Dr Terry Maguire is a community pharmacist from Belfast and vice-chair
of PharmacyHealthLink, the charity committed to support public health
through community pharmacy
|
My first taste of Finland was the cabin staff on the Finnair flight from
Dublin to Helsinki, which left precisely on time. They were polite in the
extreme. The steward retained an expressionless smile throughout the flight — on
other faces it would have been a smirk.
Transport to our hotel, the Hilton Strand, was by mini coach pre-ordered
by our host. One of our group related the tale of his arrival in Helsinki
the previous winter. The place was literally frozen solid and he described
walking on the ice between the islands. He was looking forward to viewing
the city in the summer.
In Finland winters are long, cold and dark. This sinister combination acts
heavily on the soul and contributes to the unique personality that is Finnish.
Suicide is high here and winter makes it difficult to focus on life and
the fact that it has purpose and meaning.
We sped through the traffic-free streets of Helsinki. Houses and buildings
we passed were utilitarian, built perhaps in the 1950s and 1960s. Finnish
functionality with that unique style. The Finns can make straight lines
and small windows pleasing and relaxing.
The Hilton Strand was the first Hilton in Finland. It is modest in size,
eight stories high and built around an airy atrium that houses a modern
bar and restaurant. Two glass-bubble lifts move up and down within the
atrium giving those coming and going to the bedrooms a bird’s-eye
view of drinkers and diners. We checked in and ordered beers. Our meeting
started at 8.30am, so I was cautious.
Rats in the lobby
In the dim light of the bar I saw shadows move on the floor around the
skirting board of the bar. It happened again. Surely not! It is. It was
a rat. Not in the bar of the Hilton? I felt uneasy. I considered tucking
my trouser into my socks but resisted. I said nothing and ignored it
for some time but finally I told the others. With two additional confirmed
sightings we agreed the rat should not be there and I was volunteered
to discuss this with the concierge. “No problem sir, it is only
a water rat,” I was assured. “This is Finland and we are
on the water. There are rats always around.”
Not good enough I thought. A rat is a rat is a rat. This is the Hilton
for goodness sake. I gave up and retired to my room. Presents
My room, number 814, was a standard Hilton room — the same the world
over. What was unusual was a heap of parcels colourfully wrapped in glitzy
gift paper on my bed. Presents! These are great people to work for, I thought
to myself. I got to opening — I love opening presents.
A bottle of Chanel No 5 perfume, a pair of amber earrings (no insect),
a football sweatshirt, a waterproof jacket with hood that folds into
a neat and handy little pouch.
Dear Annimika Brand,
We welcome you to Finland and to the Under-17 FIFA world cup soccer
championship ... |
Somewhat confused I opened the letter that
sat beside the presents, something, in hindsight, I should have done
before my paper-ripping frenzy.
I tried to rewrap the presents. The waterproof jacket refused to be folded
back into a neat little pouch. I gave up when I reasoned it was not my
fault. It is my room not Annimika Brand’s! I put the presents to
the side, rescued my suits and clean shirts from my travel bag and fell
into bed.
Morning was bright and early. At home it was 4am. In Helsinki it was
6am and I was tired. I opened the curtains to a breathtaking view of
the Helsinki
waterfront in splendid sunshine. My room overlooked a small inlet crossed
by a bridge and beyond that a number of large ferry boats were sailing
by. Jogging by the sea
I agreed to a jog before breakfast with a colleague. We met at the desk
at 7am, Rory was on time looking fit and healthy in his tight Lycra shorts.
He was stretching and looking unreasonably competent. This was a bad
idea — I was about to be humiliated.
 We set off from the hotel along a pedestrian path that snaked along the
waterfront. The morning was beautiful. We passed over a bridge and along
the railings of a park. We met a steep incline and at the top we found
what seemed to be the university sector of the city. In a few minutes we
were alongside the steps of the Lutheran Cathedral and running down into
the famous Senate Square. The Cathedral is an imposing brilliant-white
building built in a number of contrasting styles. Greek pillars at the
front and Greek Orthodox green domes on the roof. Life-size statues of
the 12 apostles looked down from the roof as if they were policing the
citizens. The building was designed by C. L. Engle in the mid-19th century,
as was most of Senate Square, and it had a strong Russian feel. It could
be St Petersberg, one hundred miles to the east, it is. Mat washing in the sea
Our jog continued out along the coastline as it folded back on itself.
An elderly couple had erected a make-shift frame from wooden palettes
at the water’s edge and were washing floor-mats. This, I discovered,
is a common, if eccentric, practice. They use a soft-pine soap (mantysuopa)
and the low salinity of the Baltic around Helsinki makes the water ideal
for washing. So much fresh water floods the Baltic from lakes and rivers
it is quite dilute. The mats are spread on the frames and buckets of
water are scooped up from the sea. Once washed the mats are left to dry
on the wooden frames. What seemed a quirky, out of place activity for
a modern European capital is really only a good excuse for old fashioned
gossiping — long may it last.
We took a taxi to our meeting, the conference sessions were good but
I escaped at 4.30pm and as colleagues retired to the bar I made my excuses
and took a taxi back to the Hilton. I had a fringe meeting at 7pm at a
local restaurant. City taxi trip
My taxi driver spoke excellent English and as we travelled towards the
centre of Helsinki he explained that it was rush hour and asked whether
I would like to take the motorway back to the Hilton Strand or go via
the old city. He said that both would take the same amount of time. The
old city it was.
Sven was in his early 30s and gave me a lucid and interesting account
of the buildings and Finland’s history as we travelled.
It is often said that Helsinki has some innovative architecture, from the
sublime to the monstrous. A long list of famous architects have lived,
worked and become famous here.
I had heard of Alvar Aalto. Some years ago I spent a small fortune purchasing
an Alvar Aalto vase as a wedding gift. I would not forget his name in a
hurry. Sven pointed out a glass and wood building designed by Aalto. It
was like a larger version of a Nissan hut.
We passed the central railway station, an art nouveau spectacular. It is
like something from a 1920s science fiction movie. With its four globe-bearing
austere concrete figures, it is intimidating, sinister and jocular all
at the same time. It was designed by Eliel Saarinen in the early 1900s.
Across from the station Sven pointed out a building nicknamed “the
sausage building”. This was to be a landmark building but had come
in for some ridicule — the first floor resembled a large curled frankfurter.
We passed Stockmans and the Stockmans Clock, another famous landmark in
the city. Stockmans is a massive store by any standards. The literature
says that if you can’t buy it in Stockmans you don’t need it.
We drove into Senate Square, all the buildings have a Russian theme and
were commissioned by Tsar Alexander II, a statue of whom overlooks the
square. He spent considerable funds making the city his capital in the
West and Senate Square the centre piece of this.
Was there no resentment for the Russian occupation, I asked Sven. “We
are a small country,” he explained. “As a small country we
only can get what we want by working with others. Our history is about
doing this. We are still here, Russia and Sweden are not.” A good
philosophy, I thought. My nation, the Irish, do not really see things that
way.
Sven’s extensive tour took over an hour and he left me his personal
mobile number should I need him during the rest of my stay. Nice people
these Finns. Changing rooms
I got to my room enlightened by my guided tour. The presents had gone
and as I lay watching television the telephone rang. Wrong number. The
telephone
rang again, wrong number. Five telephone calls and five wrong numbers
later it was starting to irritate. The hotel manager telephoned to explain
that the co-ordinator of the FIFA Under-17 World Championship was supposed
to have room 814. Annimika had given my room number out to a large number
of people — the full population of Helsinki it seemed. Would I
be willing to move rooms, he asked. He would be able to offer me the
presidential suite. I fought to suppress my working class background.
Only if it is essential, I said nonchalantly. It is, he retorted. I told
him I was due at a meeting at 7pm and I needed to get ready. He offered
to have me transferred before my return. I just needed to call at the
desk and ask for my new room key for Room 820. Room 820? I preferred
to call it the presidential suite. Restaurants
My meeting was at the Sipuli restaurant. I got a taxi and travelled down
through Senate Square and past the Uspensky Orthodox Cathedral. The restaurant
had a superb location on the waterfront, a real suntrap on this lovely
evening.
We dined Finnish style with the usual wide selection of starters; curry
herring, warm smoked salmon with steamed egg custard, yoghurt cucumber
with mushroom salad, chicken with rhubarb compote. The main course was
roasted salmon with chive sauce and dill parmentier. It was all simply
delicious. I had seconds but still had room for a fruitful desert of orange
and fresh cheese bavaroise with strawberry salad.
The meeting, or rather the dining, finished around 10.30pm and I had arranged
to meet Rory and some friends at their restaurant — the Nokk. I enquired
about getting back, not divulging my plan and feigning exhaustion from
the day’s work. I politely declined a post-dinner drink and Sara,
the meeting organiser, put me, on my own, on an 82-seater luxury coach.
The coach took 15 minutes to the hotel. I got out and asked the concierge
to call a taxi showing him the address of the Nokk restaurant. On arrival,
I was somewhat surprised to find Sara sitting with a cocktail outside the
Sipuli, the Nokk was just next door.
The Nokk had reindeer on the menu but, I am pleased to say, none of my
colleagues had the guts to eat Bambi. We had a post-dinner drink of cranberry
vodka. Vodka, especially flavoured vodka, is a big thing in Finland.
We left the Nokk in search of a higher bar. The Torni is a tower and one
of the tallest buildings in the city. The bar is on the 12th floor. Getting
out of an antiquated, shaky lift we climbed a spiral staircase to the bar,
a small room that opened out on to a small terrace. The view of the city
was splendid on what was now a beautiful night. The presidential suite
Back at my hotel my room key did not work so I returned to the desk.
Your room has been changed, I was reminded. Ah, the presidential suite.
I
opened the door not knowing what to expect and found my accommodation
to be enormous. I now had a full size sauna complete with anteroom,
a bathroom, a master bedroom, a dining room, a sitting room and a fully
fitted kitchen. The full area took up four times the space of room
814.
After breakfast the next morning we took a taxi to the congress venue.
Ten minutes into our journey the utilitarian buildings of Helsinki suburbs
were gone and the view was more rural. Ten minutes later Rory suggested
we were going the wrong way. He was assured by the driver in broken English
that he knew where he was going. Ten minutes later we were more anxious
and further into the Finnish interior. Repeated requests suggested to
him we were well off the mark. We were in the most beautiful wooded
countryside,
rocks were pink and translucent and for a moment I was tempted to ask
him just to keep driving but there was work to be done. The driver
stopped
and re-assessed the situation. He was heading to a town some 50 miles
away with a name similar sounding to Congress! We were not sure where
it all
went wrong but it was a lesson that not all Finnish people speak the
quality of English that we had become used to. The 10 minute journey
took 90. Estonia
Meetings were completed by 1pm and Rory and I decided to go to Estonia
for the afternoon. We got a taxi to the hotel and walked to the Nordic-Jet
dock. The jetfoil was leaving at 2.30pm so we had an hour to spare and
this gave us a chance to visit the Uspenski Orthodox Cathedral.
Iconoclastic in style, this is the biggest Orthodox Church outside Russia.
It is built in red brick with exotic onion spires on top. When this part
of the world was Russian, the Russians needed somewhere impressive to pray.
This was it. The panel paintings that adorned the walls were a feast of
Russian Orthodox art. Inside, the cathedral was surprisingly modest in
size. The panel behind which the priest celebrates mass was ornate in the
extreme but remained closed — the mystery of an old and conservative
religion.
We sailed due south from Helsinki across the Gulf of Finland to Estonia.
The jetfoil was a compact boat with a café and a bar at the back.
We left the Helsinki archipelago passing a myriad of small islands. It
was as if Helsinki and, indeed, Finland simply crumbled bits of itself
off into the sea.
The trip was smooth and enjoyable. Rory and I retired to the bar. The beer,
Lapin Kulta (“Lapland gold”) was inexpensive and kind to the
palate. Lunch in Tallinn
The jetfoil sailed almost right up to the medieval walls of Tallinn,
Estonia’s
capital. The walled city of Tallinn is a World Heritage site and is simply
exquisite. We walked through the gates and into the narrow streets. We
passed dilapidated houses being brought back to life with careful and loving
renovation. The coffee shops and wine bars show the development of a sophisticated
young society working off the chains of communism. We reached the main
square with a town-hall straight from Hansel and Gretel and medieval legends.
We lunched in one of the many restaurants that fronted the square. The
meal was excellent. I had arctic char, a first cousin of the salmon,
but I was interested in the “blacksmith’s wife’s tongue”,
a spicy meat dish that Rory tried.
The women were stylish and beautiful, and the men sartorially handsome
as they strutted across the square. The currency is Estonian Kronna and
we could only pay in Euros if we made a declaration that we had no EKs.
We declared we had no EKs and for this we were charged a hefty 15 per
cent on the bill. Estonia really should join the EU.
We set off to explore the town and as I turned in the main square looking
back at and admiring the newly restored building, I saw painted across
a building from the 1650s “Molly Malone’s Irish Pub”.
My God, my country’s exportable culture.
But the town was a delight. Small narrow cobbled streets, antique shops,
wine bars and trendy restaurants packed together. Narrow steps led to
gates that passed through to the other side of the city’s walls and brought
us out beside a Greek Orthodox Church. It was much better and more ornate,
if that were possible, than the Uspenski back in Helsinki.
We arrived back at the jetfoil just before it set sail. There was an
extensive array of cruise boats and luxury ships in dock and I got the
feeling that
Tallinn was a happening place. With membership of the EU coming soon
this will soon be an important destination.
Back in Finland we had to rush to catch another boat. Our hosts had organised
a boat trip to an island for dinner.
We walked briskly up from the docks through Esplanadi Park. Music was
drifting out from the lower end of the park. A young band were on stage.
An attractive
female vocalist with attitude and energy was entertaining a crowd who
were really enjoying the show. It was a strange mixture of the cultural
elegance
of a city park blending seamlessly with youth culture. I liked it, there
was room for everyone. Island dining
The HS Sara Lee, our boat for the evening, docked just in front of the
Hilton Strand. We were welcomed on board by a genial hostess and the
boat glided slowly and effortlessly out into the archipelago. Islands
were everywhere, some only a few hundred meters across with trees, wooden
jetties extending out into the sea and cosy wooden houses. Rocks were
plentiful and strangely pink.
We stopped at the island restaurant, Restaurant Kulosaaress Casion. This
smallish restaurant with magnificent sea views, was designed by Armas Lindgren — another
world class designer — and built in 1915. After a buffet meal all
too soon we were being asked if we wanted to take the early bus home.
Back at the Hilton Strand bar, Sara, my host in the Sipuli, was drinking
with her boss and a colleague. I was brought lovingly into their company
and beers were ordered. They had just returned from Suomenlinna, a fortress
island 20 minutes by ferry from the market square. I had hoped to visit
this UNESCO World Heritage site but time was running out. The fortress
was built by the Swedes in the 1750s when they were in charge of Finland
and it was built to defend Sweden’s interests against an increasing
Russian threat. It was to fall into Russian hands in 1809 when the two
powers swapped ownership of the Finns. The island, or more precisely the
group of islands, have been brought together to create an impressive fortress
with thick walls, ramparts and dungeons. It is a must on any trip to Helsinki — sadly,
I was to miss it.
We talked until the barman politely moved away to the side and turned off
the lights. Presidential feelings
It was 2.30am when I got back to the presidential suite. I turned on
all the lights to survey my accommodation on my last night. The lights
were
still on when I woke to a dazzlingly bright morning. It was 6.15am.
A hurried breakfast and a dash for a cab got me to the meeting just before
7am. Time to leave
Following a full day of meetings we began our journey home. We arrived
at Vantaa Airport two hours ahead of the flight departure.
Our flight left Finland precisely on time. The same cabin crew were
on board but I am sure the steward did not recognise us. We flew west
over
the Finnish coast and from the air it really did look like the coastline
had crumbled away to produce millions of tiny islands. The Finnish mainland
was like a sieve, peppered through with thousands of little lakes. There
must be huge problems moving around this country even in summer. We took
a flight path over Stockholm and then over Oslo. Norway in parts looked
like the surface of the moon it was so barren. Down over the North Sea
with Edinburgh on our right, then Belfast, down the Irish Coast to land
in Dublin precisely on time. |
