Finland is full of sights that one wouldn’t fly across the world to come see. But if one happens to pass by those unknown places, it’s hard not to feel lucky and thankful. Last weekend, we went back to the city where I had lived and studied for four years. It was a typical mid-sized city with intersecting bar streets, low-rise shopping malls, and apartment blocks. It was nowhere near the top of a traveling bucket list, but it was named European Green Capital 2021 and is widely known as a familiar host destination for international skiing competitions.
We revisited the places where I lived and studied, checked out random statues, and went to ... a local school because Anh Minh wanted to pay tribute to a significant yet unpopular Finnish figure, Gustaf J. Ramstedt. Ramstedt was a distinguished linguist who was once the leading researcher in Mongolian studies back in the early 20th century. He taught in the school for more than a decade before setting off to East Asia and became the first Finnish envoy to Japan, China, and Siam (Thailand). When he got the call from the state, he asked if it would be possible to say “no” to the mission. Hardly did people turn down such an offer, and as history has it, he couldn’t. While we were exploring the school buildings, Anh Minh managed to locate the “Ramstedt” plate saying that he was once working in the school. The plate was so tiny that it could only be seen up close. There was some text on it, but you could hardly read it. Thankfully, the carving of his face was still visible. After Anh Minh took a picture with the plate, our mission there was completed.
Next to the school was the city church. We were big fans of church architecture so naturally, we visited the church. From the outside, you could see one bulky brick building and a lofty concrete bell tower. The interiors were rather minimalistic: clean white walls, white pendant lamps supplying yellow lighting, long wooden benches, and a giant wooden cross in the front. There weren’t any extra decorations or even different colors. Many would appreciate the resemblance to Nordic minimalist design but to me, it was a perfect metaphor for industrialization: efficiency, uniformity, and flatness.
We passed a few insignificant spots in town before heading to a beautiful lake-adjacent countryside camping area. There we found out that we had left our tent at home(!) so we decided to sleep in the car, which is actually a minivan with a lot of storage space in the back. We put an air mattress and one sleeping bag under us and covered ourselves with another sleeping bag and a blanket. We thought it would be enough. During the night, the temperature dropped to 5 degrees (Celsius) so it was practically as cold as the inside of a refrigerator. We snuggled up to each other to get warm, but every slight movement like the turning of the back, stretching of the legs or even wiggling of the toes could destroy the warm ambience our bodies had worked so hard to create. Sometimes during the night, I woke up because of a sudden draft sneaking in under the blanket. In the twilight, Anh Minh’s calming face made me feel safe and grateful. Until I touched it. All of the security and gratitude I felt a moment ago bolted out the window. His face was dead cold, and he looked even whiter than his natural pale Nordic color. I woke him up to make sure that he wasn’t dead then snuggled his head under the blanket. When he started breathing heavily like a dragon puffing out fire, I was relieved and fell back into sleep.
The next day, we started slowly. We climbed up to the top of a skiing hill opposite to our camping site. Calling it ‘a climb’ is a bit of an exaggeration because the hilltop is just about 110 m above the sea level. From there, we could see the whole Water Lake (yes, that’s the name of the lake!). The giant blue lake stood timidly surrounded by countless rows of spruce, pine, and birch. The forest spread so far out that the horizon looked like a place where the trees met the clouds. I couldn’t help but felt a tiny bit jealous. “Despite drastic growth, Finland has more forest now than she did a hundred years ago. After a few decades of development, Vietnam has already sacrificed vast forested areas. Will she have managed to, at least, restore them in a hundred years?” I was not so sure.
The heavy clouds didn’t hang over my head for too long, though. Anh Minh had just announced his ambitious plan: driving around the entire Water Lake! To put it in context, the distance from our home to the camping site was about 126 km while the length of the shoreline was roughly 181 km. It was 5.30 in the afternoon, and we set out with no itinerary. Like usual, luck smiled upon us. As we were driving around, we spotted an ancient looking church. It was a colossal colorful stone church built during the Middle Ages. There were signs of wear and tear and of destruction and renovation over the times, but it still reminded you of a bygone era. The high bell tower bore a more contemporary look, because it was built about 300 years later. We were in awe of its beauty unaware that the best was yet waiting for us inside. Greeting us was delicately carved wooden door with intertwining patterns. As we stepped inside the church, we were immediately mesmerized by a collection of hand-crafted wood works. One illustrating the tale of St. George slaying a dragon had an excellent composition and vivid details. Another was a statue of a dutiful nun whose eyes haunted me in my sleep. One statue depicted a contented priest who was preaching attentively from the wall while a mysterious … human head poked out under his cassock. Still, what intrigued me most was a set of 16 shield-sized wooden coats of arms, which belonged to a general and his ancestors. Nowadays, only cities, municipalities, and states have coats of arms so the idea of every person owning one sounds ridiculous and excessive. Nevertheless, the collection was quite impressive. On every piece were carved the name of the bearer and their corresponding symbol or mascot. I especially adored a pair of flame-shaped wings flying over sea waves while Anh Minh set his heart on an atypical-looking pig carrying a long spear.
We would have lingered in the church had the priestess not started Sunday prayers. Didn’t I say we were big fans of church architecture? Yes, architecture. Leaving the church with a nostalgic feeling, we continued our exploration of the charming little town. At that point, we were starving so we went to a local supermarket to buy corn crackers and cold cuts. As we were enjoying “local delicacy”, I couldn’t help but noticed how quiet the whole town was. You would think after a seven-month winter, one would appreciate such a warm and bright spring evening but no! The streets were deserted. About 10 cars passed by in 30 minutes. It felt as though every towner had either died or fled due to an unfortunate disaster happening the previous day. It was hard not to feel off-putting by the sense of lethargy. “I could never live here.”, said Anh Minh. Then he started the car engine and drove us away.
Water Lake is big but its northern neighbor, Lake Päijänne is roughly 10 times bigger. The two lakes are separated yet connected via a narrow piece of land or isthmus as experts call it. In the past, natural rapids were formed between Päijänne and Water Lake. Then in the 1860s, the town people living on the isthmus decided to build a canal to enable more boating traffic. The construction of the canal took four years and, according to locals, was one of the five hardest times in Finnish history. Nowadays, the canal is the busiest boating canal in the country.
Funnily enough, I had never heard of the town or its crucial canal before when we came across it at our next pit stop. What first caught our attention was the sight of four teenagers on water motorcycles being trapped between two wooden “walls”. I was wondering how on Earth they managed to get stuck there, but the question didn’t linger in my head. We continued our walk along the bank. When we came back 10 minutes later, the teenagers had disappeared! I was desperately looking for clues to solve the “mysterious case” when Anh Minh pointed out that the water level had dropped significantly. At that point, it had finally hit us that we were looking at a canal, and those two “walls” were gates that could open and close. As to confirm our answer, the water started to bubble rapidly. I thought a baby Loch Ness Monster would rise from the water! It took a few minutes for the two bodies of water to even out. Then the first gate opened, and boats started moving toward it. Once the boats were the “throat” section, the first gate closed, and the whole process repeated. We were scrutinizing the operation in wonder! The local boat travelers must have noticed the awestruck expression on our faces, because they smiled at us and waved enthusiastically. To them, we were the sight they’d never seen!
The canal wasn’t the only attraction of the town. A sense of mellowness filled the air of the place. It was a sunny day. The parking lot was packed with cars. Out-of-town families with small children lined up to get ice creams. Teenagers chilled out on the grass playing lousy music on their loudspeaker. Here and there, elderly couples sat quietly on the benches observing. If the first town was a footage of a forgotten world, the second one was an ongoing scene of a beautiful summer day in a vibrant holiday destination. We didn’t want to leave.
On the way back home, I started thinking about the people we met on the trip. A divorced middle-aged Finnish man became a fan of melancholic Vietnamese music. His friend in his late 50s aimed to finish an Ironman Triathlon in 13 hours. A grandmother had trouble walking but was blessed with the ability to turn Finnish food into scrumptious delicacy. A Vietnamese immigrant mother fretted over the fact that her second-generation kids refused to learn and speak her native language. Their stories will be appreciated as long as there are people reading this essay. Isn’t it a relief to know that someone remembers your existence once you’re gone?
If traveling is all about discovering unfamiliar places and meeting real people, I’ll say we’ve traveled! We didn’t have to fly across the world and yet we came home with plenty of lovely stories to tell in dinner parties and exciting experiences to remember for life. We were lucky! And I’m sure you’re too, wherever you live in this wide world.
Written on March 7th 2023. Edited on February 5th 2025.
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