Faces and Places

Here are photos taken of various people and places, some closer and more meaningful than others, put here because I like the photos. I have had a wonderful year and many details are missing, particularly due to my lack of blog maintenance. I had imagined a much more in-depth, pervasive and up-to-date online portrayal of my year, but found it was not something I could keep up with. Instead, here are pictured trips/times that I made a point to take many photos of, a large gap being left between January and the present.

In any case, I am satisfied with many of these photos and hope that I have captured a picture of my time away, no matter how fragmented, true to reality or lacking. I have no idea how to rate that, and don't know how many people are viewing or reading what I post, so to those who do, I hope you have a little sliver of Finland to take with you.

The Eurovision Urine Saga

The Eurovision contest was held in Helsinki this year, due to Finland’s surprising, first ever win of the contest with Lordi’s disputed “Hard Rock Hallelujah.” This win was actually disputed by many in Finland, being deemed by its few religious fundamentalist weirdos as the marking of the beginning of the end, an ushering gesture into the start of the apocalypse. The disagreement on propriety was widespread however, and there was even discussion of an intervention in the group’s continued involvement in the contest on a governmental level. People were not sure if they should represent the country.

(Lordi is basically a Finnish version of the American Heavy Metal band Gwar, wearing near comical horror costumes as part of their stage act.) The murmuring had no consequence, they were not disbanded and ended up winning the contest, launching them, ironically, to the position of national icons, being paraded on newspapers and leeched by industry, having dolls made in their guise, coloring books and Lordi cola.

Whatever could be said about it, Finland needed this win and I think it would be great, no matter what kind of costumes, themes or terrible songs gave it to them. It is such a wonderful country and it seems healthy for it to get a boost of self-confidence, something it could always use. Finland also made it to the top in hockey, losing to Canada, but beating Russia in intense and surprising matches. It was a good year to be there.

Anyhow, I went to the Eurovision finals with many students, taking the train to Helsinki to pack into the city with thousands of people from all over Europe. There were two stages in the event, a main one at the auditorium and one at the cathedral square by the university. We were at the cathedral square.

The event was exciting because of the people, everywhere, from all over, but I realized after a few minutes of listening that I hate the music of Eurovision. (For those that don't know what Eurovision is, it is a song contest between European countries and some outliers like Russia. Seeing how huge the event is, and how much of the world is involved, I am shocked it doesn't get a lot of coverage in the US.)

But yeah, I had a bottle of wine, and was sitting, listening to the music, looking out at the thousands of people watching, when it struck me, “my god, this music is wretched, empty, filthy. I can’t stand it.”

As a music lover, it is hard to bear this strange display of creepiness. I saw a TV program at my friend Jaakko’s a some days before the contest, where judges were saying what was good about a song, and what they looked for in a Eurovision song contest song. Their answers were horrifying. Not only did they know nothing about music, they didn't appreciate anything about music that marks its artistry or beauty.

“They should just come on stage and like, BAM!!!, and the song just explodes,” said one guy. “Lyrics don't matter, just as long as they’re happy. I don't want hear about sadness or trouble, they need to be fun and upbeat. It doesn't matter if they make sense, or if they are good, just as long as they are catchy and not sad.”

They said shallow statement after shallow statement, some worse than these, I just forget a lot of them and cannot convey how shallow and cocky they were in appearance and tone while offering their “expertise.” It is like saying a painting’s contents and the artists skills don't matter, just as long as the colors are bright and the frame is nice, both in itself and in the living room.

Anyhow, I had not cared or thought much about that TV program, or really any opinionated rhetoric before going, and I figured it would simply be a fun event no matter what. But, with the wine depressing my brain a bit, and the sudden realization that I had to pee really bad, I was suddenly not so excited to be at the Eurovision contest.

We were sitting on these 10 or so inch steps that lead up the cathedral. To move at all was a huge inconvenience, but to leave the area completely one need good balance and a good dirty, hateful look deflector. Even better, they were blocking both the top and bottom entrances to the steps, only letting people back up who had someone to verify that they had a seat where friends were sitting. What a drag.

I snuck away while everyone was standing, making it easier to leave. By this time I was wondering if one could die by holding in urine for too long, by way of exploded bladder or liver poisoning. I headed down the steps and there were too many people coming. I saw a guy from Germany I knew and he yelled and waved to me. I had to haggle with the guard, a tough, short, bulky woman, eventually getting him in, while I had to turn around and go back up the other way, the distance looking worse, the people slowing my movement and becoming more inconvenient.

I got to the top and they were blocking way back in from the top. I would have to go around. I asked if there was a bathroom inside the area, and they said no. I was in serious pain by this time. I walked off towards a street I thought might hold promise for a bathroom. It was rather dark on this street but there were people everywhere. In fact, on closer inspection, there were people urinating all over. Noticing this I looked closer and saw there were small rivers of urine all over the place, on the sidewalk, next to the sidewalk, in puddles where there was no slope.

Still, I could not just pee right here on the street. I could be native, embrace the moment, the trend, but I didn't want to flash my junk for everyone to see. Its illegal. I grew up in a religious household. Ive never even see my parents naked. You don't just pee on the street where people are walking.

I walked in vain, around two blocks, three blocks, I don't know. I was about to pass out. I felt my stomach filling up with urine, seeping outside my intestines, into my legs, up into my chest. I was turning into a urine tank.

I saw a church, dark, with a tree in a receding area. The only problem, there was a couple sitting on a wall in the area right before the shadows of freedom.
“Do you guys mind if I pee back here?” I ask them, feeling pretty ridiculous and a little embarrassed.
“Ah, no problem,” they answer nicely. “The situation is pretty bad, isn’t it.”

I was so, so happy. I went into that corner and discovered the real meaning of the often meaninglessly tossed around word “freedom.”
“Wow, you really needed that didn't you,” the guy said as they packed their drinks back into their bag.
“Yeah, I did.”
I was done long after they had left.

I walked back to the event, going around the top area, down to the bottom, struggling through people. I got to the line and they had stopped letting people in. I tried to get up to the spot where the guards were, to tell them my computer and camera and bag were up there with my friends, but I was blocked by a heavy set girl in black. She jammed her thick arm into my shoulder and gave me this ridiculously stupid mean expression. Then a few other women around her closed in and all shook their heads at me. “No,” their expressions said, “you’re not going anywhere, little man.”

I called my friends and said I could not come back, could they watch my things. They sent messages explaining others had made it back up, “be tough.” I wasn't going to walk up and start a brawl with these women. I spent the rest of the event bored, swallowed by the crowds on the sidelines, unable to see much.

I love Eurovision.

Stockholm In Two Sections

I took two trips to Stockholm in which I spent time taking photographs. The first was taken in November, with my friends Yvonne and Swantje, the second taken in May with my friend Bo-Deene. The trips were opposites in many ways. In November we had nowhere to sleep and wandered around the city the whole night, in rain and snow, stopping when/where we could, including bars, restaurants and a wretched 6 am, teen-filled McDonalds. The trip was really fun regardless. We took photos all over the city, becoming more and more delirious and silly. I only have a few photos we took that night, most of them being blurry or uninteresting.

The second trip was like a long awaited escape. I was invited by my friend Bo-Deene the night before the trip, deciding to go the morning of. It was sunny and beautiful weather and we were both in need of such soothing and revitalizing environs. We just relaxed, rented bikes and cruised around the city in the sun. We stayed in this eccentric, surprisingly stylish and comfortably converted prison called Långholmen. It was stylishly converted into a hostel, playing 100% on the prison theme, with photos and news clippings about the incarcerated criminals to gaze at before drifting off to sleep.

One highlight of both trips was the possibility for me to see the museum of one my favorite Swedish musicians, Cornelis Vreeswijk. We were early the first time, so I only got photos of the outside, so I went back again the second time and took some photos of the inside. The Museum is next to the palace in Gamla Stan and is not anything overtly flashy or noticeable. I was so thrilled to see it, experiencing a subtle euphoria in finally getting to see something more of someone I have held as a close inspiration and spent much time listening to and trying to translate.

The photos speak for much of it. Bo-Deene took a number of photos here. Some are obvious, and some are those of people in, or on boats, along with the beautiful photo of the fading building fronts.

I Would to Rock, Had I the Flagrant Disposition

I was also an exchange student in Finland in High school in 1997-98, in an area outside Helsinki called Espoo, where I went to a school called Tapiolan Lukio. Many of the people I met and spent my time with there were musicians, who are now rather successful, or had periods of success. Particularly, my greatest friend in Finland and one of my best friends, Jaakko, plays with a number of pop stars in Finland and for the Finnish version of the “Idols” show.

I had a chance to go to his concerts and hang out with his bands, which was really fun and exciting for me, as I have always loved music and played it, though I have never discovered the will to conform to the rock myself. It was both a great chance for us to hang out and catch up, and a way for me to see what he does and get a taste for the traveling, music life. I feel really lucky to have such a wonderful friend, and to have had such experiences in Finland.

I had originally planned to take a mass of photos of concerts and musicians, but I discovered I have no skill or equipment for such photography, resulting in the heavily doctored, low quality photos here. I wanted to salvage what I could from the photos I did take, both to reveal and to honor. Most of the time, I was just hanging out and didn't want to be taking photos of everyone in the sauna before shows, or sitting around talking, like some annoying intruder.

I feel motivated now, however, to buy a better camera and to try and learn to take concert photos. Perhaps, perhaps.

Sadly, there was a handful of people I didn’t get to meet from my first exchange year, or see perform. Still, I had a blast and am sad to leave, feeling lucky to do as much as I did. Saying goodbye to Jaakko was strikingly sad and overwhelming, as I realized what a loss it is to be so far away from such a great friend.

Kiitos paljon mun ystäväni, Jaakko. I do/will miss you greatly.

The photos here are of a band Jaakko plays bass in, Olavi Uusivirta and of Jukka Poikka, a reggae/dub artist and visionary that also went to Tapiolan Lukio. Finland has a wealth of talented musicians, of which, here are some. Sorry for the poor quality of the photos.

W.I.F.F. (Wacky International Fun Fest)

In the middle of the year, my friend Martin from Austria approached and told me there was a group of students doing a radio program and asked me if I was interested and said they were meeting to brainstorm for it in the next 15 minutes. I was interested, so I attended.

Everyone sat around staring, while Martine proposed ideas.
“What should we call it, what should be our theme? Etc. These were some of the things that needed considering.

Everyone sat in silence, looking bored and uninterested. I can never resist in moments like this, I always have to blurt out something stupid and annoying.
“Lets call it WIFF, the wacky international fun fest!” I laughed at myself like an idiot right after I said it, always the craftsman of a perfect, eternal humor, funny only to myself, and every once and great while, a good friend that is present that has the same tastes. Everyone just looked at me, like I had just cleared my throat to speak.

One guy said it was a dumb name, unaware that I was in no way serious about the name. I was imaging these dumb American commercial commentators, introducing stupid products or events, whether on TV or radio, talking in that stupid, this-is-so-exciting-you’ll-poo-your-pants voice, that anyone with a little integrity and sense of self worth and connectedness knows is the voice of grotesque, scheming, commercial artifice. There was no way for them to know all of this, of course.

The meeting resulted in almost nothing, and I had forgotten about it, more-or-less, until Martin had contacted me a while later, letting me know we needed to meet up to plan the soon upcoming first program.
“Cool,” I thought. “I will bring a few songs and be able to sit in a little and help with some details.”

I arrived at the meeting spot and there was Martin, but none of the other 6 or so students I thought were also going to be there. We greeted and talked a little.
“So, I like the name WIFF, lets use it.”
“I was joking when I said it,” I told him. “But,,, why not use it.”
“So, what are we going to do this first show about?” He asked, expectantly.
My mind bent when he said this, I was not thinking it would only be the two of us.
“Uhh, what,,, I thought I was just going to help out a little bit with the music, etc., not plan the whole show. Where is everyone else.”
He listed off some of the people that said they would do it and why they could not make it to the meeting. I felt just then, like bailing out and not doing it, but I didn’t want to be another cop-out, and no one really gave him any decent notice. I really wanted to try it out also.

So, we did the first show, and to our fortune, our friend Jessica (who has too many background details to say where she is from, French, American, African, British, I am confused with the details) also showed up after the first meetings to help.

Luckily, Martin had previous radio experience, as he did a show at his home school, which if had not been the case, I would not have stuck around. The controls and planning would have been too much for me on top of my school work, etc. Needless to say, it was a lot of fun, even if it was completely amateurish, and often was not as “wacky” as we would have liked it to be. I was really glad I didn’t stop the many times I felt stressed and nervous about being responsible for content. In the end it was really fun and rewarding and I loved spending time with Martin and Jessica.

There Were Parties

I imagine most students that come back from Finland will talk about how much they partied and how fun it was. Certainly, there were parties. And I did attend quite a few. I must admit though, I didn't enjoy them very much and didn't attend many as the year went on.

As a result, I am not posting very many party pictures. I didn’t even take so many when I did go to parties, with a few exceptions. Mostly here, are photos from a Holloween party, which was both fun and well photographed. My friend Swantje took some as well as myself.

I had not planned to post any such photos, but as I went through them, I realized some of them were really cool and should not go unseen, so here they are. I had some others photos that were just dull. Rooms full of people holding drinks, some cheering, some chanting football chants, etc., playing drinking games.

I suppose I was not expecting the atmosphere to be as much party driven and high school-esque as it was, in regards to parties, etc. It served to show me I have grown up quite a bit and am perhaps, behind on my studies. Whatever the case, I had a good year, and even had a few really fun nights at parties.

Belgium

I went to Antwerp during the second half of the year, to visit my old friend Lotte. We have kept in touch with each other via real, paper letters after meeting the first time in Finland in 1997-98. It was so great to finally meet up again. The last we had met was 6 or 7 years pervious in the U.S.

It was a really relaxing, comforting trip and once again, a nice little break from bad weather and this time, a schedule that was starting to get a touch stale. I spent much time walking around, seeing the city, taking photos.

I got to try french fries (oh, sorry guys, freedom fries), which I had no idea were originally a Belgian thing, and great chocolate, and finally, good beer, for a reasonable price. In Finland it is either really horrible beer for a ridiculously expensive price, or good beer for a ridiculously expensive price.

One of my favorite parts of Belgium was Gent, a city with a wonderful layout and relaxed atmosphere. There are many students and a University there, so that has much to do with it. Antwerp was also wonderful and well designed and I loved exploring it.

The greatest however, was just catching-up with and seeing the life of an old friend. I got to see her previous apartment I wrote the address of many times on letters and also the newer one, which I have written, for the first time. We walked to sights familiar to her and went to great local coffee shops she went to, etc. It was just what I needed.

I hope to make it back there one of these days, before I am old and moldy.

Thanks Lotte.

Portugal + Jesus Statues = A good time

I waited too long to write about this trip, but I suppose it saves the long winded entry that would follow had I written it earlier, so perhaps it is better this way.

I spent my Christmas and New Year in Porto, Portugal with my friend Pedro and his family. It was wonderful. The winter in Finland was snowless and warm, and therefore terribly dark. The roads were covered in gravel and people were depressed and trudging around, lost in this bizarre twilight. I held up well for a time, but started feeling a little faint in December. Portugal was the perfect escape.

It was ridiculously sunny there, both in literal terms and in regards to personalities and human warmth. Of course, we spent much time driving and on the road people are far from sunny in Portugal, but I wasnt deterred. I felt like a load had been lifted from my chest.

We didn't go bungee jumping or skydiving or anything, but I was excited to be folded into the fabric of this family’s life to whatever degree. They were most gracious and kind-hearted and made me feel very much at home. I got to experience Portugal from a lucky, inside perspective, seeing local sights, eating a variety of dishes, tasting old port wine, hanging out with a group of friends in their usual settings. It is really thrilling to crash into another world like this and fill up on it and then leave. It is strange and beautiful.

Noteworthy as strange or different, was hanging out, drinking beer on a 10 to 15 foot (3 to 5 meters) Jesus statue at 2 am. There were two such identical statues, separated from each other by about 30 feet (10 meters), watching over the surrounding area, plastic and protective, and Jesus. That was cool. Otherwise, so much is mentionable, and so much I would love to describe in details that are now hazy and would perhaps not be of much interest to any but myself. I was really honored and lucky to spend the time I did, where I did in Portugal.

A Weekend Out of Town

Before the end of the first term, I went to a cottage/hostel on a farm, in a small, nowhere village in the woods near Jyväskylä, not terribly far from Tampere, but a decent drive away from any place substantially populated. The roads in the town were mostly unpaved, save the main road leading out of the area. I went with Yvonne and Katerin, friends from Germany.

It was such a contrast, given the urban feel of Tampere, no matter how small the city is. It was dark, dreary and quiet, and the locals gave off the kind of uncomplicated, peaceful air that such people commonly do. It was just what we wanted, a quiet, peaceful place in the middle of nowhere with a sauna. Given the price we paid, we were surprised how accommodating and nice the place was, with a wood-burning sauna, a cozy interior and a lot of space.

We spent most of our time walking around through the empty woods, taking photographs and exploring the area. It was really quite nice.

I don't recall exactly how long we were there, but on the morning of one of the full days we spent, we woke a little late and on preparing to leave, saw a ruckus a small distance from our cottage/hostel, in a barn that was part of the farm. We creeped slowly to the barn and on getting closer, the matron of the place approached us and said they had caught an elk that morning, that it was shot by a young kid and that the elk happened to be pregnant. “You can get closer and look,” she said. We ran and grabbed our cameras.

It was a strange sight. This huge, hulking beast of an animal, hanging, mostly skinned and massive, from a large pully, connected to a metal bar pushed through the leg joints of the animal’s hind legs. There was about 8 men dancing around the elk, excitedly though rather precisely, skinning and preparing the animal. There were more men standing around watching then working, perhaps all preparing for the day they might shoot one themselves.

They looked at us questioningly at first, and seemingly irritated, while our host cleared our identities, which affected a few “welcome to our woods” smirks and passing looks of curiosity. They were consumed by their task though. At first my stomach turned and I wanted to walk away from there, but, of course I was lured to this strange sight, both because I have never seen a live elk let alone a dead one, but also because of the strangeness of the whole procedure.

The worst part was when a man pushed a wheel-barrow up to the animal while a couple men cut down its chest, allowing the stomach to slip, noisily and grotesquely from the animal, filling the entire wheel-barrow to the brim. I was about to walk away then, but we all just kept watching, fascinated. Strangely, it was clear after some moments, this was something so old and human, and almost natural. It was not so strange after only a few moments. One thing which was not so nice, however, was the discovery of two babies in the stomach of the elk, and, we being the foreign observers, they brought them up to us, almost as if it was an offering. “Here you go our revered guests.”

They usually don't shoot pregnant mom elks, but the kid was young, he didn't know. We took photos, but I didn't want to post those of the babies. They were in a small, clear fluid sack, about the size of my hand, and almost looked like they had beaks. I did decide, however, to post photos of the elks and men working on them. At first I was not going to, and asked a few friends what they thought, was it wrong or not to post such photos.

I decided however it was too interesting and not disturbing or perverse enough to leave un-posted. I do apologize though, to any who may think it is wrong or offensive to post such photos. I had one friend who said it was gross and would be wrong, leaving me to believe that someone else will also feel the same. I don't feel it is an exploitation of anyone or thing and I believe the photos are not so bad.

Moreover, the situation became more strange and mentionable (and post-able), as on our return later that night, after having walked the day in the woods, they had caught another elk, a rather unusual circumstance. Perhaps we were their lucky charms. We brought the spirit of the hunt. I couldn't help, but imagine the spirits of the elk raging in woods that night, big, dead and searching for their hunter, raging through the woods, making loud, dead elk sounds. It was so dark and the wind was blowing a bit. It was all quite surreal.

My resolve to not hunt was only confirmed after the trip, and I felt like I had gotten a slice of an old way of being human that has been lost to the urban dwelling masses. Even more so, it was a nice weekend away from Tampere and my student-housing cage.

The City of Tampere

Prerequisite Formalities

I realized yesterday that, because I have fallen so far behind in staging the chronology of my time in Finland, I would have to sacrifice a hefty bulk of my current time to post everything I would like to before returning home, which will be within the next two weeks. It suddenly seemed ridiculous to sacrifice my sweet, real-time life of the present, to the already burned, digitally preserved, Internet life of the past. I kept it up though, fading each day a little more into the monitor of my computer, both re-living my year and being a little more non-existent in my surroundings. But, after a dozen or so lost hours, I have more-or-less finished with my photos and will lay them out, all at once, as chronologically as possible.
This post is what I intended in November, a personal photographic representation of the city of Tampere to accompany whatever scraps of historical misinformation and whimsical description I could muster. These photos actually span the first few months of my year and continue to the last few weeks, though they are not laid out in order.

Following this entry will be a semi-chronological re-cap of my year, as there were trips I took, which I had planned to post photos of from the start and never found the inspiration to organize.

I will conclude with a very up-to-date post, which will portray my last 3 weeks, which I have spent in Sweden, land of the free, home of the brave. After that (and my return home) I will either start a whole new blog and link it to this one, or continue here.

Thank you for checking in.

Thumb Wrestling Champion

Now that I have been in Tampere for approximately 10 months, and have neglected adding an entry for almost as long, I will add one describing the city. I had posted the last entry as a photographic lead-up to this long intended Tampere overview, but this never happened. But, what can I say, the inspiration, the mood and the moment just never quite arrived for me to make any additions. Negligent? Yes, immoral? No, though I would give a sincere apology to any who was kind/interested enough to regularly check up on me and my blog.

I was truly hoping to give as many details, exciting anecdotes and photos as possible, but somehow, winter swallowed me up and I found myself wandering around for months in a sluggish, empty haze. Then, suddenly, I found myself locked in a rigorous and unending thumb wresting match with the unruly, fast acting and flexible, oversized thumbs of the likes of lacking- motivation, inspiration, time, intent, direction, significance, chance, and the ultimate challenger, boredom.

It would seem that 8 or 9 years of near-constant employment and busyness plays a trick on the mind of those who are foolish enough to pursue such ends. After a few months of calm relaxation and choice use of my free time, I was ambushed and overwhelmed into these tedious thumb-wrestling matches, dodging and parrying as huge, lightening fast thumbs charged at mine, hoping to pin mine down and declare victory. ONE, TWO, THREE!! But I didn’t give up.

My thumbs are sore, my heart is wary, but as the sun was let out of its cage, and I built up thumb strength by using a hand flexing device, called the “Thumb Flexor” I found myself inching my way back to activeness. I still get threatening text messages for rematches, but I won’t be here much longer and the increasing warmth is slowly bringing me to realize, you don’t have to be a world-class thumb-wrestling champion to be happy in life. I won once, why wrestle again.

Besides, and in addition to this, soon I will be able to revel in the drab, graceless droll of the American accent, marvel at the illogic of endless, result-less, round-about political debate, walk the fluorescent marble-like halls of the wonderland called Wal-Mart, spend time with fundamentalist, nationalist weirdos and forget that somewhere out there, beyond the horizons of my flailing homeland, lie lands where people believe in things like common sense, reasonableness, truth, equity and interestedness. I think I have no choice but to enjoy myself at whatever cost, before I make the plunge back into my disintegrating mess of a home country. And now I have huge thumbs, so I am prepared for challengers.

No, I don’t mean to sound so cynical and angry, but I must admit, from this perspective, American politics and public appear so deranged and hysterical. But, I am thrilled at the thought of my family, friends and much loved familiarities. Landscapes, smells, sights; All of it excites me when thinking about it, regardless of the passing waves of incompetent politicians, social wackiness, ridiculous media, etc. Home is home. I won’t bow down to the cliché that sits perched at the edge of this one. My heart is also in Finland. Hell, its everywhere. I am not too big on nationalist hysterics.

On that note, Tampere is a small, rather quaint city with a population of 200,000. As guide books like to say, the city is “nestled between two lakes,” Näsijärvi and Pyhäjärvi, which are separated by an elevation difference of 18 meters (59 ft.) The Tammerkoski Rapids (which are still called rapids for some strange reason) connect the lakes and were largely instrumental in establishing Tampere as an industrial center of Finland and have been the buttery-bread of the city from its conception. The rapids were harnessed for energy and factories sparing up around its banks, giving the city its current working class ambience.

The town sprang centered around the rapids, as a small market place town in 1775, being given township status by Gustav III in 1779 to later become the thriving industrial center it is today. Additionally, it is was the center of some of the bloodiest battles during Finland’s civil war in 1918, which marked both when the country declared independence from Russia, who annexed it in 1809, taking it from Sweden, and when Finland would set its direction for future structure. A strange and difficult war to really define, it has been described by some to be the war between communism and continued Russian dominance and the “white-is-right” side, which claimed it was fighting for independence and freedom from the tyranny of the “wrong red.” Really, it was an unfortunate event, springing from the confusions of a tumultuous and insecure period.

During the start of Russia’s period of Finnish dominance, Finland was given a wide buffer to establish its own government, having good relationships with the appointed Russian governor-general, who acted as Liaison between the established single-chamber government and the emperor and government in Russia. This lasted until the later half of the 19th century, when Russia, unsure how to deal with its stolen, subjugated borderland additions to its empire, started an intense period of Russification under Tzar Alexander III. This was the greatest initiatory factor leading up to the shaky situation in Finland, resulting in civil war.

With Russia’s new program of Russification it became imperative to gain independence. Many Finns wanted only this, but had different ideas regarding the soundest way to go about emancipation and creating a smooth transition to independence. To really delve into the history, it is still difficult to discern what happened, though some things are clear. Due to Russia’s revolution there was a dramatic decrease in export of grain from Russia to Finland, creating a situation of panic and fear of deception from farmers with grain and the then establishment provisional government, ran by Swedish-Finnish intellectuals.

On top of this, in 1899 a workers movement was started, gaining high membership and support from many workers and poorer farming populations. The government was actually rather effective and the situation seemed comparatively stable. The greatest threat to peace came with an election held in 1917 in which the social democrats and labor party won a majority. The Swedish elite, afraid things would run awry, dissolved the results, as the social democratic party wanted more control and power, and for the provisional government to deal mostly with foreign relations. Also, At this time there was no established police force. Instead, the middle class, associated with white Finland, had a “civil guard,” composed of farmers and soldiers. The working class, on the other side, had the Red Guard as their peacekeeping force, there still being a substantial amount of Russian Soldiers in the land. This situation polarized the population, forcing support of either red or white.

Ultimately, the situation was a problem of communication. Certainly, some on the red side wanted to be a part of communist Russia and side with the Bolsheviks, but many just wanted to be honored in the election. The Russian revolution of 1917 was an excitement and encouragement to action. Prior to this period, real power was actually wielded by strike committees, on both the white, middle class and red, working class sides. However, following the election and the struggle for power between the social democratic and provisional government, the red side tired of parliamentarian methods of change-making and declared control of the country.

In the battle the white side collaborated with Germany, hiring Finnish Jäeger soldiers who were well trained in Germany and effective in battle. There was a plan to actually become a principality of Germany, upon a white victory, but due to Germany’s difficulties and internal cleavages, this was not a possibility. Some of these pro-German people would later rage for fascism in the 1930s through a near successful extremist group called the Lapua movement.

The red side however, was not so well organized or militarily capable as the white side, resulting in their final, bloody defeat in Tampere. Thousands were detained and died in concentration camps, while the whites also killed many in “terrors,” or, basically killing sprees.

Ultimately, the situation was not a clear-cut revolution or two sided struggle against good and bad. It was more of an unfortunate explosion, and situation of communication breakdown and haste in different directions by different forces resulting in a friction that escalated and exploded into violence.

People still don’t talk about it much, with there being very few films or extensive public recognition of the event. There is much blood in Tampere and sometimes you can hear something said about it, how divisive and unfortunate the whole situation was. One of the things mentioned the most is the propagation of family member against family member and friend against friend.

I am no historian and any who read this, feel free to correct me. This is some kind of overview.

On that note, I am going to try and post as much of my year as I can here in the next month before I return home, which will be at the start of July. I have far too many photos and a few mentionables.

More than anything though, in our illiterate and time-addled age, I plan to post photos and will try and keep some kind of chronology to them.

A Photographic Prelude To Tampere

Turku- A City Demoted

Finland has quite a history, and is impossible to talk about without taking a look at its peculiar position as a meeting point between the historically tumultuous, exotic Russian east and European west. Finns are a mysterious lot because there is not any clear evidence regarding where they have come from. What is clear is that they were Christianized and ruled by both east and west, being ruled and shaped by Sweden from 1154-1809 and Russia from 1809-1917.

While under Swedish rule Sweden’s administrative center for attempting to “civilize” the rough living, forest dwelling, pagan Finns was Turku (Åbo in Swedish). Eventually though, after Russia fought for and won Finland for itself, the capital was moved to Helsinki in order to reduce the Swedish influence and move the capital closer to the Tzar Alexander I and St. Petersburg.

Turku is the oldest and 5th largest city in Finland. I personally am not a huge fan of Turku, as it has a certain kind of coldness in regards to its layout and feel, but it is historically rich and has a number beautiful Churches and nice architecture. I am, of course, impressed by everything older than 50 years old, being a California boy and all, but if I were to create an ordered list of my favorite Finnish cities, Tampere and Helsinki would be having an arm wrestling/karate chop contest with each other and then Turku would be somewhere down on the list awaiting a promotion. Wait on my little friend. I have no love for you in this empty, blackened heart of mine.

I Am An Old Man Now/God Eats People For Lunch

Soon after arrived I turned the quarter century page in my life. Conveniently, I was born on the same day of the same year as a Bavarian student, so there was no lack of people to attend the festivities. We had cake, and all went down and drank beer by a lake. It was a fine way to begin my stay.

Tampere is a city nestled between two large lakes, Näsijärvi and Pyhäjärvi. Lapinkaari, the student housing building I live in, is situated wonderfully, right next to Näsijärvi, making for a wonderful place for recreation and the sometimes-desperately-needed peaceful outing. There are trails running along the lake, which are geared for cross country skiing in the winter and running in the summer. It is a truly beautiful area, as I will provide photographic evidence for when I am finally able to choose which photos to post.

Lapinkaari, My Home In Finland

Lapinkaari As Of Last Week

This Is A Place Where I spend Time Sleeping

A Glance Through The Wilds

Fancy, Modern Design

This is the View From My Window

It Snows In Finland?

Finland (I am Still Alive)

To begin, I would like to apologize for my lack of posts, especially to any one that has regularly checked for updates. I know how annoying it can be to check something that should be updated regularly and find it never to be so.

Anyhow, I have finally gotten the inspiration/time/energy to sift through a constantly growing pool of photos to make some new posts and if all goes as planned, I will put up a flurry of posts in the next weeks and try and get up to speed. Given the fact I have been settled comfortably here for a time and am not experiencing new excitement every day, it will not be too hard to do so, I hope. I will likely end up posting many photos with little commentary once I finNish (aye ;-) some brief descriptions/introductions to my life in Tampere.

I hope you are all doing well over there and that the politics and madness, which appear so bizarre and twisted from this perspective, aren’t getting you down. I must say, the longer time I spend in a well-oiled and more-or-less healthy society (don’t get me wrong, Finland has its problems) the more unbelievable and unrealistic the situation in the US appears. Enough of that though, here are some photos.

I first want to post a few current photos of the recent snowstorms, given how early it is here and how beautiful. I will then try and give some kind of chronological, or subject orientated posts so it will be as though I was posting the whole time.

Meow!