Finnished in Style
The drive from northern Oulu to southern Helsinki could generously be described as consistent. The road stretched ahead in an unbroken line, flanked by forests so dense and uniform they could have been cut and pasted repeatedly along the route. Occasionally, a frozen lake appeared, briefly breaking up the monotony, but even those began to repeat after a while. Arriving in the capital brought an immediate shift in atmosphere. It instantly announced itself as a place with more energy and bustle than anywhere we’d seen in Finland so far. Our campsite, tucked conveniently close to a metro station, provided a comfortable base for exploring the city, though we barely had time to settle in before Lowri revealed the evening’s plans: Finland versus Ireland in the Nation’s League at the historic Helsinki Olympic Stadium.
The structure itself was a charming relic, steeped in history and just weathered enough to feel authentic without veering into “renovation overdue” territory, though it wasn’t long before the action in the stands became far more captivating than either the historic stadium or, indeed, the action on the pitch. The Irish fans, who seemed to have arrived with more enthusiasm than their team, at least in the first half, turned the event into something between a pub singalong, an audition for Riverdance, and a mass brawl. They were loud, animated, and very clearly fuelled by the €10 Guinnesses, which they consumed with the determination of people who didn’t have to think about their work, families, or health for the remainder of the weekend. The game itself picked up towards the end, capped off by a last-minute winner from Robbie Brady that sent the Irish fans into a frenzy and left the Finnish crowd responding with the resigned grace of a people used to long winters and regular sporting disappointment.
The following day, we took a more cerebral approach to exploring Helsinki with a walking mystery tour, an app-based amusement that combined sightseeing with solving mildly taxing puzzles. As someone who enjoys walking but prefers it with a purpose (and ideally with a pint at the end), it turned out to be a fantastic method of seeing the city. The route first took us to Helsinki Cathedral, an impressive, whitewashed structure that stood proudly against the grey skies that loomed above us for most of the day. We were then guided through the coastal Kauppatori Market Square, its salty air laced with the unmistakable aroma of fresh fish. Stalls floated on the water, offering everything from Baltic herring to more obscure delicacies from the Åland Islands and Gotland, testing my flag knowledge of obscure Scandinavian dependent territories in the process.
Inside the nearby Old Market Hall, the atmosphere became far cosier. The trading booths were brimming with local delights, from smoked salmon to reindeer jerky, and the chatter of shoppers created a warm hum that contrasted nicely with the damp, miserable weather outside. Helsinki itself had a certain understated charm—less flashy than Copenhagen in the Scandi capital stakes but livelier than Oslo, and certainly more walkable. After a few days of exploring, gorging, and grappling with Finnish words longer than most English sentences, it was time to pack up and continue our journey southward.
Our chosen route out of the country was rather unorthodox—a ferry across the Gulf of Finland to Tallinn, Estonia—and expectations of the crossing were low. If you’ve ever traversed the English Channel at the same time as a school trip, which is inevitable, you’ll know the horror: sticky floors, an atmosphere of despair, and the smell of fresh vomit wafting around. What we found, however, was a ship so absurdly grand it felt like we’d accidentally wandered onto the set of The White Lotus. There were eight restaurants, two cinemas, a nightclub, and an Irish bar complete with live music and karaoke. The latter, naturally, became our base of operations for the voyage. Watching Finnish karaoke was an experience unto itself, as stoic locals took to the stage to belt out classics with varying degrees of enthusiasm and skill. Lowri heroically resisted the urge to grab the microphone, though we both quietly agreed that her rendition of Wicked’s Popular would have raised the bar considerably.
With Helsinki in the rearview mirror and the Baltics ahead, the journey was about to shift in tone. Finland had been a masterclass in quiet efficiency and unshakable calm; now, it was time to trade her snowy serenity for something altogether different. Estonia loomed across the Gulf of Finland, the first stop on what promised to be a crash course in medieval charm and Eastern/Northern European unpredictability. With any luck, Tallinn might offer a financial reprieve after six weeks of penny-pinching in Scandinavia. To the Baltics!
J
