When Lilias Came to Town...

...All hell broke loose. The inner freak became the outer us.

I don't know whether to tell you everything or just tell you nothing, and leave you with the knowledge that my siblings mean more to me than pretty much anything else in the world.

It was to be a Thursday (13^th) to Sunday (16^th) morning visit. We wasted no time and headed for to Bossaliina, the cutest coffee place in town (think miss matched chairs and a gold bathtub seat – oh yeah) where cookies were consumed, Chai teas supped and endless old jokes were resurrected. Some wandering, a little history and geography lessons carryied us to the language café evening I had to attend for class. I was schooled in French (horrifically intimidating – I praise all ye non-native English speakers, you do a mighty fine job!) and Lilias 'taught' English. They really shouldn't have bothered with an English table, pretty much everyone can speak it well enough to get by. Our dinner of an attempted and slightly failed Spanish omelet was overshadowed by the hilarity that ensued – more general haha and 'Anchorman', you really can't go wrong there. I'd say who needs food when you have laughter, but I do really like food... The jury is out on that one.

Friday was cinnamon rolls and coffee for breakfast, followed by a little trip to uni where I introduced Lilias to the sofa (the only sofa, may I add, that comes near to my rear, as my flat has only picnic bench style seating – boo) while I... who knows, but I didn't learn anything. Next port of call was the Art Museum that stands majestically on the top of a hill. We managed to wangle free entrance 20 minutes before everybody else, so got to peruse some very fine Finnish art with out the crowds that seemed to appear by the time we made it to the Carl Larson exhibit downstairs.

The evening ended with a surreal bang – a 'puppet' show at an outdoor swimming pool. Yeah, you heard me right. The interpretive production of The Abduction of Europa went beyond my expectations – a table skilfully manoeuvred over the length of the pool on ropes; a giant moving beast; a woman raised from the water in a metal frame, hoisted to the top of the diving board; fire, sweet potatoes, big white clogs, clunky wooden puppets (the kind you thought of initially when I said 'puppet'), empty water bottles as flotation devices – seriously, you name it they thought of it and used it to it's utmost capacity. (And they provided blankets!) Reminded me a whole lot of Nowhere – a Dali-esque week I spent in the Spanish desert last July with 600 odd (in both interpretations) people. 

He spent most of the time in the pool

 

Saturday morning! More kahvi and cinnamon rolls and then we hit up the outdoor gym – it's totally my favourite visitors attraction now. And of course a mandatory visit to the second hand store. Next into town where we went to more junky places to ogle at the things we couldn't afford, or more, couldn't fit in our bags for the plane. In a double whamy we did Hesburger (Wait, you don't know about Hesburger?! It's a mayonnaisey fast food joint, with great fries, founded in Turku. Don't even bother mentioning the golden arches that cannot be named. They have maybe one? Down some back alley probably...) and then back to Bossaliina (it reminds me of my house, but more pop arty) for more tea and cake. We concluded our afternoon with a gander at the cathedral and a meander along the Aura. Then we sat and watched a man doing various tricks on a seatless bicycle – pretty nifty.

 

Spiders?

 

Phew, nope.

 

Sokos bag full of Fazer. The flavour hits you like a tazer.

 

Lilias – master graffiti spotter.

 

Some badass entertainment.

 

Next morning we were up at 5am and I was back to bed at 7.30am with Lilias safe and sound on the train back to Tampere with itchy feet and taste for Finland.

HELSINKI!

We had to go at some point and Rose's 21^st was a great excuse to hop on the train over to the capital!

Started off with a pretty nice day - bright and dry. Helsinki has some really nice architecture. I think because most of Turku burned down at the end of the 19^th century, you don't find as many ornate or really old buildings, which is kind of sad. The Saturday markets by the sea were the first port of call. Veg stalls with lots of mushrooms, leading to good smells drifting out from under orange tents, muikku and other fishy delights; then your usual trinkety things with a few antler bottle openers thrown in, followed by real furs, mink and Arctic fox. We watched some boats, discovered there's a zoo on an island (conjuring images of Jurassic park...), and then came across more market stalls, but these were not your ordinary market stalls, these were boats. Boats that had pulled up to the edge of the harbour and started selling their goods fresh and novel as can be! Pickled fish, traditional rye breads, jams made from native berries – my mouth was watering, especially after all the samples!

After lunch, the weather was definitely not as favourable, so shop hoping was the only way to get around, which we didn't mind too much. And we found a store that had this sort of winter wonderland Christmas basement that got me very giddy!

The train home, was not a train, but a bus – there were works on the line. What could have been a long an boring trip was transformed into some sort of weird interpretive dance rendition of various songs we knew the lyrics to. While passengers grew slightly disgruntled by our joy, Scott and I remained blissfully mouthing and acting 'Don't speak, I know just what you're thinking...' and holding our breath every time we went through a tunnel. Now, don't think we were being immature or inconsiderate, we were just embracing a child-like sense of imagination and ability to make the most of a crap situation that the rest of the bus had lost some time ago.

The next morning (Rose's official birthday) cinnamon rolls and kahvi (coffee) were the only possible options for breakfast. Hot and cinnamony (and cardamommy!) we ate and drank and ate and drank, preparing for a little expedition to the outdoor gym. What is that, I hear you cry, why yes, I reply, an outdoor gym! This has to be one of my favourite little woodland discoveries. On first glance we thought, how sweet, a little blue play park in the middle of the woods. No, cried Rose, it's an outdoor gym! On inspection she was correct. Normally I am not all that fond of organised exercise (I don't like to know I'm doing it, or it has to be a game, fun. I'm a child I know.) but this was exciting. Look, I point, there's no graffiti, no burn marks, or 'menchies' (spelling?)! We are just not used to this sort of civilised behaviour toward public property. I sit down and grab the handles above my head, to my surprise I am lifting myself, how clever! All of the various apparatus is attempted as a the sun dapples through the golden leaves of the silver birch forest that is cocooning us – this is my kind of gym. The smell of mulching leaves and wood fires, the crinkly sounds of autumn and wind moving through the trees. Although, the next morning we were pretty freaking sore! 

 

The day concluded with a humble meal of vegetarian chilli, cake and cookies shared with friends. Then our pyromaniacal sides took over and we started to melt everything, as you do.