What the hell?: July 2002

Soap Not Suitable for Granmas
Or minors.

Only those of you familiar with exploration into soap making. And the cross-over with a certain birthday gift. Alison has the original, and here is a picture of the candy-striped product. tee hee.

The Colombian in Me
So irene just learned an interesting fact regarding Colombia. From a television program. That's in Finnish.

Um, mind you, she's been there, and both of her parents are from there, but no. She learns new information from the 4 channels available through her friend's satellite free tv.

Anyhoo. Did you know that when a horse's hooves in a statue are 'up' the rider died a natural death of old age? Vs. dying in battle or assisination.

Rise and Shine
So if you choose to either 1) stay up late or 2) get up really early you can view the horizon in a host of different colors.

Around 4.30 am I took a picture outside of Rovaniemi.

Sometime later into our trip, we stayed up 'late' in Mikkeli. Here's what the sky looked like around 10.30 pm.

Another picture of me!
(that's really too big for those using a dial up. going forward I'll work on posting smaller sizes. not now though.)

And here is the biggest animal to walk the Finnish countryside, the hirvi.
A big ole moose.

So we didn't find ONE single moose in our northern excursion.
But they have 'em at the zoo.

Yay!

It works. And I found an online host for my photos that:
1) has unlimited space for $30/year
2) prints 4x6 photos for $0.19 (a lot less than the $0.45 or $0.39 ofoto/shutterfly/etc are charging)

You now possess a photo of Irene. With this gem of an item, ahem, you can quickly and readily zip through your files and (casually) show your (single, cute, funny, articulate) male friends your (funny, outlandish, half-baked) friend Irene.

The power of the internet.
And my entirely too cool Canon PowerShot.

I LOVE my camera.

An Experiment in Use of the Auto Timer
(ok, and my now almost non-existent html)

Oops\
So I just realized that my archived page style sheets are not automatically updated when I modify my blog. So everytime I've used a different format, it still 'lives' in the archived links. Which is incredibly annoying. Too lazy to properly investigate. Sorry. Html blogger guru I am not.

Guilt Pangs

Recall the ill-suited, slow moving, curious 13 year that accompanied me on part of my Lappland tour.
... The boy who would take well over an hour in the morning to prepare himself, even though he did not have to 1) shower 2) apply makeup 3) style hair 4) shave.
... The boy who upchucked during pre-dawn hours in our shared living room.
... The (small slight) boy who brought enough clothing to sink a small ship...in a bag that was approximately 1/4 the size of the trunk...which he conveniently waited to jam into the trunk after our items were carefully packed away.

Tarja's mother said he had a dream that we'd left him.

Ha. Serves him right.

But I do feel a tiny bit guilty torturing the kid. But he's eventually going to serve his required one year military time, so why not learn the value of time efficiency. Or do you think he'll learn it the day they turn the water off in his shower?

While on the topic of food
Fast Food
Order food in a restaurant and you'll wait.
Order food at a fast food joint and you'll wait.
If it's not ready, take a number and go munch on those fries because the'll bring the burger to you. There is no such thing as fast food at McDonald's or the locale variety; HessBurger, StarBurger etc.

If you're hungry, don't torture yourself by going to a restaurant. Walk into a supermarket and have a bite to eat first. Then head for the culinary sporting arena...but for goodness sake, be prepared to drink enough to distract yourself, or bring something to read.

Hmmph. Though I'm sure you're all titilatted by my observations on processed food, I had originally intended to describe the pace at which eating actually occurs. Recall the buffet, smorgasburg concept. Flat fee, eat as much as you want. Tarja feeds me lunch in this fashion on a pretty regular basis. So the first day i'm here, I follow the example set forth by my host and serve myself some assorted salads. And I take a piece of bread.

Big Mistake.

Four of us sit down to eat. We talk, with much of the questions directed at "New York".

Boom. I look up from my plate mid-bite, and realize they're all done. Zip. Plates empty. They ate, as my father would put it, as though they were afraid someone was going to take their food away.

My response, though not original, was deemed sufficiently clever for the Finns.
"Did you taste it on the way down?" was met with a titter of giggles.

You are now warned.
Irene has learned to eat fast.

(any now maybe you share my confusion over the use of napkins. when you're spooning it in that fast, you're bound to drop something.)

Serviettes
Napkins. You know 'em and love 'em. Or at least pretend to use them in restaurants. Not so in the land of the Reindeer. (Or for that matter, most of the cities I've been to.)

It's the weirdest thing. Napkins are out in full galore during coffee, meals, snacks, etc. They're carefully folded to sit perched either under your coffee cup, or utensils. The decorative napkins are often tissue thin, and delicate to the touch. Pretty. But yet few regularly use them, or even acknowledge their presence. I'm accustomed to the regularity of unfolding and laying the napkin across my lap. (ok, so this is attributed to my poor eye hand coordination, and my inherent loathing of dry cleaning costs.) Call me crazy, but napkins help keep the amount of food off the side of your glass. And the gravy off your chin. Know what I"m getting at here?

Finnish people have more woods than they know what to do with them, so the cost of paper can't be that prohibitive. (it's not, i checked. napkins are not causing families to sell the family farm.) So what gives? Puzzling. Impeccable manners abound at the table. You'll be hard pressed to find more people who can handle their cutlery as well. Folding food onto a fork has never come closer to an art form. (Speaking of which, you'll notice the fork is held facing down, and then food is loaded on. Try it, it's different. Fork tonsils curving towards the plate, use your knife to push food onto the concave ??? side. Same across farmers, students, business coworkers. I wonder if the Famous Fork lady had anything to do with this;)

Ya. So no napkins while eating. People stare at me in wonder and amazement, but no.

The Serious Side of Workbooks
So the other day Tarja and I are perusing the shelves at the Stockmann bookstore with Harri. Right as we're about to leave we encounter the self help section. Of all the books from that day, I can only remember two:

...Emotional Vampires: People who suck you dry

and
...The Depression Workbook

Ok, ok. So the Emotional Vampire book is a niche covered by two different authoring groups. The second search result in Amazon has the better title, "Vampires: Emotional Predators Who Want to Suck the Life Out of You." The title speaks volumes. You know them. And you know who hard those people are to deal with. The title just stuck out in a sea of Finnish titles. And I found it funny.

None of us could stop giggling at the W O R K b o o k for the Depressed. I know it's a serious matter, but don't you think borderline individuals might find it more useful to speak to a real person? No wait, I'm confusing that with,"The Loneliness Workbook". No wonder the Finns think so many Americans are whack jobs. We write books for the lonely to work on individually.

Picture Time!
A selection for your viewing enjoyment

And yes, they're out of order.

Therapy: Is it Worth Money?
In a word?
No.

Besides I can't afford one.

This ~~story~~ is too funny to explain, paraphrase, or condense. If you have a minute read it.

p.s. If you've ever ridden the LIRR, you'll completely understand the accent and volume in which these women were speaking.

(Editor's note: Grrr. Redesign on mrbellersneighborhood.com does not allow me to directly point you the article. The title, if you're so motivated, is,"Therapy at the Movies,")

For the Bean Counters
I am officially past the 2/3rds mark on my trip.

I left May 29th.
I fly back to Newark August 27th.

Amazing how time flies.

Unsolicited Mail
Well, it's not really unsolicited if I ask first. Note the following:

1) Irene has a brand-spanking new pile of postcards at her disposal
2) Irene has stamps
3) Irene has many writing accroutrements

But not so many addresses. Remember how she asked (begged and pleaded in some instances) for your U.S. Postal Service recognized address? Well, after dutifully entering them into her palm, there was an issue. It's painfully fresh. Suffice it to say, I've got bumkis.

I humbly am forced to ask (yet again). (Well, except for my parents and hovanec.)

At your convenience, please shoot me an email so I can send you obscene post cards from Finland.
(Or cute little ones from Santa.)

Thanks!

kolmekymmentayksi
What's that you say?

The number thirty-one written out.

Here, allow me to dazzle you with my mastery of the Finnish language.
I can say incredibly useful (and insightful) sentences like:

... Kuva numero ydeksantoista on pieno talo.
... Anteeksi, mita tama on?
... Poika on ei vanha.

Translated you have:
... Picture number 19 is of a small house.
... Sorry, what is this?
... The boy is not old.

Yup. Aren't you impressed?
Ok, so the books I'm using aren't really concerned about my day to day interactions. More that I can point and disagree with erroneous statements. But still interesting to study. Trying to practice my Finnish on a Finn, I'm usually giggled at and the response is in English. A country that is tucked away on the globe, and the majority of its young population speaks so many languages it's taken almost for granted. Knowing how to speak Finnish, Swedish, English, French, and Spanish is not unusual. And won't give you a leg up in the job market. Is that insane or what?

A Jumbled Mess
Ok, so when you try and squeeze in weeks worth of updates into the spand of 15 minutes you end up with a mess. Sorry for the disorganization folks, but that's the way it's been around here. Go ahead and curse under your breath, as I apologize for my multi-week vacation...that looks like work experience on paper. tee hee!

Alright, so not everything is hunky dory in wonderland. I've just picked up a nast bug from my travelmates. My throat is gearing up to sound like a frog and my joints ache. The term 'sniff' will take on new meaning shortly, if Tarja and Pekka's experience is any indicator. Blech. Who gets sick in the summer? And twice none the less. And they all stem from Pekka. Seriously. Everytime the kid goes home, he brings back the plague. Do I need this? Noooooo. C'est la vie.

AVE MARIA TRIVIA?
To demonstrate the morons driving my beloved alum's electronic newsletter, I direct your attention towards the following. The school is proud, but I'm not quite sure why. Without know anything about the school, doesn't this sound ridiculous?

Yet another college guide profiles UD. "The Unofficial, Unbiased Insider’s
Guide to the 320 Most Interesting Colleges" calls attention to both
Christmas on Campus and "the ghetto, as they colorfully call the student
neighborhood." One highlighted statement: "The Marian Library has
everything you ever wanted to know about the Virgin Mary. Just think of
the fun you can have playing Ave Maria trivia games!" Another: "The
University of Dayton offers high-tech innovations in a caring
environment."

For the full story

Right. Send your children there. And don't forget to pack rosary beads.

This from a school that regularly finds itself on the news for bonfires and public lewdness.

HO hum.

Hands on Learning
There are directions at the bottom of the mountain on the dangers of tobogganing. As well as detailed intstructions on selecting a sled, and how to properly operate the one control device left to your disposal. (The aforementioned 'stick'.)

Funny thing though.

No directions at the top of the mountain.

I realized the discrepency when standing at the top of the slide. It's kind of like skiing. If you're dumb enough to get to the top of the mountain, you should be smart enough to get down on your own.

Har.

To add to your sense of well-being and sanity, they sprinkle a number of signs in bright yellow on the way down. In Finnish. In long sentences. The warnings follow a triangle with a ginormous "!". Lovely.

Where the Planning Began
Kuusamo. Check that link out if you're interested in hiking in Finland. If reading Finnish isn't your forte, look in the upper right hand corner for the English version.

Tobogganing
It was fun! You sit in a sled like and hold your life in the power of teeny stick.
And slide down a mountain.

For a look at what's involved, look at the left hand navigation.
> Click on "Intro to Kuusamo"
> "Summer day at Ruka"
> In the middle section, click on "Summer Toboggon Run"

Ok, ok, so these directions are probably not necessary for the lot of you, but my Dad will want to look.

Say what?
Irene went hiking. In the woods. Not the sanitized Disney-version. A bonafied, certifiable excursion with nature. Degree of difficulty deemed,” Quite demanding.” In the understatement of the year, the trail we traversed included rapids, hanging bridges, swamps and steep cliffs. A diverse terrain indeed. (And that is the last time we leave Tarja alone to make decisions.)

Added Emphasis on the words “hanging bridges”
Just confirming you saw that. Read carefully. I’m chock full of startling stories. The hanging bridges had signs with stick people, more or less saying 1 person at a time, or else it’s time to say Hallo Water.

And exactly how long of a distance is 12 km?

Too long I tell you. Really long. Especially when it starts raining mid-route. And you can’t turn back. Or reach another shelter for at least an hour. Where are you supposed to go, pray tell, when it starts thundering and lightening creeps across the sky?

Think:
In a forest there are a lot of trees.
Can’t really get away from them now, can you?

We traversed the Pieni Karhu Kierkko (Small Bear Trail) in the Oulanka National Park, which stretches over 270 km2 of unique riverside wilderness. This is on the outskirts of the Kuusamo and Salla municipalties. The lakes flow out to the White Sea. Continuing to copy from the brochure, I know the assorted bodies of water included the following rapids: Niskakoski, Myllykoski, Aaallokkokoski and the Jyrava Waterfall. (Just try saying any one of those names.) From up high we first viewed the Harrisuvanto Still Water. Lurking not far away was the Village of Juuma (which we didn’t start from as we drove from the company cottage).

For the first half, we were dry. Then the sky opened up and we packed ourselves into these awful raincoats that made enough noise to wake the dead. Which I easily could have become, had I fallen far enough. (The trail was often inches away from a precipice, and the distance to the ground/water varied. But let’s just say falling is a bad thing.) My travel companions are all apparently equipped with a gene of the mountain goat variety. Trees, roots, mud, puddles, wet wooden steps, no matter. They quickly and deftly leap across these obstacles as though they were out for a quick jaunt to the corner deli. I, meanwhile, can’t breathe, my legs are on fire, and have the coordination of a drunk mule. Stubborn but determined, I scurried along to keep behind Tarja and Tero. (Tero,13, is one of Tarja’s million cousins, who we kidnapped from Hyrensalmi.)

While I panted, and calculated whether or not the next stone/root/step was slippery, Tero would more often than not be on his mobile. (Shocking for numerous reasons, the biggest being that there is actually cell phone coverage in the middle of a national forest. Consistent coverage. Phones work everywhere. In tunnels, underground parking garages, farm country, you name it. Why can’t Sprint/MCI/AT&T/whomever get their act together to rid the big city of bad connections? Grr. Ok, so complaining/whining can be therapeutic at times.)

Exhausted and dirty, we burnt some makkera on a fire, and nawed them directly on the poker. (For those of you not familiar with my suburban upbringing, I was never indoctrinated into the wonders of the Brownies or the Girl Scouts, so this was all new to me.) After eating the best sausage of my life, we trudged back to our 2-floor lodging. I slept like a rock in an honest to goodness bed. Not bad.

11.39 pm and it’s still light outside.
(As written on July 9th)

Not bright-whip-out-those-sunglasses. But decidedly not dark.
The horizon cuts the sky above the tree line, beginning with a blue-purple-pink mixture, followed by a pink layer, topped with a light blue. The remainder of the sky is white. Off-white. As in the white used on television for near death experiences, day-time soaps to soften the surgically enhanced, and any of the dream sequences of Tatoo’s Fantasy Island.

Earlier (10ish) we noticed how the sunlight was golden against the trees across the lake in front of our fire. We were contemplating the evening and discussing whether or not a fire was necessary inside, to keep our tootsies warm while sleeping. (The insane one amongst us had been swimming in the lake all evening.) The pyro in me jumped at the opportunity to build another fire, and here we are.

My story starts in the middle and meanders. I sit in the most luxurious of cottages to date, warm, well-fed, chatting with an incredibly good friend and cannot believe my luck. I’m in the middle of nowhere. But yet the bugs are outside. The mosquito has not found me. My bed is already made for me.

I’ve seen more reindeer than I can count. I rode a sled down a toboggan course without losing my breakfast. I rode up the ‘hill’ on a lift. (Which, I might add, I successfully managed to mount and dismount without injury.) I slept on a real bed last night at the company cottage in Ruka. I went hiking for 12 km.

Energy
I know that it's possible to sleep regardless of the amount of caffeine you've pumped into your system.

Three cups right before bed? Noooo problem. Just drink something else to balance it out. Wine works wonders. So does dry cider;)

Ok, in all seriousness, booze is not a necessity. When you're tired, you're tired. And you'll sleep. The old wives tale is just that.

Try it. Life takes on a whole new meaning when your eyelids are peeled back. And you constantly fidget. As of today, I am no longer drinking the black stuff. I can feel my bones crumbling as I sit here. It dawned on me why vitamins are such a big seller. Caffeine sucks the vitamins out of you, and makes Finnish women the most prone to osteoporosis. Lovely that it took TWO months for me to figure this out.

Mud, but no Alligators
Yes, Mom. This was yet another Finnish occasion where booze made an appearance. Not for us. (It was too hot, and we were too lazy to carry anything.) After thoroughly enjoying the show, I'm testing the waters of Sports Marketing. Start your engines, because you may one day be asked to represent the Americans next year.

Ahem. If I can work it the right way, I want to pull together a team. You don't have to be particular adept at soccer, as the swamp puts everyone on the same playing field. Because it's such a novelty ... ok, and no other sane Americans would consider the trip worthy just to frolic in mud... and no Americans made a showing this year, I'm convinced I can pull together sufficient sponsorship to fund a trip next year. Stop laughing at me. You're coming. I can promise a healthy introduction to the Finnish lifestyle. Just add some booze and sauna, and the fun starts.

Just Do It
I am not an athlete, but I enjoyed the hiking. I'll tell you later about the tortures of signing up for a trip without realizing the full implications. People in Finland are apparently accustomed to hiking, and find a little jaunt of 5-7 km to be no big deal. Throwing in tree roots, mud, steep inclines and rocky crevices and you've got nothing special. Har.

At the swamp soccer competition, the shortest walk from the parking area is 1.2 km. If you show up after 10 am, consider yourself an idiot, and add another 2-3 kms to your walk. Uh, hello. (If we had shown up late, I think I might have behaved like the rest of the drunk guys, and called a taxi.)

Summary of Trip

Let's see. To sum the road trip up, we drove to the middle of the country. Slept. Drove a further north, stopping along the way to visit relatives and friends. Narrowly missed the annual Wife Carrying Race. (I kid you not.) Slept in a place called Hyrensalmi (hear-and-sol-mee) for a while. (Cooky uncle with the weird children. More on them later. Tero was only the beginning.) Checked out the swamp soccer thing. FUN!

Actually we slept in lots of places, but I only pointed out Hyrensalmi because I like how the name rolls off my tongue. Ok, so what if it's one of the few city names I can pronouce, consider yourself educated about the geography of Northern Finland and be grateful:)

Got back in the car, and drove past the Artic Circle. Took awhile seeing the sites. (Think trees. LOTS of trees. And lakes.) Stopped at some amazing cottages, hiked, and tried to stay awake until it was dark. (It never got dark. just darker up there. No stars. Dark Blue. I have some really nifty pictures.)

According to Tarja's uncle, we did not see the 'real' Lappland.
Ask the Tourism Board, the souvenir shops and any travel guide and they will disagree.

And no, I did not buy a t-shirt that read, "I love Lappland."
(Just one that reads, "Funk Me.")

Friend: So, Irene, what did you do in Finland?
Irene: Shop. Visit Stores. Spend money I don't have. You know, the norm.

Actually, the shirt was a gift from one of Pekka's clients. But there will be no t-shirt wearing on Irene's part. Or fanny packs. Ugh.

Regardless of who is correct, it was cool. And I saw plenty of Reindeer. Which tastes surprisingly yummy. A bit on the salty side when smoked, but there's almost no fat in it. No marble affect. Weird. Or I've been too poor to buy meat that has less fat. You decide.

No Granma Driving
Driving here is a bizarre experience. Tarja's dad loaned us his Corolla. Stick shift with plenty of oomph makes for some pretty damn fast driving. I have no idea how fast I"m going half the time, nor whether I'm going to slide off the road. Ah, yes. The concept of a road. Take the traditional definition and toss it out the window. We have long since left highways behind us in exchange for paths and meandering sand. Yes, sand. And you can drive on it for a long time, periodically interupted by a sign with two arrows; reminding you of the potential for oncoming traffic. (Like there is 1) any room 2) anywhere to pull over 3) any time to react in a safe and prudent manner.)

Point being: I need to calculate how fast 140 km/hr is in relation to miles. Now when we're 'forced' to drive the speed limit (oh, and it varies outside of towns from 80 to 100), I feel like we're crawling along like snails. Nice. Spoiled by decadence.

Actually, spoiled more by the flash of insight Tarja and I had early into our trip. The police can't take my license away. Or write the owner of the car a ticket. If they write a ticket to a foreigner, it's useless. I can go right ahead and tear the ticket up in front of them. (Not my words. I swear.) I like driving fast. It's fun!

Clutch those birthcontrol pills
So much to tell, but i must complain first. humor me please, and let me gripe about the present situation. (editor's note: this portion was typed over a week ago.) we have a curious thirteen year old travelling with us, who does not know the meaning of 'no.' as a reminder why having children in the near future can is a bad thing, remember that their curiosity never - ever - ends.

I (and let me emphasize that) brought along MY computer and MY camera. ME ME ME. MY money bought it and brought it. (sidenote: I checked and the price double here. Yowzer. Who would shell out six hundred something bucks for a camera?) And that is why i should not feel obligated to let this child (elfy looking oaf) touch, let alone operate, one of my (need you forget: MY!!!) toys. When we're not near an outlet, I can use the excuse that we will be zapping my battery power. When we're plugged in, oh hell, it sucks. He won't leave me alone. And he's taken more useless footage of the most inane every day activities that it's NOT funny (or cute) anymore. The worst part is that I'm stuck with 'this' for at least another 4 days. GAH. Word of warning: Never ever ever ever ever ever ever EVER let a child 'try' something of yours. You will regret it until the end of your days.

Back to Normal?
Er, no.

Coming back to the office was not as easy as I thought it would be. After attempting to slog through a backlog of email Monday, we left after only 1.5 hours. Erm. Not nearly enough time. We stayed in Naantali (the home with the kick ass sauna) yesterday, and are supposedly coming into the office today. This experience has taught me that 1) the amount of time guaranteed by law to ALL Finns is incredible 2) it’s nice to have 4 weeks of summer vacation.

And why haven’t I won the lottery already?

In a Deep Booming Voice:
You are using 94% of your storage.

And so the Microsoft God speaks.
eep.
Twiddling that one down.

The Worst Day of Your Life
Giggle, snort.

"Ever since I started working, every single day of my life has been worse\ than the day before it. So that means that every single day that you see me, that's the worst day of my life." - Peter Gibbons, Office Space

That's decidedly NOT me. I'm still experiencing vacation high. Cloud of No Responsibility or Reality. But Erin sent me the quote, and I couldn't stop laughing, so here it is. Hope you're enjoying work today folks:)

not dead i promise.

back in civilization today.

slogging through a million and one emails.

gasp.

Phone Situation
Please use the following number:
+358 40 517 96 11

This is Tarja's phone. Don't worry, she doesn't bite. And she speaks plenty of English.
and french. and spanish. oh, and finnish. and german.
Feeling smart are you?

:)

Let me try and catch up over here, and then I'll start talking.

Hugs & Love from Finland.

Lifecycle of Any Group Project
Look for the Guilty.
Punish the Innocent.
Reward those wise enough to not Participate in the first place.

Delivery Service
You've heard about Alko, the state run booze monopoly. Turns out we also need to stop there before heading north as there aren't any Alko's near the cottage. What to do?

Instead of lugging a case of wine up in your car, one simply needs to place an order at your local Alko. Alko, in turn, generously ships your precious cargo to a distribution center for you. This is free of charge. Joy.

I've now added this to my assortment of odd Finnish-isms:
... Dimentia Skiing
... News Show End Segments
... and (of course) the 'Yoh'.

Dimentia Skiing
To help balance themselves, or perhaps even keep the inebriated upright, the Finns enjoy using skiing poles for walking. Not your run of the mill walk to work, but the exercise type. You can also see people 'skiing' while on roller blades.

W h y ?
Roller blades, yes.
Walking, no.

Funny News Segments
To end every news shows, something of a freaky, unusual or odd nature is shown. The first time I noticed it, they showed a woman who had both a miniature horse and a huge pig. Hard to describe, but I'll definitely try and do so before I leave. When the camera returns back to the newscasters they're inevitably snickering, or raising an eyebrow.

'Yoh'

Danger Zone
In addition to mosquitos, I know learn that the Adder or Common Viper (Vipera berus) is a resident of northern Finland. We have to stop at a store before we leave to purchase anti-venom 'just in case'.

The Viper is the only poisonous snake found in Finland. It is very dangerous only to small children, old and weak people and those who are allergic to viper poison, but every one who has been bitten must see a doctor immediatelly. Last time a Common Viper caused a death in Finland was in 1984.

Gee willagers.
I'm not old (yet), young (shut up), or weak (i said shut up).
But yet I worry.

Tarja said that it's difficult to find a doctor up there when you need one for that.

Greeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaaat.

Skiing, anyone?

These guys are dressed ... for something.

Look at this idiot!

Defeat Conceded
I have upgraded my junk filtering system in my email account, in a desperate attempt to limit the amount of poo that bombards me on a daily basis. (Imagine the job of brainstorming the subject lines..." zoo porn. live audio cam of girls doing something illegal, etc" Those titles my little mind can filter out, and not open. It's the sneaky ones that get to me,"Regarding your Resume, Job Match, Interview Inquiry." They have found my weakness, and are exploiting me.

If you send mail and fail to hear back from me, please be patient while I fiddle with the settings.

On a similar note, I will not be checking email for at least the next two weeks. We pushed our trip departure back to Saturday morning, and will be on the road to Swampville. The best (and only) way to reach me is via my mobile. No need to repost the number, as the only two people that call me already have it:)

We tailored the timing of our trip to coincide with soemthing calledSwamp Soccer. From the mouth of some witty chap:

The world championships of swamp soccer are a unique happening in the world. Only Finnish people are crazy enough to build the whole swamp soccer stadium in the middle of nowhere - and not only the stadium but also 25 metres long sauna in the middle of the stadium, right next to deep swamp lake! I´d call this exotic...

The history of swampsoccer is very young. It was created by combining traditional soccer and very soft swamp field. First ones who played it were skiers and Finnish defence forces, to practise their physical strength.

Rules are basically customized from soccer, the main difference is with corner kics, penalty kicks and throw-ins, which are kicked in. Matches are played at soft (or very soft) swamp field which is about 35 metres wide and 60 metres long.

...and we're going!

Upsetting the Ecosystem

You'll never believe what made the national news today:
Cockroaches

Yup.
Someone brought them to Tampere.

They evacuated the building so they could spray and hopefully eradicate.

I kid you not.

Anyone see the Simpson episode where Bart brings a frog to Australia? That's what this feels like:)

Where do our Tax Dollars go?
So my loving parents sent the latest news.

The check from ***(name deleted)*** arrived. Before you start the ticker tape parade, I want someone to explain the 52% cut the governement takes. After taxes, Irene made something like $3/hour.

No, really.

American Culture Spreads

Last week I had the pleasure of attending a live performance of," Some Like it Hot." I refer not to the classic 1956 movie, with Marilyn Monroe, but to the Finnish version.

Not a peep of English, held outside with a wildy rotating seating deck, and rain to greet us upon completion.

It was surprisingly very good. Plus I had the fortune of seeing a handful of famous Finnish actors.

(Have you looked at the url I posted for the finnish version? Billionaire eye-glass guy has some funky eyebrows, and the femme du'jour is, uh, heavy on the lipstick. But that's stage makeup, right? ...)

Considering that my U.S. trained ears can only recognize strains of," hello, goodbye, no, no fucking way, hell no, sale, good, tomorrow, good morning, etc." the show was put together really well. The singing and dancing were perhaps a bit rustic, but very enjoyable.

Fun!

p.s They had someone come around during intermission with a drink tray. Whiskey and cognac were 5 euros a glass. Har.

"Account Size Critical: You may not be receiving all of your messages
Let's just say that seeing these words does not bring joy to me.
Ever.

If you sent email last week, and I haven't responded I do apologize. However, some of my particularly brilliant students thought it would be fun to:
1) ignore ALL directions and send me their 2-3MB final project
2) hit 'send' repeatedly (so that multiple copies found their way)

Mind you, I am a proud MSN lemming, and have succumbed to paying the outrageous 'minimal fee' of $20 for what-should-be-my-god-given-right-to-free-email.
(Ok, so they threatened me in the past. I have no spine.)

I am still irked (and haunted) by the deathly glare of my computer screen. In case you're curious, the dire penalty for exceeding the storage limit is the automatic disabling of your account. When you fail to recognize this, MSN escalates matters and merrily commences the deletion process. (Artfully selecting the messages you've been dutifully saving in your inbox.)

Ok, so only morons do this. But I had stuff in there from some of you that I kept meaning to respond to.
Call me a moron.

Claritin!
They sell Claritin (and all the assorted like drugs) as over-the-counter! No need to visit the physician for an annoying piece of paper you'll lose. Or the endless wait at the pharmacy. Twice. (One to drop off, one to pick up.) No-sir-ee-bob. The Finns let you pick your choice of drug and sashee out the door.

And it's affordable.

Now I've seen it all. This isn't even close to seeing fake Retin-A in Mexico.

Doors in Finland.
What appears to be isn’t.

Door handles operate in additional modes compared to the doors in the U.S. (Or at least the doors my limited bubble-world has allowed me to see.) There is the standard ‘closed’ and ‘open’. To be sure we’re on the same page, ‘open’ usually occurs left-to-right, or right-to-left. The significance of this was realized in Irene’s world late June. (a.k.a. when I should have been posting but was too otherwise occupied to do so;)

I was helping strip wallpaper from Terttu’s (Tarja’s aunt) apartment when I decided a bit of fresh air was in order. Not thinking, I reached out and turned the balcony door handle. The door appeared to fall. I caught it.

What I saw was the top part of the door coming down upon me. (A lot like the story from my days working at the Law School at UD. A file cabinet fell on me the first day. A big one.) To avoid the humiliation of the Oikarinen famiily rushing out to find me pinned underneath a heavy glass door, (not to mention the expense and mess of breaking glass), I quickly reacted and pushed up on the door. Breathing a sigh, I figured the door was still in construction (like the rest of the bare apartment) and would be fixed at a later date. Didn’t think to ask at the time and forgot about it.

Last week Tarja and I stopped by Terttu’s (now finished) apartment for fresh strawberries, ice cream, and coffee. (Editor’s note: That combination was really, really good.) When Tarja casually propped the door open, the shock registered on my face. Apparently (duh) doors are made with hinges so only the top is open. Using two side hinge/arms, the door ‘leans forward’, (the bottom stays, the top is open 6 inches) to allow air to circulate.

To add to my wrong-isms, I was wrong in my assumption that the door was created that way to help keep the snow out.
The hinges are made by a company called Fasal, German origin.
Weird. Or have other people seen this before?

There's a scientific explanation somewhere that explains the following relationship:

Laziness causes Laziness.

Apologies for not posting (as many of you have pointed out). Things have been nutso around here. And it's about to get worse. With the U.S. holiday around the corner, Tarja and I are hitting the road. We're trucking up north to fight with the mosquitos. Lappland here I come!

No, seriously. First we're going to spend the night in Kuopio (five-ish hours north-east-ish) and then we'll make it Tarja's parent's cottage (another couple of hours). After there we'll head even further north to the company cottage. We will still not be in Lappland. (But above the Artic Circle, so there's your progress.) After we commune with the reindeer and assorted moose, we're planning on driving down the western coast. (Funny story: The moose are apparently so unimpressed with the human variety, that they need to be prodded with your shoe when you come across them in the road. They lay in the road because they're usually cooler, and apparently comfortable. I don't know about you, but kicking a large wild animal does not sound safe. Period.)

Everytime we tell people we're heading north for two weeks, they inevitably say," Oh! Good. There's no snow anymore." At first I attributed this to the change in season. Now I learn it is not unusual for snow to still be on the ground in June/July. Hallo. Weird.

It has been cold and wet for the last couple of days. 60 degrees Fahrenheit to be exact. Brrr. Sock weather. BUT THEN... I forget to mention the sporadic bursts of sunshine and heat.

Yesterday I forgot my electricity converter at home. (This I need for my laptop.) I had left home wearing a dress with a long sleeve shirt. On the frigid walk home, I decided a change in wardrobe was necessary. So I threw on comfy pants and layered a tshirt with a turtleneck. Perfect.

Come 4.30pm we leave the office. It's hot. I'm overdressed.

We go home (after running errands) and decide to lay out and enjoy the sun. We pack blankets, sunglasses, etc. We climb a hill. Lay everything out. Plop ourselves down.

The sun hides. I can see the moon. We go back inside.

GAH. Lesson?
.... Always dress in layers.
.... Carry an umbrella AND a pair of sunglasses at all times.
..... And plan on nothing. The weather waits for no one.

Kind of reminds me of Ohio. You'll be walking outside and see people in tank tops, shorts, and sandles. Right next to them you see boots, tights, and wool sweaters. There is no logic.

What the hell?

Wednesday, July 31, 2002

Monday, July 29, 2002

Wednesday, July 24, 2002

Monday, July 22, 2002

Thursday, July 04, 2002

Wednesday, July 03, 2002

Tuesday, July 02, 2002

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