It was our second day at the Northern Lights Village and that meant it was Reindeer Day. Having just gone through the Husky 1-hour experience the day before, we weren’t sure what to expect from this 4-hour reindeer adventure.

Would we be driving Rudolph?

After a breakfast at the buffet and a quick respite (okay, a quick bathroom break) at our cabin, we returned to the Northern Lights reception to await our guide.

In the reception area, we found the sign for the 4-hour experience and took a seat on the tufted leather sofas beneath the shimmering Sputnik chandeliers. We were fifteen minutes early. The husky experience had required us to show up thirty-minutes before the start of the tour, so we had assumed that the reindeer day would require the same timeliness. But, once we double-checked the activities calendar, we realized that it had a much shorter lead time.

Fortunately, the sofas were comfortable and the snowy landscape outside provided us with a pretty view.

When a tall man walked through the front door and over to our group, we were filled with anticipation. He was our guide for the day. A man by the name of Erikki. He introduced himself, let us know that it would only be us on the tour, seemed utterly surprised that we had traveled to the Finnish Lapland from Hawaii (we were the first people from Hawaii he’d ever met), and politely asked if it was okay if he took a moment—probably to sip some coffee prior to our day out in the snow. Of course, we were still ten minutes away from our start time, so we told him it was no problem. In fact, my dad mysteriously mentioned that he wanted to return to our cabin before the tour anyway.

My mom and I assumed it was another bathroom situation (like father, like daughter), but this time, we were wrong.

When both men returned, we discovered that my dad had run back to the cabin to grab Hawaiian chocolate-covered macadamia nuts for our guide.

“Since we’re your first guests from Hawaii, we thought we’d share chocolates from Hawaii,” he explained.

Erikki tucked them into his pocket happily, and then, as all guides during our Lapland experience did, checked our shoes. Nodding with approval at their rubber toes and soles, he led us outside.

The reindeer pen was actually located within the Northern Lights Village property, so we just needed to walk there from the reception. On the way, he stopped us on the snowy path.

“Do you know what reindeer eat?” he asked us.

With no answer ready, he continued.

“Well, I’m not sure they have this in Hawaii. It is called the … lichen.”

After seeing the recognition of the word in our eyes he went on to point out that lichen was hanging from the pine trees growing around us. He explained that, during winter, the lichen grew under the snow. The reindeer had to dig down for it. Then, during spring, as the snow hardened and packed down, the lichen would be on the trees and the reindeer could stand on the packed snow to reach it. Isn’t nature neat?

What was most important, he told us, was the fact that Finland was extremely lucky (luck was something he would mention a couple times throughout the day). This time around, he was referring to the fact that the air in Lapland is pure enough for the lichen to grow. He used pine trees near cities like Helsinki as an example. Though the city has maintained quite a bit of its greenery and park life, it is still too polluted to have the lichen growing on the trees. What’s even more remarkable about the Lapland air is that there are cities near enough to pollute it, however, for some lucky reason, the wind never seems to blow from that direction.

After this brief respite along our path, we continued on toward the reindeer pen.

We reached it soon enough. It was a simple wooden gate, and inside it, we could see reindeer tied to trees where lichen had been uncovered on the ground.

Erikki stopped us here once again to explain what we were looking at. He pointed to the reindeer tied to the trees and introduced them as newly domesticated animals. Of course, reindeer are not like dogs or cats and are never going to be tame, but they can definitely get more used to being around humans. It is only after they become accustomed to us two legged weirdos that they can be used to pull sleighs. I’ll come back to the word “used” in a moment.

As if on cue, the “reindeer man”—as Erikki referred to him—came ‘round the corner on a sled being pulled by some of the furry animals.

As soon as they came into sight, one jeered off to the outside of the track, trying to get away from pulling the sled. Another pranced up and down, back and forth, moving its head to try to escape the reins.

Erikki laughed and pointed out that these were very “green” reindeer that were getting used to what it was like to pull the sleigh. He compared it to breaking horses.

For those of you who didn’t grow up reading about 100 horse books and playing with plastic Breyer horse dolls, “breaking” doesn’t mean you’re actually breaking any part of the horse (though watching these reindeer, I wonder if the phrase actually did come from breaking animals’ spirits). Breaking means something similar to “breaking in” a pair of shoes. Getting them ready for use without the pain of blisters—or in this case, without the pain of a reindeer trying to escape.

The reindeer man was of the Sami people, the native people of Finland. He was a large man with a sturdy build and a lined face that spoke to a life of working with his hands and understanding what it takes to live off the land.

As I watched this Sami man wrangle the deer, keeping them in line as they tried everything in their power to escape—and as I listened to our guide Erikki explain how, unlike huskies, reindeer don’t actually like to pull sleighs (they’re really lazy and only do it because we make them and because they know they get fed at the end of their long journey)—I realized two things:

1. That I might be a reindeer.

2. That it’s a bit sad that we force them into doing something they so don’t want to do.

It really made me wonder about humans and what we are as creatures. Yes, we have what we call a conscious—what some people say is a soul—but does this really make us greater than the rest of the animals on the planet? Why does being able to analyze (overanalyze in my case), make us better than another creature? What gives us the right to control another creature just because they can be controlled?

I obviously know that back in the day, people needed to use other animals in order to survive. Whether that was to wear their skins as protection from the elements or use their strength to transfer heavy objects from one valley to the next. And, obviously yes, a reindeer pulling a sleigh is going to be a lot more productive than humans trying to carry all of their supplies while walking miles upon miles. But, honestly, after seeing how much these reindeer hated it, I felt like it was wrong.

Later, I would hear about how every part of the reindeer was (and still is) used by the Sami people. This is something I very much so respect. If you’re taking a life, you sure as hell better make sure nothing goes to waste.

But here’s where my ignorance and naïveté come into play.

A little background information: I have always wanted to be a part of some native tribe. Or, rather, I’ve always felt that my feelings and thoughts were somehow directly tied to the lifestyles and attitudes of Native Americans.

Of course, my analysis of Native American life and attitudes were not entirely accurate—as this day would make very clear.

I want to blame my inaccurate notions on too many viewings of Disney’s Pocahontas. I seriously believed that native people could feel the spirit in every rock, tree, and creature.

This is probably why I thought I could talk to animals growing up…

Not to mention the fact that my childhood best friend and I loved nothing more than walking barefoot around her neighborhood, collecting berries to make paint, and trading leaves with each other for little trinkets we’d made. Oh, and we definitely had “pet” geckos.

But, I digress. I think you get the picture of what I thought it meant to be native to a land.

However, what I’ve always gotten wrong here was a picture of some Native American slaying an animal for food, clothing, tools, etc. and then getting on a bent knee to thank the creature for giving the tribe its life.

This shit did not and does not happen in real life.

This Sami man—who, don’t get me wrong, I still very much respect—had no such sentimentality about him. He was practical. He saw reindeer as a means to an end. As something he owned (which he does because most reindeer in Finland are still owned by the Sami people). Something that is on this earth for us to use. Something that earns him money.

Though these attitudes were and are crucial to the survival of the Sami people, I couldn’t help but feel disappointed by the straight-forward, transactional approach to dealing with these animals.

Again, please don’t get me wrong. I am in no way saying anything negative about this tour. It was so fascinating, so authentic, so worth every penny. What I am saying is that I may not understand the majority of mankind’s mentality. For this, I have only myself to blame. Well, myself and Disney (and maybe the book, “Little Star,” about a girl and her horse as well as the Historical Fiction—emphasis on fiction—novel I read about the Shoshone tribe).

But, okay, the day didn’t end there and it definitely got better.

As the reindeer men dealt with the young animals, unaccustomed to having to walk in a line, we followed our Erikki into a Lavvu (a similar structure to a teepee used by nomadic tribes in the USA).

Once inside, our guide Erikki launched into the details of how to build this structure, the difference between pine and birch, how one was strong and could hold up the fabric shelter around us while the other was used for making fires because its softness could be carved for a layered kindling.

This was one of my favorite moments of Reindeer Day. Especially when Erikki casually referred to the type of knife everyone carries in Lapland.

“I’m not sure what knives you have in Hawaii,” he said in a tone that implied that he assumed we all carried around sharp blades, “but ours are like this size. The size of your palm.”

He showed us the bone handle and how it fit into this hand perfectly.

Erikki was an endless stream of knowledge and kept explaining how simple life was there in Lapland—which, he said, enabled him to know things like how to start a fire, how to create a warm bed in the snow, how to bike to work in that same snow. He even taught us what to do if our toes started to feel too cold. He grabbed a piece of wood from the fire and instructed us to place our feet on the branch as opposed to the icy ground.

“There, you see?” He asked, “Your feet are no longer cold because they are now off of the cold ground.”

Then, he asked if we knew the best way to warm our hands if our fingers were going numb.

“No, not hand warmers,” he said shaking his head at our attempt to be funny, “you do like this.”

Then he grabbed my hands and shoved them under his armpits! If you know me, you know I’m not the most touchy-feely person. I don’t like hugs. I don’t brushing hands with the person walking next to me. But I will say this. After walking through the Nordic forest, armpit hands were pretty cozy.

He also was able to laugh about the fact that everyone knew everyone. He even gave us an example of what a small town Saariselka was.

“Say some kids decided to have a little mischievous fun and go off on a snowmobile,” (because that’s something teenagers do in Northern Lapland), “a neighbor would probably recognize them and give their parents a call to ask them to scold their child.”

After showing us how to light the fire ( simple kine, like that), he asked us if we had any questions for him. We asked about the Sami people and he told us about the three Sami tribes in Finland. They each speak their own language but can understand each other—a strength that the Finns do not posess. He then explained a bit more about each tribe, where they were located, the history of how their land was taken from them—which he shared with a shadow of shame (don’t worry, Erikki, I’m pretty sure America’s got you beat), and some of the ways in which they keep their culture alive today.

After this relaxing respite by the fire, drinking hot berry juice (note: I really wanted more of this juice but the closest bathroom was a fifteen minute walk, so there was no dealing with my bladder problems on this day), we walked out to take a ride in the sleighs led by our Sami reindeer man. He gestured to where we should take a seat—my mom in the front, dad center, and me in the back. Then, he and his employees, covered us with blankets. I got an extra blanket because they wanted to make sure I was extra warm. Sometimes it pays to still look like you’re thirteen.

We then set off along a designated trail with the reindeer pulling us ever-so-uninterestedly around the property; through the snowy forests. I have to say, it was nothing like the whipping wild ride that the huskies gave, but it was a treat in its own way.

As we wove our way through the quiet trees, snow covering the ground and the branches of the skinny pine trees, the only sounds were the clip clop of the reindeers hooves (something we would later learn were actually two parts of the same hoof hitting together).

It was so calming. So simple.

I, of course, broke this silence to vlog… because I’m the absolute worst, but then put my phone away to enjoy the silence.

Once we returned to the reindeer pen, the Sami man and his employees were excited to help us take pictures. We each have one in the sled with the reindeer.

It was then our turn to practice roping a reindeer. Using the Finnish version of a lasso, the suopunki. Wrapping one part of the rope around the other, we made sure to keep the loose slack in front of us. No, we were not roping any real reindeer, but that doesn’t mean we were about to let any imaginary animals tear off with us caught in the rope behind them.

After successfully entangling the suopunki around some reindeer horns that had been attached to a tree, we then retreated to a small cabin next to the Lavvu in which we had drinken our berry juice before the ride. The cabin allowed us to warm up our toes a bit (they go numb surprisingly fast in those sleighs—though this could be my own problem because I never stretch and my circulation doesn’t seem to be at its healthiest level).

Once inside, Erikki encouraged us to sit and immediately brought us sliced bread with butter and cheese.

Side note: Erikki had earlier (in the Lavvu) told us that because he was a guide and spent so much of his time in the cold outdoors, he couldn’t keep on any weight. He had lost five kilos last winter. He said that for this reason, the people in Lapland ate so much butter and cream… Okay, first of all, I was experiencing no such weight loss. Second of all, as a lactose intolerant person, the butter and cream was definitely doing things to the ol’ rumbles in the tumble. Third of all, there was no way I was going to miss out on any of these menu items and had already eaten a piece of buttered bread that morning.

I devoured one of the sandwiches right as he brought out freshly heated Salmon soup and berry juice.

While enjoying this lunch, I pushed away my annoyingly full bladder to listen to Erikki as he launched into a fascinating, well-informed debrief of Finland’s history. In moments, we learned about what had happened (and what was currently happening) with Russia. So close to the Russian border, there was still quite a lot tension between the two countries. He also told us about the seasonal work that was available during winter, the way children (as so many others from small towns experience) wanted to leave and explore other countries and cities instead of returning home after school. He told us about what it was like being part of the EU and what it had been like when Finland was deciding whether or not to join.

I have to give a bit of credit to my dad here. He’s really good at asking questions. When I’m content to sit, listen, and wait for the other person to think of something to say, he’s good at bringing up topics that the other person will be excited to talk to us about.

His wealth of information was astonishing. And, yet, he had such a humble attitude toward everything.

When speaking about joining the EU, Erikki laughed. He hadn’t wanted to be a part of it. But, now, it was a very good thing and he could see that. He later tied his initial disinterest in joining the EU to the Winter War—a lucky break during which Finland was able to beat Russia.

“So this is why we believe that we don’t need anyone else. We beat them once. We can do it again! But, what we don’t think about is how much luck we had. We were so lucky. One more week and we would have lost, but they didn’t know that and they gave in. This, ‘we won’ attitude is probably why I (and so many others) didn’t feel we needed the EU. But now I see that it is good.”

And when we tried to express how impressed we were with the fact that he (and everyone else who doesn’t live in America) spoke three languages and knew historical and geographical facts, he brushed our praise off.

“That is because Finland is a small country. We must know other languages because no one else speaks Finnish. We must know history because we are only one country and are so small. America is so big. You don’t have to know another language. It’s okay not to know so much of the history.”

Of course, I don’t think he really believes this. Of course we should be learning other languages. Of course we should have a greater interest in our history. But he was being diplomatic, humble, and honest about the fact that Finland is so small—in population—and does need to learn cultures, histories, and languages outside its borders.

Still, his knowledge of history, geography, language, and so much more has motivated me to at least try to learn some of our history.

I’m currently reading “Team of Rivals,” a book about Lincoln as seen through his competitors. These are the people he brought closest to him. Of course, it’s easiest to start with Lincoln because he was such a remarkable man, but a girl’s gotta start somewhere, right?

Anyway, enough of that tangent.

In the cabin, we sat with Erikki eating our savory salmon soup, bread, cheese, butter, and berry juice for over an hour, captivated by his stories and knowledge. He would later be referred to as “a walking encyclopedia by another guide” and the description definitely fits.

What started out as a day about Santa’s favorite furry animals became a day about history, socio-economic dilemmas, and great food.

A success all in all.