What was I thinking? A picnic? In Finland? In winter?
I am too old, too out of shape and far too cold to go up that. “That” being an abandoned ski hill in central Finland – during a snowstorm. I am not sure how I was talked into this insanity as my cousin straps the bright yellow snowshoes to my boots and passes me ski poles. Hesitantly, I take my first steps and all thoughts about the cold fade as I fiercely concentrate on getting one foot in front of the other. My cousin laughs, prodding me on with a gentle nudge of his ski poles and a promise of a picnic I that will never forget.
This trip to Finland in order to explore my roots was never on the bucket list. It evolved because of a recent social media post of mine. I was whining about the boarding chaos at a gate in Istanbul`s International Airport due to two flights being boarded side by side with crossing line-ups. One was a flight to Helsinki, and the other for my connecting flight back to Canada. A cousin in Finland quickly responded with “get on the Helsinki flight!”. I typed “I’ll come one day!” knowing full well I probably wouldn’t.
Fast forward two months and thanks to a flight cancellation, I found myself with bags packed and no place to go. What was an old broad with a passport to do? Book alterative flights, of course. Finland! Here I come!
Which is how I ended up here, snowshoeing up a steep nonexistent path. I am mentally whimpering with each spread legged step, praying those cheerfully colored instruments of torture would not cross. I am having visions of my torpedo shaped body being shot headfirst into a snowbank, not be found again until the summer solstice. I can already see the headlines …. “Tourist Turned Popsicle Found! Yellow Snowshoes Still Attached”.
I am proud to say that I stay upright all the way up to the top! Where our trek ends at a snow-covered yurt-shaped hut with a hobbit sized wood door. It is Instagram adorable!
Upon entering, I find a fire pit in the center, with simple wood benches circled around it. An axe is there along with split firewood, ready for the use of any visitors to the hut. When the fire is started, it doesn’t take long for the hut to warm up. Coffee is served in wooden Sami mugs while our sausages are roasting on the grill. Finnish sweet buns with cardamon, cinnamon and sugar are then heated up for our dessert.
Without question, it is the most memorable picnic of my life and worth every agonizing step.
Once completed, we clean up after ourselves, strapped on the snowshoes and headed down hill. Here is an odd fact; it is harder to go downhill than up! But, after a few minutes I feel like I am a pro and as I am looking at the graceful shapes made by the snow-covered trees (instead of my feet) – yeah – you got it. Happily, it was bum first and although my knees and nose are almost meeting as my snowshoes wave in the air above me, I survive. My newfound family laugh, putting to rest the myth that Finns have no sense of humour.
The Finnish have a word with no real translation in English. “Sisu”. It is the part of one’s inner self that gives the fortitude to keep going despite difficult circumstances. Throw some humor, honesty and stubbornness into the mix and you have the recipe for Sisu. I think I have just discovered mine.
I have also learned that sometimes the best travel experiences come where least expected. I had no plans to come to Finland. My extended family here were strangers to me. Yet despite giving them little notice of my arrival, they welcomed me warmly and have taken great pleasure in teaching me how to be Finn. I should note here that Finns can also be a bit sadistic. After a sauna, they jump into holes cut into ice covered lakes and call it bathing.
So, if you are wondering where your next trip should be and your parents or grandparents came from a country as yet unexplored by you, consider getting to know your roots. Reach out to your extended family there to say hello. You might find yourself on the way to the best trip ever.
And if involves snow, stock up on handwarmers before you go. My secret weapon in sub-zero climates. Moika!