tasapaino

that means balance.

In the last few weeks, I have:

--gained a working knowledge of underwater rugby. in short summary, it's basketball on the bottom of a 4-metre diving pool, augmented with bruises and incredibly dorky helmets. the team is fourteen mismatched boys and girls, ranging from age ten to age twenty. i don't understand a word of the coaches' instructions, so i thrash about and adjust my snorkel a lot.

--lost my breath. just thinking about slipping into that pool makes my lungs contract a bit, but you bet i'm going back next week.

This is the gist of it. Most players don't stare so lovingly into each others' eyes though.

--obtained a black leather jacket, so i am three and a half steps closer to being a european teenager.

--misplaced my only hoodie, which means i am rained on at least twice a day. on the rare afternoon that I come out of class and it isn't drizzling, i swing my legs over my bike to go home and suddenly the clouds condense. finnish autumn is lovely.

--found a dance partner for the vanhojen tanssit, or old dance. in February, the 2nd year students kick the third years off school grounds after their matriculation exams, and celebrate their ascension to senior royalty by holding a traditional waltz-and-tux ball... with the entire town watching on bleachers around the dance floor. traditionally the girls ask the boys, so i walked up to him by the paper cutter in our art class. he accepted, didn't even cut my finger off.  

--parted with far too many euros for a dress for said dance. if you were wondering, it's blue.

--gained an appreciation for reindeer meat. it's excellent with black-currant jam.

--lost all respect for Finnish candy manufacturers. anything remotely spherical is labelled "balls". these aren't innocent cinnamon fireballs or jawbreakers. We're talking "Donkey Balls -- super sweet, double trouble!" or, for a touch of the exotic, Camel Balls. 

"Extra Sour and Liquid Filled". Appetizing.

--broadened my Finnish repertoire of greetings and swear words to include grammar points. did you know the verb "to have" doesn't exist in their language: you simply modify "to be"? No, really though, my Finnish is getting better every day. 

--wasted three hours every week in Finnish for Foreigners lessons. at the speed of two pages per 1.5 hour session, we have just made it through the letters and numbers. Once we get past words I learned in March the class will be fascinating...but until then, I read the posters of Justin Bieber facts on our classroom walls (Finnish for Foreigners is held in a middle-school English room) and try to make my Canadian friend giggle disruptively.

She holds it in, mostly.

I really think my gains outweigh my losses.

kolmekymmenta

that means thirty.

it's been a whole month since I got here.

every time the sun comes out, the Finns shake their heads slowly and say "This will probably be the last time you see sunlight until the day you leave this godforsaken country." Inevitably, the sun rises the next day, just to spite them. This sort of sums up the Finnish view of the world...

the leaves are already crunchy. on the days that the school food is truly horrible, my friends and I go out to the grocery around the corner. we walk back eating cream cakes and sit by the bike racks and watch the boys by the smoking shed. i try to speak Finnish. the chilly air makes the sugar taste even better.

i get fewer questions about my name and why the hell I would ever choose to come to Finland, but more about things like chocolate pizza and prom dresses. "tell me the finnish words you know" is a common request, too. whenever this happens I can only come up with French. when I've awkwardly ducked the language questions and small talk about being an exchange student comes to a close, Finns often gesture back in the direction of their house and tell me their sauna is waiting, like it's an impatient toddler.

the language now sounds like words, but I can't string any of them together. I have learned many other things though: old navy flag tshirts and crocs have definitely arrived in Finland, but ranch dressing hasn't. at all times here you should carry an umbrella and possibly a towel. Jean Sibelius borders on an obsession for these people (understandably). political correctness is neither required nor particularly respected. public noise, however, is unforgivable. the most important thing i've come to realize, though?

my head is too large for the average moped helmet.

if i am unable to get this off and come home still wearing it, I hope everyone will understand.

lammas

that means sheep.

There's a chicken-wire pen at the edge of the development. Lovely view of the lake. A little lean-to for the lambs to huddle under when it rains. All summer, the people in the neighborhood bring the lambs stale bread and the little kids learn all about how wonderful (stinky) farmyards are and the precise sound that a sheep makes. Finnish sheep do not have any noticeable accent in comparison with American ones.

I was told that we would have a lamb party. Here I was, naively thinking that this was just a strange celebration of sheep. Perhaps we would make a circle around their pen and sing them Finnish lullabies, or see how the Mäkinen family down the street taught the black one how to tap dance. I mean, the Finns are a bit funny about animals and nature and all that, it wasn't all too implausible.

Then on Thursday I was invited to the lamb party preparations. I peeled a mountain of cabbage leaves and chopped onions til I cried, along with six other middle-aged women who seemed impervious to the onions. And then I said something really stupid - "The lambs don't like loud music, though, do they?"

They all turned to look at me. "It doesn't matter much, since we're eating them..."

Oh.

Note the ski goggles.

cute, hey?

What followed was a massive block party. They buried the meat and let the fire on top of it burn for a day or so, then the whole neighborhood got together and they lifted it out with great ceremony. There were approximately fifty small blonde children milling about (they had been told that the lambs had gone away for the winter and would come back next year). Fresh blueberry pies and little pine-cone-lamb table decorations and heaps of rye bread. Trays and trays of lamb. Boxes and boxes of wine. It was a veritable ancestral Viking feast. 

Somehow I doubt the Vikings had karaoke though. As the evening wore on, kids on the microphone were replaced by teenagers on the microphone were replaced by rather drunk adults all over the microphone. This was pretty entertaining, but also sort of shameful - because even inebriated people and five-year-olds can sing in Finnish. I cannot. Yet.

The party hadn't ended when my family and I sloped home at 12.30 am. Who says Finnish people are closed off? They sure know how to have a good time.