First Day in Finland: First Impressions of Helsinki, Grocery Panic Attacks & More

Note: I wanted to get this first one out there as soon as possible, so apologies for inconsistent tenses, grammatical errors, and over-exaggerated nonsense. I’ll be editing the other Finland posts much better as the week goes on :).

I’ve officially experienced my first day in Finland. Okay, so more like half a day because I was delayed over two hours at JFK. Not to worry though. I got in my exercise, walking around the airport listening to Dubstep and vlogging. And I finally watched The Blackkklansman which totally made the hour waiting on the tarmac doable.

Anyway, I wanted to document each day during this trip so that I could remember the experiences more vividly each time.

Arriving in Finland at 11:08 AM as opposed to 8:50 AM, I definitely knew I was missing the brunch reservation that I’d made at Löyly, the sauna that we’ll be visiting tomorrow (where I may risk jumping into the icy sea water…). Luckily, my parents were able to walk over to let them know that I had been delayed and they changed our brunch reservation to a dinner reservation instead.

This was actually perfect as it allowed me to relax a bit in the Airbnb that they had stayed in the night before. And can I just say, it was adorable and gave me a great first impression of the country. The owner, a graphic artist, had designed it in the modern Scandinavian style in a black and white color palette. Drawings, artistic pieces (including sculptures and shadow boxes) adorned the wall in a quirky gallery wall. In the kitchen, a black and white array of dishware could be seen on wire racks against the wall.

After taking a bit of a rest there—aka drinking a cup of instant coffee—it was already time to head off to our next Airbnb where we would be staying for the remainder of our five days in Helsinki (before we head up north where, yes, the reindeer are).

I was instructed by our Airbnb host to message her dad when we were on the way to the apartment. If you know me at all, you know that this instantly sent me into a spiral as I wasn’t sure if sending a text to a Finnish number was the same as sending one to an American number and if this is even what she’d meant in her email about messaging him ahead of time.

Still, we stepped out onto the cobbled streets and walked past old buildings, following the not-so-intuitive directions on my phone. By this time, her father had already texted back and said that he would be waiting at the gate in front of the address. After taking us on a roundabout way, I was now spinning again about being four minutes late (someone get this girl a Xanax or something).

But upon arrival, we were met by a kindly, lanky man who immediately asked about our travels, where we’d come from, if Mr. Obama was also from Hawaii, and how it was flying from San Francisco. He then carried my mom’s GIANT luggage up not one, not two, but three flights of stairs saying, “it’s my job.”

Showcasing the home and excitedly showing off the sauna that is, yes, inside the apartment, he then went on his way saying that we could text him any time.

Okay, so let’s talk about this Airbnb… wowza. Not only is there a gorgeous breakfast nook with a round modern table, Scandinavian pendant light, and dining chairs, but the kitchen is the literally the most space-saving area I’ve ever been in. Built-in drawers are hidden everywhere, the refrigerator and freezer simply appear to be part of the cabinetry, the sink is narrow so that it can sit above an additional shelf where cleaning supplies can be found. The little couch is a pull-out bed (where I’ll be sleeping) and a sliding closet opens to additional bedding. Then, again, there’s the sauna in the back of the bathroom.

Oh! Another thing to note about Finnish apartments is that their (and this is just based off of the two Airbnbs I’ve seen) toilets are in the same exact room as the showers. The showers are simply a shower head and a set of shelves with soap which are open to the the sink and the toilet. A drain is centered on the floor. There’s a squeegee that is used to remove any excess water—again, so practical for small space living!

Overall, my impression of Finland and the Finnish people was overwhelmingly positive. This was doing wonders for my nerves and even allowing me to relax.

That is until we went to the grocery store…

With a tightly packed schedule, we knew that we’d have to get groceries today if we wanted to cook ourselves dinner on Wednesday night. So, we headed off to a grocery store that had been recommended to us as a place to visit.

I can see why now.

It’s huge. Not like Trader Joe’s huge. Not like Whole Foods huge. Like Costco huge but just food. I was immediately overwhelmed. We wandered around the whole place maybe twice before finding the produce section. Actually, I’m not sure we would have ever found it, but my mom finally went over to another shopper to ask where they’d gotten their pineapple. Of course, I hate bothering people for help, so hid off in a corner—but her unabashed plea for assistance did us some good this time around. Later on, that same shopper would stop her to make sure that she’d found the produce (again, I am liking the vibe here).

Anyway, I’ve lived in San Francisco for six years now, and like any good Northern California hippie, I no longer use any sort of plastic bags in the grocery stores. Not even to wrap my produce. So, I was a little weirded out that everyone here, in one of the most sustainable countries, was using plastic bags for their produce.

I start collecting my vegetables without using any bags and my dad keeps bugging me about the fact that “don’t you need to weigh them?” And I’m like ummm no, dad. That’s only if I need a certain amount for this recipe doiiii.

Okay, so surprise surprise. This was a very ignorant statement. In Finnish grocery stores (or at least at Stockmann Herkuu Groceries), you weigh each individual produce item, pick its listed number on the machine and then get a printed number to be placed on the bag with your items.

So the bags make sense. Oh, did I mention there’s also a compostable bag option, so yeah—my snobbish sustainability judgements were dumb and unfounded.

The next 30-45 minutes were spent wandering around this gigantic grocery store, searching for dried thyme and vegetable stock and weighing vegetables. When we finally get to the check-out counter, I have to say that I was a bit sweaty and a bit relieved.

Until…

My dad turns to my mom to ask if she should go run and grab us some beers from the other side of the store. Okay, note: my mom had asked when we first walked in if we should grab some beers and my dad had shrugged her off, saying that we didn’t need to. Now, when we’re in line, he decides that it’s something we should do. Granted, the woman at the front of the line was having issues with her card or something, but I knew that as soon as she was finished, this line would fly by.

I would have been annoyed with my dad for a longer period of time if the cashier hadn’t then looked up at us during our own check out time.

“Something...something cauliflower?” she said.

Mind you, she has a face that is stone cold as she stares at us.

“What?” I ask, thinking omg I’ve done something to the cauliflower.

“Something… something cauliflower,” she asks again.

I’m really sweating at this point.

“Kel,” my dad is now looking at me, “did you weigh the cauliflower?”

Now, I had weighed all of my vegetables except the cauliflower because it had been wrapped with a label of its own. So, I’d thought that it was an exception to the weigh-it & label-it yourself thing. Wrong.

“Oh, no!” I said in a panic, “I can run and do it now.”

“No,” the icy blonde cashier says, “I’ll do it.”

I’m then trying frantically to tell myself that everything’s okay and that this cashier isn’t going to murder me right there in the check-out line. Meanwhile my mom is still not back with the additional beers she was sent off for.

Then, right as the cashier comes back with the correctly weighed cauliflower, my mom returns with three beer cans and fumbles them down on the counter with a smile. That’s when the cashier efficiently scans them and gives my mom a smile of her own. Phew! In the clear. But still. I will never shop for cauliflower the same way ever again.

By the time we get back to our Airbnb, it’s basically time to head out again for our 5:30 PM dinner reservation at Löyly. We dress up in our warm clothes and head out on our twenty minute walk to the sauna and restaurant.

Upon arriving there, we see two men leaving the sauna and walking down the wooden steps to the sea. Without any hesitation, one of them jumps in and comes out cool as a cucumber. I doubt my reaction tomorrow will be the same.

Dinner is beautiful with a view out to the see past Scandinavian pendant lights and minimalist dining tables and chairs. The water moves and grows a deeper and deeper shade of gray as the light fades. We enjoy wine and both soup and an entree and realize that our reservation (from 5:00 PM until 8:00 PM) is expected to be used up. Though our meals are cleared and we have refused coffee or dessert, it’s not until we flag down the waitress that we get our check. Which is a good thing, I think. Mealtimes are meant to be enjoyed and processed slowly.

If it wasn’t for jet lag, I’d have stayed till we were kicked out.

Now, I’ve just eaten a bite of Nutella shaped to look like a hard boiled egg (with a sugar shell and everything) and am now ready for bed and to see what tomorrow’s packed agenda brings.