I remember travelling to Norway in 2004. I was an exchange student at Handelshögskolan i Kalmar, Sweden, at the time. It was going to be my second visit to the beautiful shores of Norway, or Norge, in the local language. I always call it Norge to myself, anyway.
It was only going to be a quiet long weekend with a few friends. The studies in Sweden were never particularly challenging time-wise, and I took every opportunity to squander my Erasmus scholarship on travels. The Eurovision Song Contest 2004 was about to kick off, and I looked forward to leaving the Swedish borders - according to the Contest's rules, one cannot vote for home performers, but Sweden had a great entry that year; great by the Eurovision standards, anyway. Lena Philipsson was the girl's name, singing "Det Gör Ont" ("It Hurts"). It was our anthem. Sweden was the first (so far, last) country where I ever bothered stepping into night clubs - because the company was excellent, and I could ignore the otherwise unpleasant prospects of squashing myself into a noisy room full of smoke. The morning-after-the-party syndrome was never particularly appealing, though.
Never mind - my thoughts are drifting away, as usual. Back to the Norwegian National Day! I arrived at Oslo central station on 13 May 2004 then. I could describe the next few days in lovely Norge - meeting my aged Norwegian friends from St. Saviour's Anglican Church in Riga, walking in Oslo, being taken to Stortinget (the Norwegian Parliament) as a guest by a retired friend, co-shopping for a new yacht (Norwegians are all stinking rich, you know), taking a train down to Horten to see more friends, spending a day on the beach, visiting Moss, Skien, and Fredrikstad, etc.
However, what I remember best is the Norwegian National Day, 17 May. The occasion dates back to 1814, commemorating the country's declaration of independence and establishment of constitutional government. Despite the union with Sweden forced onto Norge shortly after (lasting until 1905), it was on 17 May 1814 that the foundations for the independent Norwegian state were laid.
Norwegians that I saw seemed to have a warm, loving feeling towards their National Day. Traditional costumes had been prepared days in advance to be worn for the occasion. In the early morning, the residents of Oslo could be seen dressed up in the regional variations of traditional costumes - to do the mundane task of walking their pets.
But the most memorable moments were children's parades all over the country. This is something I loved about Norge. It was not the military might of the country marching through the streets of Oslo, past the royal palace, saluting to the royal family. There were thousands of little feet instead, waving Norwegian flags, playing musical instruments, singing folk songs and carrying the banners of Oslo schools. The royal family lined up on their balcony for the occasion, waving to the children passing by, for hours. I thought they might be quite tired, but every member seemed determined enough to last for the day. Wonderful memories! I wish I did not have to rush for the train to Göteborg, then. On a bright sunny day in Oslo, I could have watched those parades for ages. Such a great atmosphere.
I miss Norge.
On 30 September, 2005, Danish daily best-seller Jyllands-Posten publishes a number of cartoons. Starring, among others: caricatured prophet Muhammad, the key charismatic figure of Islam. All very well, but Islam prohibits any images of its prophet. Picturing him with a bomb-shaped turban and as explaining to a queue of terrorist-looking entrants into Heaven that "no virgins are left" is hardly of help (the latter cartoon refers to the alleged reward of 72 virgins for the martyrs of Islam, although without sufficient support from Muslim scholars).
At the outset, there is little public resonance. It takes full twenty days for Muslim ambassadors to file a complaint to the Prime Minister of Denmark, Anders Fogh Rasmussen. Anyway, who cares about some Danish newspaper? Freedom of speech remains one of the essential Western values, and Danish government refuses to apologise on behalf of an independent media source. In the meantime, other problems permeate the world. Iran is labouriously developing its nuclear might and plotting to wipe certain countries off the world map. Europe is breathlessly following the German election. The United States has hurricanes on its mind. Bird flu threat is looming over the population of the entire globe. In short, everyone is far too busy to pay substantial attention to a handful of caricatures, most of which appear less offensive than others.
Then, on 10 January, 2006, the interesting part begins. A Norwegian publication reprints the cartoons. Who asked them, is my question? Did they think they were doing Denmark a favour? In February, bigger world players see their media follow the lead, France, Germany, Italy, and Spain. Whenever a new country stubbornly joins this useless debate, Denmark gets the blame. Danish products are boycotted all over the Muslim world. Danish embassies are attacked, Danish flags burnt and humiliated, Danish diplomats put in danger.
Were France & Co in cahoots to punish Denmark for some ancient viles? Obviously not, as the governments cannot claim themselves responsible for the actions of national independent media. The governments only get to face the public reaction to what their media do.
It is sad that a bunch of hawkish journalists can provoke international riots and victims, and their national authorities get blamed. Denmark is one of the most tolerant countries towards emigrants that I know. Finland, where I currently live, is much less so. Yet nobody in the Islamic world complains. The main reason is probably the small number of Muslims in Finland. Why else? Because Finland is cleverly keeping its thoughts to itself and not sticking out promoting the abstract concept of freedom of speech.
Very wise indeed.
It has been forever since I last wrote, although not exactly because things have not been happening. Quite the contrary - this life has been doing its utter best to carry on forward. Sometimes I need to give it a little bust. I dislike being so passionate, emotional and very easily attached to people. The move from Frankfurt was just painful.
Again, life has been going on since 14 January. My plane took off at FRA on a brilliantly sunny winter day, soared over the "Main-hattan" part of the city and the Europaturm (TV-tower), and left a chunk of myself buried in Frankfurt. Yes, I can visit sometimes, but it will never be the same again - unless I move to Frankfurt one day and settle there properly. Who knows what lies ahead. I appreciate knowing how many good friends there are currently in Frankfurt, working, residing, and simply likely to sporadically appear. Thanks to everyone again; it is agonizingly difficult to fight the longing to go back.
...Riga settled into a bluish shade of dark as we touched down. My mother was waiting at the exits, impressed by my ability to sneak over 50 kg of luggage through the check-ins without paying extra. Hand-luggage, mum, fake accent, and smiling with full teeth. Honestly, I do not know how I have never been forced to pay my way in :)
I was tired of Riga after 12 hours. Sunless place striken with carefully exposed poverty. The government is not happy about us Latvians heading to Ireland in flocks? Maybe cutting public service salaries would at least make a good impression. I understand that nothing can be done about the climate, but Latvia might consider emitting more CO2 to "improve" those bitterly cold winters (ok, of course not). At least I was not born in a place where people live in tents, suffer from endless hazards, or attack each other commonly. Instead, they live in tiny flats with poor insulation, struggle through dark icy winters, and always moan about, though cannot fight against, their politicians and life in general (I could be the president of the club?). Come on, I do still love my Vaterland.
There were some good bits of Riga. I went out to a new restaurant called "Alberts", at a hotel bearing the same name. Who would have thought this Soviet-type block building could be renovated to standards like this - full marks! Lovely evening with friends from the UK Embassy. Babysitting their happy threesome a few days later. Swimming at Kipsala - the cleanest swimming pool I have ever used. Seeing mates from the SSE Riga times - great to see Svetik, Darja, Anja, Ira and Natik. Darja happens to know Inna S. - wow! Sometimes I think she knows the whole world and its second cousins. ssneg turned down our coffee at the last minute due to -26C cold and saved me from inevitable freezing... Similarly, Julija elegantly avoided our lunch, though work commitments are probably nothing elegant. I shall call again once in Latvia and the cold has departed!
Who else thinks Riga is becoming darn expensive to live in? How can this be that German food is either cheaper or costs exactly the same, quality held constant, unadjusted for wage levels? It is also mean from Western clothing retailers to off-load their non-marketable stuff on us. If you cannot sell it in the civilised world, donate it to those in need. Yes, I know they would not want rubbish on their territory, but neither do we. Stop using Latvia as a litter bin for impractical, off-season clothes in traffic-light red and acid yellow.
After ten days in Riga, I had to flee to Finland. The ferry lingered along the water. It was mysteriously pretty to see brightly lit Tallinn disappear behind, while the boat continued into a sort of a black hole. At the end of the tunnel, came light: Helsinki. Tervetuloa takaisin, after a break of seven months! I have missed the cosy sights of the Finnish capital.
Things have been going great in Finland. I am staying in Puistola, very close to the city border with Vantaa. My bed is in a garden house, which my friends have converted from a garage. The main house smells like wood and is very cold. The coldest part of the house is, unfortunately, the shower/lavatory, where temperatures rarely climb above the outdoors - brrr! Moreover, some bits of the house are greasy and old, but who cares. My friends are an English/Finnish couple in their early thirties. They are unemployed, have a baby and a dog and expect another one in April (obviously, not another dog).
Never mind - I have an extra incentive to stay at Hanken and work on my Thesis. My supervisor rocks! The course in Real Estate Portfolio Management is interesting, too. Helsinki has been sunny and never too cold. Rejoining Itäkeskuksen uimahalli is absolutely superb. Attending St. Nicholas Anglican Church again and seeing dear friends is fantastic. I have re-established myself as a nanny, and my first time with darling twins, Katie and Alec, is a week away.
Generally, I think I can survive here. Back in Riga on 27 February for the TFAS event on 1 March.
