First Day in Finland

The morning sun rose feebly over the snowy landscape. The birch trees in the yard were pen and ink scribbles against the white ground and the leaden sky. More snow seemed to be on the way.

Two of my nieces had graciously bunked with their sisters so that we could have their cozy room with twin beds. The radiator had run like a champ all night, obliterating memories of freezing nights gone by. After breakfast we bundled up and joined my brother Wade, his wife Anna, and their two youngest on a little wintry ramble. With snow tires already on for the season, their van traveled well as the frozen landscape slipped by the window.

Our destination was the Sjunby area and an abandoned hydroelectric plant along the Siuntio River. We climbed down along the building and across a tiny footbridge to the river bottom.  I was glad I wasn't carrying a baby.

The rushing water looked dirty and I assumed that it was because it was so stirred up but Wade said it's because of iron in the water.

Siunto River

Wade, Anna and their two youngest children

Siuntio River Reflections

The littlest one probably didn't remember last year's snow and was thoroughly delighted with the white stuff. He kept scooping up handfuls in his mittened hands and tossing it into the air.

Nearby abandoned buildings had Russian writing from the time of their occupation. With no one along to translate, I've no idea what they said.

Also nearby was this beautiful old manor house, framed by wintry tree branches. Interesting to see so many buildings unused, but protected by the government.

We returned home in time for their young son's arrival from school. The boys happily played in the snow covered yard in front of their cozy home.

Wade, Alyssa and I left again to meet Annette, their eldest daughter, at a coffee shop in town. One thing the Finnish excel at is desserts. The case was filled with wonderful concoctions, beautifully presented. Though I'd heard they had great lattes, I opted for a decaf Americano so I could enjoy my slice of lemon pie.

The sun only shows itself for a few hours during the Finnish winter and sets very slowly because of the low angle. We drove out to a park along Lake Lohja and watched the ducks float along on the crimson tinged water. It was curious to see the snow crystals clinging to the particles of sand as my only experience with beaches is in warmer climes.

With the sun still not down, we drove to Kukkumaki Hill for another view. The hill was really a slick, snowy pile of rocks. It was a lovely view but I was having trouble breathing in the cold and didn't relish sliding down on my back so we didn't get to the top. I thought the view was sufficient from halfway up.

This was as far as I'd climb.

Alyssa and cousin Annette on Kukkumaki Hill

When the last pink had disappeared, we drove home to find the remaining three girls home from school. There was enough snow on the sloped driveway to pull out the sleds. They piled on and had great fun, with the exposed gravel carving out colorful shavings from the bottoms of the plastic sleds.

Alyssa, sandwiched between her two cousins

The Second Chapter ~ From the Land of the Kilts to Kith and Kin

Thursday, November 3, 2016 ~ by Amy

There are days that will forever be marked by a red letter in our memories. Some are beyond joyful, and some we'd rather hadn't existed. Today was a bit of the latter. It began well enough. We had done the math and allotted plenty of time for getting ourselves ready and zipping the final zips on the suitcases. At 9:00 we hauled all our luggage out of the apartment at 24 Queen Street and down to the sidewalk.

Airbnb "Luxury Snug" ~ 24 Queen Street, Edinburgh

We penciled in 30 minutes to walk the 11 blocks to the tram stop on Princes Street, with a little time for coffee and pastry at Pret on Hanover.

One last cup at one of our favorite coffee shops ~ Pret A Manger

We just missed one Airlink tram heading to the airport so we sat and people-watched for seven minutes until the next one arrived. Luggage hauled on board, we enjoyed the peaceful half hour ride to the airport. Though it was just a two hour flight on a small plane, we had allowed 1 ½ hours at the airport. We figured we could always eat lunch while waiting as there wasn't a free meal on the plane. What could possibly go wrong?

This is one of those blogs that I wonder why I write at all. Aren't bad memories better off obliterated? Why record them and relive them? Here's my current thought process (if I change my mind later, I can always delete this post with one plastic click of a key). I think that we grow in bad times. When we survive something, we have triumphed over it in some small way. We grow stronger and wiser. Perhaps a little more cautious, or maybe more brave.

The airport wasn't too busy when we arrived late morning. The check-in should have gone off without a hitch. The single SAS check-in desk was manned by a quiet, petite woman with a strong British accent. I had to strain to hear her and asked her to repeat multiple times. She was insisting that we needed to pay 50 pounds for each of our bags. I protested that my luggage was free throughout the flights. Alas, when she checked further, she confirmed that for this portion I would have to pay the fees because it isn't an “oversees” flight. Well, just over the North Sea. I conceded that she was probably correct. She told me to save my receipt and my travel agent would reimburse me. Not likely! Then she spent about ten minutes explaining to me that since she had just got to work or it was her first day on the job or something that she didn't have the equipment required to charge me the fees, and would I mind waiting while she helped someone else. Thinking we still had plenty of time as we were scheduled to board at 12:00, we stepped aside and watched her assign away almost all of the remaining seats on the plane. Finally someone brought her the handheld card reader that she needed to charge our luggage fees.

At last on our way, we noticed that we didn't have seats together. I inquired and she said that it was completely full and that's that. Okay. We headed for the gates, and then realized that we had no gate assignment. Back again I went to inquire. She said that it was K10 but it could probably change. How helpful.

Going through security, I randomly got selected to be wanded for gunpowder. I passed, but then my Nook in my carry-on showed up on their scanner. I have traveled everywhere with it and never taken it out but now it had to be wanded for gunpowder also. Random. On the way to K10, we decided to confirm on a monitor if the gate was correct. It was, but then I saw in the remarks a flashing notice that the gate was closing. My blood pressure nearly shot through the ceiling. Since we had a layover in Stockholm, I knew we had to make this flight. 

It wasn't quite noon so they shouldn't have even started boarding people needing assistance but they make the rules. We fast-walked toward the gate. Europe has this crazy idea that everyone who travels through their airports (or on their ferries) wants to buy gallons of duty free whiskey and perfume. Thus the Stockholm airport has been designed (or redesigned) to include a long, winding “store” that is actually the concourse. There is no fast way through it. We choked our way between shoppers and then, after checking another monitor, broke into a run. I don't make a habit of running unless a bear is after me. And certainly not with luggage. But run we did, and after about a mile of concourse, we saw the happy sight of K10's door still open. I couldn't speak if my life depended on it but frantically waved, hoping they wouldn't close it.

We made our way into the packed plane, just behind two other last-minute passengers, a mother and young daughter. My seat was on the aisle next to them and Alyssa's further back in the plane. Even though I have a very tiny carry-on, it didn't fit under the aisle seat in front of me. There was no room overhead either. I asked a male flight attendant and instead of offering to help he replied, “Well, you're just going to have to go look for a spot somewhere.”. Thanks. I did, but when I found a space further up, I felt so weak and wobbly, I almost dropped it on a guy's head. Thankfully he was nicer, and at least offered to help.

As soon as I was buckled in, I started to cough. I do that sometimes and just need to go away from people and cough and get it over with. When a plane is trying to take off, there's no getting away from people. And like during the prayer in church when you try not to cough, it only gets worse. I'm sure that the people around me thought I had some deadly disease. I simply couldn't stop coughing and couldn't catch my breath. I had a water bottle but hadn't had time to fill it after security. I was able to croak out a request for water so someone handed me a little cup but it didn't help for long. I had a whole bag of cough drops in my carry-on but I couldn't get to them. I literally coughed for a solid hour, tears streaming down my face, until I fell asleep.  That was, without a doubt, the worst hour in my life so far because I totally had no control whatsoever.  

When I awoke, we were dropping down into Stockholm. Looking over my seatmates and through the smudged window, I could see a fresh coat of snow on the ground. Soon we were down and the crisis behind me. We walked straight to our new gate, even though we had at least 1 ½ hours before our next flight. I wasn't taking any chances. Thankfully, the Stockholm airport has a wonderful design of restaurants right by the gates. In fact, our gate didn't really even have seating. We found a great place to eat right next door where I had some delicious pesto pasta with chicken, served on nice dishes.

I breathed a sigh of relief when we were seated together for our short flight to Helsinki. Soon enough we were dropping down to the dark, snowy landscape of Finland. My brother Wade came to the airport to collect us for the hour or so drive to their country home. Their hallmark hospitality was evident as soon as we walked through the door and saw the table set cozily with pretty dishes, our favorite foods of Finnish bread and cheese and the cheerful faces of their children.  We were safe and warm.  Life does get better, you just have to give it a chance.

On to Edinburgh ~ Castle on the Hill

Wednesday, November 2, 2016 ~ by Amy

Today would be our last full day in the United Kingdom. Our feelings were mixed. On the one hand, we were sad to leave. There was so much unexplored territory and it was unlikely we'd ever return. On the other hand, we were eager to continue our trip in Finland where we would be visiting family and not having the stresses of driving, getting lost and getting out of scrapes.

We drove straight north from Penrith, England on the A74, a nice multi-lane highway. Before long we were seeing signs for our entry back into Scotland.

Another sign we kept seeing was for Gretna Green, a village just over the border of Scotland that is known for marriage elopements going back to the 1700s. According to Wikipedia, a marriage act in England and Wales tightened up restrictions on marriage, allowing a parent to cancel the plans if they didn't approve. The couple could then travel over the border to Gretna Green and get married. Boys could be as young as 14 and girls just 12. The marriage could be preformed by anyone, even the village blacksmith!

Turn off to Gretna Green, just over the Scotland border

One thing that they have in the UK on major highways that I haven't seen in the US is rest areas that have gas stations, coffee shops and fast food. There are different services on either side of the highway lanes and a walking bridge over the highway so you can access both sides. Most of our travels throughout the past two weeks have been on narrow, rural roads but when we were on the bigger highways, we took advantage of these service areas, especially for a coffee at Costa Coffee. Today we ate lunch at one and got a coffee for the road. When I pulled my coffee out of the cup holder, I realized how much more comfortable I had become with left side driving in the past couple of weeks. At the beginning I didn't even dare take a hand off the wheel, much less drink coffee.

Wind turbine propeller at a rest stop

For the last third of our journey we were on a secondary road with just one lane each way. It was more winding and much slower, but with pretty scenery. Again we were blessed with beautiful weather and driving conditions. As we neared Edinburgh we skirted the Pentland Hills Regional Park and the trees were ablaze with color.

As we drew near the city, I pulled off at a gas station to fill the tank.  We really hadn't eaten much junk food on the trip so far but for some reason we went a little crazy.  

Soon we were plunged into the dark, downtown streets of the City of Edinburgh, with all its crazy one-ways, roundabouts, pedestrian only streets and trucks parked randomly here and there.

Our goal for the day was to get back to the city in time to visit the Edinburgh Castle. They closed at 5:00 and the last entry for the day was 4:00. We caught a glimpse of the castle as we drove up the hill to the main parking lot. 

Glimpse of Edinburgh Castle

Alas, they had closed all of the lots to everyone except tour buses. We drove back down and proceeded to traverse the city, looking for parking. 

Finally I spotted a short spot on the side of the street that had metered parking. After a few false starts, I managed to parallel park rather nicely and set out to find a meter. It took coins only and 3 pounds were required for one hour. I only had one pound and some small change. I could have cried. So close, but so far away. By that time it was close to 4:00 and we would have had a half mile walk up the hill even if we found parking so we just gave up.

Edinburgh Castle

Our next goal was to get rid of the rental car. But first, we drove to our Airbnb for the night, Louise's “snug”, on 24 Queen Street, where we'd spent our first night. There was no legal parking available there so I had to stay with the car while Alyssa hauled all of our luggage down the street, up the stairs and into the apartment. And since I was parked in an illegal zone, she had to hustle.

Once we'd emptied the car, we set out to find the rental return. We had a marked map provided by Europcar but it was so tiny, I couldn't read it even with glasses on. So we had to rely on the gps instead. I wonder sometimes if the people who program those things have a vindictive streak in them. Maybe they sit around and get their kicks thinking about two slightly clueless girls driving in circles around strange cities on the wrong side of the road. Possibly. Anyway, this GPS took us off of a busy intersection onto a road that, while there was no sign indicating it, was apparently “pedestrian only”. How did I figure it out? By the glares and incredulous looks of people staring at us. Since the only way out was not “through it”, I had no choice but to back into traffic. I opened my window, made eye contact with the drivers and put up my hand indicating that they had better stop. They did, and after a few very sweaty moments, we were on our way again. We finally found the road to the return lot, creatively named, “New Street”. Only problem was, it had a barricade in front of it because it was under construction. We pulled off and parked in a loading zone and dug out the little Voda phone. Thankfully it worked and we were able to reach Europcar. I recognized the guy as they same one who had rented the big Mercedes to us. He was probably shocked to find out we were still alive, but calmly told us to drive around a few blocks and find the other end of “New Street” and enter there.

After driving around and around through about eight underground garages, we finally parked the car and happily got out of it. Alyssa pointed out an office that claimed to be for car returns. Stepping in, I saw a couple of unmanned computers and a guy off to the side, dressed in a mechanic jumpsuit. He didn't so much as acknowledge us. We stood for a while and then I asked Alyssa, “Why are we here?”, thinking that we were in the wrong office. The guy came to attention then and smiling and pointing at his head, said, “Umm..maybe alzheimers? Can I help you with something?” I told him that I was returning my car and he said he'd be glad to help me with that. I think he might have come up with a more professional greeting. Then he asked how the car worked out for us. I told him that it was fine except that when we had tire problems it took four hours to resolve it, despite my having paid extra for rapid assistance. He sarcastically said, “Ooh, four hours!” in a pitiful tone. I thought about asking for the manager but suddenly just wanted to be done with the whole thing. I ignored his childish attitude and soon we were on our way up into the Waverly Train station, our access to the above-ground world.

Disappointed that we hadn't been able to tour the castle, I told Alyssa that we were going to go somewhere for a nice dinner instead. By the time we'd navigated the ins and outs of the station though, I wasn't as enthused about looking for a restaurant. Then right in front of us was a Burger King. I'm a bit of a snob when it comes to fast food. As in, I don't usually eat it unless there is nothing else available. But suddenly, it looked rather appealing. So I ordered some kind of Italian chicken sandwich. It would have been good if they hadn't put BBQ sauce instead of marinara.

After supper we walked through the downtown to 24 Queen Street and spent the rest of our evening sorting through our luggage and preparing it for the next day's flight to Finland. We'd acquired quite a stash of groceries as well as a few souvenirs. Then we climbed up into the loft for our last night of sleep in the United Kingdom.

Sleeping in a Cow Byre in Great Strickland, England

Tuesday, November 1, 2016 ~ by Amy

The Little Byre ~ Great Strickland, England

Once we had navigated the narrow country roads near Longhorsley, we headed straight south, running parallel to the east coast of England. As we neared Newcastle-upon-Tyne, we were to have turned inland, but we felt that the GPS was leading us wrong and taking us through the city. We defied it and continued on the loop taking us around the downtown. Unfortunately, we also missed our road west so ended up taking a much longer route, looping around the North Pennines and between two national parks. The scenery was spectacular. Verdant, rolling pastures were dotted with sheep and bordered with miles of stone walls.

The roads we took were main highways, usually two lanes going each direction.  We apparently passed a military base at some point as there were signs for tank crossings.

Late afternoon we passed a large organic farm shop and cafe.  Knowing we needed to pick up some milk for breakfast, we found a service road between the east and westbound lanes and went back.  It was an interesting, though rather expensive place with very local food items.  So local, that their were sheep grazing on the roof!

We had seen these odd looking, four horned sheep on occasion.  Later I learned that they are a rare breed called Jacob sheep.  We found them fascinating but somewhat disturbing.  Their added horns gave them a somewhat devilish appearance.  Poor sheep, it's not like they could help it.

As the sun began its early descent, the landscape became first highlighted with slanting light, then tinged with gold, followed by a bright rose hue. Taking pictures through the car window isn't the best but when I couldn't pull over, I insisted that Alyssa just snap away. I felt that our route was God-ordained as the peaceful scenery surrounded our car.

As the sun began to set the clouds formed interesting silhouettes above us.

When I first arranged our stay in Great Strickland, our hosts, Ian and Ruth, were visiting Greece.  But on their return, Ian gave me detailed directions on how to navigate the local roads.  He even made the effort to take pictures of key intersections and drew a detailed map.

Country lane between stone walls

We had no problem finding The Little Byre, thanks to Ian's great directions.  Since we had no way to contact them on our journey, only Ruth was there to welcome us.  During our walk through of the house, we found everything to be cozy and clean.  Best of all, Ruth had the heat on!

Cozy living area

Drop-down "murphy bed", imported from the US

Well equipped kitchen with hardwood counters

Ruth told us that the Strickland Arms served a delicious, homestyle supper but didn't open until 6:00.  We thought that was odd but took her word for it.  It was fully dark and very chilly out by that time so we were well bundled up for our walk down the street.  The sky was black and velvety and filled with stars like we never see at home with the glow of Portland nearby.  Here in Great Strickland, there was no city nearby and only one small streetlight for the whole village.  By day the Strickland Arms isn't much to look at but at night we could see the welcoming light shining through the windows.

Strickland Arms

We discovered that Ruth was incorrect about the opening time as the sign stated 5:00 and the front bar room was filled with curious regulars.  We sat there at a table for a bit but when we didn't get service, I poked my head into what was labeled dining room.  An elderly man sat at a table rolling silverware into napkins.  I asked him if it was okay if we sat in the dining room.  He replied cheekily, "As long as one of you isn't a dog.  Dogs have to stay in the bar." I thought he was joking but when I went to get Alyssa, we saw that there were indeed dogs snoozing under the tables in the bar.  No one else ever joined us in the dining room and the server never came so I went back to the bar and asked if we'd be served there.  The bartender/waitress said we would, but service remained pretty much nonexistent, causing us to wish we'd just stayed in the front room.  The menu was big and varied though, and the food was excellent.  Alyssa got a pizza and I ordered a traditional lamb and ale pie.  

Lamb and ale pie

We walked back under the stars, using Alyssa's cell phone flashlight as needed to avoid running into anything or tripping on the broken sidewalk.

In the morning we enjoyed our cereal before packing up.  Then before heading out, we walked around and took some pictures since we had arrived in the dark.

Late autumn flowers

The Little Byre ~ the outside of the structure is mostly original but the inside was completely remodeled

Flower pots on our host's back steps

Driveway into the farmyard and the Little Byre

 We reversed Ian's directions and headed out of the village.  On the edge of town we stopped briefly at the St Barnabas Church.  The gate was locked so we couldn't go in. 

The Parish Church of Saint Barnabas

Rock wall and hedges

Narrow lane bordered by rock walls hidden in hedges

Country bridge

We turned left and drove to the city of Penrith, before heading straight north toward Edinburgh.