One trap that foreigners can find themselves falling into over here in Finland is that situation where your understanding of the native tongue becomes little more than the formalities and trivialities.
The cabin is a great place to work at this time of year, the low temperature and darkness ensure that everybody fervently pulls together until we have accomplished the luxuries of light and warmth, once these tasks are completed work can commence.
It is times like this that I do miss my old work-life. The boring but predictable call centres of my youth were always warm and bright and guaranteed you a consistent pay-check at the end of each month.
I celebrated my three-year anniversary in Finland recently which is a very big thing, almost as big as my seven-year anniversary of watching the Bad Brains perform at London Astoria eight years ago but I digress.
In an act with about as much class as school on Christmas Day, a mob of alabandical “patriots” decided they would intimidate some very vulnerable families, waste police time and embarrass the country they seem so proud of.
As the sci-fi Robert Heinlein writer so eloquently put it “The supreme irony of life is that hardly anyone gets out of it alive.” So why are we so obsessed with making our short time here so hard for each other?