Finland and the former USSR

After a few false starts we finally began our trip south from Muodoslompolo. I didn't mention the northern vistas much in my last post cos I was gushing about the locals we'd met. It's an extraordinary place to be. The trees have this look of malnourishment, and grow more sparsely than I'm used to seeing. The lack of light means it's a real fight for any young plant to really get a foothold, and the low angle of the sun reflects a foreign shade of green from the sporadic growth. Also the sky feels bigger. You can't see it so to speak but there's this feeling of depth when you look upwards that you don't get elsewhere. Perhaps the sky actually is bigger because it's being viewed from the flatter part of our elliptical sphere shaped earth, I don't really know. Any way, we took Oliver's advice and headed towards a town called Roveniemi in northern Finland. Along the way we saw hundreds of Reindeer. It was hard to tell but we think they were probably Sami herds and they looked delicious. As we passed some through some low mountain ranges that are home to ski fields, I again wished we were there in winter so we could play in the snow. -20c in winter though....jebus.

Oliver told us about a really nice cafe in Roveniemi which was so awesome! The barrister made a brilliant espresso and the decor was everything Amanda would want of a cafe. Loads of retro bits and pieces, and some awesome vintage board games strewn about. None of the seats or tables matched. Just how a cafe should me. We also went to Santa's village which was pretty hilarious. The Arctic circle runs right through the middle of the car park. Santa was on smoko which was a shame, but we got to snicker at the ridiculously over priced souvenirs. We spent the next few days driving towards Helsinki, sleeping in Edward in some random roadside spots and generally gawking for reindeer and elk on the road. 

Wicked espresso and hot chocolate

Amanda playing retro pinball

Three days after leaving Muodoslompolo the fear and anxiety of being van less struck again. About thirty minutes south of Jyväskylä we stopped for lunch and I noticed a strong smell of diesel. The pump was once again gushing out fuel, but this time is was severe. I pulled it apart to check the o rings hadn't perished in the cold (they were plastic not rubber) and noticed that the thread on a bolt which attaches the pump lid was stripped. I asked in a hardware store in Joutsa if they could help at all (again, thank goodness everyone in Europe speaks English) and they suggested two possible mechanics. I randomly picked one and we drove round dumping diesel all over the road as we went. This was a long shot. Either the mechanic was a miracle worker, or we had to get rid of the van and get a plane back to the UK. The mechanic was a mint guy. He'd lived in Australia growing up so had perfect English. He wasn't like the other paint by numbers mechanics we'd been to previously and was happy to fix things rather than replace them. After fixing the broken thread he noticed that the welding done by our previous saviour Jönne, had caused the gasket on the pump lid to perish. Not ideal. There aren't many Citroens in Finland so a replacement was unlikely. But Jönne and Äke had obviously endowed us with magical powers of good luck. The mechanic's friend had just replaced the engine of his Peuegot Partner which had a very similar pump to ours. This friend was mint. He rocked up in his dirty ripped corduroy trousers, scruffy woollen jersey and unkempt grey beard and white hair. I love it when people know you can't understand them but the talk anyway. We had a great yarn. I was talking about how awesome Edward was. He was probably on about how shit Citroens are. As he talked the forgotten cigarette in the corner of his mouth dumped ash all through his beard and into my open fuel pump (which are supposed to stay 'operating theatre clean'). Anyway he showed me the pump, it was a little different but the lid would work as a complete replacement meaning the earlier spindle leak problem would be fixed as well as the lid gasket sealing properly. After giving the 'new' pump a steam clean, the mechanic showed me how to take the lid off, swap it with ours and put it all back together. Hey presto, no leaks and all for a very very reasonable €10 (but we had no cash euros so it was €13 including tax to use my card). He wouldn't charge for labour, just the cost of his mates pump (money towards fags I reckon). Not a bad deal. A replacement pump could have been more than €200. Yet another Scandinavian hero.

Roadside fuel pump leak investigation - not good apparently

So we were back on the road within a few hours of first striking trouble. Music cranked, sun shining, and a general happy-go-lucky vibe filling Edward to the brim. That evening we finally made it to Helsinki. We couch surfed there with a lovely guy named Jussi. He lives in the northern suburbs in a nice studio style apartment. Helsinki is pretty nice. Not too big but plenty going on. It didn't feel quite as touristy as Copenhagen or Stockholm, probably as it's a bit more of a mission for Western Europeans. We stayed a few days, hopping around on the reasonably priced public transport system and checking out more markets and thrift shops. We went to possibly the best vintage collectibles shop in the world. It had some seriously amazing stuff with seriously amazing and out of our league price tags. I really wanted to buy a mint condition bass melodica but €50 would have seriously have dented our budget. Helsinki has plenty of classic touristy things to do as well. The Olympic park from the 1950's looked pretty awesome but was closed for autumn, as was the kooky looking Linnanmäki theme park. We did get to take a small ferry out to an archipelago that was once a important defensive position for the city. There was a dry docked U-boat there and some awesome forts and cannons. 

Lots of expensive retro goodies

Dry docked U-Boat

After a few days larking about in Helsinki we took the ferry to Estonia. This was pretty interesting as there were so many drunk Finns heading over to grab some cheap liquor and head back again. In the lounge bar a mustachioed, skullet sporting ageing rocker was banging out the hits on acoustic guitar. He had made some terrible backing tracks for these covers and sang everything in a voice which was a cross between the douche from Creed and the douche from Incubus. Once he'd had enough we were subjected to an hour of karaoke. Finnish folk songs were murdered by techno beats and heinously drunk vocalists. After the three hour crossing we made it to the self proclaimed land of cheaper fuel prices. 

It certainly was cheaper than Finland, but Polish petrol
prices put Estonia to shame

Ferryman plays Roxanne by Andrew Straight


In Tallin we couch surfed with a great guy called Peeter. He was in his forties, so he had some pretty interesting stories of growing up in a Soviet republic. When he was 10 years old he was delivering papers for pocket money and was questioned by the KGB about some anti-soviet pamphlets that had been circulating. Scary stuff. He was awesome to stay with and showed us some great old soviet buildings around the town. In the 80's the Soviets built a giant concrete concert hall that looks more like a bunker than a place of culture. It hasn't been used for a long time and now is basically a giant canvas for street art and a garden for stray weeds. 

That big lump of concrete in the background is the concert hall

We watched the Rugby World Cup Final in an Irish bar in the town centre. What a rush!!! There were so many French guys there and I felt for them. They were hurting pretty bad at some of the calls the ref made. Again there were a few embarrassing over enthusiastic New Zealanders in the pub. It's a shame, they really put out an awful image of our country. The French guys were all patriotic and fired up, but respectful and open minded even when fifty fifty calls weren't going their way. The Kiwis however were swearing, yelling racist obscenities and generally being real dicks. At half time it was pretty tense inside but everyone was in a social mood, except the one eyed All Blacks club in the corner. One particular meat head came inside after a cigarette and had to pass through the area where the French supporters were watching the game. With a sinister smirk on his face he yelled (language disclaimer Mum), "Fuck off you fucking French pricks. You're gone. Fuck off!!!!", and casually found his way back to his seat with his proud girlfriend clinging to his arm not realising she was being used as a human shield. My blood boiled. I was dumb founded and confused. What a dick. I look back on this moment all the time and wish I had have given this guy a piece of my mind. After the game had finished, with the win tainted by this dick head's outburst, I went up to a couple of the French guys and tried to apologise for what that guy had said. They were really cool about it and brushed it off as sport induced madness. What cool guys. If someone had yelled something similar about the All Blacks I'm sure there would have been a fight in that pub. Why are there so many goons in the world?

I shaved my face for the first time since the rugby world
cup started, while we were in Tallin. This mo lasted five
minutes. When did I get a Buzz Lightyear chin?

Trying to forget the guy that had ruined what should have been a very fond memory, we took a nice (and free) walking tour of the old town and then went to a crazy thrift market. There were literally tonnes of Soviet and Nazi era souvenirs. I was really tempted to buy a Russian red cross satchel from WWll but the price was a bit hefty, and it was quite possibly fake. Amanda picked up some sweet badges with made in the USSR on the back. Tallin is a very cool city but according to Peeter it has lost some of it's charm in recent years due to a huge influx of tourists. I hope it hangs on to what it has left of its quiet and cool style and doesn't go completely down the Brugge route.

Some old prison in Tallin

Sweet Soviet badges - that dragon is eating a horse!!!

Our next stop was Tartu, about 200km south east of Tallin. Oliver had suggested we go to Tartu saying it was like Tallin's cooler and less well known younger brother. We stayed with this wicked German guy called Lars. He works at the uni in Tartu and was a blast to hang out with. He had played in several bands back in Germany and used to do band promotion and booking work. He was also right into film photography and had some awesome vintage cameras, so we all had lots to talk about. Tartu is similar in vibe to Dunedin. Out of 100,000 residents 20,000 are students. We had an awesome time walking the streets, checking out some hand craft stores and sifting through rows of early 20th century wooden cottages. Lars and his mate Jodi took us out for a few beers at some cool local pubs. We tried a local pub snack that I'll be trying to recreate back home; black bread with garlic or "praetud leivad küüslaugu-hapukoorega". So so good. We had such a good time in Tartu that we stayed an extra night and enjoyed a classic Estonian tradition; piping hot sauna!

praetud leivad küüslaugu-hapukoorega - say it really fast five times

Amanda and I bump into Lars other on our way out of town -
Check out the awesome wooden cottages in the background

Sad and bored captive bears

After exchanging music with Lars we carried on south and camped in a national park in northern Latvia. When we woke we realised the car park we were in was for a large outdoor zoo with bears, wolves, and lots of other local animals so we decided to have a look around. It felt a bit wrong seeing all these great animals in their natural habitat, but fenced in and unable to roam completely free. In saying that some of the pens were more like paddocks and howling with the wolves was pretty bloody cool. I don't know what we were talking about but they were happy to chat. Having fixed our animal addiction for a few days we started heading for Riga and went though a small village with an abandoned paper mill. While I was making myself a coffee Amanda went to check it out. When she came back we decided to investigate more and got some cool snaps. This was our first introduction to the beauty of derelict old buildings, and we soon become obsessed.

Abandoned paper mill

Impromptu trampoline in the abandoned paper mill

Soviet lunch

In Riga we couchsurfed yet again. This time with a nice couple, Arnis and Liega. They were very hospitable and had some good advice on abandoned buildings to visit. On our first day in Riga we drove back to the national park to see a bunker that Lars had recommended. We wanted to go on the way down but it was closed. Basically it's a giant underground complex built to keep the Soviet leaders of the Baltic states safe in the event of a nuclear war. As a cunning ruse those sneaky Soviets built an old people's home above it and it's still in use today. We walked into a reception area that smelt of broccoli and anti bacterial soap, there was even some old geezer hanging out in his jarmies. After losing a very tough game of get to the front of the queue (seriously there are no rules in the Baltic countries, just spread accross the front of the service area and try to be next to get noticed) Amanda finally managed to ask about the tour. The only guide was Latvian so we just tagged along at the back and made up our own narrative. The no photography rule was apparently rather elastic so we joined all the Latvian tourists and got a bunch of cool snaps. At the end we got to try some traditional Soviet food; basically soggy pork filled pasta with sour cream and dill. It was quite shit. Luckily there was some slightly berry flavoured sugar water to wash it down with. I got to wear a soviet gas mask which was pretty buzzy. Party on Darth.

Check out the awesome records that Stallin's mates had been
grooving to twenty metres underground

Arnis hangin with some toy dog in Lennin Bar

I don't remember exactly when we realised that I'd left my satchel, along with both of our passports, in Lars' apartment in Tartu. That was a real ball buster. We contemplated driving all the way back to pick it up but Arnis suggested using a bus service to deliver the bag. Lars, the hero, took the satchel down to the bus station and tried to hand it off to the bus driver who didn't want a bar of it. In Lars' words he 'found the most normal looking English speaking couple' and convinced them to help out some strangers. How very nice of them. We met Brodie and Narissa at the Riga bus station and helped them find their hotel. This was a bit like a scene form the amazing race; I had no idea what I was up to but pretended I knew Old Riga like the back of my hand. After they had settled in we all went to this awesome pub called Lenin Bar that Arnis had shown us the night before. They have some awesome beer and inside it looks like a Soviet era sitting room. We shouted Brodie and Narissa a few rounds for being awesome, and we talked a bit of smack. Apparently they rifled through our bag before agreeing to drop it to us, just in case we were tricking them into being drug mules or something. Fair enough I reckon. Good on them for cracking on with the mission though.

Creepy hill of crosses in Latvia

We spent a couple more days in Riga being classic tourists before we headed for Lithuania. On the way we had hoped to find an abandoned nuclear missile silo, but the GPS coordinates we found were completely wrong. We did find some interesting abandoned buildings though. After a couple of nights camping in random spots in Lithuania, we went to Vilnius. We stayed for one night with a couch surfing host, Migle, in her tiny Soviet era apartment. She shares her bedroom (which is actually the living room) with her 12 year old daughter. They insisted that we should have the fold out couch and Migle slept on the floor. What amazing hospitality! The next day they took us to a cemetery to see the thousands of candles that were lit for All Souls day. 

Migle's dog, Debe -
He was crazy and excitable

Migle made us potato cakes with jam to eat
with some delicious beer. Awesome hosting.

Feeling rather peaceful we moved on to meet our next host Rasa, a friend of our mate Silvia. Rasa and her boyfriend Povilas took us to to a mint underground craft beer bar and then we went back to their apartment to sample his many different flavours of moonshine. It's fair to say we were both a little ill the next day. Povilas had mentioned that moonshine on it's own won't give you a hangover. I believed him and agreed that I would have to try each and every flavour. He had about ten bottles lying about, each containing a different fruit or herb soaking in a sea of 120 proof moonshine. About halfway through the samples Amanda had enough and decided to go to sleep. A quick drunken bed building mission and she was happily comatosed. I popped outside with Povilas and enjoyed a very tasty (but according to my own rules forbidden) cigarette. It's fair to say that when I awoke I was ill and feeling bloody sorry for myself. 

A popular thing to do when you get married in some European
countries is put a padlock on  a bridge and throw the
key in the river. Something to do with everlasting love,
or a cunning ploy by padlock companies?