Nice summer and all's well - more's the pity
CITY LIGHTS
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By Antti Manninen
Everything's fine on Friday, as I write this piece. That's pretty bad news, really, for anyone who has to fill these column inches, as we are supposed - in good Finnish fashion - to have something to gripe and moan about.
The journalist just back from vacation desperately needs an interesting, topical, and suitably "easy" subject to get his or her teeth into, by way of a bit of initial light training.
From the perspective of professional pride, it would be good, too, if the topic had some measure of social significance.
Nothing for it but to take a short brainstorming walk. The sun shines down brightly and a gentle summer breeze wafts across the Market Square, which is filled with stallholders, relaxed locals ambling about, and tourists.
Dammit! This is no good.
I mean, for at least eight months of the year it blows an icy Siberian gale down here and there's rain or sleet coming down horizontally. You come down to the market in November or January - that sorts out the men from the wimps.
The park between the Esplanades is no better: it's busting out all over with blooms, and everywhere looks neat and tidy.
There are no kids out getting trashed on bottles of supermarket beer, littering the place with the cardboard remnants of their "dachshund" 12-packs, and for once there are no poncho'd Peruvians playing their flutes too loud, either.
Hell, where's all the last winter's gravel on the sidewalks, the stuff that scrunches so sweetly in your boot-heels and puffs up to dry out your throat?
Then you can let out a dignified cough on greeting folks you know.
Hey, and where's all the snow-melt dogsh*t, that annual reminder that April is the smelliest month? Gone, all gone, or nearly.
There are more trams out than usual. Someone's gone and cancelled all the annual summer street and sidewalk repairs.
The pale flags of the IAAF world Championships flutter prettily, even though some tight-assed soul has been complaining that they are an eyesore. A pathetic attempt.
Well, no matter, come September the maintenance crews will be ripping up the streets and cobbles again, and it'll feel like home once more.
Helsinki is at its fickle best in the summer. In August it resembles a real city, with life in the streets, on the restaurant terraces, and in the parks. The majority of the local residents have returned to town city from their sojourn at the summer cottage. Elsewhere in Europe, the high season for holidays has begun, meaning that there are more travellers than usual to be found strolling around in these latitudes.
Then again, the cottage life is at its best in the summer, too. The Finns dive back into the trees in July, when Helsinki goes as quiet as a Spanish town during siesta. The Helsinki Festival and the restart of other cultural events only wakes the capital back into life in August.
Best to enjoy the city summer while it lasts. It'll cool down and go dead again in short enough order, well before the Baltic Herring Fair begins in early October or the St. Thomas Christmas Market comes to town after Independence Day in December.
But there it is! Got it! The urgent problem requiring a speedy solution: the European Union must posthaste pass a directive ordering that Finland should enjoy the same amount of summer as the other 24 member-states. Then we could first enjoy the cottage summer and after that the urban summer, instead of having to make do with just a bit of both.
In tough ministerial negotiations, we could buy off the French and the Italians with an offer of November and April if they put up a fight against the reforms.
And when the directive comes into force, as model EU pupils we'll promise to abide by it to the letter and without grumbling.
Helsingin Sanomat / First published in print 6.8.2005
The author is a staff journalist on the Helsingin Sanomat Metro desk.
ANTTI MANNINEN / Helsingin Sanomat
antti.manninen@hs.fi
