Helsinki and Stockholm

Our last two days of this adventure were split between Helsinki, Finland and Stockholm, Sweden. On Helsinki day, Dad woke up with a gross little cold and wanted to stay put so the three of us girls ventured into Helsinki with no real plans. We thought we’d have a short walk and then splurge on a Finnish lunch. Brett’s Mom’s family was from Finland so I became fixated on finding gifts for Susan and my two nephews. (I’ll be an Aunt in three weeks. That’s weird.) What better place for souvenirs than the homeland of Great Grandma Hertha. (They call her Heath Bar.)

But Helsinki had different plans for us that day. What we wound up discovering was a mecca of home décor shopping. Forget my snot-nosed nephews, every store had weird, mid-century furniture made out of sticks and I couldn’t see past the glory of it all. I needed everything. Really, I did, for they don’t sell this great stuff back home. I’ve done research about it.  Mom became excited for me. “This looks like you!” she’d say, pointing at a store front case displaying bold tribal patterns on impractical furniture. “I need it.” I whispered. 

Rewind two weeks back to when we landed in Copenhagen. My suitcase was selected for a search and it was destroyed in the process. It had been ripped open. They broke the zipper and sliced through the lining. A note said it was searched because it was locked. I guess that makes a piece of luggage suspicious and I could back that up, except that my suitcase doesn’t have a lock on it, so in turn I felt violated and had to pick articles of clothing off of the baggage claim conveyor belt. The airport gave me a replacement suitcase that was about half the size of the one they destroyed so I had to disperse my belongings among my family and reorganize my underwear in front of the bustling crowd at the Copenhagen airport. 

Back to Helsinki where I wanted to buy everything in sight but had no space for purchases, let alone the things I brought with me. “Just buy another suitcase here.” Ellen suggested. I'd thought about it but that seemed too whimsical. I pride myself on packing light and making sensible financial decisions. I’d already bought a raincoat back in Estonia and some World Cup paraphernalia for Brett. Who was going to lug all that home? So I said “no” and we carried on. Shop to exciting shop, we found little gems. Ellen bought a pretty dress here, a souvenir there, and then the worst thing happened. We stumbled upon a store with home goods fit for every aesthetic and the prices were so low we continuously recalculated the exchange rate because we just couldn’t believe it. All three of us found things we wanted and all three of us instantly felt stuck. Going wild in this Finnish home goods store is not something any of us would do. The things Mom liked were breakable. The things Ellen liked were trendy knick-naks more than investment pieces, and the things I liked were too numerable to account for.” We just need to leave the store.” I said, with much sorrow while I cradled the perfect pillowcases for my sofa. Mom looked sad. I cast my eyes across the displays once more and met Mom’s again and we both frowned. Something came over Ellen.

“What are we pouting for? Let’s a buy a suitcase, because Laura needs one anyway, and we’ll fill it with this stuff! We can get it all home. Come on y’all. Let’s do this!”

The “Let’s do this!” really made us laugh and the three of us doubled over with arms full of decorative crap. The store clerk stared at us. We labored and toiled and paired down our purchases to just the things we’d regret leaving behind and the three of us walked out of there with shopping bags and a sense of whimsy. Ellen referred to our purchases as “Baltic Treasures.”

One reoccurring theme for this trip was Asians. By nature of there being heaps of them, one can find at least a pair of Asians on just about any street in the entire world. Think of Asia like a giant anthill and then have God accidentally trip on the anthill while on his quick commute to work that day. Typically the sun rises in the East but on that fateful morning, God put the Aussies and Polynesians to bed and decided to spice things up and jump over Europe on his way to wake up the Americans and whoops, he stubbed his toe on Asia. What happens when you kick an anthill? I’ll tell you. They scatter. Most of them are still milling around that main hub but a whole bunch of them dart off in other directions

I was physically assaulted by frenzied Asian tourists on each of day of this trip and I tried to be patient. Growing up in an anthill would give one a sense of bustling, hurriedness to get your space or your portion or your train to work but there were times after being shoved sideways by a grown woman that I would shove right back … and they wouldn’t even flinch. I put both hands on a strange woman and pushed and she didn’t even turn to see who did it. She carried on as though light battery was part of her daily commute. That blew my mind. I had bruises on my shins from an Asian woman in Norway that used my legs like a subway turnstile, squeezing past me in a café. This behavior appalled me and enraged me and at times, made me turn on the entire Asian race. I hope a kind Asian person sees this post and starts a viral trend of minding personal space while on vacation outside of their anthill.

Now where was I? We scampered back to the boat, brought Dad some tea, and spent the rest of the day by the pool grooving to Static’s funky jams. Helsinki was a great day. That night we donned our “formalwear” for various on-board events and finally Ellen had a near meltdown. I actually felt safer after the close call. Like letting a little steam out of a pot that could overflow.

The next day was Stockholm and I was very excited for a look around. I’d been there exactly eight years ago with Ari and Jared but we spent most of our time out of town on an island called Smadalaro and I only remember loving it and wanting to move there. Ellen sat out this day and kept Dad company so Mom and I joined a tour group and wandered all over “Old Town”. The parts of Stockholm we saw were pretty, clean, and quiet. We ate lunch outside on a patio off a main square and I recognized a few sights from ages ago. That was a strange, giddy feeling. We went to the Vasa Museum which houses an ornate, top-heavy ship that sank about 100 yards into it’s maiden voyage. They pulled it up out of the harbor years later and now that embarrassing failure is on display for all to see. Very interesting.

By our last night on the ship we were no longer interested in eating or exploring new places. You get tired. Things start blending together, especially when venturing to many places within the same region. Heaps of similarities makes for difficult distinguishment. For some reason, all four of us had the giggles at dinner this night. Dad was feeling much better, Ellen had let off some steam, and Mom was excited for another meal. A happy family. Ellen and I noted the large volume of belly laughs we shared on this trip. We laughed an awful lot. Mostly we laughed at Dad. He would come alive after just one slurp of coffee and the high would last him all day. He would run and scamper and giggle and play. He’ll be mad I told you this but he once let out a rapid fire trifecta when he sneezed, hiccupped, and then burped in succession of each other and the laughter was unstoppable. Not long after that, he yawned and it turned into a long, low burp and you could see the surprise on his face as it was happening. “What’s wrong with me?” he shrieked. We all were laughing so hard that we were receiving happy looks of confusion from the faces of nearby cruisers. They wanted in on the jokes. Mom was disappointed with our childishness but also equally absorbed in the silliness.

The day of our long arduous trek home and after we packed up our Baltic treasures, I woke up early to a beautiful sunrise and Mom woke up with an intensified version of Dad’s cold. She suffered through three flights and two layovers feeling awful and spiting fire. She felt so bad she didn’t even laugh at Brett’s offensive airport sign. (Or maybe a mother just wouldn’t find that funny.)

This trip marked the most laughter and happy together-time that we’ve had as a family of four since Ellen entered her terrible teens. The places we visited were beautiful and clean but we weren’t in breathtaking landscapes or grand feats of nature. It was like visiting a productive area of business that minds it’s manners and cleans up after itself. Like Vermont. I think that's what allowed us to be silly and become more absorbed in hanging out together rather than hustling to the sites with the crowds.