Helsinki Wrap Up

I have been bad at keeping these updated. But now, on the train from Stockholm to Copenhagen, I have lots of time to do them all – and then post them all in a flood of information. What fun!

Helsinki's Greatest Moments
I have a hard time really remembering Helsinki – nothing really stands out from the other capitals. There was the rock church, but even at the time I didn't think it that much more than any other church carved out of rocks (of which I've seen oh so many, in my day, you must understand.) The cemetery down by the water was pretty great. And so was the ability to see Tallinn, though one wonders if I should use the experience of seeing another country as part of the reason I liked Helsinki.

Helsinki's “I could do without” Moments
The baby screaming on the boat. Seriously mom, silence your child. Or atleast have the courtesy to show that you understand we don't all find it as bloody charming as you do. Effin' Velociraptors! I would have said the prices, but – hah – what I fool I would have been. I've since learned Helsinki prices are quite reasonable for Scandinavia.

Also – having to trek down to the central station for Internet? That could be done without. Though it didn't allow me to use it as a crutch either, so...

Helsinki's Moments to Return For
There is a lot of exploring to be done outside the city centre. And that's what I'd like to go back for. I'd like to grab myself a bus pass, and see just how far out the city extends.

What I'll Remember
The showers in the hostel. Sure the ones on my floor were broken – but high pressure, constant heat. They were fan-tastic.

Shout Outs
The delightful German
The Columbian who swears his country is safe... Well – kinda... Well -

Onward to Estonia

Well, today I'm off to Estonia – of course, by doing that it means I miss Finland's bigged comic book convention, being held ever so close to where I'm staying. When will I even get the chance to go to Finland's biggest comic book convention again? Mind you – when would I have ever got the chance to see Estonia again? So the choice really was a no-brainer – especially considering I had already purchased my ticket to Tallinna. I'm sure this was the best choice. Comics are all fine and well – but, travel...

Is it wrong that part of me wanted to see Estonia because that's where the little hobbit tells his parents that guy from The Mummy was from, after Pauly Shoare thawed him out of ice? What can I say, I take perverse delight from Pauly Shore movies, and the next time I watch Encino Man, and the Fat Hobbitses say “Uhh... Estonia, he's from Estonia,” I can say “I was there.”

Now, of course, this was all dependent on me waking up on time. And waking up on time was a sickeningly early 6:00am.

Upward and Onward
I fell asleep at 10:00 the night before, and as such found it quite disconcerting when I heard my new roommate (EuroHostel has two people rooms, rather than large dorms) scream, “boo!” at five in the morning. Hearing that word is more terrifying than anything you could imagine from watching early morning cartoons – and looking around, I saw nothing. He was not peering over me, ready to plunge a knife into my body, with accompanying slogans slurred in his British/Taiwanese accent. He still seemed to be in his bed, sleeping. So back to bed with me. Further shouts in his sleep assured me that this was simply a normal thing for him. And that, in and of itself, is not slightly bothersome at all.

I rushed out of the hostel, in order to make it to the ferry docks on time, noticing as I made my way towards the central station, that none of the traffic lights were on, nor were any of the walk signals. I can only assume that late at night Helsinki becomes a free-for-all on the roads, with whomever has the most powerful vehicle being named the winner.

The cathedral, whose step were always filled with tourists and locals alike was completely abandoned, and quite remarkable looking in the early morning light. Street sweepers were driving their tiny vehicles up and down the sidewalk, no doubt cleaning up after a late night. Only a handful of people occupied the streets – none of which seemed to be in any hurry to get anywhere.

I reached the station just after my bus, 15A, pulled into the station. Hopping on board I paid my 2.50 and took a seat, carefully following our progress on my map, lest I miss my stop. Of course this was all for naught, as the bus was a direct route, and had only one stop at which everyone poured out, heading to the ferry docks.

I'm on a Boat
Inside I wandered towards the Eckero Line check in booth, and waited twenty minutes for it to open. Once I reached the front of the line, I was told I already had a boarding pass and did not need to check in. Of course I didn't – why would I? That wouldn't make any sense at all. So onto the ship I crawled, which of course, left me with another question. What was I to do once on board? This wasn't a ferry – it wasn't designed to simply take people from one side of the waters to another. This was a full out cruise ship. The other passengers seemed just as confused as I did.

Having fully explored the inside and outside, I noticed that there were no plug sockets anywhere – yet there were television sets. Surely they must have been receiving power somehow? Of course – the sockets were mounted high on the wall. Now armed with this knowledge I started my search once more, and discovered one (one!) socket available for use. Quickly clamoring to that bench, I plugged in, and opened up my laptop. I have three games on it, and I'm sure I'll hate the – oh what the hell is this? A group of Spanish tourists just sat down on the bench opposite, and started to blare their cellphone's mp3 capabilities. Yes, please, at 8:00 in the morning, there's nothing I'd rather hear that your music. I'm sure everyone in this room really wants to hear what you think the latest hits of your country are. They're called ear buds. Honestly, is Canada just a country where we believe in not bothering other people – are we the aberrations? - anyway I'm sure I'll hate all the games by the time my three hour cruise to Estonia is complete. And just for added fun, I had an hour to kill before the ship even started moving.

It's not even worth considering the three and a half hour journey back yet, nor the fact that I don't have any Estonian money. All that will be dealt with in time, I'm sure.



To Old Town and Beyond (a little bit)
And all that was delt with. It turns out there was a lady more than happy to change my money on board the ship – and even if I had managed to miss her, I ran into an even happier lady, offering better rates. Such is life in the money changing business. Sure, I only missed out of 3EEK (about thirty cents) but that could have been a coin to add to my jangle jar. It's best to just leave that one alone for now.

So off I headed into Estonia with 75EEK to my name. I didn't think I'd really need more than five euros worth of money, as I'd only be there a few hours. Stepping off the ship I followed the crowd to Old Town, stopping for a moment at a souvenir shop to see if they had any stickers I could add to my laptop. I am trying to get one from each country, after all.

Unfortunately all the stickers were half the size of my computer, and as I was only in Estonia for a handful of hours, I didn't feel that it deserved that much real estate. That, and it would cost half the money in my pocket to buy it. Notes with 25 as a value, I like that. Who needs multiples of ten these day? What a mathematical wonderland international currency can be.

Stepping through the city gates I was immediately overcome with the feeling that, yes, this is what an Eastern European city should feel like. This was a foreign country without any doubt. And then I started to look around. Everyone had a camera around their neck. Everyone was looking around, craning their neck back as far as it could go. Everyone – so it seemed – was also speaking English.

Old Town Tallinn (whether there is an 'a' at the end of this word or not is a matter of much debate) may seem to hold everything you would expect from an Eastern European city, but it is more of a dream, than a reality; old town is a city closing its eyes and thinking back to a distant time when uneven cobblestoned roads were the height of technology, and city walls provided safety and comfort for every day citizens.

The only people here were those dressed in period costumes, leading tourists around by the numbered group, or selling roasted nuts from stands, talking on cellphones all the while.

The true city is, of course, outside the walls of Old Town, as much a metropolitan as any other nation's capital. But for the afternoon, I was willing to suspend my disbelief, half shut my eyes, and imagine myself in a different world. Where every other store was a souvenir shop now, I could only imagine what they once might have held. Every nook, every cranny, every tiny crawlspace I could picture children playing in, hiding in, and escaping from an unwanted eye within.

And the high grounds in the city? If you feel like climbing a number of stairs up up and up, you'll be rewarded with fabulous views over the Old Town, and the rest of the city. A map labeling all the lookout spots can be found in your free copy of Tallina Today, available from the information booth, and port. Or – you could just follow the large crowds of people.

Looking over the old city, allowing your eyes to play off the various spires, and red roofs below, streets crowding and emptying as walking tours pass by, you can certainly drink in the flavour of this wonderful place.

McDonald's... Refuge for the Disconnected
But then, as so many things do, it came crashing to a halt. I found myself outside of the McDonalds, situated right in front of the main gate. The Disney World shell fell away, and I was back in reality. Actually, I was inside McDonald's buying a Chicken, Bacon, Onion combo. I had apparently chosen the wrong line, because six people were served on either side before the manager realized the person serving the woman in front of me had just gone on break, without finishing the order. Teenaged girls – they're the same at every McDee's around the world, it seems.

And let me tell you, they are as easily frustrated. In placing my order, I asked for the combo, which I received. It came to 75EEk. I tried to hand over my money. She would have none of it. Did I want ketchup or mayonnaise she asked? Still I tried to just pay. The total was what I had – there was the money, thrust towards her seventeen year old hands, unsure of what to do as I'd not yet answered the question. Did I want mayonnaise or ketchup? O.K. - fine. I wanted mayonnaise. New total 81EEK. I didn't have 81 EEK! Couldn't she see I was trying to give her my only 75? Didn't she understand that this transaction should have ended moment ago? Now I had to tell her – stop – though I wanted mayonnaise, I've never been in a place that charges for it, or ketchup. In fact what is McDonald's international doing charging for something here that they give away in mass quantities elsewhere?

Her face moved from shock, to horror, to pure unadulterated anger – finally coming to a rest on disgust when I told her that I would like to cancel the mayonnaise. Was I sure? Did I understand that doing this was not the simple press of a button, but rather a series of buttons so beyond her blonde haired understanding that it would require the advice, mentorship, and shoulder to cry on of a manager? Was I aware that I had ruined her day, all for the price of 6EEK. Did I know what wrath I had just brought down upon myself?

Looking at her fuming in the corner, while the manager scanned cards, and entered secret codes, I certainly became aware. Still – if 75 is all you have, 75 is all you can pay. Certainly she could have fronted me the extra six. I would have paid her back next time I was in town. I'm good for it. Honest.

But no. There was no luck, and of course, no ketchup. McDonald's fries are nothing more than a vessel for that sweet sweet condiment, yet here I was eating them salted and unloved. (brief tangent: for those who find double salted liquorish disgusting, let me tell you – I found a pepper flavoured variety here in Finland.)

With my meal fully in my possession, and most likely glistening with international teenaged saliva, I made my way to a table, causing much concern to the three six year olds who were attempting to save it, by running one direction then the other, rather than just sitting down at it. Taking bite after bite of my international varient, I noticed everyone typing away on their laptops.

Well what fun that looked like, so out mine came, and – crash. I had caused mass damage to my Office Suite and would need to repair it. Except I didn't know how. Thirty minutes of research later, all was corrected by three reboots. Why three? I don't know. But crisis averted. I'd also managed to wait out the rain that began falling whilst I drank my super sized (read: medium in North America) soda.

And Back We Go
Back on the street, I took a final look around, and then made my way to the boat.

Had I seen Estonia? Had I even seen Tallinn? I'm not really sure. I've seen part of it, and that's something. Certainly I had an experience or two here – it was more than a airline stop over. So yes – I've seen part of the city, and a few meters outside the fantasized walls.

Now, it's back to Finland for a final sleep, before boarding a plane for Oslo Norway. I was in Finland this morning, Estonia this afternoon, and I'll be in Norway tomorrow. My life is... different now... though it's still mostly the same.

Night into Day

So, as it turns out, once you get to know someone, they're not really all that bad, are they? I had written an entirely different opening to this post, but after the last hour and a half I don't really feel that I should put it up. How about I just summarize it for you? A middle aged man was being – overly kind – to some Japanese girls, who, with awkward giggles and practiced shyness, avoided his advancements. There, the end. That's all.

Today was a laid back day. It wasn't the completely lazy day I had hoped for, though. I had to make my way down to central station to use the internet, and that was a few kilometers away. Around noon o'clock I started started out, entering, for the first time, the large church that I passed day after day. With its large red bricks, green roofs, and golden spires I had admired it from afar, but never taken the time required to simply step inside. Clearly I've been lazy. While it may not be carved out of rock, or have a skylight filling the room with His everlasting grace (or some other such thing) it was a remarkable building. It held some pretty peachy paintings, and a chandelier that captivated the attention of all those who stepped through the arch.

Removing my had, I crossed the threshold – this is a custom that I've never quite understood, and one that – looking at the tourists from today's cruise ship – often finds itself neglected. At least this church allowed photography, provided your flash was turned off. I understand that there may be some special significance about a church – but a building is a building is a building. If camera crews are allowed to come through for televised documentaries, surely there can be no harm in a quick picture or two.

And then I was off to the grocery store, located ever so close to the hostel. Day after day I had missed this nourishing oasis because of my desire to walk close to the water, rather than taking the most direct route. I bought some – what appeared to be ham and potato salad - unleavened bread, to eat it with (thank you Indian and Ethiopian restaurants for teaching me this trick), and a liter of orange juice. My body thanks me for the vitamin C boost, I'm sure. No scurvy here.

Somehow it sees that I am managing to stick to my 10CAD a day food budget, even here in the most expensive parts of Europe. We will see what Paris has to say about that, a few weeks from now. But I warn you Paris, I'm hip to the bread stick and cheese tricks that allow for so many students to walk away with full and happy tummies on a dime.

Back at the west side of central station, I connected to another wireless network. A good rule of thumb is if you can see the big Posti building, just find yourself a seat and all should be right and well in the world. After all, it has worked for me so far.

Sitting there on a bench outside a shopping plaza I was able to upload some videos to my youtube account. If you've only been watching the embedded videos, you'll not have noticed much, but if you go to the youtube page directly, you may start to see a project, of sorts, coming together. After checking my virtual farm, which I can't believe I'm still running, and seeing that the crops won't be ready to harvest until tomorrow, I packed up my bag and began heading home. This was to be the end of my day – of course it didn't play out that way.

On the street, I bumped into a Cuban I had met at the hostel. He had informed me that despite all appearances the people there are not happy, as they lack the one thing we all desire – freedom. So if you're ever in Cuba, and someone tells you they're happy – you look them right in the eye, and call them a liar. What could possibly go wrong?

Today, however, he informed me of a place, not at the next corner, but the one after the next, where I could book a day trip on a ferry to the city of Tallinna, in Estonia. Is there a chance that I will ever, of my own accord, plan a trip to that country? Probably not. But being here, and able to spend five hours there, for only 29euro round trip... how could I resist?

With ticket purchased, I was told that all I would need to do was simply take the 15A bus to the ferry docks tomorrow morning. How hard could that be? Surely I'd figure it out when I needed to.

But no, it is a lucky that that I rarely trust myself. Rather than assuming I know what I'm doing, I contradict my inner voice at every possible occasion. Instead of having it direct me back to the hostel for television, a shower, reading, and then early sleep, I convinced myself to head back to central station and try to make sense of things now.

Central station is a hodgepodge of shenaniginery the likes of which I'd never before seen. There are train tracks, dozens of them, bus terminals for out of city buses, tram stops, and inside? No help desk that I could discover. Instead there were shops, and restaurants, and manga being flung in my face to the squawk of “buy this, buy this” (or something like that – again, I can't speak the language here, and though everyone seems to speak English, no one comes at me with it.)

After much searching I discovered the bus would be waiting at platform 25, tomorrow morning. This is, of course, where I had started my search. Sure. Why not?

Now that I had located where I would board the bus, I had to figure out how to buy tickets. It was explained to me that you could buy them on the bus, without exact fare. I don't know if I trust this. I've never seen a bus that gives change. But it's what I was told, so I'll break some bills, and head in with that assumption. Perhaps some more orange juice would help solve a number of problems.

In theory, I will also need to take tram four from my hostel to the station – but not wanting to deal with anymore than I have to, I figure I'll just wake up extra early and walk. Estonia, here I come! Or will come, tomorrow – or have already come, by the time this is posted. Chronology is so skewed here. I feel like I should find two friends named Marle and Lucca – surely they'd help me resolve this perplexion. Or Glenn. Glenn could help too.



Now – back to the hostel, surely. Except for a brief stop in the park. And then a small stroll around. And then, of course a bench would lure me to its perceived comfort, for reading, and writing, and reminiscing about the day (my last full day in Helsinki, as it turns out.)

Eventually, I'm sure, I returned to the hostel and engaged in a relaxing activity of some sort or the other. I must have.

But if ever questioned about it, I'd never admit to watching “American's Best Dance Crew,” followed by, “Pimp my Ride,” with, “Cribs,” rounding out the trilogy. That, most definately, never happened. And if you say it did - well, I'll just have to sick a happy Cuban on you.

Less sun; Less grumpy

Alright – :my “first day in the country grumpiness” has left me, and I'm not ready to full enjoy all that Helsinki has for me. For the most part this will be the church carved into the rock. I have no idea what to expect from it, only that it's apparently a true sight to be seen.

And apparently the common room does get some traffic here – even if very little. I ended up chatting with a German for a good time about this that, and the other – he pointed me towards the church, explaining that it truly was a sight to be seen. And a Columbian, here to work on his PHD convinced me to check out the fortress island (though I do not know much more about that just yet.) While the common rooms may lock for “silent hours” at 11:00pm here at the EuroHostel, there is a trick – if one person remains inside, they can open it for any and all newcomers.

Off to face the world then. Free wi-fi may have failed me at the park, but I hear there's a mall around offering much the same. Maybe they'll have a 1euro shop too?

It did not – but we'll get there, in time. Paragraphs and paragraphs; time and time. Or something to that effect. I'm not really sure, aside from the fact that this was not the restful day I had desired, but in no way hoped for.

Breakfast was held at the market by the pier. Every day numerous tents set up here selling trinkets, souvenirs, handicrafts, and – most importantly – food. I did not pay attention to the offerings when I passed by yesterday, but giving a wiser eye to the signs, I noticed that my desired reindeer was on the menu. I'm sorry Rudolph, but it's time for you to join the puffin, the whale, and all the rest in the zoo in my belly.

Served in a small pan, with potatoes, pickles, blueberry sauce, and fried onions it looked like not a lot of food. I thought that I would be hungry immediately following my rapid consuming. Halfway through the magical flying quadrupeds (all reindeer can fly, you understand, that's why they have their legs clipped at zoos. So they don't fly away.) and its vegetable companions I found myself having to force every following bite. Delicious, indeed – and also quite filling. A perfect meal of the day.

From the market I headed to the mall, halfway across the city. This was to be my big mission of the day. Disappointment doesn't begin to describe it. It's all clothing shops, and skateboard shops, and shops to by clothes for skateboarding. There were no dollar stores offering my discounted foods or drink, and the free internet was part of an overpriced cafe on the fifth floor. For those who do like shopping though, I'm sure that this would be a great venue. There are a number of shops, and the basement is part of a transit terminal offering all number of restaurants for the hungry businessman and over-encumbered consumer alike.

Once more, I set out into the day. This time finding myself strolling down different streets than yesterday, and wondering just how I had missed the inconceivable amount of record shops, music stores, rock shops, and other head banging related venues. In twenty minutes I must have passed at least three of each. Tattoo parlors? Also as numerable – though where they were yesterday? I haven't the faintest. Certainly not here. That would just be crazy.

As I neared the granite church I sighed the sigh of all foot-based tourists. I had reached the destination just in time for, not one – not two – not three – but four tour buses to pull up and ruin the view. Out from each a gaggle of Finns, Asians, or north Americas. All at once the serene moment exploded into cacophony of people asking for photos taken, stumbling bumbling apologies as elbows were bumped and eyes glanced anywhere but ahead. And as they finally left, another tour bus pulled up. During the transition, I saw my chance for a clean photo, took it, and then left.

It's an interesting place, I'll give it that – one of the most keen churches I've ever seen – but when someone tels you it's carved out of rock you start to imagine Petra, and that it was not. Still – I'm glad to have seen it, if only to not regret having missed it. That, and the gift shop there was able to sell me a Finland sticker to affix to my laptop.

On the far west side of Helsinki there is a cemetery. It's located right along side the ocean, and it might just be one of the most beautiful walks one can take in the city. Strolling through rows and rows of tombstones, you are overcome by the variety of flowers, and the various statues adorning certain sites. It seems about one percent of the stones has a beautiful, well crafted, statue adding to the variety and splendor of the stroll. And then, just like that you're off to the beach, striding across sand, looking out at the horizon, and the power lines, which manage to come across artistic, rather than gaudy. From the beach, you can see the cemetery where, high above on the cliff, mourners and lecherous onlookers can watch the bathers, as they throw themselves again and again into the waves.

And this is where my day was set to end. This was my last planned journey, however Helsinki holds many secrets, and it seems that I would not be let, so easily, to rest. First – I discovered a free open network accessible from a bench just to the west of the Central Station. There I was able to get up to date, and finally reply to emails which, after only two days, have been piling up. I worry about what will happen when I'm in Antarctica for two weeks, completely off the grid.

As I was on this bench, minding my own business, typing away – facing a building no more than ten meters away, you understand – a car whizzed by me, startling me and pulling me back to my corporeal surroundings. Shaken I looked around, no one was giving a second look. Five minutes later this happened again. No come on, Finland, this can't be right. I get it, I'm bound to be hit by a bike or two, as they feel the sidewalks are theirs and that pedestrians are nothing more than a slow moving nuisance, but these cars – really? I watched as they drove off the sidewalk, over a zebra crossing, only then joining the road. There is no way this is alright – but, once again, no one gave it a second look.

Internet, internetted, I returned to my walk back to the hostel – being pulled away once more by the sounds of bass thumping music, and a crowd gathering on the side street. It seems that a clothing store had decided to put on an impromptu fashion show, out into the middle of the street, for people to come and watch. The models were the store employees, doing their very best, and succeeding quite well, except for the half hearted smirk on their faces.

But not even this could fully hold my attention, for the frosh were back – and this time, they had beers. Where there are frosh, and alcohol, there is almost always nudity. Ergo, I was not surprised when some of them jumped into the main fountain by the docks, shedding most of their clothing as they went – or all in one poor souls case. Luckily his friends were there to collect it for him – and then toss it high atop the sculptures head, forever out of reach. Once out of the pond, girls hooding wrapped around himself, he drunkenly continued on his quest – whatever that might be, underwear flapping with the passing breeze.

There was also a man with a box on his head, looking on. I don't know. I really don't.

No Internet in Helsinki

There's no internet in Helsinki. Well, I mean there is – it's just not practical (read: free). And is that my first reaction to such an excellent European city? Yes. Yes it is. From this point on I will judge every city based on its willingness to get down on one knee and serve me. Are washrooms free? You get a point. Are washrooms everywhere? Another point. Does your tourist information centre locate itself in a place where I can find it, and then shower me in maps and other useful information such as walking tour plans? More points for you – but most importantly, can I access free internet? This is the big one. Five points for this category. It's possible for a city to pass my test without meeting this qualification, but just like in the game of Quiddich – you better pull way out ahead first if you miss this one.

And I'm not saying that wi-fi networks exist, because they do – everywhere. But more on this later.

My First Day in Helsinki
Today was supposed to be a day of rest, but then yesterday turned into a day of “on the bus, off the bus, on the plane, off the plane, repeat, cab, check in, done.” And as such I was in no mood to stay still. My knees will be cross with me, but Helsinki is a much bigger city than one might think, looking only at the city centre. And sure, it has buses, but – please – that's no way to explore. That's a way to get from point A to point B missing everything in between.

At 11:00 I managed to pull myself from my hostel, having properly showered and put on the same clothes for the second day in a row. No one saw me wear them yesterday, so I reckon that I should be good. They may smell a little, but living in hostels, everyone has their own smell – your job? To not be the worst of the lot. Though I have clothes for about seven days, I'm trying to get three rotations out of each set before throwing them in the laundry bag. The only real downfall for this are my shorts – of which there is but one pair. Mistakes were made.

Out on the street, I headed down to the water, and began following it into town. Two cruise ships were in port, and I didn't – for a second – wish I was on them. They're fun, but they're definitely a different kind of fun. A kind where permanently drunk passengers gorge themselves on all the food they can eat, spending a moment here, or a moment there at port. My life, right now, is nearly the opposite. I eat when I can, I hardly drink, and I throw myself into the city, like Justin Lukatch into a Zorb.

My first point of interest was the Senate Square and Cathedral. Like all important landmarks in Europe that I pass, it was under construction. This seems to be the way of things. And it begs the question, if everything is always under construction where do the photos come from that adorn the brochures I receive?

Under construction or not, the cathedral was a spectacular sight. And that's something every city needs. The more I travel, the more I start to feel the sameness of the world. Sure there's a nice park over here, but there are similar parks in other cities – and, alright, it's on the water, but there are hundreds of cities built on the water as well. Without these striking landmarks to remind you that, hey! you're not at home anymore, it would be easy to misconstrue the whole urban world as one long onward reaching expanse. That, and they let you know where you are, when you'd otherwise be lost.

Walking on once more, I marveled at just how well built Helsinki is for pedestrians. There are walking paths everywhere throughout the city, and cobblestone roads that break off from the ones paved for traffic. It was about this moment that I was almost hit by a car. You see, those cobble stone roads that are nary wide enough for a bicycle, let alone a car, are indeed for traffic. No they are not marked, and no they do not look a thing like most of the other roads, and yes they are surrounded by shops – but no – those roads are for cars, and those cars will aim to take you out the moment you so foolishly invade their turf.

Ha ha! The joke was on them though, as I managed to jump off that cobblestoned suicide street back onto the sidewalk, laughing heroically as I did so. It was at this point that I almost got hit by a bike. Ringing their bell with all the anger their thumb could muster, I was nearly run over not once but twice, as the bikes attempted to secure me in a pincer attack. But I was no fool, I avoided their blitzkrieg and once more landed safely on the sidewalk. For real this time.

At last safe, I began walking down the street, passed the central station (also under constructions, of course) and ran into a man whose body rested at a precarious angle on a low brick divide. It's hard to describe just how he was resting, and putting up a picture would be nearly as uncouth as having taken one, so I will try my best. His arm rested flat on the divide, yet his head was bent backwards over it. His legs? They were arcing out and down from his core, yet not managing to touch the ground. He looked like a dead villain in a video game with rag doll physics problems, because no body could ever come to stop like that. But is had.

I didn't want to leave him, but I didn't know what to do. At first, to be honest, I thought he might have been dead. But his feet and fingers twitched so there was, at least, some life. I could not speak the language, nor did I have a cell phone (or number to call if I did – 112 I later discovered.) Another man stopped, and called an ambulance, and together we helped stand the man up (who immediately crumpled to the ground, once more with poor rag doll physics) and lay there for some time. Twenty minutes later, after – apparently – saying to leave him there, he asked to be sat up, which we – again – assisted him with.

Now I don't know what was going on, or how this man was prioritized, but if I was injured, I hope that I never have need to call an ambulance. Thirty minutes after they were called the EMTs arrived. They loaded him into the ambulance on a stretcher, and that was the end of that. All I could do was continue to walk towards Olympic Stadium.

It was the first Olympic stadium I had ever seen, despite there being two in my home country. Unfortunately due to the women's soccer finals the tower, offering a view over the city, was closed.

There are so many open spaces here, so many public parks, paths around the water, and places to just be alone with a book, or loved one, or – as most people seem to have – a fold out keyboard texting phone. Of course this was the first day that I choose to leave my phone behind.

Somewhere between the closed amusement park, and the edge of the water, I came across a grocery store. The prices were much more reasonable than the ones in Iceland, and the beer – the beer was practically free. Well, not free, but only one euro a bottle – and judging by the amount of people drinking on the streets, or in the parks, enough of it was sold to keep this profitable. Of course this would be the time I'm staying in a hostel without a real common room, or easy way to meet people.

Having stolen internet for a few moments from a random network, I quickly googled “free wifi in Helsinki” and discovered there was an open network in one of the parks near the tourist centre. However, the website warned, the signal was very weak. Still – I would make my way there to see what I could do.

Just entering the park I was assaulted by a parade of Wookies led by Greenpeace protesters, apparently enraged at the treatment of individuals from Khashyk, or something to that effect. I can only hope they don't try freeing any monkeys infected with Rage, or something to that effect.

Passing that by, I tried multiple times to connect to the open networks, failing, and failing, and failing, and finally just giving up. Still – the walk to the park did allow me to see some rather delightful parts of the city's public space, as well as all number of froshies doing what froshies around the world seem to do – perform silly stunts and get drunk.

And that was that. Six o'clock, back to the hostel, with ideas of what to do in the future here (most notable the granite church which a tour guide in Iceland told me about). Perhaps tomorrow I'll finally take that day off.

Leaving Iceland

7:00 – wake up to the alarm

7:30 – check out of the hostel

8:00 – walk to the BSI bus terminal

8:30 – arrive at the bus terminal to be told you just missed it – but the next one will be by at...

9:30 – board the bus to KEF, and watch the landscape go by for, possibly, the last time (It looks a lot like Newfoundland – small houses, down by the ocean, built on rock.)

10:10 – check in and set my bags on course for Helsinki

10:20 – realize the 341ISK I still have left is useless. Even a Hot Wheels car costs 499.

10:25 – start the long hike to the terminal, watching the staff go by on scooters (stopping only once to check out the amazing 66 degree North ads for the last time.)

11:00 – pass out on a bench, using carry on as most uncomfortable pillow ever

11:20 – wake up, freak out, see time, calm, set alarm, pass out

12:30 – wake up to the alarm, see someone from hostel on same flight, look over Europe on a Shoestring and try to find how to get to Helsinki hostel from airport (with limited success.)

12:45 – board aircraft (it is confirmed I am in business class. My seats are nicer, my laptop has a universal power plug ready for it – that at the moment is cutting in and out, strangely – and all the people around me are texting on Black Berries, or being old and snooty with the oversized papers obnoxiously unfolded. I will miss this proverbial high life. Or, in this case, is it literal? - I'm sorry.)

1:37 – I have nothing but time now. Two and a half hours on the plane, with a laptop, and a copy of Short List (the magazine for men with more than one thing on their mind.) I wish it was a Sky Mall – because I would have plenty of material to mock there – but no, short list will have to suffice. You may want to skip the next few pages of text, as it may rot your brain as much as it has rotted mine. Just for your information, I'm trying once more to watch Live Free, Die Hard.

Short List
Les us flip open short list, and skip to their top 10 lists. Their totally un-researched lists that I disagree with most intensely. Shall we explore this one together? I think that would be a most delightful exercise.

The Least Terrifying Film Villains and Ghouls
1. Jareth the Golbin King. Look, I'm sorry – but there really are few things more terrifying than David Bowie's groin, hardly contained within his ultra tight silver pants. Goblin king or not, that image alone would haunt whomever saw him. Add baby stealing to his rap, and he is not such a good egg.

2. Zombies (Any Movie) – and I quote this now, before I get to my rage, “We're filmmakers and we want to create the scariest movie monster possible, so let's make them slow, stupid, and so loud you can hear them coming. Rubbish. Just walk briskly and you'll be fine.” Can we explore this a little bit? First off, they specify any movie. There are a number of videos with terrifyingly fast zombies that you can not avoid. But even the small ones, in large numbers, always gang up. And the horror of having to kill your own wife, children, friends, and family – that's not terrifying to you people at Short List? And furthermore, everyone who dies comes back. Even if you manage to live, eventually you become one. Really wrap your mind about zombies and you'll see they are the most terrifying thing imaginable.

3. The Blob – alright, fair enough.

4. Simon Gruber – this is true too. After the first Gruber Simon is a chump. Maybe the good people are on to something.

5. Triffids – o.k. look, i get it, they're plants. But they're plants that made the whole world blind, did they not? That's not power?

6. Goldfinger – M'eh this one is hit or miss, but he's not supposed to be terrifying. This would be like saying those Martians from the Muppet's Movie were the least terrifying villains. This guy was never trying. It's not wrong, as much as it's just lazy.

7. Jabba the Hutt – Come on! This is the leader of an international crime syndicate. This is a guy who had the sister of a Jedi Knight as a sexual slave – amongst other such things. This is a guy who turned Darth Vader's robots into his personal servants. THIS is a guy that capture Han Solo. How is he not terrifying? He almost killed Skywalker, allowing for a reign of terror across the galaxy. Put some thought into this people.

8. The Joker – that's it. I'm done here. Do I never need to explain why the Joker is terrifying? If we're keeping to movie, then – The Dark Knight? That was pure terror. And if we go to comic books... he rapes, and then paralyzed Bat Girl while taking pictures all the while, to show her father (the police commissioner.) I don't understand how they can even think of adding him to this list. He's not scary because his makeup looks more like an “alcoholic grandmother”? That's hardly valid – because an alcoholic grandmother would, likewise, be terrifying! “Give us a kiss sonny boy!” and then there's tongue.

9. Mr Pink – Aww, leave Steve Buscemi alone. He tries hard. It's not his fault he's so neurotic.

10. Mummies (various films) – Alright, this is true, but how often are they villains, and how often are they creatures of circumstances? Think of the recent Mummy movies. Was he really a villain? People woke him up and robbed him. All he wanted was his girlfriend back – whom he was murdered for loving. He's more of a tragic character than a villain.

That is all. Back to Die Hard now. Ohh lunch!

A new list! This one talks about monsters, and is mostly alright, except for, in my opinion, where they rip on The Balrog from Lord of the Rings. Look, I don't love Lord of the Rings, I actually find is quite trying, but I do find facts important. It's stated here that “it can be beaten by an old man who looks like a roadie who sorts it out with his walking stick. It fell off a bridge – the Balrog was clearly an idiot.”

First off, the Balrog was not beaten by an old man. Gandolf is not, and never was, a man. Gandolf is as old, if not older than the Elves. And he did not use a walking stick. It was one of only six (I think?) wands to make their way across to Middleearth. As for falling off a bridge – that didn't kill the Balrog. Gandolf and the Balrog battled for weeks after that fall.

I know I just nerded out a lot, especially for someone who only happened to read a wikipedia entry a few weeks ago, but still – disinformation serves no one.

This list does reclaim itself by listing the tenth monster as Margaret Thatcher, and claiming that she “had a similar effect on cities as Godzilla” though.

Man this Kung Fu chick in Die Hard doesn't quit. Good thing she's a chump and doesn't confirm her kills, otherwise America would be truly doomed.

4:17 – whoops, time zome change

6:17 - arrived in Copenhagen (which does not have any double letters, regardless of how many times I think that it should.) I was told that my baggage was checked all the way through to Helsinki, and that since I had a boarding pass I did not need to go to the transfer centre. I find it a little disconcerting to put my trust in a system notorious for losing baggage, especially when – once again – I forgot to keep my extra set of clothes in my carry on. One and a half more hours until my plane boards, and then even more until it finally leaves. I wonder if I'll still be in business class, or kicked back with the peasants (oh how fast we adapt.) On another note – the washrooms in Copenhagen Airport smell of urine, as the urinals do not flush, they simply let gravity do the work for them. Environmentally friendly and cost efficient? Sure – if you want peoples first impression of your country to be “Wow, it really smells like urine here.” Luckily my first impression was based off of a green roofed castle built against a pond that I saw while flying in. I'd love to know what it was. There was also a huge bridge that led to nowhere – the middle of the ocean. I'll have to google map that and investigate. There was also a tiny (actually rather large) island with one house on it, and a boat headed towards it. I'd like to know more of that as well.

6:25 – regret not bringing my battery charger in my carry on to juice up the Aas. began, once more, to read my book (Unlikely Destinations – for those whom are curious.)

8:20 – Flight takes off. Gone, it seems, are my spacious seats off to join the masses then, on the Scandinavian Airlines section of my flight. Or perhaps not. No one being beside me gives me ample room.

8:50 - It seems there is yet another perk. No one behind me has any food brought to them, while myself and those in front of me are fed. Interesting.

10:35 – We have jumped ahead another hour due to time zones. No wonder the short flight wouldn't get me in until so late.

10:45 – Luggage in hand, and no customs to clear, I decide that being in a new country well past dark is too terrifying for me to wing along (I am not that well travelled yet, you see. Perhaps I'll look back on this and scold myself.) I take the cab from the airport with two others.

10:50 – six more people crowd in filling all seats, and overflowing the luggage hold. I secure three bags, lest they fall on me with every left turn. With every right turn I'm tempted to leg go, crushing the person beside me, if she's not as valiant as I. I do not.

12:00 - I check into the hotel They are two person rooms, and come with a large locking closet. However, what it doesn't come with is free Wi-Fi. I could purchase it for 15 euros, but – instead – I'll see if I can't find it for free somewhere. This could really mess up my game. 15 euros for four days of internet may not sound like much, but it's a good meal – or three days of meals the way I foolishly eat when I travel. Something to think about.

12:30 – not really tired, but aware that I should sleep if I want to explore tomorrow, I tuck in for the night. I'd love to see the boats in the harbour that I passed on the way here.