Week in Review - Photo Style!

It's been such a crazy week, I haven't had time to even think about blogging. So here's pretty much everything that happened:

TUESDAY:

We decided to "go for one drink" at Aussie Bar

Mojitos with Leena and Silja:

Which turned into strawberry margaritas and Princess and the Frog fortune telling cards:


We kept getting the Big Daddy card.



And just when you thought you could get away from football, the other kind of football creeps in. At least they had fun hats!

WEDNESDAY

Awesome Finnish hair metal band, Reckless Love, played at Bar Loose \m/ This time Heini joined our partay!

THURSDAY

Post-work happy hour to welcome yours truly at Bakers, where they serve champagne for 1 euro per glass. (Dangerous!)







After stumbling out of Bakers, we went to the Parliament House -- apparently they have one here, too? It's pretty different from the one in Orlando, though. ;)





I tried Salmiakki, a type of Finnish candy (and also a shot) that is supposed to taste like licorice. I think it tastes more like soy sauce.



And apparently Helsinki had a fireworks competition going on, so we watched them - score!








Yep, I am a happy girl :)


I never thought I'd say this, but I was actually looking forward to the weekend so I could recover from all this. But I am totally having a blast! Stay tuned....

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.

Kitchen Nightmares

Obstacle of the day: Working the oven in my apartment

Last night, I decided to heat up some leftover pizza for dinner, something that should really only take 15-minutes, max. Instead, it took this silly foreign girl an hour and half to work the damn oven. Why so long? Because of weird stove symbols, a major language barrier and my tendency to over-analyze everything, even the smallest, most mundane tasks.

The oven I’m familiar with has two knobs for cooking: one to control the temperature, and one with the words “bake” and “broil”. I turn the temperature dial to the usual 350 degrees Fahrenheit, set the other knob to “bake,“ add food and voila! A meal in no time.

So what threw me off last night? You might think it was the fact that the oven temperature knob was in Celsius. Not so! A handy Google search clued me in to set the oven to about 175. Piece of cake. No, the hard part was the other knob – the one with four unfamiliar icons instead of words. Since I had no clue what they represented, I looked for the instructions. They were located inside the oven, of course, because that’s totally where a 10-page printout should be. (Um, good thing I checked before turning it on! Oh wait, I couldn't turn it on.) And, this being Finland and all, they weren’t printed in English. Still, no problem - Google Translate could help me read the directions, which would help me decipher the hieroglyphics on my oven, right? Right. (Seriously, what did people do before Google? I am writing this in a Google Doc now!)

I set the translator from Finnish to English and began typing phrases like ‘undervarme tillkopplat.’ Nothing. I assumed it was because my spelling was incorrect so triple checked as I typed. Still nada. Then I guessed it was because my American laptop is not equipped with special characters like ö, ä and å, which were in every word. Of course. I resorted to staring at the words as hard as I could and willing them to mean something. Didn’t work. (Sadly, it never does.)

In a desperate measure, I started Googling the phrases that weren’t recognized by my trusty translator. The results included PDFs of oven manuals - no help, since they weren’t in English. But something caught my eye in the search results - the word Svenska. Swedish??? The whole time, I had been using the wrong language?!? Oy vey.

So finally I was able to figure out that undervärme tillkopplat meant “during heat coupled” and övervärme tillkopplat meant “of the heat coupled.” Uhhh.... I still had no freaking clue what any of that meant!!! So I did what I should have just done in the first place and chose one of the damn settings. The pizza came out fine.

If I only I could shut off the part of my brain that has to analyze every possible outcome of a situation before just taking action. Goodbye two hours of my life I’ll never get back!

Finally!

Success!!! Yep, I was finally able to beat Alko's stringent ways and bought some cheap vodka and Chilean red wine. Yay, me!

In other news, I am getting better at unlocking my door. Locking it from the inside, now that's a whole other story.

First Day at the Office!

Uhhhh.....


Feeling a little overwhelmed at the moment....

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.

Looks Like We Made It!

I’ve only been to Europe once in 2005, when I visited London and Amsterdam (wink, wink, nudge, nudge, know what I mean?) with one of my BFFs. The entire time we were traveling, our complete awe of being across the pond led us to continually sing the chorus of Barry Manilow’s “Looks Like We Made It” at the top of our lungs. It’s not something I can explain or comprehend, but we loved doing it. Maybe it’s because the song has a triumphant quality to it – like you’ve really accomplished something. All I know is, it’s been running through my head nonstop again for the past day or so.*

And after two uneventful flights (thank you, Ambien!) and the fastest customs line I have ever cleared (seriously, not one question asked!), I have now made it to my final destination – Helsinki, Finland. I’m still waiting for the part when this actually feels less like a dream, but right now it just seems like a press trip. Maybe on my first day of work the reality of it all will kick in.

And now, without further adieu, here is my home away from home for the next three months:

My street:

My building:

My apartment, view A:

My apartment view B: (Hey, I have the same coffee table! Oh, Ikea!)

That little thing that looks like a window is actually a loft space, with an extra bed for visitors :)

My view! Can't wait until the leaves change colors!!!

Does that say Van Halen?!?!?! Oh, no, it's just instructions in Finnish.

My cozy kitchen:

My view while cooking: <3

Careful your child doesn't pull the coffee maker on his head!

My bathroom. Note the shower is right next to the washing machine. This concerns me for electrical reasons but I guess it's okay? Also... it kind of smells sulphuric, so if I leave the door open, it stinks up the whole apartment. But otherwise, very efficient.

That's pretty much everything! I feel incredibly lucky and blessed to have this opportunity. And apparently I'm living in a very hip slash upscale part of town. (There are three record shops on the corner!!! THREE!!!).

Stay tuned for more Finnish adventures as I have them. :)

*Sidenote: Upon listening to the actual Barry Manilow song, it couldn't have less to do with how I feel right now, lol. Plus it's really, really bad. But the song will always remind me of that first European adventure, no matter how bad it sucks.