Things we're looking forward to

We've been thinking about (and missing!) these things all semester, but as the date of our departure approaches we're looking forward to them more and more. As always, if you're willing to help us out with any of these, we'd be eternally grateful, seeing as we're gonna be broke.

Elizabeth
- Bonefish with the family (Grammy is paying for this one!)
- Horseback riding
- My pets!

Jaime
- Grilling with the family and hanging out in the backyard.
- Piano! (living next to two students who play the piano all day has been driving me nuts)
- INTERNET. Enough said.

Both
- Roadtrip! We really miss our cars. All we need is a destination...
- Chick-fil-a
- Cookout milkshakes, especially oreo mint, but we're not too picky
- Rockbarn spa day (Fav Aunts Cindy and Tricia are in charge of organizing this one)
- General upkeep: hair cuts, eyebrow waxes, dentist and doctor appointments (we'll take care of these, no worries)
- Having clothes options! We've nearly forgotten what it's like to choose what you want to wear, instead of what you haven't worn in the past two days.

And more than anything: family and friends! We miss you all!

Today’s Grocery List

- jasmine rice
- bacon
- lettuce
- veggie patties
- straws
- tape
- raspberries

We’ll let you guys guess what we’re fixing for dinner tonight

Amazing Trip!

Border Formalities, which lasted an hour and included at least 5 passport control checkpoints. Luckily, our bus did not have to be x-rayed, which would have taken an additional three hours.

Church on the Spilled Blood- One of the most famous buildings in St. Petersburg and an easily recognizable landmark because of its distinctive onion domes in vibrant colors. The inside is decorated completely in mosaics and the church got its name because it was constructed on the location where Tsar Alexander II was assassinated.

Drink of the Gods.
Vodka, amaretto, sprite, orange juice and crushed raspberries, combined to make the best drink we’ve ever encountered. Its actual designation on the menu was Amore Mio, but we renamed it.

Eeenglish. What you hoped the Russian behind the food counter at the café spoke. In reality, very few people spoke more than a few words.

Freezing Cold. Despite St. Petersburg’s lower latitude, it nevertheless managed to be colder, drier and windier than Jyvaskyla.

Giant Fuzzy Hats. Yes, Russians do in fact wear giant fuzzy hats and manage to look serious while doing so. The guards at the border pulled this look off very effectively, minus one female guard with an 80s inspired purple scrunchie peeking out behind the hat.

High Heels. Never have we seen so many women in such high heels.

Isaac’s Cathedral, or Исаа́киевский Собо́р. This gold-domed Russian Orthodox church was created by Peter the Great in honor of his patron saint.

Jokes, Russian Reversals – If, in America, you do something, in Soviet Russia, the something do you. For example: in USA, you stalk on Facebook. In Soviet Russia, Facebook stalk you!! One of the most advanced pieces of literature in this genre is as follows:
Roses are red, violets are blue.
In Soviet Russia, poem write you!!
See here for more.

KGB- Which stands for Kindness Generosity Beauty, according to our tour guide. Though he did mention something about the “Committee for State Security,” now known as the FSB. Incidentally, the cannons on the Aurora Battleship, ship #1 in the Russia fleet despite its permanent docking, point directly towards a KGB building…

Lady with the Boob, who was our favorite landmark along Nevsky Prospekt (See N.) For some reason, despite the cold, her sculptor felt like it would be a good idea to leave her right boob uncovered. This lead to it becoming rusted and therefore rather eye-catching. After grabbing our attention on the first day, she became a way for us to judge how long it would take for us to get back to our hostel. Somehow she managed to nudge her rusty boob into our conversation every time we walked past.

Mystery Food – which was what we ate whenever we grabbed lunch in a café. Deprived of the luxury of an English menu, we were reduced to pointing and nodding at the items we thought looked yummy. Most of the time they were…

Nevsky Prospekt, one of the main streets in St. Petersburg, was conveniently also the location of our hostel. Being that Nevsky runs three miles in total length, we must have spent several hours total walking up and down it, to get to such landmarks as the Church on the Spilled Blood and the Winterpalace.

Overfriendly Roommate – We were proud of our foresight in having arranged a room with 4 girls we knew, thinking that it would ensure a relatively peaceful stay. To our surprise, several hours after arrival, a seventh guest was added to our all-female room. He – yes, he – not only snored, but thought he was much funnier than he actually was.

Palaces, Catherine’s. The first of the many palaces that we visited was the obscenely lavish and ornate summer residence of the tsars. The palace’s exterior is robin’s egg blue accented with white and gold and the interior is an eclectic mix of styles. The palace was extensively bombed during WWII and has now been renovated.

Questionable things include: people handing out flyers in the middle of the sidewalks, the sex shop sign that marked the entrance to our hostel, and a drunk student who sported a huge gash in his forehead and claimed he was attacked by Russians but in reality, he just fell down the stairs.

Rubles, which make us feel rich, seeing as 33 rubles are the equivalent of 1 USD. We spent quite a bit of time on our cell phones using the calculator function to judge the prices of food and souvenirs.

Sketchy Elevator. It clanged and grinded its rickety way up the 5 flights to our hostel. To get inside, you first had to open the metal outer door, then push in the two wooden doors. We really missed the comfort of Cherie Berry’s smiling face ensuring us that our elevator had passed a recent inspection.

Traditional Russian Dinner, complete with Russian folk musicians and instruction in Russian toasts and vodka etiquette.

Underground. St. Petersburg’s subway is the deepest in the world, not only to minimize disruption, but also so the stations could double as bomb shelters. We timed the escalator ride: 2 minutes and 17 seconds to go approximately 100 meters underground.

V is for Vodka, duh.

WWII was especially hard on St. Petersburg. The city, then known as Leningrad was besieged by Nazi Germany and Finland for 872 days, one of the longest and most lethal sieges of modern history, resulting in the death of over 1 million citizens. Many of the city’s landmarks and buildings were severely damaged by bombs, including most of its palaces and cathedrals. During restorations of the Church on the Spilled Blood years after the war, an un-detonated bomb was discovered under the right hand of Jesus in a fresco in a cupola.

X denotes Crosswalks, normally a white striped haven, but gives no guarantee of safety in Russia. Russian drivers follow one basic rule: stay the course, no matter the obstacles, human or car, in your path. If the obstacle is impassable, lean on your car’s horn until it moves.

Yusupov’s Palace. The mansion belonging to the richest family in Russian nobility, whose wealth surpassed even that of the tsars and also the location of the murder of Rasputin, the faith healer who held significant political influence despite his peasant background.




Zee End

Eлизабeт and Джeй go to Russia

We are happy to report that both ourselves and our families have made it safely back to our respective dwellings. However, there is no rest for the weary, as we are preparing ourselves to jet off again (though this time in a bus) to St. Petersburg, Russia. Because our first scheduled trip got cancelled and we had to reschedule it, we are receiving an extra day free of cost, which we are pretty excited about. We’re guessing we probably won’t have internet access in St. Petersburg (we think it a wise decision to leave the expensive electronics at home), so we’ll get back to you after we return on the 21st. Do us a favor – if for some reason you don’t hear from us in a week, send a search party. Or the CIA.

PS – we’ll reward you in rubles. Between the two of us, we have approximately 20,000.

Easter in Helsinki

On Easter morning I love our home church sanctuary filled with the Easter trumpet lilies, the baptism of the pastor’s class, and the glorious music with organ, choir, and trumpet. So being away from home for Easter was a little disheartening for me, certainly not so much so that I would forego our trip to Europe, but still….. What I discovered in Helsinki, Finland though, is that no matter the country, culture, or custom, an Easter service is still very special.

I discovered a famous Finnish Orthodox church, Uspenski Cathedral, was holding an Easter vigil at 11:30 pm on Saturday evening. With the church being only a 20 minute walk from our hotel, I decided to attend. Arriving plenty early, I was quickly disappointed to discover I needed an advance ticket for entry. Luck, or divine intercession, led me to stand beside a transplant Canadian who spoke fluent Finnish and English. He didn’t have a ticket either, but further luck, or divine intercession, brought us both tickets, a gift of an unknown bystander!

The cathedral interior was standing room only…..for everyone! An intimate sanctuary in the round (hence advance tickets only) was ornate and yet comfortable. I didn’t understand a word, well maybe an occasional “Amen” or “Christe”, but I certainly understood the essence of the service. The Orthodox priests were very ceremonially dressed, the candles reflected the light of God’s love, and the small acappella choir sounded absolutely angelic. It was hard for me to leave at 2:00 am before communion was even served, but I did have a wake up call awaiting me at 6:30 am to catch a flight home! Easter in Helsinki was simply incredible.

Pie in the Sky: an English Easter

It was a cool, gray, and misty Sunday morning when Mom and I set out to St. Stephen's Church for its High Easter service. Though neither of us tend toward Anglican beliefs, we were curious to check out this mysterious-looking (and very English) church that we had passed by several times on our outings. The air that morning was so wet that a thin, shining layer of dew alighted upon our Sunday clothes, and curled the loose ends of our hair into wispy tendrils before we had even made it around the block. The old church looked especially ancient in the mist, with its aged brownstone facade and many stained glass windows tucked in a garden of tall grass and climbing vines. There was hardly anyone out on the street, and no one outside the building, and we were a little worried, at first, that we had missed the service. But when we pressed inwards on its huge wooden doors, the first strains of beautiful choral hymns slipped through, and we knew we were in for a treat.

Stepping inside, we were enveloped in a sudden warmth and the heady scent of incense. The walls of the church reached high in ornate woodwork, and the floors were laid with a thick vibrant red carpet. As we tiptoed down the outer aisles, we took note of the huge golden organ at the front of the church, and the detailed golden accents on the altar, ceiling, and choir loft. When we finally found an open bench, we were surprised to find large leather cushions that were to be used instead of kneelers (compared to the Catholic church I was raised in, this was luxury!) We thouroughly enjoyed watching the events of the service unfold; being a high Anglican Mass, especially on the holiest day of the year, there was much ritual and ceremony. We were especially enthralled by the deacon who was swinging the golden censer, since he brought a huge trailing cloud of white-gray incense smoke with him whereever he went, and shook the censer (censed?) almost over everything, including the priest, the Bible, the altar, the laypeople, and even himself.

In my long years as a reluctant student at Catholic school, I unfortunately got into the habit of dreading sermons, because they typically seemed very tedious and discouraging to me. Thus when the priest walked up the curling stairs to the wooden turret that composed the pulpit, I braced myself and the upbeat Easter spirit I had been nursing for a long and depressing speech. But I had nothing to worry about. The priest, an elderly, slender man with bright blue eyes and a quick, rollicking accent, launched into an uplifting and even entertaining sermon reminding us that of everything that has happened in the world to this day, Easter was the most revolutionary, turning a world where we clung to possessions, waged war against one another, and feared our eventual death upside down. Even better, his sermon was peppered with references not only to such respected and current publications as the New Scientist and even the New York Times, but also Facebook, Apple (of iPod fame), and Linux. Best of all, however, was the occasional very British phrase; my favorite excerpt would have to be: “Don't kid yourselves, for Easter is not about any of that New-Agey airy-fairy stuff, or about pie-in-the-sky dreams.” For celebrating an ancient religious holiday in a mysterious, misty country across the globe, in an old stone church replete with incense, whose foundations are older than the States itself, this priest managed to keep Easter very real.

Our Friends in München

In Munich we’ve met quite a few interesting people and our interactions with them have left some lasting impressions. And though we won’t be friends on facebook, they’re friends none the less. We’d like to introduce you to a few of them.

Mr. Here (pronounced héah)- We met Mr. Héah during our first excursion into the Schnellbahnnetz Station, aka the subway. Standing in the middle of the crowded central hub, with people flowing around us, we obviously looked lost. Mr. Héah courageously approached Momma, as he spoke no English and we obviously don't speak German. He commandeered our map and proceeded to point and ask, “héah?” Once our destination was confirmed, he began using “héah” as a directional verb, complete with hand gestures- forward, down, and diagonal to guide us through the station. “héah … héah …. héah” Repeating it twice for clarity, we headed off and somehow, we made it “héah.”

Ms. Gamma Phi- During our hotel check-in, Elizabeth was stopped by a fellow guest who noticed her t-shirt and asked “Gamma Phi Beta?” Elizabeth nodded yes, and the woman proceeded to inform her that she’d been a Gamma Phi at Vanderbilt. What a small world.

Ms. Baker- Our hotel’s complimentary breakfast left quite a bit to be desired, so we turned to a Café a block from our hotel. During our first visit Austin and Elizabeth asked the friendly worker for recommendations. She first pointed out an Easter roll and traditional German breakfast roll. Austin then asked her what her personal favorite was and she held up a seeded roll. When he asked her what it tasted like her informative response was “like all the seeds.” The seeded roll was a multi-seeded whole grain jackpot for health conscious eaters... not quite what Austin had in mind, so he went for the sugar laden iced Easter roll for taste conscious eaters.

Aunt Pat- We met Aunt Pat (not really Aunt Pat, but she reminded us a lot of our Aunt) during our trip to the nearby city of Dachau (da-cow) to see the concentration camp memorial. Dachau was the first concentration camp to be opened in Germany and over 200,000 prisoners from 30 countries were held there. We started our visit with a deeply disturbing audiovisual presentation that included live footage from Dachau as well as a condensed history of the camp and then worked our way through the museum housed in one of the barracks. Outside we saw the concrete foundations of 32 barracks used to house prisoners, the front gate and a reconstruction of the fence as well as the memorials. Making our way out the main gate we came across the remnants of train tracks and wondered if they were the tracks used to bring in prisoners. We walked over to a display board and discussed our question amongst ourselves when Aunt Pat rode up on her bike. Dressed in a turtle neck, jacket, pressed pants and sturdy boots, she softly asked us if we had a question. Mom repeated our wonderings and Aunt Pat was able to tell us the train tracks were, in fact, not used to bring prisoners. Come to find out Aunt Pat was visiting Dachau to learn more about the memorial to hopefully become a licensed tour guide. We spent about 20 minutes discussing other questions we’d acquired during our visit and she was able to answer them all. As we were leaving she commented that she was glad we had visited Dachau and that it was important that people know and remember the atrocities committed there. Her helpfulness and kind nature definitely helped offset the solemn feeling of the camp.

Düük aka Mr. BMW- For the record, if Austin ever buys a BMW, he’s coming to the Munich plant to pick it up. We met Mr. BMW at a driving simulator in the BMW plant. This plant is an auto lovers paradise with displays of all the newest, sleekest models of BMWs. The customary “where are you from?” revealed an interesting connection. His sister is in med school, at “how do you say this Düük... Doook?” and living in Raleigh.

Michael- Wow, what a character. We first ran into Michael during a shopping trip in an outdoors store. Elizabeth spotted him while Austin was absorbed with his shopping. He was a big burly Germany man with flowing white hair and a long white beard. He was wearing hiking shorts, wool socks and his hiking boots. Unfortunately, Momma was occupied elsewhere in the store (probably the cycling section but most definitely holding the camera) and we were unable to sneak a picture. Then, as luck would have it, a few days later we were eating lunch in the market and we spotted Michael again. We tried to be sneaky and have Mom stand near him while we snapped a picture, but he grabbed Momma and smiled for the camera. Turns out, like Momma, he is a fan of cycling and also evidently very health conscious as he asked Momma if she was well before he consented to a picture.

Elvis- Our waiter at the outdoor cafe in the center of Munich quickly pegged Elizabeth and Austin as Americans because we ordered a coke. "American, two cokes!" He was also eager to share with us that he is a huge Elvis fan and aspired to visit Graceland. Truthfully, he did resemble Elvis, and he was quite proud of that fact, and planned to grow long sideburns to match his black hair before visiting the US.

Other Notable Interactions:

Docent- On our last day in Munich we visited the Schloss Nymphenburg. The palace began in 1664 as a villa and was expanded over the next century to create the royal family’s summer residence. And let’s just say that it makes the Biltmore look like a double wide. We started out in the Marstallmuseum to see the riding gear and carriages of the Royal Family. We wandered through the halls admiring the elaborate carriages and sleighs, making Mom wonder how much it normally snows in Munich. She asked a Docent and it took a combination of gestures and basic English to make her question known. He managed to show the average amount of snowfall, by placing his hand about 2 ft above the ground. But throughout the whole exchange he seemed rather perplexed by mom’s question. We continued our tour through the china and after exhausting the exhibit mom returned to the friendly docent to ask a question that had been hotly debated amongst ourselves. Exactly what metal was the finish for all the tack and carriages? I mean, we’re talking a lot of metal here. Austin was unsure, but knew it wasn’t gold. Elizabeth believed it to be gold plated and Mom debated between bronze or gold. Mom posed the question and the Docent eagerly jumped in. “I finally remembered the word for your last question!” Expecting a better description of the snow, he divulged instead that the word he had been searching for to describe mom’s previous question was… “unusual.”


(FYI- the carriages and tack were gold plated. Point for Elizabeth)

Chinese lady- After walking past a Chinese restaurant near our hotel several times and smelling the delicious aroma, we took a break from the traditional German fare of sausages and sauerkraut. Our plates cleaned, Momma tried to turn in Austin’s Coke bottle. In Germany, drinks in recyclable materials are charged a deposit that is refunded upon return. But, when Mom tried to return Austin’s bottle, the Chinese lady’s English skills quickly deteriorated. She was quite proficient when taking our order, but suddenly her only phrase was “I no understand.” We laughed and gave up on reclaiming our .25 €.

La France

Paris is bathed in a soft gray morning light, which slips through the crack in the curtains covering our tall double-doored window alongside the cool, fresh morning air. I can hear the pitter-patter of rain on the rooftop, and the droplets pool and slide slowly down the low wrought-iron gate which overlooks a courtyard of trees and flowers below.

The rest of the family is still asleep - they just arrived early on Monday morning, and haven't quite had time to catch up with the jet lag. Their first introduction to Europe, in fact, was via a harrowing cab ride through the city streets! Our driver somehow managed not only to text and talk on his cell phone, but also to weave his way at blazing speeds through throngs of Smart Cars, bikes, one SUV, and thousands - literally - of motorcycles and scooters. It was a great first look at Paris, though, and since it was sunny and almost 70 degrees, it felt wonderful to ride with the windows down (and the French pop blaring). Most of all, I love how green everything is.

That day we met up with some friends from the south of France, who showed us around a bit and took us out to our first real French restaraunt, a creperie. Crepes are basically really thin pancakes, and here, they're HUGE, and delicious, of course, and filled with everything from ham and egg to honey and marzipan. Bruno even got one that was lit on fire! I can't say that lunch the next day was any less amazing - we took a river cruise on the Seine, which was absolutely beautiful, since the heavy clouds which worried us in the morning parted and gave way to gorgeous shafts of light: it was warm and sunny as we ate and listened to a violinist in our glassed-in boat, gliding down the emerald waters of the Seine. We had to sneak Ryan (my 14-year-old brother) in, though, seeing as his old sneakers and torn-up khakis didn't quite meet the dress code! I was also a bit surprised when I looked up at one point to watch a baguette float on by....

We also all tried escargot - snails! Mom had already had them when she was 13 (early traumatization), so she was exempt. Dad went first, and actually enjoyed them... then it was my turn... I figured after the Arctic Ocean, this shouldn't be a problem, but I have to admit that it was a little gross. Okay, a lot gross. They were all right - maybe a bit like clam, but a little earthy - regardless, the crepes were definitely better.

One of the most entertaining things, for sure, has been attempting to speak to people in French. My biggest challenge so far was probably ordering a burger for Ryan, without egg, and with cheese on top (our waiter seemed surprised that we wanted the cheese on top) in a restaurant where no one spoke English. It's been fun, and so many people have been really courteous and kind - though they do seem to enjoy correcting my French. Despite the snobby stereotype, yesterday when I had gotten a blister, I ducked into a tiny pharmacie looking for neosporin: the pharmacienne said she didn't have anything like it, but she told me to sit down in a chair, and said she would get me something even better. She disappeared into the back of the store, and in a few minutes, returned with not only cushioned bandaids, but also cotton with antiseptic, and helped me clean it out and bandage it up right there.

Otherwise, we've really enjoyed just wandering up and down the side streets by our hotel. There are little patisseries (pastry shops), boulangeries (bread shops), and even poissoneries (fish shops!) The placement of the high buildings creates courtyards between streets, and there are huge, tall doors that open into the streets to let the cars out. The balconies are lined with wrought iron gates and flowers, and there are ornate statues peeking out over the tops of old buildings, and casually reclining in alcoves. We also headed to one of the highest points near the Tour Eiffel to take some touristy pictures. :)

Today was a lazy, rainy morning, but we're going to head out to the Louvre soon, and I'm really looking forward to a bike tour of Versailles later in the week. It might be a little cliche, but it's true: Paris is beautiful in the Spring.

The family goes on holiday

It’s snowing! Finland has welcomed us with a light snowfall every morning while in Elizabeth’s university town, and these snowflakes are more delicate and detailed than I have ever seen. North Carolina has large fluffy flakes that really have no definitive form, but Finland has snowflakes that truly look like exquisite miniature versions of hand crochet snowflakes. And by miniature, I mean the size of a pin head!

We’ve arrived today in Helsinki as a layover stop for our jaunt to Munich, and I was fascinated to read that Helsinki is the kahvi (coffee) drinking capital of Europe. The Lonely Planet guide book is absolutely right about that. Cafes are as popular here as soda vending machines in the US. I like mine strong with kerma, so I blend in with the locals in that regard.

When in Finland……well, do as the Finns do, right? I’m loving the coffee and eagerly anticipating my first Finnish sauna. Elizabeth has the transportation systems on lock, and Austin checked out grilled reindeer with a deliciously rich sauce for dinner.

So, what have we seen that entertains us? Well, clothes lines with frozen clothes, people riding bikes on snowy hills, luxury cars like Mercedes and BMWs as taxis, and what seems like 90% of the populations dressed in black.

Family!

We've only been home from Lapland for a week and it's already time for our next adventure!

Elizabeth's mom and brother arrived in Jyväskylä yesterday evening and they are planning on spending a few days in Finland before the three head off to Munich, Germany. Jaime left Jyväskylä early this morning to meet up with her family for a few days in Paris and London.

We hope to keep updating this week, and you might even see a guest post or two! As always, we miss you all!

Lapland!

So we're home and finally recovered, after going straight from Lapland to giving an hour-long class presentation! We've also finally penned the epic tale of our journey to Lapland - we're sorry it's a bit late and a bit long, but we think it's worth the wait. Happy reading!



Day 1: 2:32 AM
We’re still kind of in shock. We are now on the bus to Lapland, and we’re still having a hard time believing that we made it. Merely 2 hours ago, Elizabeth was sitting at her computer, trying to iron out trip details with her mom for their trip after she gets back from Lapland, while Jaime was in her room munching on peanut butter crackers and checking the last few items off her packing list. We had read two different times for meeting at the travel center for our trip, 1:30 and 2, so, to be safe, we decided we would catch a cab to the travel center around 1:10.

As soon as Elizabeth got off Skype with her mom, we pulled out the number Jaime had gotten off a local earlier- and thus the near-fiasco began. We first tried to call with our cell phones, only to discover that neither of them had any calling time left on them. Then, we turned to Skype, only to discover the number Jaime had gotten was “invalid.” We began scouring Google for taxi (taksi) numbers, and accidentally wasted a good 10 minutes on a Helsinki cab company. Problem was, even the few times we did get through to a good number, and had a decent connection, we had a really hard time getting them to understand our street name (who decided to give the foreign students a street address like Roninmäentie?!).

The clock having just passed 1:10 we were growing more and more frantic, and we decided to turn to a tried and true method: giving random hotel staff our sob stories and seeing if they would hook us up with a taxi company, at least, a phone number. Sadly, the most cooperative hotel ended up being in Helsinki. Once we had exhausted nearly 20 different taxi numbers, 2 entire dollars of Skype credit and another 20 minutes, we began freaking out. In desperation, we turned to calling Laura, one of our Finnish moms, and ringing the doorbell of the girls next door. At this point, Jaime was getting pretty antsy, and, as a last-ditch attempt, suggested that we take all our bags to the street and try to hail a taxi. Our train of thought was basically that we’d exhausted nearly every taxi company in Jyväskylä, that we were seriously running out of time, and that really, we didn’t have anything to lose trying, besides maybe a bit of personal dignity.

So, literally running down to the main street (after a joint, snap decision to head to the further-away but busier looking street), we get 10 ft out into crossing the street when Elizabeth spotted the first car. She yelled at Jaime to flag it down; Jaime looked at her like she was crazy, then realized there wasn’t much else left to do. Then, by some brilliant stroke of luck- we’re thinking possibly divine intervention, Elizabeth watched as two glowing headlights rose from the dark horizon- and, finally, a glowing golden taxi sign on top. Both leaping into the street and waving our arms like we were 100% nuts (and we were pretty close, at this point) we got the taxi driver to stop. He looked a little stunned, but helped us haul our bags into the trunk nevertheless. It was 20 ‘till, and the Travel Center was only about 8 to 12 minutes away by car (though a good hour on foot). We later discussed how we both wanted to say, “Step on it!” but, 1) That’s sort of rude and 2) he didn’t seem to speak much English. As the street signs sped by, we crossed our fingers and prayed that the bus hadn’t left yet.

Finally, the taxi got to the Travel Center, and we tore out of the car (and gave the driver an awesome tip for putting up with our antics). Elizabeth pointed out a large Greyhound-type bus idling in the lot, and, seeing the Travel Center was closed, walked over and knocked on the bus door. As the door opened, we asked the driver, “Is this bus going to Lapland?” “Yes”. YEESS!! We’d made it! But the real kicker came when the driver was loading our bags. “Are we late?” Elizabeth asked. The driver gave us a look, and then chuckled. “Late? No, you’re the first ones here!”

Day 1: 11:34 PM
After a night of fitful sleep- okay, so half a night- we awoke to find ourselves at a gas station 7 km from Kemi, the city which houses LumiLinna, otherwise known as the Kemi SnowCastle. After some tasty pastries and trying to figure out who much gas costs here in USD per gallon (we’ll post our calculations later), we headed out to the castle. It looked a bit short and squat from far away, but up lose, it was HUGE. Two enormous pillars flanked either side of the main entrance.

First, we walked into a corridor with two smaller passageways leading out, we took the right one, which lead to the Ice Bar, where stools of ice covered in reindeer fun stood beside long ice tables. From there, we continued on to the giant Ice Throne, the Snow Hotel, with 18 double rooms, 2 group rooms, and a honeymoon suite- the brochure suggests long underwear, socks, and a cap, along with your arctic sleeping bag- the Snow Restaurant, with ice tables and more reindeer fur-covered ice stools, and the Snow Chapel where no less than 20 couples have exchanged icy vows.

In all the rooms, the castle was lit by a combination of weak sunlight, candles, and artificial (usually blue or pink) lights, and the walls were decorated in intricate carvings with the occasional ice sculpture. The rooms remain a steady -5° C regardless of outdoor conditions. Random fact: all the snow for LumiLinna come from the Gulf of Bothnia off the west coast of Finland. Yes. Bothnia. Say it out loud, and we dare you not to laugh.

After leaving the Snow Castle, we headed further north to Rovaniemi, the home of Santa Claus. Though markedly commercial, we none the less quickly honed in on the location of St. Nick himself. The elves, dressed in red with pointy hats guarded the door to Santa’s lair. Finally our group was called forth; Elizabeth, as the youngest of the four, was charged with the difficult tasks of keeping everyone in line and not getting lost as we made our way through the Cave of Secrets… We can’t tell you what was in the Cave of Secrets because then it would be secret anymore, but suffice it to say, it was awesome.

Finally reaching the door of Santa’s throne room, we beheld the jolly old man in all his Christmas glory. Elizabeth was particularly enamored with the dashing Mr. Claus, and her eyes lit up immediately upon entering. Incidentally, Santa wears size 56 woolen clogs. We gathered around him and had a nice chat (we asked him for jobs for Christmas) and then they attempted to sell us a picture of ourselves with Santa for 39 €, which made us laugh.

Once we left Mr. Claus, (who was quite pleased that we were studying abroad) we stumbled upon the Arctic Circle line (Rovaniemi, Santa Claus’ village lies directly atop this boundary). Then we hopped back onto our toasty warm bus, and headed to Inari, the city which our final stop, our lodging at Vasatokka Youth Center, is located. Finally getting unpacked and having a little dinner, we heard a loud commotion with lots of yelling from outside our room door and we came out to discover that we were being greeted on our first night in Lapland by Revontulet, the Fox Fires of Finland, otherwise known as the Northern Lights.


Day 2:
We awoke at an ungodly hour, namely 8:30 AM, to don every layer we owned in preparation for the Arctic Survival Course. We headed downstairs for a quick theory lesson where we met Esko, from here on known as Mr. Perfect Finn. Mr. Perfect Finn (MPF) gave us an introduction to how to survive in The Nature including proper winter clothing and how to use a map and compass. Having finnished our brief lesson, MPF marched us through the snow to our base camp, which consisted of two wooden half teepee structures including fires and benches covered with reindeer skins. Our first instruction of the day was in ice fishing. It was a really nice day, a mild negative 10 and sunny, and it felt really pleasant to stand on the lake with our faces turned towards the sun. But MPF whipped out his ice drill (actually a hand auger) and started drilling through the meter and a half of ice below us.

After creating the hole and scooping the extra ice chunks out with a sort of slotted ladle, MPF dug in the quadriceps pocket of his royal blue skisuit onesie and retrieved a tub full of Swedish worms. We know they were Swedish because Esko informed us that Finland is totally devoid of worms (in fact, when starving in The Nature with no other available bait, MPF supports the utilization of one’s earlobes, because they are, in his opinion, useless. ) We decided that we valued our earlobes as places to put pretty earrings (Esko thinks these make good lures), and fortunately were able to keep them intact during our foray into The Nature. Anyway, Mr. Perfect Finn drops his little line with half a wriggly little worm on it into the hole, and no less than ten seconds later whips out a whole wriggly little fish. Our ice fishing experience did not go that smoothly. However, our fish were THIS BIG.

Once we deposited our giant perch at the cooking station, to roast in foil over the open fire, we headed back out to the lake for a lesson in fire-making, which involves scraping long curls of wood off dry tinder, preferably dead pine, setting the branches up, and then using matches to get the fire started, a very tricky feat on snowy ice in the middle of a windy lake. We then moved on to quinzee building. A quinzee is a snow structure much like an igloo, constructed by making a large pile of packed snow (maybe 2 meters high), then using sticks as guides for how far to scrape out the inside: we poked each stick about 30 cm in, so that the walls would be thin enough to let in light and allow sleeping space inside, but thick enough to support the dome and trap in heat (which is also achieved by creating a lower entrance hole than the floor, so that warmer air circulates above and cooler air sinks out the hole.)

We returned to camp for a warm lunch of “smashed” (potatoes) and sausages, along with warm berry juice, which was really delicious, and warmed up by the smoky fireside. Once lunch was over, we got fitted for snowshoes to begin our adventure in snowshoe orienteering, which meant using just a compass to find the 4 points in the forest marked on our map. After very astutely picking up on the tracks of the group in front of us, we followed their trail up a hill to find some beautiful views of the snowy forest below. At the other points, we discovered several old buildings, including a partially-underground wooden storage hut (probably more than 50 years old). A few stops and many pictures later, we decided to join with another group, just for fun… except we got more than we bargained for when we discovered they wanted to take the “fun” route home. The fun route, as we soon found out, consisted of trekking through 2 meters of snow through a swamp (frozen over and completely safe to walk on, of course) and finally following a cross country skiing trail to find our way home.

Sufficiently exhausted, we headed back to our dorm and promptly collapsed for the night.


Day 3:
So much for thinking 8:30 was ungodly. This morning, to get good seats on the bus for our “Tour de Arctic Ocean,” we had to rise no later than 6:20 AM. Our first stop was Utsjoki, a 150-year-old church and its church houses. From there, we traveled north to Nuorgam, the northernmost town both in Finland and in the entire European Union. It was a tiny town, with only one catchall store (everything from fruit to bolts). As we continued north, the road ran parallel to the Tenojoki (Teno River), which is the dividing boundary between Finland and Norway. The people who live along the river mostly make their living fishing, as the salmon harvest on the river is the most profitable in Europe.

Without a peep from Norwegian Customs, we slipped across the border (quite stealthily in our enormous bus), and soon caught our first view of the crystal blue Arctic Ocean. The further into Norway we traveled, the more uneven the terrain became, with tall pine forests being replaced by small birch scrub, and long, flat fields by hills and craggy mountains. We have to admit that we may have shut our eyes and prayed for dear life as our bus careened around icy hairpin turns, but our driver was either very skillful, or very lucky – possibly both – and we safely made it to our destination.

Bugøynes, the northeasternmost village in Norway, is a fishing community of approximately 350 people. It is situated on the Varanger Fjord, which opens into the Barents Sea, the part of the Arctic Ocean that lies north of Norway and Russia. It was here that our real adventure began. The bus wove its way through a few narrow roads, and finally parked out in front of two colorful houses. At this point, Esko (oh yes, MPF came too) hopped up, informed us that we would be using the bus as our dressing room, and motioned to the hill leading down to the snow and ice before the surprisingly sandy, normal-looking beach below. Whipping off his wool pullover and casting his pants aside, Mr. Perfect Finn strutted in his tight blue briefs, completely barefoot, down to the Arctic Ocean. Never faltering, Esko marched straight into the water, splashed a bit, and marched straight back out. In fact, he was back on the bus before we’d changed into our bathing suits.

Regardless, we finally were prepared when we had donned our bathing suits, socks, and winter hats. Unlike Esko, we stumbled through the snow, shivered across the beach, and hesitated before dipping our toes into the freezing water – and we mean this quite literally, as the water was -5 degrees. But we were determined, and ultimately made it in up to our shoulders. At that point, our bodies were in turmoil: feet aching, legs numb, and torso shivering. Yet our mission was accomplished. With blotchy red limbs, we took a picture or two (we couldn’t feel much anything anymore, so another couple of minutes didn’t seem like a big deal), and then scampered back up the icy hill to the warmth of the waiting bus. We can officially say that, in comparison, nothing else will ever be cold again.

We wrapped up our trip by hiking up the rocky hills that overlooked the Varanger Fjord, taking in the beautiful sights below as snowy mountains stretched into the sapphire blue of the Arctic sea and sky.


Day 4:

Our day started out with a trip to a reindeer farm operated by a Sami family. We first got the opportunity to feed the reindeer who were hanging out around the trees outside, and then we prepared ourselves to earn our Reindeer Sled Drivers’ Licenses. Climbing into a sleigh pulled by a single reindeer, we nestled in and whispered words of encouragement to Dasher. Despite our prodding, Dasher didn’t seem to care, and started off at a lazy walk. We continued sedately for a few minutes, before the reindeer behind us starting nosing into Elizabeth. He seemed to be peering around Elizabeth, as if to ask, “Why aren’t you going faster?” We were, at this point, holding up a line of sleds, and we increased our encouragement to Dasher. Finally getting the message, he broke into a brisk run, tearing around a corner, causing our sled to fishtail and slide through the corner. Thoroughly enjoying the new pace, we screeched and screamed like little girls. Fortunately, the Sami people didn’t witness our outburst and we were awarded our official Drivers’ Licenses. Ask to see them when we get back.

Emerging from the sled relatively unharmed, we followed a Sami woman to a large wooden teepee-like structure, where we were treated to a warm fire, hot drinks, and a cookie. While we enjoyed our refreshments, we were entertained by listening to the Sami women teach us about joiking, traditional Northern Sami throat singing. After a brief stop at the gift shop, and Jaime lassoing a fake reindeer, we got back on the bus, and headed to the Sami museum. There, we learned a little more about Sami life and culture, and got to watch an audiovisual presentation on the Northern Lights.



Later that day, after returning to Vasatokka, we bundled up again for a course in cross-country skiing. Though not too difficult to pick up, cross-country skiing is nevertheless quite demanding, and we were hot and tired by the time the “introductory” portion of the hour-and-a-half-long trek (uphill through the woods, the Finnish norm). We enjoyed the peace and calm of the woods, including the golden sunrays shining through the pine trees, but when it came time to finally go downhill, we have to admit we were a bit mystified. When you have two parallel tracks, and two parallel skis, how, exactly, are you supposed to make yourself slow down? Unfortunately we couldn’t really figure out a way, short of falling down, so it was with wild abandon that we launched ourselves down the hill, hoping not to end up in the Arctic swimming hole.

Needless to say, we spent a significant amount of time in the sauna that evening – and we’re proud to say we did it traditional Finnish style, with 3 sauna sessions of approximately 20 minutes separated by 2 short breaks of rolling around in the snow. We finished off our day with snow-chilled cider and a long nap.


Day 5:
This was the morning of our departure from Vasatokka, so we cleared out all of our belongings and got onto the bus early to situate ourselves (aka get good seats) for the long trip home. Before departing the Arctic, we stopped at Saariselkä, a ski resort. We then split up: Elizabeth decided to take the Husky Safari, while Jaime decided to take the Snowmobile Safari.

The Husky Safari was great – there were 6 huskies per sled, and 2 people, one rider and one driver. It was really fun just to watch the dogs do what they loved, as they got visibly excited when we were getting ready to leave, jumping up and down, barking up a storm, pulling at the harnesses, and only settling down once they were running. The sled went surprisingly fast, and liked to tip a bit when going around the corners (really scary!), but Elizabeth successfully made it to the forest lodge, where hot drinks and snacks were waiting – along with an adorable 2-week-old husky puppy!

The Snowmobile Safari was great too (snowmobile, incidentally, is always pronounced here with a long I – snowmohhhbiiile). We were first taken into the snowmobile shop to suit up in windsuit onesies, face masks, helmets with shields, huge mittens, and high boots. We waddled outside to mount our snowmobiles (one driver and one passenger), and started out slowly, working our way faster as we headed up to the top of the hills. Jaime and her snowmobile partner, a French guy, both decided the pace wasn’t fast enough, and (being the last in the line of 3) chose to hang a bit behind before gunning it to catch up with the group. We only got chided by the guide once, and we had an awesome time – snowmobiles are surprisingly fast! Though, like dogsleds, they’re a bit unwieldy going around corners…

Meeting up after our respective Safaris, we dined on our first real meal in a week (we’d been living off PB&J and microwavable veggie patties), then headed down to the resort pools. It was a little different than most American pools, being that towels weren’t allowed by the pool, only in the dressing area, and there were no chairs around the pool deck. The “hot tub” was also around bath temperature, while the “warmwater bath” – bubbleless hot tub – was almost chilly. There also was a “no swimsuits” sign on the sauna door, though we may have disregarded that one. After showering and sharing a quick dessert and hot tea, we boarded the bus for the long ride home – made longer by a flat tire.

All in all, we had an amazing time, and came out of the trip with THE BEST souvenirs ever, which are currently en route to our apartment. You’ll just have to wait and see…