for the beginning of Pääsiäisloma (Easter vacation), I made my way to Helsinki to which Brother Dear Bub came from Estonia. we spent a morning and afternoon wandering the sun-thawing city and talking of this and that and a late afternoon and evening wandering a darkening city with Jula (an exchange student from Argentina, and a lovely young man) as a guide.
as soon as Jula met us, he took us to the 'best place in Helsinki', a tiny coffeehouse on the sea. an unreal little red wooden cottage. a few people have been wondering how I managed to survive in a Nordic country for seven months without drinking coffee... and to them I have to say: I wonder too, now. I'm still not a coffee addict, but sitting there the sun, outside the impossible red cottage on a frozen inlet of the Baltic Sea, how could I take hot cocoa or tea with the mustikkapiirakka slice we shared? right, I couldn't. I have no idea if that coffee was good or not, but the two cups that I drank there shall remain in my mind forever as the epitome of coffees.
Bub and Jula afront the legendary red cottage. |
coffees and mustikkapiirakka. |
it was magical. |
would have been nice to be there on a windy day, I hear. |
our original plan to witness sunset at Suomenlinna was slightly delayed, so we explored the island fort in the dark. recalls George's Island. a bit. it was magical in the fresh darkness (stars were only just sprouting), and I would like to revisit it in the day.
the last of the light as we ferried islandwards. |
the next day we met up with Kate (Alaska) and Alexandra (Italy, my roommate from Lapland, whose sister and friends were visiting from Italy) and wandered the city some more before heading home.
Helsinki's tuning fork of a subway. isn't it adorable? |
since then, spring's hesitant approach towards Finland has accelerated remarkably. this week rain started coming. o, how I have missed the rain! there's nothing quite like coming out of school one day and smelling rain after a long winter... when everyone talks about looking forward to summer I can't help but nod and smile and wonder if that mixture of dread and longing that I feel about leaving here and going home can be called 'looking forward'.
a few days ago I got an email from AFS with my return flight information. looking at the date of my departure caused a sort of numb panic that (probably) had nothing to do with the fact that it is the day AFTER my visa expires.
time has gone so long in so little time, hasn't it?
VastaaPoista