Maybe I should slit 'em to see color
Location: Rovaniemi, Finland
Status of Santa: Mildly Poignant
October 10
What a shithole.
I do not mean that literally. It is unlikely that at any time, chaos theory will manifest itself in making the 'Heart of Lapland' into the butthole of the Earth, from which poopy magma might flow forth. Be that as it may, it is not the greatest of places.
Rovaniemi is the gateway to Lapland, the northernmost region of Scandanavia, reaching above the Arctic Circle. And by 'gateway' I mean 'tourist trap.' The city itself barely qualifies at as a city at all in population, only reaching that halcyon title by Finnish standards.
The entire place is gray. Rain gray. Sleet gray, rain gray, sleet. Snow gray. The inhabitants shuffle along, responding to even the warmest smile with indifference or even scorn. The city vibrates with a sort of emptiness, the sort of feeling that their livelihood depends on a steady flow of tourists with more money than sense. Which is, indeed, the case.
Now, to be fair, this is the lowest trough of the tourist season, between the summer fun peak and the winter sports peak. I imagine that during those, the most fortuitous of times, the city is positively bumpin'. I would also probably appreciate the cutesy kitsch of the city more had I a traveling companion to share bad jokes with. Sadly, this is not to be.
The main draw for the town is packaged together as Santa's Village and the Arctic Circle Marker. This is, as the name suggests, the where the official Santa Claus resides, with his official post office. Ever written a letter to Santa and stuck it in the mailbox? This is where it goes. Northern Finland. On the whole the village is deliciously cute, although right now it has the feel of a ghost town, the only sounds being the poppy Christmas tunes being eerily piped through the omnipresent sound system. This place needs actual people to feel welcoming.
Santa Claus himself is quite neat, however. I got to spend a few minutes talking with the jolly old elf, who never actually breaks character. We talked about what a good boy I had supposedly been (I didn't have the heart to tell him I had spent the last 10 minutes giving the finger to him and everything in his little village), and I got a sticker to certify the fact. Since I have now officially been north of the Arctic Circle, I think I get a medal or something. Or maybe just a little more ice to wrap around my already cold, merciless heart. After all, I am an American.
One neat thing about the town I almost forgot about: the Finnish language. See, Caj and Malin live in the part of Finland that is predominantly Swedish-speaking, so this is my first immersion into Finnish. The language is insane. It is such that one can't so much as as what day of the week it is without sounding like a grizzled oracle muttering incoherently over the bones. Take the word 'matkustajakoti,' for instance (to pronounce properly, consume 7 beers before reading). Incantation to summon the restless dead? No, that's the word for "guesthouse." It only gets better from there.
Took a walk around a forest nearby, which was enjoyable as always. A bit surreal as well. About a kilometer into the hike, I start hearing the baying of wolves off the trail, not too far in the distance. Arming myself with a fallen tree branch and fantasies of smiting a pack of rabid wolves single-handedly, I go to investigate. What I find is utterly bizarre. It is what appears to be a wolf farm. Scores, perhaps hundreds of wolves are held in pens and by chains inside a partially-fenced compound, all barking and jumping like mad for no particular reason. I couldn't help but stare in fascination at these majestic, powerful animals, left with nothing to do but strain against chains and hope that today is not the day for their pelt to be needed. Very sad.
Way too cloudy for the aurora borealis to be visible, like I was hoping for, so it's time to head back into the city.
Stopped by to see Santa again before hitching a ride back into the city center. Interesting exchange. He was dealing quite well with a cute little girl, bring me to chuckles. As he let her into his 'office,' I commented on how well he handled the kid's enthusiasm. "Good man," I said. "I do my best," he replied. "I'm sure you do, too." He then tailed the kid into the building, leaving me wondering if he knew exactly what I was thinking.
October 11
Very lonely day. Do nothing, waiting to get out of this pissant town and down to Poland. Sun comes out, but can do little to improve my mood.
Guesthouse is well-run, but small, without opportunities to meet other travelers.
All in all, Rovaniemi is the currently low ebb of my travels. Things promise to be better in Poland.
Progress Thus Far:
Countries Visited: 2
Stupid Tourist Moments: 12
Monuments Flipped Off: 8
Free Food Ganked: 2
Free Booze Ganked: 5
some people say the sky is just the sky
but i say
why deny the obvious, child?
-Paul Simon
Status of Santa: Mildly Poignant
October 10
What a shithole.
I do not mean that literally. It is unlikely that at any time, chaos theory will manifest itself in making the 'Heart of Lapland' into the butthole of the Earth, from which poopy magma might flow forth. Be that as it may, it is not the greatest of places.
Rovaniemi is the gateway to Lapland, the northernmost region of Scandanavia, reaching above the Arctic Circle. And by 'gateway' I mean 'tourist trap.' The city itself barely qualifies at as a city at all in population, only reaching that halcyon title by Finnish standards.
The entire place is gray. Rain gray. Sleet gray, rain gray, sleet. Snow gray. The inhabitants shuffle along, responding to even the warmest smile with indifference or even scorn. The city vibrates with a sort of emptiness, the sort of feeling that their livelihood depends on a steady flow of tourists with more money than sense. Which is, indeed, the case.
Now, to be fair, this is the lowest trough of the tourist season, between the summer fun peak and the winter sports peak. I imagine that during those, the most fortuitous of times, the city is positively bumpin'. I would also probably appreciate the cutesy kitsch of the city more had I a traveling companion to share bad jokes with. Sadly, this is not to be.
The main draw for the town is packaged together as Santa's Village and the Arctic Circle Marker. This is, as the name suggests, the where the official Santa Claus resides, with his official post office. Ever written a letter to Santa and stuck it in the mailbox? This is where it goes. Northern Finland. On the whole the village is deliciously cute, although right now it has the feel of a ghost town, the only sounds being the poppy Christmas tunes being eerily piped through the omnipresent sound system. This place needs actual people to feel welcoming.
Santa Claus himself is quite neat, however. I got to spend a few minutes talking with the jolly old elf, who never actually breaks character. We talked about what a good boy I had supposedly been (I didn't have the heart to tell him I had spent the last 10 minutes giving the finger to him and everything in his little village), and I got a sticker to certify the fact. Since I have now officially been north of the Arctic Circle, I think I get a medal or something. Or maybe just a little more ice to wrap around my already cold, merciless heart. After all, I am an American.
One neat thing about the town I almost forgot about: the Finnish language. See, Caj and Malin live in the part of Finland that is predominantly Swedish-speaking, so this is my first immersion into Finnish. The language is insane. It is such that one can't so much as as what day of the week it is without sounding like a grizzled oracle muttering incoherently over the bones. Take the word 'matkustajakoti,' for instance (to pronounce properly, consume 7 beers before reading). Incantation to summon the restless dead? No, that's the word for "guesthouse." It only gets better from there.
Took a walk around a forest nearby, which was enjoyable as always. A bit surreal as well. About a kilometer into the hike, I start hearing the baying of wolves off the trail, not too far in the distance. Arming myself with a fallen tree branch and fantasies of smiting a pack of rabid wolves single-handedly, I go to investigate. What I find is utterly bizarre. It is what appears to be a wolf farm. Scores, perhaps hundreds of wolves are held in pens and by chains inside a partially-fenced compound, all barking and jumping like mad for no particular reason. I couldn't help but stare in fascination at these majestic, powerful animals, left with nothing to do but strain against chains and hope that today is not the day for their pelt to be needed. Very sad.
Way too cloudy for the aurora borealis to be visible, like I was hoping for, so it's time to head back into the city.
Stopped by to see Santa again before hitching a ride back into the city center. Interesting exchange. He was dealing quite well with a cute little girl, bring me to chuckles. As he let her into his 'office,' I commented on how well he handled the kid's enthusiasm. "Good man," I said. "I do my best," he replied. "I'm sure you do, too." He then tailed the kid into the building, leaving me wondering if he knew exactly what I was thinking.
October 11
Very lonely day. Do nothing, waiting to get out of this pissant town and down to Poland. Sun comes out, but can do little to improve my mood.
Guesthouse is well-run, but small, without opportunities to meet other travelers.
All in all, Rovaniemi is the currently low ebb of my travels. Things promise to be better in Poland.
Progress Thus Far:
Countries Visited: 2
Stupid Tourist Moments: 12
Monuments Flipped Off: 8
Free Food Ganked: 2
Free Booze Ganked: 5
some people say the sky is just the sky
but i say
why deny the obvious, child?
-Paul Simon
posted by Will Jones at 2:41 PM
2 Comments:
I always knew Santa was a perv. Ho ho ho and all that dirty talk.
Did you get to see the Northern Lights while up there?
I caught the Lewis Black reference. Any others that I missed yet should've gotten?
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