When the sun is setting, between dusk and darkness, there is a moment when the light turns blue. And the world stops for a heartbeat.
Helsinki city centre is beautiful – when you remember to look up. Many of the buildings have interesting details, colours and statues, that you rarely notice. In all honesty, despite walking the same road twice a week for years, I still get surprised.
I am sure the styles have very important-sounding official names. I know none of them. But they are pretty.
There are many things that go through one’s mind when waiting for one’s child during a comic course.
Who decided that the only chairs in a waiting lobby should be bar stools with uncomfortable seats? For what purpose did someone originally design such an akwardly angled space only to add spectacular windows? How much work is enough work to not feel quilty about leaving early to drive your child to said course?
And most importantly: Is it inevitable that the comic course will always be scheduled at the same time as beginners’ orchestra practice?
Catching (almost) the blue moment among all the blue houses.
Very appropriate for this blog.
Alanna’s comic school is in a neighborhood called Karakallio. It’s a bit of a drive, so it makes sense for me to wait there for Alanna to be done. I typically spend at least part of the time walking around the neighborhood.
The most interesting part of the area is the large-scale murals decorating houses here and there.
It’s like a treasure hunt. Suburban version.
It’s a pity how rarely you actually go to any of the cool spots in Helsinki in your day-to-day life.
Foreign visitors are always a great excuse.
I have seen many world-famous churches with breathtaking decor on my travels – and yet there is none I like more than Tampere Catethdral.
When painting the church in 1904-07, Hugo Simberg (who just happens to be my favourite artist) broke all the norms. He painted a snake (the most evil of creatures) eating an apple in a prime spot on the ceiling, roses to symbolize earthly love, and – shock horror- 12 naked small boys (the apostles?) carrying the “Garland of Life”.
None of which you would call typical for its time.
My favourites, though, are the two more famous works on the walls: The Wounded Angel, lovingly carried by two peasant boys (note the factories in the background, placing the scene firmly in the industrial Tampere), and the Garden of Death. In the latter, the creatures of Death tenderly care for the delicate flowers, the souls of the departed.
This is so much more approachable and warm than the massive cathedrals in Europe built to inspire awe. Fits my small-scale view of life much better.
I love some of the new libraries in Finland. They are a far cry from the stereotypical dusty, dark rooms with a librarian angrily shushing every sound.
The library in Lippulaiva, the nearby shopping mall, is full of color, sounds and running children. There is a playground with a slide and a real car, a pool table, a few 3D printers, and a loom. There are soft armchairs, cushions on the floor, and several soft nooks tucked away in corners. And there are books that people (kids especially) actually want to read.
I sympathize with people who feel it is too much; that libraries should be quiet and calm, with a focus on education.
But I think reading should be fun.
On the drive to Haapsalu, we drove past a gorgeous ruin – I forced Stuart to turn around (in traffic) and go back. If there are ghosts, they would definitely live here! But we didn’t meet any. And we looked.
The girls, on the other hand, found their sense of whimsy in a museum/craft and playhouse based on illustrations by Ilon Wikland. I, especially, loved all the joyful images from Astrid Lindgren’s books. They took me straight back to my childhood. With rain pouring down, there was no-one else.
The magic uninterrupted.
We got an early start today due to a serious underestimation of how early one must book the ferry to Hiiumaa. Luckily, someone had come up with the idea of a few non-prebookable tickets.
But that gave us plenty of time to meander around the southern part of Hiiumaa. A short hike towards the southernmost tip, an old (sill functioning) wool factory, and a playground or two…
We decided to have a quiet evening and braai (BBQ) at the cottage – and luckily we did. The girls loved the place! The cottage looked like a pink Moomin house, with round walls, the main bedroom in a tower, massive cubby beds for the girls and an amazing floating sauna in the little pond. It even had a tiny playground.
The fact that it was totally impractical bothered only Stuart, who was cooking.
Ambling around Saaremaa gets you to some… interesting places.
Sörve Lighthouse and Peninsula were seriously majestic, albeit in a windy, rough and rustic way. But Sõrve Museum, with its three little “military, seafaring and natural history” buildings, was weird – in a good way. The themes were interpreted rather loosely, and included eg., material of Hitler and Occultism, and a wide selection of preserved bird feet.
And then there was the park with more than 300 stone sheep statues with strong political opinions. And the Viking playground. And the stone tree.
Kuressaare castle was cool, but quite ordinary castle… if you ignore the nun, the sceleton and the lions.
