Hullut Päivät, Circus Pigs, Black Superman and WTF???

Have you ever have a day so full of WTF?!?! that you were expecting a TV crew to pop out from behind a tree at any second screaming "Smile, you're on America's Most Candid Punk'd Videos!" Well that was my day on Saturday -- hopefully the photos will do it justice.

It all started innocently enough. The plan was to hit up Stockmann, Helsinki's major department store, for Hullut Päivät, aka Crazy Days. It was exactly as promised -- insane. The entire population of Helsinki jam-packs into the 10-story (or so) block-long brick building, shopping 'til they drop for not-as-ridiculously-overpriced-as-usual, but-still-waaaaaaay-too-expensive products. Imagine Black Friday in America lasting a full week at Saks Fifth Avenue in NYC.

Anyway, they had a mascot!!! Fun!!!

Next on the agenda was to visit Suomenlinna, a historic island fortress off Finland's coast, known for its World Heritage status. But the island has been on the agenda for the last four weeks now, and something always keeps us from actually getting there. This time, we had time restraints and weather issues working against us, but I *will* visit that island this month. Oh yes. I will.

In lieu of sightseeing, we hit Cafe Esplanad, my favorite, albeit touristy, coffee place because a) they have pastries the size of my head (mmmmm) and b) it's the only place I've found that will make me a latte with hazelnut flavoring. (I miss you and your sweet coffee, America.) We grabbed a table outside, which is right when the hidden camera show struck again.

They know where you live.

Hamming it up for the camera. Yuk, yuk, yuk.

Why is this kind of thing always more surreal when you're traveling??? Apparently, this was some sort of circus group promoting their upcoming show. It was more terrifying-eat-your-children vibe than charming circus performers, but hey, maybe that's just my downer American take on things.

So after that cavalcade of characters, we decided to walk around a bit, hoping all the madness had passed. It hadn't.


Cue this tightrope-walking Superman dude who just hangs out and randomly does... this... and expects money for it. He's pretty synonymous with the city center, so I guess it made sense we saw him next.

People call him the Superman Lover.

And then another slice of crazy appeared, this time with a puppet scarier than Chucky:

By now, we were really close to Aussie Bar (shocking), where I had left my camera case a few nights prior. We figured we'd just check to see if they had it (omg - they did!!!) and have a beer. This is when we met these crazy Jackass-style gents, who immediately began their Johnny Knoxville-esque stunts like hanging from chandeliers and slip-and-sliding across the bar, stomach first. (Ummm... Ashton.... have we been Punk'd yet???)

And since I have adopted a Yes Man-type attitude in Helsinki, when they invited us to a house party that evening, I had to accept. On the way, they wanted to stop at a secondhand store called Uff . (Sidenote: This place is the Dechoes of Helsinki and there are five locations!!! I am in looooove.) They played a game where they each had three minutes to find a new outfit, max price of 17 euros. (This is where I politely declined. Only three minutes to shop? You've got to be joking.) They came out with shiny new outfits and we proceeded to the party.

This is where the photos will have to take over. (Also, I am horrible with names in America. In Finland, I am freakin' clueless.)

Green was his color (that's a lovely new dress, btw):


This dude's catch phrase: "I'm a kitty cat." (Family Guy reference.)

This is Anders. I remember his name because of his uncreative parents (bonus points if you can guess his last name!):

?????



??????



They kept telling me how they weren't gay, but kind of wished they were. I took that as my cue to leave. :)


But, yeah, just another boring Saturday in Helsinki. What did you guys do???

Month-end Highlights, Accomplishments and Random Tidbits

Well, it’s been a whole month here in Helsinki. What’s going on with me? Thought you’d never ask!


I finally learned how to pronounce my street name - Jääkärinkatu! Yay! Not an easy Finnish word to start off with, but now I’ve got it down. (Pronounced Yah-kah-reen-kah-too. But quickly. And with a Finnish accent.) Up until now, when someone asked me where I live, I was advised to say Jäger Street and people would get the point. (It was true, they all figured it out.) On a semi-related note, I’ve probably drank more Jäger in Finland than the past five years combined. I guess I live on the right street.

I've found my favorite Finnish phrase. Ok, so it's less like a phrase and more like a few Finnish words put together: “kaksi yksi yksi.” It sounds like “coxie, ooksie, ooksie” and I am in lalalaloooooove. I heard this on a commercial and was dying to know what it meant. Turns out, it’s not so exciting: “two, one, one.” (It was the announcer saying a phone number.)

Yay for laundry! Stoked to have a washing machine in my apartment, but seriously miss having access to a dryer. Especially for my jeans.

Got myself connected... sort of. I was cell phone-less for awhile, and relying on Facebook to try to make plans with people, which didn't work out so well. The upside: not having a phone number when random dudes ask for it at bars, on trains or while randomly crossing the street (true story). But no more - now I have a Zach Morris-style cell phone from the ‘90’s. Ok, maybe it’s a tad more updated (circa 2005ish), but it can send faxes! Ha! (And I still don't know my phone number, so I have a good excuse if I need it.)





I've officially realized I “live” here, rather than just taking a vacay. The realization kicks in a bit more every time I have to take out the garbage (which was a surprisingly difficult task to figure out, btw), wash my dishes and clean the bathroom.

I have turned into an eavesdropper! Any time I hear anyone speaking English, my ears perk up and I am immediately immersed in their convo and trying to place their accent. It’s a fun game.

Finnish does not equal Espanol. Speaking of languages, Spanish is the only one I even remotely understand (un poquito), so my brain will start tricking itself into thinking I’m hearing words I understand in Finnish. A good example was when I overheard a co-worker mention vessaan, which in the context of the sentence sounded like cerveza. “Oh, are you guys going for beers?” asked the silly America. “No, she’s going to the bathroom.” D’oh.

Dread mustaches are fun.

Finns don’t say anything if you sneeze. Since our office is 100% communal (and you Bonnier Corp. kids thought you had no privacy in your cubes!) it always weirds me out when someone sneezes and no one says anything. Not “Bless You,” not “Jesus,” not “You are soooooo good lookin’ “ -- nothing. For a country that isn’t overly religious, it makes sense, but I guess I thought they would at least say “kaksi yksi yksi” or something.

The artist formerly known as dissing Finland has done it again. The Prince concert was “postponed” aka cancelled. Boooo!!! Apparently he does this to the Finns every time. I’m starting to understand why they feel like the red-headed stepchildren of Scandinavia.

I haven't traveled yet but... Ticket to Stockholm is officially booked, and St. Petersburg is in the works! Boo-yah!

Sorry I haven’t been writing -- that crazy thing called life gets in the way. I have a bunch of drafts started, though, so stay tuned! Miss you all!!!

Finland’s Version of Big Brother Comes with Boobs, Bad Tattoos and Leg Shaving?

Big Brother is quite possibly America’s most boring and pointless reality show, and I’ll never understand why people watch it. (For the record, I used to love The Real World.) The Finnish version, on the other hand, shows boobs! Full nudity, to be exact. And we’ve been watching the girls taking showers and rinsing each other off for the last half hour here in the office. (Happy Friday!)

MTV3 produces the show and I’m pretty sure a lot of the people I work with are somehow responsible for it, probably by reporting what happens online. (Still trying to get a handle on what everyone does, obvs.) The show is aired 24 hours a day (bo-ring!) so even at 3 AM you can numb your brain watching self-centered 20-something Finns discuss mundane topics. (Or maybe you can watch them sleep. Or screw. I have no idea.)* Not speaking Finnish, I never know what’s happening in the house, but it looks pretty lame. Although, if there’s one thing that can break a language barrier, it’s full-frontal nudity.

Time spent getting naked = 0.5 hours.

Time spent laying around, drinking and having deep, woe-is-me discussions = 23.5 hours.

Here’s how it all went down: the guy sitting across from me gets a phone call and jumps up to to change the TV station from music videos to the Big Brother channel. (BTW, we watch music videos all the time, here. Artists in heavy rotation include Adam Lambert, Backstreet Boys and Lady Gaga.) Cut to: girls in the bathroom wearing bikinis and contemplating showering (I think. I’m drawing my own conclusions). Most are thin and cute but there is one older, larger lady who -- of course -- is the first one to strip totally naked and start scrubbing herself down. Eww. Another girl follows suit also and lathers herself up. (The guy in my office is practically drooling on the phone, seemingly happy by this. Again, eww.) All kinds of private, showering moments are happening -- like shaving vajayjays, which I don’t find particularly hot -- and are now fully broadcast for the world (well, all of Finland anyway) to see.

The most disturbing part of all this is not the nudity, or the fact that I am an uptight American who isn't comfortable watching naked chicks showering ... with my co-workers ... while we’re AT WORK! ... or even the Finnish comments being made by the guy sitting across from me that I don’t technically understand, but understand all too well. No, none of that is as bad as the full back tattoo on one of the naked girls. A full back tattoo of... Michael Jackson. (!!!!!)

Now, I love MJ more than most people and I am all for, um, how you say? ... yes, tasteful tattoos honoring musicians (except the Dave Matthews Band), but I can’t imagine living with this atrocity on my body. It’s b&w and memorial-style, with two images of post-plastic surgery Michael; above him are clouds and sun rays... or something? Heaven shining down on him, I guess. Bottom line: it’s really, really bad. Like, distracting from full nudity bad. And if you’re going to get an MJ tattoo, why would you pick the creepy, nose-falling-off, possible child molestation days to immortalize on your body? Hmmm... Thriller MJ or Invincible MJ? Tough decision.

This is the only photo I can find, which doesn’t do this monstrosity justice:

The "heaven" part of the tattoo -- the opposite of heavenly.

Update: Ok, I found a more revealing photo, if you will. You still can’t see MJ’s face, but you get the point:

Nope, not awkward at all.

(More NSFW photos here. Even some of the ladies shaving... their legs. And PS to all the chicas out there, wouldn't this be a sitch where you would skip the shaving? Forreal.)

Another update: bad tattoos seem to be a theme in this house. Check out this douche:

Look out, Jersey Shore! Niko is the new situation!

Even more updates: shaving is also a theme. Must be a (bored) European thing?

Ummm.... ??? Where do I begin?

Ok, researching these photos has just led me to a slew of others. I probably should quit while I'm ahead.

Yep. Still speechless. The circus comes to mind, though.

Gay or European? Truth or dare? Just bored? The jury is still out.

*Holy crap!!! I just realized it costs almost 40 euros to subscribe to the Big Brother channel!!!!! WTF is wrong with people?!?!? To be fair, at least it's more interesting than psycho pastors burning religious books. Oh, Florida. All I do is defend you and you keep letting me down. Not cool.

Grocery Shopping in a Faraway Land

On my third full day in Helsinki, the harsh reality set in that I can no longer afford to eat out every night. That means…. drumroll, please… a trip to the local grocery store, Alepa. Rather than overcomplicate things, I went with the college tactic of survival foods: simple items that are cheap, fast and versatile. Bread, cheese, butter, eggs, cereal, milk = eggs and toast for breakfast, grilled cheese for lunch and cereal for dinner. Maybe not the most nutritious, but it works for now.

The grocery store experience seemed so harmless at first, with the produce aisle luring me in. “Oh, hello, avocados! I know what you are! No problem, I got this,” I thought to myself as I confidently entered the store. (Dear silly American, note #212: You are supposed to weigh your produce and print out a UPC to take to the cashier.)

Things got a little more complicated in the cheese aisle – dozens of choices, at least twice as many as a the average American grocery store. No matter how long I stared, I couldn’t decipher between feta, gouda, havarti and the other bazillion options. Luckily I found a pack of slices – perfect for grilled cheese – conveniently labeled ‘cheddar.’ Done.

I sensed trouble when I hit the bread section. Not only do I panic about the high caloric content and ingredients in American bread (seriously, does everything have to contain high fructose corn syrup?) but now I didn't even know what kind of bread I was buying. At this point, unless I wanted to ask someone to for help – as an independent woman, that is definitely not one of my strong points – I was forced to become a slave to marketing tactics, and base my purchases solely on packaging. Are consumers really more likely to buy products based on colors, images and graphic design? In this case, yes. Yes I was.

I bought the bread I thought was whole wheat based on the light and dark brown color combos (vs. the blue on the other package – rye, perhaps?) and imagery of wheat fields on the side. The butter I chose had a green label and a heart logo, which my brain processed as “heart healthy.” I bought something in a blue carton I assumed to be milk, because it said 1% on the label. (If there was a fat-free variety, I couldn’t tell.)

Me = clueless.

The toilet paper with a cute li’l lamb on the side with a pink and green butterfly design won my approval, all because my stupid womanly hormones simultaneously kicked in and said “Awwwwwe!”

Now with more Soft & Caring!

And finally, the dumbest (but most delicious) decision I made was reverting back to my youth and buying cereal with the Nesquik bunny. There were all kinds of Müesli-esque options, but this was the least intimating, the most safe and definitely the least healthy option. It made me feel somehow connected to my American roots, which makes absolutely no sense considering I wouldn’t touch the stuff if I was living at home. Nothing but processed sugar and empty calories, yet it was the only thing I wanted.

Shrek is Finnish for "Annoying movie character." Also, what's up with the whole grain graphic and check mark on the top of the box??? 32% misleading marketing!

And finally, after being dissed several times by Alko, I bought Finland’s champagne of beers – Lapin Kulta. (No marketing tactics here – I bought crap beer because the price was right, college-style.)

Mmmmm.... beer.

All set for now! Looking forward to a week’s worth of eating budget-friendly junk – just like the old days.

I Ain't Afraid of No Locks + No Booze For You!

Sooooo not the keymaster.

As Americans, I have to say we excel at certain things. Take door locks, for instance. We’ve worked hard for our worldly possessions, and we're paranoid about other people taking them. Thus, our door locks are (generally speaking) secure and easy to use: insert key, turn, lock; insert key, turn, unlock. Easy, right?

My constant struggle since I have arrived in Helsinki? You guessed it, the lock on my apartment door. It seemed so effortless for Leena, my GROW host, to get into the apartment when we arrived, but for me it's pretty much impossible. Trying to get in: insert key, turn, nothing. Push on door while turning key, nothing. Use other key. (I have two, one is red, one is yellow. I’m pretty sure they’re exactly the same but it makes me feel less incompetent to switch them around.) Nope. Revert back to first key, push on door – really, really hard – while turning, balance on one leg while screaming, “I am the keymaster!” Success! … That is, until the door won’t close and we start all over again, this time with the neighbors watching me like I am a crazy person. This has already been fun after a night of drinking, and I am definitely looking forward to the keymaster game on my way to work!

Silly Americans, don't know how to unlock doors and stuff.

Another thing Americans do well is sell booze. Hard-working citizens run liquor stores, open seven days a week, that even have extended hours on the weekends! Plus convenient stores sell beer and wine until the wee hours of the morning, all so we can knock a few back after a hard work week. But since I’ve witnessed how fall-down-drunk the Finns can get on a Friday night, I guess it makes sense they need some boundaries; one of those being only one kind of store, appropriately named Alko, sells wine and liquor.

The sticker shock of bar drink prices – a minimum of 7 euros or $10 USD for a vodka and soda (and no heavy pours, mind you. Each shot is neatly measured out) – had me searching for my nearest Alko, located conveniently on the next block. But every time I've tried to go, they have been closed. Yesterday, after a full day of sightseeing, I wanted to grab a bottle of wine and got to the store around 8:15 PM. They closed at 8. On a Friday. Today I decided to stop in after walking around the city, thinking a bottle of Finlandia would be nice, and arrived around 6:05. They closed at 6. On a Saturday??? Seriously????

And Sundays? Closed. Of course.

Ok, how about during the week? Surely I can stop in for a bottle of wine on my way home from work? Closed at 6 PM. Hmmm... Leaving the office at 5ish plus a 40-minute commute is cutting it pretty close. How is a girl supposed to get some affordable alcohol around here?

Le sigh. I guess I'll have to settle for grocery store beer.