And Outside The Rain Fell...

Rovaniemi. Lapland. The Arctic Circle. To visit 66º 32’ N latitude was something unthinkable just a few months back. To do it was unbelievable. We landed in Rovaniemi, expecting it to be frigid. Surprisingly, it was rather pleasant, bright, sunny.

There was something incredibly romantic about the place, about Lapland, about the trains we were travelling in, the awesome wilderness and the way nature was interlinked with people’s lives, the tundra forests and miles and miles of pine trees all around. The clear blue skies and air that air that actually did not smell of tobacco and gasoline.

This is something I’ve now almost begun to expect from Nordic Autumns, pleasantly cold (10º to 12º C) and very sunny. The warmth of the sun is actually pleasant, and you’d look for sunny spots to stand in.

Dumping our bags in lockers, we picked up maps, navigating to the tourist information centre. A delightful old lady greeted us there, giving us brochures, nice carry bags and enough information to pass off the day. She even filled our bottles with water (which rather unusually is hard to find unless you’d like to buy bottles).

I heard Colbie Caillat’s Bubbly outside on the pavement, and it immediately brought about a smile, for several reasons. We walked across the road to a scenic river flowing across this quaint little town. It had a suspension bridge across the river, flanked by yellow trees in autumn bloom on both sides, the water lapping against a pebbly bank gently. Sitting there, feeling in the atmosphere, the atmosphere of a little town wrapped in nature’s sunny embrace, the last one before a white blanket spreads across the town, shrouding it in snow. We were probably not at the best time of the year, but the place was ruddy beautiful.

We boarded the Santa Claus Express, the bus from Rovaniemi to the Arctic Circle – this bus was delightfully coloured, in a way a kid would imagine the mythical express taking him to Santa’s Land. I, shamelessly, didn’t mind being that kid at all. It had a “Christmas-y” feel to it, especially since Bansi and me were singing Jingle Bells at the bus stop.

Santa greeted us at the Arctic Circle in his very own village. Apparently, the place is a sight to behold in the dead of the winters. Even otherwise, in Autumn, this cobblestoned town, with little houses marking the different buildings of the village gave it the feel of being a theme park.

Crossing the Arctic Circle, which passes over the town was a momentous feeling, the feeling that you’ve done something so few others have done. I would love to go further North later in the trip, but not right now.

We met the grand old man himself, Santa! Every bit the way I imagined his house to be, we also came across the machine that is supposed to make the earth rotate.

Many photo-sessions later, including a paid one with Santa which was far too expensive for us to afford it, we had a small picnic amidst tall pine trees. Santa’s village is apparently very popular, and I even saw a super cool photograph of the Finn band Lordi with him. Peace.

Returning to the city, hungry and famished, we headed to Subway, eating a superbly delicious sub each. A lot more relaxed now, with our thirsts quenched and tummies full (never thought these things we’ve always taken for granted would be such a pain), we headed towards the city church, a Russian Lutheran church, almost entirely made of wood and very typical small-town. The walk through the church cemetery, walking across the epitaphs of what seemed like a war memorial was an awefully pretty, yet in a way, saddening sight.

We always take our time at places, skipping “must-visits” rather than hurrying through everything at once, relaxing, sitting around, walking the cities – that really to me is what a vacation is. To do this for three months would just be perfect. I miss people back home, friends who I used to call and chat with at whim, eating spicy food that didn’t cost a bomb, studying. This is a wonderful experience, but I’m glad I’ll be going back to the life I lived in 3 months. Till then, woo-hoo!

We walked across meadows, frequently stopping over to see toadstools (which were everywhere here, in all colours, all shapes, all sizes, growing amidst the grass), it reminded me of Sylvia Plath’s Mushrooms – amongst my favourite-st piece of poetry.

The town had very little to offer, but the feel of a small town, with a little river flowing by, quiet citizens disappearing into their homes by duskfall, we were all rather glad to just lap it up without doing much.

A wonderful day well spent, we boarded the train to Turku, tired, exhausted but superbly content.