After traveling for eight months throughout new corners of Ecuador and Spain, I decided to visit my beloved city, Paris. Ten days there gave me a chance to catch up with dear friends and return to a tongue that requires little effort-unlike my ongoing pursuit to learn Spanish.

But the comfortable and familiar also left some time for new experiences. I booked a sidecar ride on motorcycle to see Paris at night and  agreed to share the snug, but warm and cozy space with a man from Chicago in Paris for the first time. The driver was more adept at maneuvering through narrow streets than offering insightful anecdotes and history, but seeing the sights from the sidecar was great fun. I booked this tour at the last-minute on Airbnb and was equally intrigued by a gastronomic dinner at a private home so booked that too.

When the apartment for the dinner was revealed to be Modigliani’s atelier I got goosebumps (Gauguin’s studio was downstairs). It was an extraordinary evening of mystical tales, conversation, and dining.

My days catching up with friends, taking walks, seeing exhibitions, and Eddie Izzard doing stand-up in French passed all too quickly.

I had always dreamed of going dog sledding and found a trip with a tour company in Finland. I flew to Helsinki from Paris on the 14th of December and spent two nights there.

Virtually everyone I encountered spoke perfect English. And those with limited knowledge made a gallant effort. “Harbor?, There.” One woman said while pointing her finger in the proper direction.

In the harbor I came to an outdoor swimming pool where locals and intrepid tourists were bathing. The outside temperature hovered around freezing. I was not tempted despite the rave reviews.

While dining in a cafe I saw some people setting up microphones and arranging their instruments. I asked the waiter what kind of music they would be playing. He said Hanukkah songs. I laughed thinking he was kidding, but Hanukkah songs were sung, a menorah was lit, and jelly donuts were passed around for all to enjoy. I had stumbled upon the Helsinki Jewish community’s annual Hanukkah celebration. It seemed that most of the community had emigrated from Russia, and the others from Israel and elsewhere.

What was also unexpected was the price for a glass of wine at a restaurant offering a tasting menu.  I thought there was an error when the bill came, assuming I had been charged for two glasses–there was a 2 next to the price. No. It was 2 euros per cl. The 12cl (4 ounce) glass cost twenty-four euros (nearly thirty dollars). I’m glad I hadn’t asked for another round. Apparently alcohol is very heavily taxed. I had thought it interesting that a few couples were drinking only water.  I’ve been sticking to water too ever since.

I would be meeting my group for the “Finland Wilderness” trip at Kuusamo Airport, about an hour flight north from Helsinki, on the morning of December 17th. The company tried to dissuade me from spending the night in Kuusamo where “there is nothing” but the alternative was a very late arrival the following night. Researching on the internet provided me with a well reviewed motel.  I booked it and the earlier flight.

The taxi driver at the Kuusamo airport spoke no English, but I arrived at my destination and the owner of the motel knew more English than expected. I learned “Kiitos(Thank you).” After quickly settling in I went back to the reception to get the lay of the land. The cheery host pulled out a map and suggested I take a walk around the nearby lake. I looked outside. It was very dark. I then looked at my watch. It was 2pm. The sun had risen at 10:30 a.m.. With some trepidation, and fighting the urge to get into bed, I ventured out. The street lights were on. What I thought might be gloomy turned out to be beautiful and peaceful. The town appeared empty. The park, just a five-minute walk away, was snow-covered. A grove of trees were tastefully decorated with red and blue lights. Soft white lights lit the path. My almost two-hour stroll was remarkably pleasing. The dry cold air was pleasant with my layers of clothing. A boy rode by on his bike. a woman walked her dog, and a father and son cross-country skied, but other than those few, I had the park to myself.
Later I ate at a restaurant across from the motel (delicious salmon with roasted root vegetables and salad) and bought some dried fruit and nuts at the supermarket. Each encounter with the locals was particularly pleasant. All had smiles and happily assisted me with translations when needed.

I slept well and enjoyed my ample breakfast the following morning. I took a taxi back to the airport and met with a tour leader. We waited together for the delayed flight of my group to arrive. Our time passed amicably and she enthusiastically answered my many questions about Finland: the sauna is the soul of the culture. Traditionally naked men and women went in together for quiet contemplation (“Like a church.”), then rolled outside in the snow before going back in. But conversation is more prevalent now. Rolling in the snow has not lost its appeal. She also let me know it was important to leave a log for the sauna elf before leaving and to ask permission to the trees before entering the forest. “I’ve never been refused.” she said with a smile.

The group arrived from London and I was surprised to see mostly parents with their young children. Was this the group that I was to spend the next eight days with?!  We traveled to the remote lodge by bus while I listened to a lot of “Mummy, look at all the snow!!!” I sat stoically in my seat wondering if there had been some kind of mistake. It wasn’t until an hour or so later that I learned my group would be arriving later that evening on another flight- the flight I had opted to avoid.

One couple who arrived with the families would be part of my group. We quickly developed a rapport and I suggested we go for a walk in the woods.  (The path was well-marked with reflective markers.) We ventured out in the dark wearing headlamps. It was around 3pm. The initial urge to sleep became easier to ignore. Once again I was struck by the beauty. We came upon an old mill and raging river that we could hear but barely see.  The water appeared black. We turned off our headlights. The snow reflected the faint moonlight and our eyes quickly adjusted to the picturesque surroundings.

The week continued to be magical.

The rest of our group arrived at 2am–I was pleased to have booked the earlier flight. All were from the UK, except a guy from Australia. They were fun to be with and the activities exceeded all our expectations. (The families with young children kept to themselves.)

Dogsledding was a thrill. Lauri “the alpha-male” owned and raised sixty-five dogs who were well-loved and responded to his commands like the well-trained drill team they were. The sleds provided little steering. At best one could shift one’s weight–to little effect. Fortunately, our dogs followed Lauri’s , but going downhill and stopping required braking, and uphill an occasional push. (The second day when we were sharing the sled, my passenger was a solid gent of considerable height. He asked me at one point, rather gently, ” Are you braking with your left foot or right foot?” “Neither.” I replied. “I’m pushing.”) The driver stands on two narrow runners in the back of the sled and a claw brake lies between them. Braking requires one or both feet and decent balance. There were a few occasions when some drivers fell off their sleds at turns–there were no injuries. I have no regrets being denied that experience. But passing through the exquisite landscape from day into early night with the dogs howling in excitement and snow flakes swirling around is a memory I cherish.

 

The week also included trekking in snowshoes on well-trodden paths or forging our own way in deep fresh snow, building a quenzee, getting a glimpse of the northern lights, sitting around a campfire, and enjoying the glorious surroundings.

The pristine black and white landscape offered me a new perspective on winter.