the street. There are plenty of walk- and bikeways with lots of room for strollers, and there are playgrounds here and there. Children are considered valued human beings, not shunted aside as unimportant like in the States. In fact, if you have a stroller or a baby carriage, you get to ride the bus free. What an idea!
Back to work. Until next time.
First of all, university students are not neatly divided into "undergraduates" and "graduates". Since Finnish students specialize earlier than American students, it's as if they finished all their breadth requirements before they even set foot in the door. They are more like juniors when they begin (and I had no idea that the freshman/sophomore/junior/senior division is a very American idea). They are expected to get their masters in three years; there's no penalty if they stop at the bachelor level, but, at least in my discipline (English and Translation), they probably need an MA to get the kind of job they'd like.
In order to get into university in the first place, students have to take entrance exams. They don't run through a checklist of high-school activities (SAT, volunteering, sports, letters of rec, grades...) in order to get the most possible financial aid at the best possible institution. University education in Finland is free. You take exams and are then given a spot in your chosen discipline if you score high enough. So my students will have already read books on translation theory and studied English, and they will have scored high on the tests.
Students have a lot of rights in Finland as well, and they are aware of them. One colleague warned me that I have to stand up to them. I'm going to wait on this one though. The students I had in Tampere were very accommodating and respectful.
University life in Finland is very hierarchical. I have gotten a lot of mileage out of having a PhD, where most people at South Eugene High School were probably barely aware that I had one, much less where it was from. I've had three people bring up my Yale education and I have lost track of the number of times I've been shown deference "because you have the PhD". There is going to be an opening convocation, and I have been urged to order a Yale gown to wear "because it will increase our prestige". This is a lot to get used to for me, though I suppose it could be fun.
There's a difference if a meeting starts at 9 or at 9:00. The former is 9:15, the latter 9:00 sharp. All classes start at 15 past the hour and end at 15 before. So a two-hour class actually takes 1.5 hours.
The last thing I want to talk about is the get-to-know-each-other event planned for the beginning students (so that's "juniors") and all teachers who want to go. It's a kind of retreat at a place called Mekrijärvi (Mekri Lake), where the University has a research station. You can see it here:
http://www.uef.fi/lumet/mekri
If I understand right, the retreat will involve advising activities, eating, hiking and sauna. Sauna! With students! Naked! This is going to get me quite a bit outside my comfort zone. And there was this note also: "omat saunajuomat mukaan" -- bring your own sauna beverages. Is this to be interpreted as alcoholic beverages for post-traumatic imbibing? The schedule for the next day, however, sounds more appealing: a hike to the cottage of one of Finland's most famous "runo"-singers, Simana Sissonen, on the shore of the lake.
Now for the bike ride. Today the sun was brilliant and I had spent too much time at the laptop, so around 3 I went exploring around the neighborhood. I went down my street in the opposite direction to the way I usually go to school. What a treat! Just around the corner, it became very woodsy, and after about a minute, a small bike path took me down towards the lake. There I saw the (in)famous "Joensuun jääkarhut" [Joensuu Ice Bears] swimming club. It was a sweet yellow wooden building, smaller than I had imagined, with a dock out into the water. Several people were there swimming (probably post-sauna, since it's Saturday). There was a beach next door that was open to the public, so I finally touched the water of Lake Pyhäselkä. Then the bike path meandered along the shore, going into areas of row houses and more expensive villas as well. Then out of nowhere, a brand-new market appeared. All of this was within about 15 minutes of my apartment.
I love the way city planning is done in the Nordic countries. They don't scrape the lots bare to put in houses -- they leave as many trees as possible. They take views into consideration -- not only the views from your house, but also the views from the street. There are plenty of walk- and bikeways with lots of room for strollers, and there are playgrounds here and there. Children are considered valued human beings, not shunted aside as unimportant like in the States. In fact, if you have a stroller or a baby carriage, you get to ride the bus free. What an idea!
Back to work. Until next time.
Tuesday, August 21, 2012
What's age got to do with it?
One thing that fascinates me is that I am getting confused about how old I am. The last time I pulled up roots and moved abroad, I was 22. Now I'm 56. At my old job at South Eugene High School, most people my age were talking about retirement, and three of my department colleagues did in fact retire while I was there. But I am as far from retirement as, well, as when I was 22. And in terms of where I live, this is a student apartment -- a roomy one, but one where cardboard boxes serve as coffee tables and where there are no rugs, wall adornments or laundry hamper.
At work here, I'm the one that needs orientation. I'm constantly asking questions. Examples: What are the "opening ceremonies" for the academic year (Avaajaiset)? Speeches and later mölkky. What is mölkky? A game like bowling played with chunks of wood. Where do I get file folders? We don't use those. Etc. etc. etc. I'm not old and wise like a professor in the US. I'm a naive fledgling who needs lots of help figuring things out.
On the other hand, my age does give me some advantages. I'm not very worried about impressing people. Today I had lunch with two professors from my school -- and here, professors are FULL professors, and not everyone becomes one. I didn't feel nervous and giggly. I simply ate my lunch, asked questions when I wanted to, conversed and laughed. But perhaps it isn't fair to compare this to the way I acted as an assistant professor in the US. There, your first seven (or eight or nine) years are spent trying to impress everyone so you'll get tenure, and it often doesn't matter what you've done -- they want you out. Here, they have assured me several times that they are SO happy I am here, and I suspect they are worried that I will move on to an institution closer to the heart of Europe.
Another advantage is my confidence level. Yes, I know how to do research. Yes, I know how to write. Yes, I know I will be published. I may not have an earth-shaking theory to present, but I can do solid and interesting research and work well to meet deadlines. And even with the Finnish language, I'm beginning to worry less about saying obscenities without meaning to because I have failed to attend to the rules of vowel harmony; I have more faith that I will make myself understood. Today I even dared to conduct my entire identity card business at the police station in Finnish and only needed to revert to English when I didn't understand one part of a sentence that seemed important (it had to do with leaving a 2-cm margin around my signature on the application).
But I feel young here. Probably somewhere around 35-40. I rode my new bicycle (thank you Jim and Chris Pendergrass and the Vasa members who will be contributing to my bike fund!) to work and back today. I felt free and fun and youthful, zipping around doing my errands and learning how the unspoken rules of bike vs pedestrian traffic work here ("go with the flow"). And as I sit here in my student apartment feeling a few aches and pains and wondering what year this is, it occurs to me that age really has nothing to do with it. New beginnings can come at unexpected points in our lives. It just depends on whether we have the courage, interest or trust to embrace them. It's scary, but a quote I saw on a wall at South Eugene High School when I was in the throes of deciding whether to apply for this job or not kind of sums it up: "Jump and the net will appear".
At work here, I'm the one that needs orientation. I'm constantly asking questions. Examples: What are the "opening ceremonies" for the academic year (Avaajaiset)? Speeches and later mölkky. What is mölkky? A game like bowling played with chunks of wood. Where do I get file folders? We don't use those. Etc. etc. etc. I'm not old and wise like a professor in the US. I'm a naive fledgling who needs lots of help figuring things out.
On the other hand, my age does give me some advantages. I'm not very worried about impressing people. Today I had lunch with two professors from my school -- and here, professors are FULL professors, and not everyone becomes one. I didn't feel nervous and giggly. I simply ate my lunch, asked questions when I wanted to, conversed and laughed. But perhaps it isn't fair to compare this to the way I acted as an assistant professor in the US. There, your first seven (or eight or nine) years are spent trying to impress everyone so you'll get tenure, and it often doesn't matter what you've done -- they want you out. Here, they have assured me several times that they are SO happy I am here, and I suspect they are worried that I will move on to an institution closer to the heart of Europe.
Another advantage is my confidence level. Yes, I know how to do research. Yes, I know how to write. Yes, I know I will be published. I may not have an earth-shaking theory to present, but I can do solid and interesting research and work well to meet deadlines. And even with the Finnish language, I'm beginning to worry less about saying obscenities without meaning to because I have failed to attend to the rules of vowel harmony; I have more faith that I will make myself understood. Today I even dared to conduct my entire identity card business at the police station in Finnish and only needed to revert to English when I didn't understand one part of a sentence that seemed important (it had to do with leaving a 2-cm margin around my signature on the application).
But I feel young here. Probably somewhere around 35-40. I rode my new bicycle (thank you Jim and Chris Pendergrass and the Vasa members who will be contributing to my bike fund!) to work and back today. I felt free and fun and youthful, zipping around doing my errands and learning how the unspoken rules of bike vs pedestrian traffic work here ("go with the flow"). And as I sit here in my student apartment feeling a few aches and pains and wondering what year this is, it occurs to me that age really has nothing to do with it. New beginnings can come at unexpected points in our lives. It just depends on whether we have the courage, interest or trust to embrace them. It's scary, but a quote I saw on a wall at South Eugene High School when I was in the throes of deciding whether to apply for this job or not kind of sums it up: "Jump and the net will appear".
Sunday, August 19, 2012
Lessons in accepting help
Accepting help has never been easy for me. It's much easier to offer help to others -- to take the focus off "me". And I always feel lazy or inept if someone is doing something for me. At least, that's the way it used to be. My friend Cynthia has helped me a long way on the path to more equilibrium in giving and taking. But still, it doesn't come naturally.
So the past few days have been a real test of my ability to sit and accept. Jim and Chris Pendergrass, stalwarts of the Swedish class I taught for about eight years for our local Vasa lodge, had planned a trip to Finland before I got the job at the University of Eastern Finland. Now, "det ser ut som en tanke" -- it looks like a thought -- i.e., it now looks like their trip was planned for helping me get set up in my apartment. They have a rental car, lots of intelligence and patience, and a sincere desire to help me. So the past few days they have driven me around, helped me find what I need, bought me things like a tool set, installed light fixtures, put up curtains, and stuck a beer in my hand while commanding me to sit and elevate my foot while they made dinner and cleaned up.
Yesterday we went to Kuopio, which ended up being about an hour and a half away. You know true friends when they cheerfully walk through an IKEA store with you. I did soften them up a bit with lunch, but still, it can't be the most fascinating thing in the world to help your friend pick out a mattress. (Sorry, I have to digress here a little. The last time I picked out a bed was when I moved to Eugene in 1992. My brother Robert was visiting to help me move in. We were in M. Jacobs' furniture store where the elderly gentleman waiting on me kept turning to Robert when he answered my questions. Finally he couldn't help himself any longer and asked my brother, "Will you be sleeping in this bed as well?" My brother replied, without missing a beat, "Not in this state.")
But I have to keep reminding myself that people like to do things for other people. (Look at me! I love doing things for other people!) Who am I to rob my friends of the opportunity to do just that?
This morning Jim and Chris went birding -- this area is amazing for birders because of the lake, river and abundant forests (most of what we saw through the windows on the way to Kuopio was forests; second most common view was lakes). I did the dishes and will do some work with my foot up and may try to accompany them on a short afternoon walk. And most of all, I'll be grateful for the blessing of friendship --whether I'm giving or taking.
So the past few days have been a real test of my ability to sit and accept. Jim and Chris Pendergrass, stalwarts of the Swedish class I taught for about eight years for our local Vasa lodge, had planned a trip to Finland before I got the job at the University of Eastern Finland. Now, "det ser ut som en tanke" -- it looks like a thought -- i.e., it now looks like their trip was planned for helping me get set up in my apartment. They have a rental car, lots of intelligence and patience, and a sincere desire to help me. So the past few days they have driven me around, helped me find what I need, bought me things like a tool set, installed light fixtures, put up curtains, and stuck a beer in my hand while commanding me to sit and elevate my foot while they made dinner and cleaned up.
Yesterday we went to Kuopio, which ended up being about an hour and a half away. You know true friends when they cheerfully walk through an IKEA store with you. I did soften them up a bit with lunch, but still, it can't be the most fascinating thing in the world to help your friend pick out a mattress. (Sorry, I have to digress here a little. The last time I picked out a bed was when I moved to Eugene in 1992. My brother Robert was visiting to help me move in. We were in M. Jacobs' furniture store where the elderly gentleman waiting on me kept turning to Robert when he answered my questions. Finally he couldn't help himself any longer and asked my brother, "Will you be sleeping in this bed as well?" My brother replied, without missing a beat, "Not in this state.")
But I have to keep reminding myself that people like to do things for other people. (Look at me! I love doing things for other people!) Who am I to rob my friends of the opportunity to do just that?
This morning Jim and Chris went birding -- this area is amazing for birders because of the lake, river and abundant forests (most of what we saw through the windows on the way to Kuopio was forests; second most common view was lakes). I did the dishes and will do some work with my foot up and may try to accompany them on a short afternoon walk. And most of all, I'll be grateful for the blessing of friendship --whether I'm giving or taking.
Wednesday, August 15, 2012
Material Girl
I'm fully aware of the privilege of moving to another country and "starting over", so please don't think I'm whining in this post. I'm simply observing some of the material aspects of making such a move.
First of all, a medium flat-rate Priority box is, believe it or not, the cheapest way to send things to Finland. (Well, perhaps pound for pound, getting an ocean-going container is cheaper, but I didn't have thousands of dollars to send all my belongings here.) At $47 each, with an upper weight limit of 20 pounds, that translated into not a lot of things being sent over. I did budget for 9 such boxes (an academic can't be without books, right?), which all arrived, I might add, in splendid shape. But those boxes (as several of my friends who so kindly helped me move can attest) are not suited for sending books that aren't very short top to bottom so you can fit two layers in each box. So I stuffed other things into the leftover nooks and crannies. Silverware into one. (Very fine idea.) Doilies and cloth napkins in another. (Not as successful. Did I think I was going to pin them to a wall, since I have no side tables, or have a dinner party when I don't even have chairs?) Bicycle pants in another. Here I must digress. Joensuu is an incredibly bike-happy town, even moreso than Eugene. Cyclists and pedestrians share all available traffic surface; cars aren't as friendly. (A colleague warned me not to be so sure that drivers will stop for you in a crosswalk.) But almost nobody wears a helmet, and I haven't seen anyone wearing any cyclist gear. I have seen one helmet since I arrived. So back to the topic at hand: bicycle pants may go on the same shelf with doilies and napkins.
In the clothes department, I think I did pretty well. I probably overdid the sweaters and coats (check back with me on this in November, though). But I sure should have stuck some towels in there as well as more than one washcloth. I don't know why Europeans don't like washcloths. I haven't seen any in the store that are smaller than what we would call a face towel. Hangers would have been good too, but those I can probably pick up pretty cheaply.
Today I made several acquisitions that I am proud of. I got a new sim card for my cell phone and a "stick" for Internet access at home. I can proudly say that I managed to get the stick's sim card into the "Mokkula" (module) after only five tries, and that I was able to interpret about seven error messages in Finnish related to this. I bought a small lamp after realizing that not having any light impairs your activities even when it's not entirely dark outside. I also bought a frying pan so I can cook something for my friends Jim and Chris, who arrive tomorrow night. They may not be as fond of Karjalan piirakoita as I am.
And for my last comment on material goods: my lovely landlady loaned me a fine wooden table and two wooden chairs. I'm using all three right now. This has made all the difference, because I can sit here blogging while looking out my big window at birch and fir trees and the Karelian skyline while resting my broken toe.
First of all, a medium flat-rate Priority box is, believe it or not, the cheapest way to send things to Finland. (Well, perhaps pound for pound, getting an ocean-going container is cheaper, but I didn't have thousands of dollars to send all my belongings here.) At $47 each, with an upper weight limit of 20 pounds, that translated into not a lot of things being sent over. I did budget for 9 such boxes (an academic can't be without books, right?), which all arrived, I might add, in splendid shape. But those boxes (as several of my friends who so kindly helped me move can attest) are not suited for sending books that aren't very short top to bottom so you can fit two layers in each box. So I stuffed other things into the leftover nooks and crannies. Silverware into one. (Very fine idea.) Doilies and cloth napkins in another. (Not as successful. Did I think I was going to pin them to a wall, since I have no side tables, or have a dinner party when I don't even have chairs?) Bicycle pants in another. Here I must digress. Joensuu is an incredibly bike-happy town, even moreso than Eugene. Cyclists and pedestrians share all available traffic surface; cars aren't as friendly. (A colleague warned me not to be so sure that drivers will stop for you in a crosswalk.) But almost nobody wears a helmet, and I haven't seen anyone wearing any cyclist gear. I have seen one helmet since I arrived. So back to the topic at hand: bicycle pants may go on the same shelf with doilies and napkins.
In the clothes department, I think I did pretty well. I probably overdid the sweaters and coats (check back with me on this in November, though). But I sure should have stuck some towels in there as well as more than one washcloth. I don't know why Europeans don't like washcloths. I haven't seen any in the store that are smaller than what we would call a face towel. Hangers would have been good too, but those I can probably pick up pretty cheaply.
Today I made several acquisitions that I am proud of. I got a new sim card for my cell phone and a "stick" for Internet access at home. I can proudly say that I managed to get the stick's sim card into the "Mokkula" (module) after only five tries, and that I was able to interpret about seven error messages in Finnish related to this. I bought a small lamp after realizing that not having any light impairs your activities even when it's not entirely dark outside. I also bought a frying pan so I can cook something for my friends Jim and Chris, who arrive tomorrow night. They may not be as fond of Karjalan piirakoita as I am.
And for my last comment on material goods: my lovely landlady loaned me a fine wooden table and two wooden chairs. I'm using all three right now. This has made all the difference, because I can sit here blogging while looking out my big window at birch and fir trees and the Karelian skyline while resting my broken toe.
Monday, August 13, 2012
Tarmac and adjustments
There's a metaphor I like to use for stuff that has to get done but can't be done because of another thing in the way -- "the tarmac problem". It's like your jobs are lined up waiting for take-off, but they can only take off one at a time, and if one of them has engine trouble -- can't get done yet for some reason -- it keeps all the rest of the stuff from getting done.
(Did my jet-lagged mind succeed in explaining this?)
So my main tarmac issue is The Social Security Number. It seems you can't do much of anything in Finland without it. I was able to get my apartment, and I can buy things, but I can't register for taxes (and thus get my salary going), can't get a regular phone, can't get a debit card without this number.
An iconic incident -- one that made me drag myself home in defeat -- was when I applied for this number and was told it would be mailed to me -- and had I registered with the Post Office so it knew that I lived where I live? When I said no, I was given a form to fill out and send to the Post Office. BUT IT NEEDS A SOCIAL SECURITY NUMBER!!!
I know these things will get worked out, because there are any number of happy expats in Finland who have worked their way through the bureaucracy -- and I have one friend who even became a Finnish citizen -- but at the moment, with jet lag and sore toe weighing heavy on my physical well-being, it's somewhat discouraging.
Another adjustment is coming today: I'm leaving the comfort, meals and internet of the Sokos Hotel Kimmel about an hour from now to move into my unfurnished apartment. I'm told it takes a while to get internet (social security number...), and I don't yet have a university computer account ("takes a while..."), so this could feel somewhat isolated. Also, the bus does not run between the hours of 6 p.m. and 6 a.m., and it's an hour walk to downtown. But the building is nestled in the woods near the lake, so it's simply a question of trying out a new lifestyle. I will have an air mattress, and my colleague Stuart has promised me his kitchen cast-offs, so I will at least have the comforts of yuppie camping.
So bear with me if I'm not online for a while. It just means I don't have my social security number yet, and the plane is still on the tarmac.
(Did my jet-lagged mind succeed in explaining this?)
So my main tarmac issue is The Social Security Number. It seems you can't do much of anything in Finland without it. I was able to get my apartment, and I can buy things, but I can't register for taxes (and thus get my salary going), can't get a regular phone, can't get a debit card without this number.
An iconic incident -- one that made me drag myself home in defeat -- was when I applied for this number and was told it would be mailed to me -- and had I registered with the Post Office so it knew that I lived where I live? When I said no, I was given a form to fill out and send to the Post Office. BUT IT NEEDS A SOCIAL SECURITY NUMBER!!!
I know these things will get worked out, because there are any number of happy expats in Finland who have worked their way through the bureaucracy -- and I have one friend who even became a Finnish citizen -- but at the moment, with jet lag and sore toe weighing heavy on my physical well-being, it's somewhat discouraging.
Another adjustment is coming today: I'm leaving the comfort, meals and internet of the Sokos Hotel Kimmel about an hour from now to move into my unfurnished apartment. I'm told it takes a while to get internet (social security number...), and I don't yet have a university computer account ("takes a while..."), so this could feel somewhat isolated. Also, the bus does not run between the hours of 6 p.m. and 6 a.m., and it's an hour walk to downtown. But the building is nestled in the woods near the lake, so it's simply a question of trying out a new lifestyle. I will have an air mattress, and my colleague Stuart has promised me his kitchen cast-offs, so I will at least have the comforts of yuppie camping.
So bear with me if I'm not online for a while. It just means I don't have my social security number yet, and the plane is still on the tarmac.
Sunday, August 12, 2012
First impressions
It's 5 a.m. Monday morning and there's been daylight for about an hour now. I thought maybe I'd avoid jet lag this time because I slept from 11 p.m. to 7 a.m. yesterday, but I guess I'm human after all. What better time to blog?
My first impression of Joensuu is that it is full of friendly, relaxed people, or possibly angels. As I waited for the train to arrive in Tikkurila (closest train station to the Helsinki Airport) Saturday afternoon, two older men materialized out of nowhere, asked me if I needed help, and took one of my 50+ pound bags each. They did the same thing when we arrived in Joensuu. Neither one had any luggage of his own. Thus I am sure they were angels who knew that I was going to have an interesting time moving those things up and down stairs by myself. The people at the hotel desk have all been very patient with my Finnish (how on earth did they understand that I was having trouble making a phone call from my room when I just started making Robin William noises, not knowing how to say "the disconnect signal"?). I asked the waitress in the restaurant what "luoma" meant and she smiled and said "The animals are happy." Perhaps Finns are still charmed, perplexed and grateful that people want to learn or practice their odd language. Whatever it is, I like it.
One new colleague, Stuart, met me yesterday at 2 to give me an orientation to the city. It's far more beautiful than what I saw on Youtube, Google Maps and other pictures. There was a flea market in progress (where I bought nothing, knowing that purchases made while jet-lagged are often regrettable) and we sat at a cafe at its edge and had coffee and -- of course -- Karjalan piirakka. Stuart also showed me where the post office was as well as the health clinic, a housewares store, a few department stores and Carelicum, a cultural center. Our visit concluded at his apartment, where he showed me the renovations that had been done to it and gifted me with a "kettle" (hot pot), my first Finnish appliance. At that point my broken toe had had enough walking and I decided to take it home for a rest.
I successfully resisted a nap and instead worked on removing my old e-mails from my US address. Anyone who has done this knows what a feat of stamina it is.
This morning I will (hopefully) get the keys to my apartment, get my phone working, meet some colleagues for lunch, and begin the gauntlet of bureaucratic errands (Social Security card, registration with the police, etc. etc.). My plan also includes making some room on my laptop for photos so I can start showing you what I'm talking about.
My first impression of Joensuu is that it is full of friendly, relaxed people, or possibly angels. As I waited for the train to arrive in Tikkurila (closest train station to the Helsinki Airport) Saturday afternoon, two older men materialized out of nowhere, asked me if I needed help, and took one of my 50+ pound bags each. They did the same thing when we arrived in Joensuu. Neither one had any luggage of his own. Thus I am sure they were angels who knew that I was going to have an interesting time moving those things up and down stairs by myself. The people at the hotel desk have all been very patient with my Finnish (how on earth did they understand that I was having trouble making a phone call from my room when I just started making Robin William noises, not knowing how to say "the disconnect signal"?). I asked the waitress in the restaurant what "luoma" meant and she smiled and said "The animals are happy." Perhaps Finns are still charmed, perplexed and grateful that people want to learn or practice their odd language. Whatever it is, I like it.
One new colleague, Stuart, met me yesterday at 2 to give me an orientation to the city. It's far more beautiful than what I saw on Youtube, Google Maps and other pictures. There was a flea market in progress (where I bought nothing, knowing that purchases made while jet-lagged are often regrettable) and we sat at a cafe at its edge and had coffee and -- of course -- Karjalan piirakka. Stuart also showed me where the post office was as well as the health clinic, a housewares store, a few department stores and Carelicum, a cultural center. Our visit concluded at his apartment, where he showed me the renovations that had been done to it and gifted me with a "kettle" (hot pot), my first Finnish appliance. At that point my broken toe had had enough walking and I decided to take it home for a rest.
I successfully resisted a nap and instead worked on removing my old e-mails from my US address. Anyone who has done this knows what a feat of stamina it is.
This morning I will (hopefully) get the keys to my apartment, get my phone working, meet some colleagues for lunch, and begin the gauntlet of bureaucratic errands (Social Security card, registration with the police, etc. etc.). My plan also includes making some room on my laptop for photos so I can start showing you what I'm talking about.
First day and list of casualties
[NOTE: I started this blog for friends, but now others are reading it too, so a few words of explanation here.
Chronically unemployed in Eugene, Oregon, I finally learned of a full-time, permanent job with free medical care. The dream job at last! The only drawback: it was in Karelia, Finland. I had to make a quick decision about whether to drop everything familiar and take it, or to keep puttering along just this side (usually) of the poverty line. I went for it, partly because my old job was ending anyway, partly because I had no other options that made any sense.
Within the space of two months, I packed up a house in which I had lived with my two children for 20 years, said goodbye to my family and friends, and moved into a small apartment in a town I had never seen before...in a country with an unintelligible language.
If this intrigues you -- read on.]
Greetings, fair readers (and unfair, too). It's going to take me a while to land on my spiritual/mental feet, but for now, bear with me as I sort through what's happened on the way to get here.
My daughter Maija said I absolutely had to make a list of "casualties" (ask Cynthia Thiessen for the story that goes with the quote about this) that happened on our way to Seattle, which was my point of departure with Icelandair. So I'll do that homework first.
We tried to leave Eugene on Thursday at noon so we could have dinner with Seattle friends Ron and Lena by 5 p.m. However:
1) The mani-pedi we had scheduled for 10 went on till 12, partly because one of the technicians was looking for a new house and kept checking her messages. (If you aren't sure why we had to have mani-pedis, ask us.)
2) Wherever traffic could accumulate in Eugene, it did.
3) Traffic in Salem crawled for about 20 minutes.
4) Traffic in Portland crawled for at least an hour.
5) After joking about how Oregon was trying to keep me there, we cheered as we crossed the Columbia River into Washington; as Maija rolled her window up so we could continue on without traffic, something snapped ominously, and the window slowly sank down into the door. We had to pull over to move all the boxes so she could sit in the back seat.
6) At some point in Washington, far from any town, a dog had gotten loose on the freeway, and traffic was stopped so people could try to hunt him down and put a leash on him. It was surreal and somewhat sweet to see these huge trucks parked in the middle of the road, helping the poor mutt. At one point the dog put his nose in my window so I could pet him, but he dashed away before the young man with the leash could get to him. Finally he jumped the barrier to the other side, and we all had to give up. I hope this story had a happy ending.
7) Traffic on 405 after Tukwila crawled, of course...
By the time we reached Redmond, where Ron and Lena live, Maija was late to pick up her boyfriend Will from SeaTac; she turned around to go back to the airport while I enjoyed delicious lasagne and a glass of wine with my friends.
On Friday, we were able to find a garage willing to fix the window on short notice. However, the part had to be ordered...from Portland! Maija and Will were in a hurry to drive back to Wisconsin, but they were forced to take a vacation day. This meant that they were also able to take me to the airport. The weather was splendid, and I hope the sightseeing on the Duck Bus and the other things Maija and Will did were fun.
And I also hope that's the end of the casualties!
I have to say that the flights to Reykjavik and then on to Helsinki were the best I have ever had. Most folks know how I feel about drugs. But having Xanax to relieve my anxiety and having painkillers for my broken toe, I was able to drowse very comfortably for most of both flights. I was also able to enjoy the view of Greenland's amazing glaciers and the Stockholm archipelago on the approach to Finland.
That being said, I can't say that I recommend breaking your toe and then muscling two 50+-pound pieces of luggage,. a computer bag and a small duffle around airports, buses and trains. But it went amazingly well. People have been so friendly and helpful.
I think this is enough for a first blog entry. The title may need some explanation, however. Karjalan piirakoita, or Carelian pirogues, are a food I adore. They are a bear to make, though I have done it once. You roll out rye dough very, very thin and cut it into circles. On the circles you place a small scoop of cooked rice or mashed potatoes. You fold the dough over the center and crimp the edges, allowing the filling to show through. You flatten them, baste them and bake them. You can then use them as a kind of sandwich. The most traditional way to serve them, however, is to spread them with "munavoita", or egg butter (equal parts softened butter and chopped hard-boiled eggs, mixed together). So since I will be living in Carelia/Karjala, and since this is a typical food for this region, I felt it was an appropriate blog title.
Thanks for reading. More to come.
Chronically unemployed in Eugene, Oregon, I finally learned of a full-time, permanent job with free medical care. The dream job at last! The only drawback: it was in Karelia, Finland. I had to make a quick decision about whether to drop everything familiar and take it, or to keep puttering along just this side (usually) of the poverty line. I went for it, partly because my old job was ending anyway, partly because I had no other options that made any sense.
Within the space of two months, I packed up a house in which I had lived with my two children for 20 years, said goodbye to my family and friends, and moved into a small apartment in a town I had never seen before...in a country with an unintelligible language.
If this intrigues you -- read on.]
Greetings, fair readers (and unfair, too). It's going to take me a while to land on my spiritual/mental feet, but for now, bear with me as I sort through what's happened on the way to get here.
My daughter Maija said I absolutely had to make a list of "casualties" (ask Cynthia Thiessen for the story that goes with the quote about this) that happened on our way to Seattle, which was my point of departure with Icelandair. So I'll do that homework first.
We tried to leave Eugene on Thursday at noon so we could have dinner with Seattle friends Ron and Lena by 5 p.m. However:
1) The mani-pedi we had scheduled for 10 went on till 12, partly because one of the technicians was looking for a new house and kept checking her messages. (If you aren't sure why we had to have mani-pedis, ask us.)
2) Wherever traffic could accumulate in Eugene, it did.
3) Traffic in Salem crawled for about 20 minutes.
4) Traffic in Portland crawled for at least an hour.
5) After joking about how Oregon was trying to keep me there, we cheered as we crossed the Columbia River into Washington; as Maija rolled her window up so we could continue on without traffic, something snapped ominously, and the window slowly sank down into the door. We had to pull over to move all the boxes so she could sit in the back seat.
6) At some point in Washington, far from any town, a dog had gotten loose on the freeway, and traffic was stopped so people could try to hunt him down and put a leash on him. It was surreal and somewhat sweet to see these huge trucks parked in the middle of the road, helping the poor mutt. At one point the dog put his nose in my window so I could pet him, but he dashed away before the young man with the leash could get to him. Finally he jumped the barrier to the other side, and we all had to give up. I hope this story had a happy ending.
7) Traffic on 405 after Tukwila crawled, of course...
By the time we reached Redmond, where Ron and Lena live, Maija was late to pick up her boyfriend Will from SeaTac; she turned around to go back to the airport while I enjoyed delicious lasagne and a glass of wine with my friends.
On Friday, we were able to find a garage willing to fix the window on short notice. However, the part had to be ordered...from Portland! Maija and Will were in a hurry to drive back to Wisconsin, but they were forced to take a vacation day. This meant that they were also able to take me to the airport. The weather was splendid, and I hope the sightseeing on the Duck Bus and the other things Maija and Will did were fun.
And I also hope that's the end of the casualties!
I have to say that the flights to Reykjavik and then on to Helsinki were the best I have ever had. Most folks know how I feel about drugs. But having Xanax to relieve my anxiety and having painkillers for my broken toe, I was able to drowse very comfortably for most of both flights. I was also able to enjoy the view of Greenland's amazing glaciers and the Stockholm archipelago on the approach to Finland.
That being said, I can't say that I recommend breaking your toe and then muscling two 50+-pound pieces of luggage,. a computer bag and a small duffle around airports, buses and trains. But it went amazingly well. People have been so friendly and helpful.
I think this is enough for a first blog entry. The title may need some explanation, however. Karjalan piirakoita, or Carelian pirogues, are a food I adore. They are a bear to make, though I have done it once. You roll out rye dough very, very thin and cut it into circles. On the circles you place a small scoop of cooked rice or mashed potatoes. You fold the dough over the center and crimp the edges, allowing the filling to show through. You flatten them, baste them and bake them. You can then use them as a kind of sandwich. The most traditional way to serve them, however, is to spread them with "munavoita", or egg butter (equal parts softened butter and chopped hard-boiled eggs, mixed together). So since I will be living in Carelia/Karjala, and since this is a typical food for this region, I felt it was an appropriate blog title.
Thanks for reading. More to come.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)