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 19th 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.
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