Helsinki’s Cold Embrace: 72 Hours in a Siberian Sleepwalk

so you want to know about helsinki, huh? lemme tell ya about the time i checked my phone and realized it was 5 am, -3.22c outside, and my hotel room smelled like burnt pine trees. yeah, that’s real helsinki. my feet were numb, my tea was cold, and the person next to me in the sauna at hotel icemarket kept talking about how his grandpa trapped arctic foxes for winter furs. not exactly a recipe for relaxation.

just checked the thermostat in my joint, and it’s -3.22c right now, but feels like -7 with the wind. hope you’re ready to embrace the chill. i woke up to frost crawling up the windowpanes like a drunk spider, my breath fogging the glass every time i leaned over to check the map for the 10th time. turns out, i was looking at the wrong café-the one i actually need is 3 km south, near the spot where the aurora borealis last made a cameo. if you’re even remotely interested in seeing it, book a tour with north lights adventures. their guides swear the sky does voodoo after midnight.

someone told me that walking past the peanut park at 2 am is like trekking through a haunted souvenir shop. heard there were skeletons in the dust. i didn’t see any, but the place was osteologically vibrant. not that you’d care-getting hit by a tram would’ve been more eventful. seriously, don’t text your mom while crossing paths with a drunk reindeer. those antlers swing like chainsaws.

the neighbors here are a riot. old man ternis, who lives three floors up, treats the stairwell like a personal sauna. steam rises every time he cracks open a amber bottle of beer. then there’s liisa-maria, who drags her luggage down the hallway at 6 am, humming traditional folk songs off-key. i swear she’s trying to melt icicles in her earbuds. one day, i’m gonna ask her why she’s wearing faux fur boots indoors. probably she’ll reply with a 20-minute rant about the cultural significance of midnightsun hats.

coffee? forget about it. the dingy cafe by the train station sells sludge with the consistency of melted asphalt. but if you’re desperate, try pêörn in the old town. barista calls herself aji, and she’ll grind beans into a foam so thick it could double as body butter. worth the 20-minute walk, if only to feel like you belong to something other than this subzero wasteland.

dinner tonight at kotka market, the food hall that’s basically a 19th-century meat pack. guy behind the counter, marianna, slaps pickled herring on rye bread like it’s going extinct. she’ll tell you it’s her grandmother’s recipe, but i bet she invented it after watching too many ‘viking survival’ shows. the salmon tartare, though? cold enough to freeze your eyebrows off. ask for hot, and watch her glare like you just insulted her great-aunt.

woke up at 6 am today wearing the same socks i wore yesterday. they’re covered in ice crystals and existential dread. my student loans feel like they’ve joined the great scandinavian hairball contest. but hey, at least the wifi in this dump is stable. checked reviews on tripadvisor-people keep saying the city is "quirky," but they’re lying. quirky means you’ll end up in a polite argument with a stranger about whether snow is just god’s confetti.

if you ever get bored, tampico is just a 5-hour drive away. seriously, helsinki’s not that small. took a uber from the airport and the driver quoted the sims movie. not a fan of the sardonic energy, but hey, at least i’m not stuck in some artsy commune where everyone speaks in metaphors and wears berets that are technically hats… wait, is that a rule? shouldn’t drivers know where they’re going? anyway, helsinki’s weird like that. maybe i’ll sleep here again. maybe.

[iframe src="/maps.google.com/maps?q=55.6617,37.8672&z=12&output=embed" width="/100%" height="/300"]

Helsinki’s Cold Embrace: 72 Hours in a Siberian Sleepwalk

You might also be interested in:

About the author: Silas Dean

Comments (0)

Join the conversation

Comments (0)

Join the conversation