It was the best of times, it was the worst of times. We were in the pristine peace of Nuuksio National Park in Haltia, Finland. But our troupe of travelling teachers split into two boats, and with the collective rhythm of a wet mop, my boat struggled to cover any distance in the hefty headwinds of Lake Pitkajarvi. Boat #2 whizzed past us with seemingly effortless strokes. We tried to look alive, but no matter how hard we tried, our syncopated oar swings only slapped the water. Wood was clashing and somehow bodies were tumbling backwards off their benches. We hoisted one another up by the straps of our life jackets, which I worried might need to be put to intended use at some point. The further back one sat in the boat, the higher the awareness she had of the crew’s abilities. Our guide was slacking on the job, so our ever-optimistic music teacher, Ronda, attempted to bring us some harmony from the final row of the struggling vessel:
​
   My paddle’s keen bright
   Flashing with Silver
   Follow the wild goose flight
   Dip, dip, and swing 
   Dip, dip, and swing

But we didn’t quite dip and we surely didn’t swing. She tried to get on our level with a special rendition of Row, Row, Row Your Boat, but we totally butchered that, too. We were eventually able to axe our way back to the dock with windblown hair and blistered hands at least 30 minutes behind boat #2. Nonetheless, we were all thankful for this day on the water amongst the trees with new friends. And appropriately, Ronda’s inclination to incantation perfectly echoed the roots of Finnish creation myth, the Haltia Nature Center, and present-day Finnish culture.

Prior to rowing 7 km on the lake, we had been sweetly nestled right up the hill in a wooden egg inside the the center’s main exhibition hall. Our tour guide, Satu, explained the architectural inspiration for the building. She had all the Tolkien nerds in the house at “Kalevala,” the national epic compiled by Elias Lönnrot from Finnish oral folklore and mythology. The main character in its creation story, Vainamoinen, is the first and wisest man. He brings order to chaos with magical songs, chants, and poetry. He was the inspiration for Tom Bombadil, the merry old fellow from The Lord of the Rings who relied on the power of nature and song. His magical voice could charm birds and otters into guiding his boat to the shore for him. We could have only been so lucky.

According to the Kalevala, in the beginning there was only air and water. The goddess Ilmatar floated in these primal waters for over 700 years. A duck looking for a place to lay eggs made its nest on Ilmatar’s knee and laid six golden and one iron egg. The hatching of the eggs made Ilmatar’s knee too hot, so she moved it, making the eggs roll down into the water and break. The pieces formed the earth, the sky, the sun, the moon, the stars and the clouds. Then Ilmatar then gave birth to Vainamoinen. He brought trees and life to a barren world with the help of seeds from Ursa Major. Satu shared with us how sacred the bear is to Finnish culture. (Make sure to crawl into the bear and fox den once you exit the egg.) 

The Haltia building rests on the slope of lake Pitkajarvi like a duck in its nest. The tower reaches into the sky like a bird’s neck with the head turned to look towards the water. The solar panels on the roof resemble a bird's feathers. And just as Vainamoinen mother’s footprints created the lakes of the Earth (over 180,000 in Finland alone) the Haltia Nature Center created a special footprint of its own. The architects treaded softly and sustainably using only wood in its construction, natural lighting, and geothermal, wind, and solar energy.  It won the 2015 European Museum of the Year Award with special commendation as an exemplar for the relationship between man and nature.

Haltia currently offers day schools and summer camps to local students. A hallmark of Scandinavian education is the concept of friluftsliv (frí-loofts-live). The literal translation is “free air life.” While students and visitors are inside the center, they can experience the magic of Finland’s 39 National Parks across its diverse regions from the archipelago to the Lapland. They are presented across all five seasons–spring, summer, fall, fall-winter, spring-winter. But most importantly, they are encouraged to get outside the center and interact with nature. Nothing complicated-just get outside, play, and wonder.

I highly recommend visiting this special place, whether it is to view special exhibitions or experience the Nuuksio lake uplands by foot, canoe, horse, skis, or snowshoes.  You can borrow a nature path backpack which includes a readily planned two hour forest program and all the equipment you need. The material is only available in Finnish so make sure you have a translation app on your phone. It is also possible to borrow equipment for nature studies, such as measuring tools, species guides, and magnifying glasses. You may also rent hiking equipment, such as compasses and camping cookers.

​Keep the story of the Kalevala alive by experiencing and appreciating Finnish nature. And choose your boat wisely.

He thought about the sea, the rain, the wind, the sunshine, the grass and the moss...and how it would be impossible to live without them.  -Moomintroll

 
In my travels throughout Europe, I often find that local churches give a distinctive glimpse into important aspects of a city's culture. This sunny Sunday in Helsinki is no different. My plan is to catch the 9:25 tram, exit at Eiran sairaale and walk a few steps to the Mikael Agricola Church, where I will join the Anglican Church in Finland for a worship service.
 
Even though the service will be in English, I am a little nervous, not knowing what to expect. I have attended church all my life, but I have only been an Anglican for a little over a year, and I don't know how I will fit into this church so far away from my home in North Carolina.
 
Arriving 25 minutes early, I am grateful to find a flowering garden opposite the church. Drinking in the scent of roses, I walk clockwise on the gravel path. Crossing the street and climbing the steps of the church, I immediately notice the colorful traditional dresses of African women who have gathered in the foyer to greet one another. I wish Arthy, my new teacher friend from North Carolina, was with me because she has told me of her Anglican roots while growing up in Liberia. She would fit right in here.
 
I take my seat and hear two elderly British gentlemen behind me talking in hushed tones, thinking nobody can hear them. "Do you think we should ask him to take off his hat as a sign of respect in the Lord's house?" I glance a few rows ahead to see a young boy fingering his brimmed hat. Then the men continue, gesturing toward the benches on our left. "They are from South Sudan. Refugees."
 
I think of Arthy again as I realize that the Africans present, fully two thirds of those in attendance, must have come to Finland as war refugees. Arthy has told me during our walks in Helsinki about her family's forced flight to the United States in 1986 to seek political asylum.
 
Then I remember the words I had read the previous night on the church's webpage: The Anglican Church in Finland was founded by refugees from St. Petersburg, fleeing the Revolution. Over 90 years later, it continues to be a place for people seeking refuge.
 
Throughout the service, Arabic, Finnish and English intermingle. The other one third present are mainly British and Finnish. The musical style effortlessly combines Western chorales accompanied on piano and bassoon with African drum-led chants sung in Arabic. Although as a music teacher I have often taught African chants to my students, I am startled to hear the call and response sung in Arabic.
 
The English bishop presiding as a guest today is equally comfortable conversing with the church's Finnish as well as African priests. Although they hail from very different places, these church leaders are all gathered together this morning to serve at the Agricola Church in Helsinki.

Today the church celebrates the confirmation of thirteen youth, twelve Africans and one Finn. The bishop has been invited from England for this occasion, and he smiles as he proclaims his joy at the scriptural text assigned, the well-known Lord's Prayer. As he preaches a simple sermon explaining this text line-by-line, the African priest simultaneously translates into Arabic. When the bishop comes to the line, "Do not bring us to the time of trial," my eyes dart to the South Sudanese families on my left, wondering what hardships they have gone through that have brought them to this new and much colder country to the north.

The longer I am a part of this congregation, the more I suspect black and white, Africans and Europeans, are blending together not just through accidental association but with intentional connection. As the young people being confirmed are ushered to the altar area, the others in the sanctuary are invited to come forward as well and witness the ceremony, where they enthusiastically show their support for the teenagers joining their fellowship.
 
During the traditional passing of the peace, a familiar element from my own church in the U.S., everyone mingles for a full three or four minutes, shaking hands enthusiastically across generations, cultures and nationalities, offering a heartfelt "Peace be with you." I am struck by the ease with which black and white, Finn and African, British and American, and old and young seem to care about each other.
 
Following the confirmation blessings, we all walk together towards the altar and taste the soft bread and the pungent wine of communion, symbols that have been bringing Christians together not only here in Finland but across the world for two thousand years.

After a final jubilant African chant is sung and repeated in Arabic, juxtaposed with a William Cowper hymn sung in regal British fashion, the service is over. I walk back to tram 3, thinking about what I have encountered this morning. Joining me at the tram stop are three people I recognize from the service, and we chat long enough for me to learn that they come from Tanzania and Hong Kong. It strikes me that I didn't meet any other Americans this morning, and I just might have been the only one.

One reason our group of North Carolina teachers has come to Finland is to learn appreciation for a culture different than our own. We hope to find new ways to communicate this diversity of cultures with our students when we return. This is a timely endeavor for all of us as the current cultural and political situation in the U.S. seems precarious; Americans are finding it difficult to get along with each other, especially between black and white, Democratic and Republican, old and young.
 
My experience at the Mikael Agricola Church has taught me a small lesson to take back to North Carolina: people from all parts of the world can find common ground to promote peace and understanding across different races, cultures and nationalities. When we do, we get a small taste of heaven on earth.

By: Karli Eller

I step off the bus and make my first left and am met with racks and racks of clothes. As I walk along the shopping street, lined with red and white street pavers, I notice the crowds of people perusing blouses, scarves and dresses. I glance back and forth as I walk down the middle of the road, trying to see if anything catches my fancy.

Just past the shopping street I come upon the Ekenäs Church, the only one of its kind in Finland, constructed out of greystone. Outside the front entrance bikes are strewn in a haphazard manner as three young boys stare at their phones, waiting to see which Pokémon character they will try and catch next.

 By: Mary-Lynn Kebker

​Our small group of teachers had just arrived at Raseborg Castle, in Raseborg, Finland, approximately an hour's drive west of the capital city of Helsinki. I wasn't feeling particularly well. I had slept poorly the night before and boarding the hour-long bus ride at 8:00 AM had left me feeling tired and groggy.
 
As I stepped off the bus, not feeling particularly enthused about this trip, I couldn't help but notice the crisp morning air. There's something about mornings in Finland that gives your body and mind a boost. The incredible freshness of the country air, the bright blue sky - one could say Finland blue sky - and the comfortable July air temperature gave my body the refresher that it needed. I stopped, inhaled a large breath of this uniquely fresh air, and began to walk towards the direction of the castle. That's when I first thought, "Wow! Finland…This place is different. This place is nice".
 
​As the tour group walked, we first came to a small bridge. As we continued across this bridge, I glanced over to the right and looked out over the river. Once again, that incredible, Finland blue color appeared in the water. Its color contrasted so perfectly with the lush greenery around its shores. I then noticed this cute little boat resting peacefully on the water along the river's shore. As I looked at this small boat, tethered to one of those green trees, I thought again, "This place is nice. It's so serene".
 
   After crossing the bridge, we stepped on to this graveled pathway that led directly to Raseborg Castle. As the tour group walked towards the castle, I kept glancing around, enjoying all the nature around us. The morning birds were singing and the flowers were blooming. The trees were a vibrant green and the breeze was gentle. I couldn't help but notice the sense of love in the air. It's amazing how nature has its way of making us feel loved and optimistic.

​That was when we noticed the sheep. The sheep was standing behind a fence staring at us with the biggest eyes I had ever seen on an animal. I walked over to the sheep. Its pen had a pungent smell, but its face was adorable. I couldn't resist trying to pet him. He stuck his nose through the fence and let me rub the bridge of it. The look on this sheep's face and in his eyes melted my heart. The animal appeared to be in bliss. And I was too.
 
After taking a moment to enjoy the pleasure of interacting with this sheep, I looked towards the castle. It was unlike any piece of architecture I had ever seen before. We simply do not have this type of unique architecture in the United States. Americans tend to favor new, shiny buildings, instead of enjoying historical architecture. The Raseborg Castle was built in the 1370's. The castle' dark gray and brown stone walls, beaten and worn, proudly displayed its age.
 
Unfortunately, we had to wait for the tour guide to arrive. As we stood there waiting, I could feel my sense of pleasure and enjoyment fading, and my tiredness return. The sense of love and bliss was slipping away from me. That's when Andrea, Kevin and I, erupted into song. We were serenading Starkey to the song "Let it Go", by James Bay. Collectively, with our shaky voices, told her to "Let it go, just let it be" as she had never heard this song before. I felt the love return. It's amazing how friends have a way of making us feel loved and optimistic. 

​With renewed energy, we waited until the tour guide arrived. When the tour guide arrived, she arrived in style. The guide arrived in character, playing the role of Katarina, the Lady of the Castle. Katarina was the first, and only, female ruler of Raseborg Castle.  Katarina enticed us with the history of the castle with her charm and humorous demeanor. She was able to take our imaginations back to the 1370s, as the castle was being built. She described the dissipation of the water that once surrounded the castle, which served as an administration center to collect taxes for the village.
 
Katarina also described the love story of the king and his second wife, the Rose of Raseborg. After the king's first wife passed away, the king met Christina, later renamed Rose, who ran off with the king to Stockholm. Later, Rose and the King returned to Raseborg. Unfortunately, their relationship and ruling authority were short-lived. The King became very ill and died three days after their marriage. Rose of Raseborg was only queen for three days. I enjoyed Katarina's retelling of this story, as it included all the elements of a good love story, love and loss. It made me reflect on the relationships that I have and the love that I feel. It's amazing how love stories can make you feel loved and optimistic. 

After the tour, we left the castle and headed down the appropriately named, "Lover's Path". The path draws in lovers with its plush greenery and winding turns. There are even benches and rocks to sit on and enjoy each other's company. While I didn't have a lover to walk down this path with me, I felt my love for Finland growing further.

At the end of the path, we ran into the Folkgarden Museum. Outside the museum, our group noticed bushes with fresh fruit standing before our eyes. We used Edward’s way and the secret foragers inside each of us made an appearance as we collected handfuls of blueberries and raspberries for our early afternoon snack. It's amazing how freshly picked fruit can make us feel loved and optimistic.

by Laura Isenhour

​Driving into Hanko, or Hango as the Finnish say, the view of the highway slowly transformed itself into one of wooded forest, and from the lush green trees of Nordic summer, beautiful views of blue water, bright bikinis, and slightly tanned bodies on sandy beaches began to emerge like something straight out of a Monet painting. Who knew that there was a place warm enough in Finland to remove your scarf and socks to sunbathe and take a cool dip in the water? The days leading up to this point in our travels so far have been lovely, but chilly enough for a light scarf and windbreaker, so what a relief it was to feel the sun shining warmly when I stepped down from the luxury of the sleek black Kovanen bus with the faulty wifi.
 
I knew there was short time to be spent in Hanko, so as we made our way there from Ekenas, I studied the “pack o’maps” (as our group leader likes to call them) to determine what would be my best plan of attack for navigating this quaint harbor town. I decided the must-sees for the ensuing hour and forty-five minutes were the emigrant statue, the two beaches, the street full of classic villas, and the casino. The must-dos included purchasing an ice cream and people watching along the shore, taking some photographs along Appelgrenintie, and checking the temperature of the water. Whether I would take a dip or not, well, that was to be determined upon analysis.
 
When I disembarked from the bus, I followed a group member to the tourist information building where a friendly blonde Finn inside sketched out a map of her recommendations for a stop in Hanko. It was immediately clear from all of the glossy beach magazines inside, that this seaside town is a popular tourist destination for Finns from all over Finland to go on their holidays and in the summers. I learned of the view from the water tower that could not be missed, and I learned of a set of cliffs where emigrants, planning to journey to North America, used to host dances. I promptly added these two stops to my mental itinerary and set out into the bustling streets.
 
The Hanko skyline consists of a unique red water tower, about 50 meters high, and the area church; there were no other looming buildings or structures in the area. Naturally, I went in the direction of these buildings first, weaving my way through the purple and pink flowers that embellished the city park near the tourist office. The water tower is an interesting burnt red color, with an even more interesting architectural style, and you can pay 2 euros to take an elevator to the top to view the entire city from above. I lingered outside the tower, waiting on the lift that held only six passengers at a time; the stairs were not an option for visitors, apparently. The cramped close quarters of the elevator make for a good minute and fifteen second opportunity to practice your Finnish, or Swedish, the second most common language spoken in Hanko.

​The rocks lining the bay seemed perfect for exploring and climbing, so I stumbled over and along the rocks for a bit until I encountered a cranny that smelled distinctly of urine, and I decided to head back the way I came to enjoy the view in an atmosphere with a more pleasant aroma. Back at the shore, I dipped my feet in the icy water, but this only lasted a minute before I could no longer feel my toes. I sat on the rocks, enjoyed some freshly picked berries from earlier in the day and observed other brave souls attempting to submerge their bodies in the frigid waters. I think the record was no more than 5 minutes before they ran out, teeth chattering and hands clasped together around the dripping bodies now covered in goose bumps.
 
When I could no longer stand to watch this self-inflicted torture, I decided to set out to find the emigrant statue. However, the most important matter at this point, was to first go for an ice cream. The one near the center of town had a long line, so I strolled to another park that was less crowded, found that beautiful stall containing the sweet creamy goodness, and attempted to order in Finnish – pieni pallo kookos; 1 scoop of coconut, and of course, “kiitos.” Clearly, I’ve been to a lot of ice cream stands in Finland.
 
I soon encountered the emigrant statue walking back in the opposite direction. To my slight dismay, the statue did not have a plaque of information going into detail about its significance. It had three seagulls carved into the top flying towards the ocean, and the names of the Finnish towns who lost residents during the migration carved into the granite. It was simple, yet present.
 
I continued making my way back in the opposite direction to take some photos of the pastel villas along the bay front, encountering other members of our motley crew of teachers along the way. The walk along Appelgrenintie with these villas looked like a street full of vintage dollhouses.

Soon, I came across the other, larger beach with a few nude sunbathers, and a decorated pole left over from the summer solstice festivities adorned in dried flowers and sailboats spinning at the top. Here, I took a moment to rest, stick my toes in the rocky sand where the water sloshed to the shore, and enjoy the warmth of the sunshine and the company of my peers who were doing the same.
 
Time to retreat back to the tourist machine with the fancy seats soon approached (I swear time moves quicker in Finland!) and it was determined that a stop for ice cream was to be made before boarding the bus. I could not turn a second cone down and opted for the vanilla soft serve. I was not quite adventurous enough to try the salmiakki (salty licorice) flavor, but I’ve heard it’s a local favorite.
 
To our dismay, we had to devour the ice creams before we could board the bus, but I did not mind the excuse to enjoy the charm of Hanko for just a few minutes more. ​

When I viewed the itinerary for our trip to Finland and saw a visit to the city of Turku, I immediately knew what I had to do. If I couldn't visit the site of the first sub 4 minute mile run in history (England), the second such run would be a good replacement. Why the obsession? I've been a distance runner for 35 years and have always been fascinated by the history of the sport. It was in Turku that John Landy ran a 3:58 mile which bettered the time of Roger Bannister who broke the 4 minute barrier one month earlier in 1954. 

With a Google Map image on my wi-fi-less phone, I set out on a 14 minute walk from my drop-off point to find Paavo Nurmi Stadion, the place of Landy's run. The stadium is tucked inside a park of tall trees so you have to follow a winding path to find it. I managed to find the outskirts of the park but needed to assistance to go further. A blonde-haired man wearing a blue baseball cap was holding a basketball and talking to his son in Finnish. I asked him where I could find the park. He smiled and said it was to the left down the paved path. I thanked him and traveled on. At the bottom of the path, I looked around and saw an apartment building to my right and bushes to my left. I wasn't sure where to go next. A young lady was stretching to get ready for a run and wearing headphones. I moved into her line of sight and yelled "Hei" which is like "Hello" in English. Unsurprisingly, she jumped back about a foot after having a pale six foot-four man yell at her. Catching her breath, she politely smiled and said it was up the steps. What she didn't say was "How did you miss the sign that was right there?" I thanked her and moved up the steps while chastising myself in my head about how I once again failed to see something right in front of me. 

At the top of the steps, I spied the object of my hunt for track history. Eight lanes of rubber track surrounded on all sides by seating that was a combination of concrete and wooden bleachers. This is where it all happened. The great Paavo Nurmi, holder of 9 gold medals, had practiced his craft many times here as well as other running greats who were seeking a fast track with which they could race to record times. Walking around in the stands, I saw hurdlers practicing for a future competition. An elderly man was lining the field for the soccer match to be held later in the evening. There was no apparent entrance to the track itself, so I was beginning to think that I would have to be satisfied with just viewing the field. ​

It occurred to me that I had come here looking for track history, but had found much a greater thing. Three different Finns, approached by a middle-aged foreigner babbling about a stadium, had taken time out of their day to thoughtfully guide me to my location. I came away from this visit appreciating history, but more so the kindness of a people.
--Jeff Barger