Quick! Save that person!

 

Quick! Someone has fallen into the water. How do you save that person?

If your instincts fail you, and your Finnish does also, you can use some online translators such as Google or DeepL to read what you need to do on the handy advice board. You quickly get:

SAVE HELP GUIDE

Instructions for use in case of a hatchet
General hat number 112

SHOW!     CALL 112!     THEM!

KAHLAA!   PULL!

But you quickly conclude that you have no hatchet and you do not want to call for a hat. And a few of those other words do not seem to be what you need to do....

Then you realize...you did not type in the letters with accents! a IS NOT ä

You typed: Toimintaohjeet hatatilanteessa

You should have typed: Toimintaohjeet hätätilanteessa

You replace the a with ä and your "Instructions for use in case of a hatchet" turns into "Emergency procedures"

And with the correct ä the "General hat number 112" turns into "General emergency number 112" -- now you are getting somewhere. But onto the rescue instructions. 

HUUDA! gets translated as SHOW! or HELLO!, so you suppose you may need to greet the person in need of help. 

SOITA 112! is CALL 112, so you have that part down. You are mastering Finnish!

HEITA gets translated as THEM with or without the ä accent...so you are stumped there. Move on!

KAHLAA! gets translated as KAHLAA! and that just seems odd...so you type it in as lowercase and you get WADE...and now you are getting some good advice. The pictograms are starting to make sense. You are supposed to get into the water, too. 

Finally, VEDA! gets translated as PULL! and, yes, you remember seeing that command on Finnish doors. But no time to congratulate yourself on your improving Finnish. Time to act. 

1. Greet the floundering person
2. Call 112
3. Ignore the "them" stuff (maybe we need to use a gender-free pronoun) and show the victim the life preserver ring as illustrated on the sign.
4. Wade into the water (and hope that this scenario does not take place in January, February, March, April, May, September, October, November, or December).
5. Pull! With what, well, you can ad lib that part.

And that is why we need to study and practice Finnish more so that we know what to do when companions or strangers fall tin the water.

Simple reminders...

 

As I wander around Helsinki, I am fortunate to know more of its history than the "average" tourist. I am not bragging, but I feel sorry for those who cannot pick up on the reminders of the past. In front of the Bank of Finland (Snellmaninaukio, 00101 Helsinki) is a statue of Johan Vilhelm Snellman, one of the promoters of Finnish nationalism in the 19th century. A famous person anyone interested in Finland should recognize. And if you look closer at the pediment, you can see gouges in the stone. Maybe an average tourist would think these are marks of vandalism or age. But they are simple reminders, left on purpose. In this case, reminders of the Russian bombings of Helsinki during WWII. War damage reminders from a dark time. Reminders that we Americans do not encounter in our streets.

Do not use your tram table

 

Finns do not waste things, and they do not go for extravagance just for fancy design. If something exists, it is meant to be used.

Except for your tram table. 

Finns do not like to be close to strangers (or even non-strangers), and never clump together when being physically apart is possible. However, sometimes they are forced into uncomfortable situations, such as can be found on a tram. The newer Artic trams have those awkward seats where passengers can sit two-to-a-side, face to face -- but this seating arrangement is to be shunned unless absolutely necessary, perhaps if the tram were packed full. And sometimes it is.

Yet, if avoiding close contact with others is the game, why is there a convenient tram table between seats? Certainly not to use as a tool for sharing drinks (drinking is not allowed on trams unless you really want to drink something) or sharing food (eating is not allowed on trams unless you really want to eat something). No social interaction is carried out on these tables that I have ever seen unless the four seats are filled with close friends who seem very happy to be together and boisterous at the thought of a night out...and these are probably tourists, anyway.

I think I finally realized why these tables exist: as a means to help preserve the privacy of strangers forced to face one another for a few brief moments. These tables are not meant to bring us closer together by encouraging some sort of spontaneous sharing. These tables are meant as a small physical reminder to supplement the ever-present mental distance we are encouraged to maintain.

Winter-weather running

 

Running in Helsinki does not take a break for weather. If you did, you would not be able to run for at least 3-4 months of the year. Helsinki runners are out there in conditions that would normally keep me home with my shoes off in Indiana. And shoveling.

For one thing, when it snows in Helsinki, there is not much shoveling going on. Major streets sort of get cleared at times, but sidewalks and paths just get the gravel treatment. Gravel does not melt snow, and gravel is only mildly effective until it is squashed into the snow (often) or snowed upon again (frequent).

I have never run before in the states when there was snow on the ground. And now I have discovered that, in Helsinki, snow on the ground means that is is a good time to run...because if you are not running on snow, you are probably running on ice. And running on ice is only possible if you are wearing spike shoes or strap-on spikes. There is no other way, and I have tried but have proven that without it is an insane activity that would eventually maim you.

But now I am a dedicated snow and ice runner; strap-on-spikes are the best 20-euro bargain I have ever made in Finland. However, I cannot get too proud of my winter-weather running. As I run in snow and sleet over slosh and ice, I am reminded that I am no-big-deal by all the mothers strolling their babies and the dog walkers that I pass . . .

Penguin walk + spikes

Even though I have spent winter months in Helsinki before (November, December, January, February, March), I have never had my mobility so impaired. There is no train, or tram, or bus problem, however, and I have been driven by car several times, too. The challenge is that you have to move on foot occasionally between such means of transport. Like down the street a bit. But the cycle of light snow, light rain, steady temperatures around freezing, and people tromping about on the sidewalks have made  a simple stroll into an ordeal that could only please an American personal injury lawyer. 

I have now seen three adults simply fly off their feet...and what is amazing to me is that there is not more public slipping. In fact, it is impressive how people move over walks that can qualify as Olympic curling lanes, if Olympic curling lanes would be occasionally sprinkled with gravel, more ice added to top, then more gravel sprinkled, etc. How do they do it? Finns have told me there are two solutions (both of which I reported on earlier):

• Do the penguin walk
• Wear spikes (built into footwear or strapped on)

I thought I could waddle as well as any penguin, and often I have. I have learned to take shorter steps, pay attention to each footfall, maintain a steady pace with no sudden slowing or acceleration, grab a railing when going up or down stairs (I don't know how penguins can do that), avoid turning corners quickly, avoid turning corners at all, and never to get too cocky (Hey, look at me go, I am moving so wellllllll.....).

The penguin walk is not sufficient. And I am sure I have seen some of those Funny Animal Videos of penguins slipping and landing on their backsides. So it is time to get serious, and to accept the challenge. I have actually purchased my first set of spikes since my 8th-grade football team. But these spikes are not meant for running around on a soft, grassy field like those dull, rounded plastic football cleats; these are thin, metal spikes meant to dig into ice. Bonus: they make a satisfying crunch when you are walking on ice, even if they make a sort of embarrassing clink if you have to cross an occasional piece of uncovered pavement (rare in some areas, more common in others). The spikes do work…you can still slip a bit but at least you have a chance that the spikes will dig in before your feet leave the ground. A combination of the penguin walk with your new spikes gets you moving along just fine.

Mistakes, errors, and flubs

I did not try to steal this!

Living in a foreign county can make you feel rather simple at times. You miss clues that are obvious to natives of the culture but that are invisible for you. You begin to remember how you felt when you were 3 years old and your parents took you out into the adult world. As a child, you would look up and around in awe at everything -- some of it fascinating, some of it scary. But your parents were there to help make sense of everything and to hold your hand…and you could navigate the world safely.

Now you are again in a foreign country where you have already spent more than 8 months during a 10-year period. And you still get sometimes get confused but have no hand to hold.

It can be a daily struggle. You make mistakes. I call them "mistakes" because they just happen like that. Sure, you make mistakes back in your homeland (get in the wrong line, lose the word for something, etc.), but they just don't seem so discouraging.

I thought I would keep a running list of all my mistakes for the past two weeks:

• forgot my key -- locking us out of our apartment for the first time ever
• used my credit card for a 27-cent purchase when I had a fistful of euros because of …reasons that would need another post to describe
• purchased a big bag of coffee beans when I have never ever had a bean grinder either here or in the United States and do not even drink coffee
• walked past my tram stop in the desperate cold way down to the next one -- from which the tram departed and next stopped at the one I should have been at (but I was not there)
• bought an 8-euro ticket that I promptly dropped into an unreachable area between the sales counter and the candy rack (the salesclerk cheerily told me that when things drop down there they are hard to get -- and she promptly sold me another 8-euro ticket)
• put the wrong sticker on the self-serve pastry bag, and appeared to be a pastry thief ("sir, that is two pastries, not one pastry")
• succeeded in having a bus driver stop the bus to let me off in a place that definitely was not the bus stop because it was actually a snow drift that I had to climb over ("this American seems to want off here, so I suppose he knows what he is doing")
• put the fabric softener in the washing detergent slot, and the washing detergent in the fabric softener slot, and "washed" the clothes (my report: it all came out fine, so I suspect some sort of scam with this cleaning routine)
• convinced myself I would really like salted, fried Baltic herring this time but I did not when I took a bite in a public place
• could not figure out for several days how to answer phone calls on my university-supplied Samsung phone (ok, you swipe that button onscreen because pressing it does nothing); I blame easy iPhone habits that have spoiled me, btw.
• purchased three sepia ink pens when I intended to buy three black ink pens -- even though the packaging was in English, it said SEPIA on the top, and the color of the nice drawing on the package was sepia.
• pushed when I should have pulled, pulled when I should have pushed -- countless times on numerous doors (see: Helling Helsingissä: Once again: Finnish doors (hellinghelsingissa.blogspot.com). This is an ongoing, eternal issue.

But I am happy to report that the list of things I am doing right is too long to publish here. It's just that these things don't seem to affect me as easily as those other things I do...and no one congratulates me when I do the right thing.

Forward like grandma in the snow

I was told by a Finn that to endure takes persistence. And persistence is the Finnish character, as anyone who spends some time in Finland soon learns...especially in winter. I am not saying that winters in Helsinki have been colder or even snowier than in Indiana, however. In fact, Helsinki weather can be quite temperate compared to the sub-freezing plunges of the Mid-West. But gray skies, less daylight, and snow just seem to last a lot longer in Finland.

The Finns have many expressions and even words (see "sisu") to express their character, but the expression I learned most recently is:

Eteenpäin kuin mummo lumessa. --> Forward like grandma in the snow.

And that is a good attitude to have when it is cold, dark, and snowy. The grandmas are moving through the snow here, with their ski poles, doing Nordic walking (sauvakävely).

Winter gravel time, part 3

I finally saw how all that gravel gets tossed on the sidewalks. These orange trucks drive around and throw gravel like American street-department trucks throw sand and salt. Using gravel is a very clean concept compared to sand and salt. I was told that the gravel is cleaned up in the spring by trucks with big vacuum attachments, cleaned, stored in silos, and then re-used the next season. How efficient! But this winter in Helsinki, the gravel is losing the battle because it then snows again, which then gets packed down with the gravel, which then turns once more to ice -- and the sandwiched gravel seems to be more for decorative effect than for traction.

How are the pedestrians faring? Most are adept at doing what is called here the "penguin walk," so just imagine big penguins moving around the city, carrying bags and pushing strollers. Yet many just plod on as if nothing were at risk. I have seen a few slips and slides, and today I actually saw a middle-aged male Finn fall on his bottom with a loud plop but just get right back up resume walking as if falling on ice were a common occurrence to be tolerated. Nothing to see here. As for me, I have not fallen yet, but I have come close and have had many "whoa" slip moments. I have even been in situations where I have stopped to consider alternate routes and detours. Do I want to walk here or over there? Can I grab onto this, or hold onto that? And I have finally tried using the pull-on mini-spikes that a Finnish friend loaned me, which make a nice sound when I move along, much like a high-school football player makes when leaving the field and going into the locker room. Or a tap dancer, ready to break into a routine. Neither of which experience I have ever had. Do the spikes work? I need to test some more, but at least I make a confident noise now as I cross treacherous patches that test my new penguin-walking skills.

Once again: Finnish doors

My survey on doors is ongoing. I can't believe that Finnish doors are the most frequent topic of my blog posts, starting back on September 21, 2013: "You have a 50/50 chance to succeed"

And resuming with "Another time around in Finland" (February 17, 2020)...and then:

"My survey on doors is complete" (March 1, 2020)

"My survey on doors is *not* complete" (March 6, 2020)

I will be brief: I have not mastered Finnish doors in my absence (lack of practice is my excuse). And it is not just me. I see my wife, Jane, experience that same moment that I do every day -- even using the same door one has used countless times before.

You come up to a door, reach for the handle, and then make a face and a low "hmmmm" sound when you pull instead of push, or you push instead of pull.

It is a hard feeling to describe -- a mixture of surprise, confusion, and even embarrassment at your continued failure at the 50/50 odds that you would gladly accept in Las Vegas. I still get a bit nervous at the approach to any door handle, and I really have begun to appreciate the amount of self-opening doors in Helsinki...although I did get stuck in one of those self-opening rotating doors...but that is a story for another day.

That is not how you say "poop" in Finnish

Anyone who is familiar with translation knows the dangers involved, even when expert humans do the translating. Computers provide just as much entertainment.

The most popular translation service, Google Translate, is so easy to use, however, that we all tend to trust it, at least for small things. Google has a reputation of doing some languages better than others, which makes sense since some languages are more complex than others -- for example, Latin and Ancient Greek. Fortunately, I don't often need a quick and reliable translation from Latin or Ancient Greek into English. Finnish to English is my need. And Google can serve me well at many times; it does help that I know enough Finnish to suspect the less accurate translations. I suspect, however, that Finnish ranks up there with Latin or Ancient Greek….

What is one of the best Google tools? The camera app on Google Translate comes in handy! Just point and focus, move the camera around a bit to focus, adjust the light if necessary, move up and down, tilt slightly, wait a few moments, and you have a translation that either enlightens you (oh, that is what they were saying!) or leaves you wondering (er, my Finnish is not great, but I suspect something is wrong here!).

I use the Google Translate camera for reading things in books. For example:

I know that says "I am Samuli. My [???] wife is Sunee." I did not know the "avo" before "vaimoni" (my wife) that makes up the word "avovaimoni." So, on to Google Translate camera:

Well, that can't be right! Not in a textbook intended for beginning Finnish students!

After paging through all the "avo" entries in my small paper dictionary, I saw the word "aviovaimo" (with an extra "i"), which means "wife." Can that be it? A typo in the book? I think not.

Putting "minun avovaimoni" in Google Translate returns "my unmarried wife"

Putting in "avovaimoni" returns "my stepmother"

Putting in just the stem of the word "avovaimo" returns "open wife"

OK, I can take that last translation and extrapolate and not think I have learned the Finnish word for "poop."

Winter gravel time, part 2

So how well does the gravel work? This week has been a good test because we have had very cold temperatures, more snow dusting, and then warm temperatures. In the meanwhile, countless people have used the graveled walkways, compacting the snow into gravel-speckled ice.

The results have been promising for anyone who likes to ice skate or slide. And who enjoys a certain risk.

My new Finnish vocabulary term is liukas (slippery).

And now I can practice saying "Tämä on liukasta!" (This is slippery!). Or even better: "Se oli liukasta" (That was slippery!), to be used after I slip, as a warning to others...or maybe as a Finnish conversation starter -- that I could participate in only if my witnesses were three years old or younger. I would need, of course, to wait until the giggles died down in order to make myself understood.

What is the solution to a slippery path? Why, more gravel, of course!

I have not yet seen gravel being officially distributed, however, and wonder how it must be done. By official workers who come by in trucks, at night? But I have encountered at least one distribution tub for my apartment. Maybe normal citizens are encouraged to participate.

I have to admit that the walk I took today was very treacherous. A lot of baby steps, hesitations, and gentle foot placements. I have not yet seen anyone else slip, however, besides my poor wife, who ended up on the ground, thankfully unhurt, just after I said "let's go this way, it seems less slippery...." And many people are pushing strollers, riding bikes, and jogging as if to defy the conditions.

As I walk the slippery slopes of Helsinki, I cannot help but imagine the windfall for personal injury lawyers if this were the US. Is that not a concern here? Another matter to explore.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Winter gravel time

There is no shortage of rocks in Helsinki. Granite sticks out from the ground all over; the city is famous for its solid bedrock.  Numerous old streets are constructed with cobble and paving stone. Many stone buildings from past and present times still stand solidly about. The more recent (1969) Temppeliaukio Church was even built into solid rock, and that's why it's known as the Rock Church (https://www.myhelsinki.fi/en/see-and-do/sights/temppeliaukio-church).

I like to imagine that all the little rocks strewn about in winter are locally quarried from what seems to be an endless supply…but let's just assume this common gravel could come from anywhere. And be spread anywhere.

A frequent winter observation is made on the gravel that Helsinki uses after a snowfall to pepper streets and especially the sidewalks -- or wherever it's assumed someone wants to move about. American tourists often wonder why Helsinki, which obviously must be accustomed to snow during the winter, does not clear its streets in the same way as is done in the US. Cities and towns in the US try to scrape all snow from streets and sidewalks, or from any surface where a car or person could possibly go. We scrape away until down to the surface, often aided by salt, sand, or fancy chemicals. A surface that is not completely clean of snow is considered a shame on city officials or homeowners responsible for the property. Compact snow (i.e., ice) on stairs causes murmurs of concern from passersby and gasps from those who need to navigate, especially down. Injuries are imagined, sometimes realized, and then recreated for lawyers and insurance adjustors.   

But not so in Helsinki. I know the slip-and-fracture rate rises at times here, yet it almost seems to be part of the risk Helsinkians are willing to run (or ride: I have never seen so many bicyclers pedaling away on conditions that render American bicyclists housebound).

In Helsinki, a lot of snow seems to get mushed up into long-lasting sludge or packed solid by tires or footfalls. And only then is it time to…spread gravel on it. Why the use of gravel in place of any other snow-fighting activity or material?

These stairs seem to be advertising for a lawsuit -- or maybe that is not the Finnish tradition as it is in the US. Or maybe it's a test for toughness because the Finns do pride themselves on their strong character ("grandpa can still get down those stairs if he just moves with determination"). Coupled with a strong desire to avoid corrosive or toxic substances. This may be it. But I find it very hard to give off the image of a strong character when I use both hands on the same railing and a sort of sideways shuffle to protect my pride if not my bones.

Helsinki life (still) under the coronavirus

 

My last blog post was way back on March 15, 2020 as the pandemic was getting serious, and I was preparing to get out of Finland. I ended that post ("Helsinki life under the coronavirus" -- https://hellinghelsingissa.blogspot.com/2020/03/helsinki-life-under-coronavirus.html) by saying "the following weeks should prove interesting." Little did I know how interesting. And little did I know that I would be back in Finland two years later…arriving during the Omicron crisis as the pandemic raged on. And, finally, little did I imagine taking up this blog again.

I debated whether I should. After all, life had really changed and was no near where the normal we once had. I could do a blog dedicated to how Helsinki is still doing under the coronavirus, but the thought of that theme depresses me. I decided I would take up this blog again, however, as long as I did not make the coronavirus the focal point. It's the new normal, and I cannot avoid the subject, but I will not let it take over all I do. So here goes. The blog continues for 6 months more.

Of course, my first entry on this non-virus-based blog has to touch upon the virus. I won't describe the problems of moving temporarily from the US to Finland during a growing Omicron wave because there are enough people writing about how simple things have become major undertakings. My first post will be how coronavirus has made it hard(er) for me to speak Finnish.

Do I speak Finnish well? If you can say a 3-year-old child in America speaks English well, I suppose I qualify, although I would not be able to win a debate with any 3-year-old Finnish toddler. But I am trying, and I have the desire this time in Finland to make a breakthrough. After all, I have been studying and practicing. On my first full day today in Helsinki, I needed to accomplish a simple task…and this time I was determined not to let the excellent English skills of most Finns in Helsinki deter me.

I needed to buy two temporary tram tickets called a day ticket (vuorokausilippu) from a local store, an R-Kioski, where one can buy such things and much more (which is maybe also a future topic). So, my verbalization could be quick and simple. I needed to say:

"Good morning, I would like to buy two day passes."

Which in Finnish is:

"Huomenta, haluisin ostaa kaksi vuorokausilippuja."

It is much easier than it looks for someone like me who has been, as you know, studying and practicing.

Out in public I go, all masked up with my N-95 and second mask firmly in place, for a three-minute walk to the nearest R-Kioski on a cold 20-degree morning. I am silently practicing in my head my one-line performance. After thirty seconds, my glasses are so fogged that I pocket them and continue walking even if now legally blind but at least able to distinguish light and large shapes. After four more minutes I enter into the correct store (I know I said this was a three-minute walk, but I added time to the journey by becoming legally blind en route). I carefully shuffle up to the counter where the clerk is waiting for me to make my wishes known. Here is my big chance to impress a Finn with my Finnish, what I have been working on for almost two years, and so I strongly squint my eyes somewhere in the direction of the clerk and say:

"Huomenta, haluisin ostaa kaksi vuorokausilippuja."

But it does not come out that way.

This was my first time to speak Finnish with a tight double-mask combination that restricted my jaw from opening more than 1/2 inch and muffled any sound coming out of my mouth. I had not studied and practiced under these conditions. What I said sounded more like this:

"Hoomoontoo, halooon oostoon kooky vookoolippooo."

The clerk looked perplexed, maybe even a bit worried about this blind man who was making odd noises -- the same reaction I used to get back when I first started speaking Finnish in Helsinki, before I learned that your Finnish pronunciation cannot stray from acceptable standards or else you are just making incomprehensible noise. Oh my….

Long story short: I got my tickets. I resorted to somehow saying in English DAY TICKETS loudly through my masks, and the clerk understood my muffled sounds -- as all Finnish clerks can, because muffled English is a lingua franca here where muffled Finnish just will not get you very far. Or any tram tickets.

I have some work ahead of me…but I will get back on the stage again.