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.