If you live in Kuopio, or you are an attentive tourist, you are likely to notice a peculiarity of the city in a matter of days, weeks at most. Most locals I have talked to agree: Kuopio lacks a few cozy coffee shops with opening hours beyond 7pm that have a warm interior design, comfortable chairs and couch, jazzy background music, good coffee, tea and pastries. (A library with books, free wifi and owners that are editors of a blog with the latest & coolest curiosities and news of a living in Kuopio.) Most locals I have talked to agree, this is unfortunate. I think, there are at least two coffee shops that match the description best: Kahvilla Kaneli and Fado.

The first, and unfortunately up to now last, time I found Kaneli open while passing by a few weeks ago, I finally had a cup of tea and, out of curiosity, I just had to ask the waitress, a minute short the closing: “Anteeksi, what is the reason for the late afternoon or early evening closing?” She didn’t know exactly but her guess was that it would not be cost-effective.

Hard question. So, here is the experiment, drafted this evening with a friend while sitting on a park bench (and dreaming of an open Kaneli?). If you happen to live in Kuopio, we would like to hear your opinion. Write a comment. Would you like to see Kaneli or Fado open just a little longer during our endless summer evenings? Would it not be cost-effective? How can they attract clientele? We would like to hear what you think. (And don’t forget to invite your friends to the discussion here, a tweet will already do it!)

Here is the deal. If we get back some enthusiasm we will start an online petition to collect names and comments of locals who would like to see our cozy coffee shops to be open just a little longer, during the week or weekends, in the summer or winter, as it fits. We will inform the owners of both Kaneli and Fado about the online petition.

Can we motivate the owners? Or are they right with the cost-effectiveness argument?

Tervetuloa.

It said, 7:8.

I asked the class if anyone could guess what it represents, adding the hint that it is not a C:N ratio. After a few seconds, one guy came up with a suggestion. He was almost right. Indeed, 7:8 was the teacher-to-student ratio of the class, a two weeks intensive course in soil ecology laboratory. Needless to say, the class was likely the most interesting I ever had in my ever longer academic career and the reason why I thought the 7:8 ratio deserves a note was because learning with 1 teacher every 1.14 students is unique and a privilege that I certainly have experienced the first time.

Sitting between the rows, the professor later commented that albeit the cost per student in the course was high and nowadays fewer and fewer Finnish universities offer such courses a lower ratio would likely render the class ineffective. I cannot agree more.

One of the many sweet side effects of the 7:8 ratio was to see how the teacher-student relationship evolved over the period of two weeks. Working closely daily from 8 am to 4 pm definitively lead to an almost complete blurring of teacher and student roles. Granted, laboratory newbie as I am, I always knew I’m the student.

Incidentally, a few hours ago I listened to a recent Ken Robinson TED on learning revolution.

I think, one of the first prediction that had fallen upon my decision to move to Finland in 2009 was Seasonal Affective Disorder and that I’ll freeze my a$$ off. The winter has seen its last day with temperatures above freezing point late November and the first early March, though only to tease and head back to frost, with repeated lows in the range of -25 to -30 degrees Celsius. Now, however, the big melting is definitively under way. A colleague commented that it is accepted to wear long underpants, pants and possibly weatherproof pants but I must say I did just fine with my jeans. The second prediction was that I’ll need some good pair of shoes. To my surprise, the pair I had in fall was a comfortable one throughout winter. The third prediction was that I’ll be bitten by mosquitoes. I’ll tell about that one in a late summer post.

As usual, nothing beats experience. This post is an attempt to share some thoughts on the experience of winter at latitude 62.8933 and longitude 27.6793 where the shortest day counts 4 hours and 45 minutes between sunrise and sunset, the sun too shy to leave the horizon, too misplaced to send any warmth upon land 3.6686 degrees south from the Arctic Circle, above which the sun never appears on polar night and never disappears on polar day. All this might sound frightening but my experience was anything but. You must know, dealing with the low temperatures and light is a small price for the uncountable little surprises that come with such extremes. I hope this post takes away from the commonly held public believes and encourages to experience yourself.

First and foremost, the wet slightly above freezing rainy day may feel colder than a snowy frosty day. Some say it’s because of the humidity. At -25 degrees Celsius, all you need to do is to cover your extremities and walk, perhaps slightly above your average pace to keep circulation going. My guess is you won’t be cold, at least not in the first 30 minutes.

The rate of change in length of days is one of the most impressive phenomena. While the shortest day counts slightly below 5 hours between sunrise and sunset the longest counts more than 20 hours. In six months ± 15 hours. That’s almost 5 minutes each day, slightly more than half an hour every week. Spring just gained a new meaning with experiencing the breakpoint at which days north become longer than south. Though the sun draws a wider arc during summers more south, too, I can’t wait to see the almost full circle at latitude 62.8933. A sunset at 7 pm with temperatures hovering around freezing point is priceless.

A Finnish snow storm is more like the Graceful Dance of the Finest Ice Crystals, rather than a storm; 70 cm of it lay on the ground without suggesting snowapocalypse. One might think at -25 degrees Celsius it must be slippery on sidewalks; no, the danger is around freezing point, which is also when you realize that lately you have been walking on a 5-15 cm ice sheet, a marvelous, natural, perfectly walkable ground under your feet.

But there is one secret of winter at latitude 62.8933 that beats all others: trees fully covered with a 5-10 mm coat made of snowflakes. Conditions permitted, those conglomerations of frozen ice crystals actually cover almost everything, being commercial fences another curious example. Think of every leaf and tiny branch of an evergreen tree coated with crystal on crystals; then think of thicker branches coated with the flakes; then the tree bark repeating just the same along its intricate structure. Imagine yourself in a forest standing in front of such a tree with an orange-red glowing peak that reflects the last incoming rays of a sunny day. Priceless.

The Kuopas Student Housing Company makes it really easy for students. Provided you are a student admitted to a school beyond comprehensive school you only need to submit an application and they guarantee you a room, a rather inexpensive one too. Further, you have the option to set your name on a waiting list for housing objects that are harder to get to, e.g. because of their location.

For the last seven months I was on such a list, coherent with what I thought upon my arrival. Last week I got the notification for the reservation of a room in a shared apartment with two bedrooms, kitchen and bathroom in the, I believe, most recently completed Kuopas apartment building, which proudly radiates its modern splendor in one of the better areas of Kuopio. Over the weekend, I organized a truck, selected some new furniture, packed my stuff and cleaned the room. This morning, before signing the new contract, I quickly visited the new room.

I left the building saying “this doesn’t feel right” and I ended up not signing the contract. To put things a bit in context. First, there was my initial promise to move out as soon as I have a chance. Then, the new apartment is 10 minutes from the university (not 30 minutes), 10 minutes from the city center (not 45 minutes), completed in 2005 (not 1974), has a shared kitchen with one roommate (not on the floor with 10 or more people), apparently includes optic fiber Internet access and this for something like 60 euro / month more rent. Markus, are you insane? This doesn’t feel right?

Yes, it didn’t feel right. Later, I tried to understand why. At the cost of sounding completely mad, I think I felt sort of betrayed. Funny. The modern building with its attractive façade is utterly in contrast with its tasteless interior design. In a 2005 building, would you expect anything else but a nice vitro ceramic stove? A not all-in-white kitchen, bathroom, corridor, closet, table, chairs? Anything but a homogeneous dark-bluish PVC floor in your bedroom which, you bet, would never have matched my planned-to-buy dark wood furniture?

At this point, I need to note that I’m alone to blame for the dissonance. The Student Housing Company did an amazing job, even in the estimate on how long it would approximately take to get an offer. But my expectations were too high. For 297 euro / month rent (utilities included), I could not possibly expect hardwood floors, however attractive the outer façade. And so, I’m writing this from my old room where, as it sounds like, I’ll stay for awhile longer. As a friend recently said, commenting on my move, “what’s wrong with Särki?” Nothing, I will start working on interior design.

I think, it was September 2009 when I first asked a colleague for information regarding blood donation in Finland. He wasn’t familiar with the details but he gave the first hint: the address of the local Red Cross Finland Blood Service. After I first visited the center, I learned that donating blood in Finland would not be as straightforward as I hoped.

First, you need a Finnish social identity number, which I already had. Here, however, the requirements I fulfilled ended. Next, you need an official Finnish identification with picture. I thought, oh, well, I suppose I won’t be donating blood in Finland, saddened. You need one of (i) Finnish passport, (ii) Finnish identity card, (iii) Finnish driver’s license, (iv) Kela card (the Social Insurance Institution of Finland).

I tried Kela first, after all it would be good to have coverage here anyhow. No luck, I’m currently paid for 15 hours / week, required are 18 hours / week. What else? I’m sure I won’t get a Finnish passport. Do I get a Finnish identity card? Unlikely, I thought. Driver’s license? Do I want to go through this?

Some day between Christmas and New Year. I went to the police, with a Red Cross Finland Blood Service business card and a list of the four cards, in Finnish, and asked for directions; which one can I get? A Finnish identity card! Sorry, what? I’m not a citizen, how is it possible I get a Finnish identity card?

I need to have a permanent resident status. Back in September, I did register as a temporary resident, unclear on what advantage a permanent status would give me. However, I was confident I would fulfill the requirement for a permanent resident status, i.e. a work contract for at least two years. (Wish it would be that easy for the US, actually, no, everywhere.) Thus, I went to the immigration office to change my status. They did, almost instantly, including a warm welcome smile, I think partially motivated by my tentative Kiitos, hei hei, ja Onnellista Uutta Vuotta (Thank you, goodbye & Happy New Year). I needed a new passport picture as well, the one I had didn’t fit the model. Back at the police things went really smooth.

Two weeks ago, I got the Finnish identify card, my first in a foreign country. It didn’t take me long to visit Red Cross Finland Blood Service again, confident I would match all requirements now. I did.

It might sound like a lot of troubles to go through for something like blood donation. Perhaps. I would not want to miss anything of the experience, though. First, blood donation is a reasonable thing to do, if you can. Second, I did enjoy to learn the differences to what I’m used to. Third, I have never been given so much attention while donating blood like here in Finland, notably the nurse bringing me multivitamins juice during the donation, almost worried I might run out of liquids. But the best part has been a new friend who joined me, kiitos, for me the first time I had shared a donation upon my suggestion.

On a side note. I previously reported on what donated blood is tested for in Switzerland. In Finland, the list is longer.

• ABO, Rh and Kell (K) blood group components
• HIV, or human immunodeficiency virus
• HBA, or hepatitis A virus
• HBV, or hepatitis B virus
• HCV, or hepatitis C virus
• The Syphilis bacterium
• Parvovirus

(Source: Red Cross Finland Blood Service “Lend an Arm Donor Information Pack.”)

I sneak past like a ghost
not caring for its lament.

Your pace is slow, emphatic
on the door’s weariness.

I get ahead of you
when, suddenly,
a gleam of will to reach
outside your self-built wall
as unintelligible words,
to my ears, resounds.

“Excuse me?”
my answer to you over the wall.

“I was talking to someone else,”
you reassure.

Just, there is no one else
so no response is heard.

(At this point in the plot, the album’s protagonist, Pink is attempting to reach anybody outside of his self-built wall. The repeated question “is there anybody out there?” suggests that no response is heard. Is There Anybody Out There? The Wall, Pink Floyd. Kiitos.)