Kaamos

If you look up the word ‘kaamos’ in the dictionary, it says “arctic night”. In other words, this term applies officially to the complete absence of sunlight above the Arctic Circle during the darkest part of fall/winter. However, it seems it’s used by Finns to describe the general waning of light during the darkest time of the year, whether or not the sun completely disappears.

As far as I’m concerned, the difference is laughable. It’s dark, and I’m suffering. During the past week or so, I’ve noticed a definite change in my mood. I’m no longer can-do Kathy, bravely and good-naturedly meeting all obstacles in my path. I’ve become a candy-craving sloth with dark thoughts and moods heavy enough to sink a ship. I find myself feeling resentful about social engagements I agreed to of my own free will weeks ago, and around 5 p.m. I’m already wondering if it’s too soon to go to bed.

How dark is it? Today, November 24, the sun came up at 8:43 a.m., and it’s supposed to set at 2:52 p.m. That’s a day of 6 hours and 9 minutes. But don’t let that fool you. When the sun is above the horizon (and I haven’t seen it for over a week), it doesn’t get any higher than it does in late afternoon in the winter back in Oregon. So if 90 degrees is straight overhead, it’s at about 30 degrees at its highest.

That’s not a lot of light.

It’s also been cloudy for weeks, it seems. It feels like dusk all day long. Even if I bike home by 4, it’s dark. And this morning, to make matters worse, it’s foggy.

No wonder the Finns can’t wait for snow. At least then things look brighter. But they’re used to this, and they have found ways to dispell the gloom even if there's no snow on the ground. On the café tables at school, candles burn all day long. There are so many ‘pikkujoulut’ (Christmas parties) coming up I can’t keep them straight without looking at a calendar. And there are charming decorations hanging over the streets downtown, lovely white lights arranged in decorative patterns, as well as the Christmas window displays.

My mood makes it difficult to get anything reasonable done, so I started to sort papers this morning, an activity requiring little brain power. I opened up the local weekly, ‘Karjalan Heili’ (a droll combination of local news, personals, public service announcements, ads and contests for tickets to a local movie theater), and the first article I turned to must have been written for me: “Kaamos järkytti valoon tottuneen Minnin” (Getting used to ‘kaamos’ was a shock to Minni). 

The dramatic picture showed Minni, an exchange student from Viet Nam, sitting on a bed in a dark room, her depressed-looking face turned downward. It talked about how she stopped wanting to do things with friends, felt depressed and listless, had heavy arms and legs, was gaining weight and had started to crave sweet foods. Sweets! I’ve never gone in for sweets except chocolate before, but now I find myself grabbing a bag of assorted gummi-snacks, sugared licorice and candy bananas. Gross! At least, now, there’s an explanation. The article talked about how Finns may experience a slowing down, but most don’t feel the kind of painful impact that the lack of light has on exchange students.

The article recommends getting a sun lamp, the best weapon against SAD. My friend Kate says there are even SAD cafes where she lives – you go in for a cup of coffee and you come out singing at the top of your lungs. Well, maybe not that. This is still, after all, Finland. But it must work if cafes invest money in this sort of thing.

So after I post this, I’m going to force myself up out of this couch and get on my bike to go look for a sun lamp. OK, I admit it, and another bag of sweets. This could be a prolonged fight, and I need all the weapons at my disposal. At least I know that there’s only three weeks left of this lessening light, and then the winter solstice marks the turning point. And by then, I’ll be on my way to Zurich to see my children for Christmas. Now there’s a bright prospect.