Stirring Point

Raindrops plunge into the Baltic Sea, fusing together like infants returning to their mother’s womb. They’re fast and audible as they plop against the surface and dissipate. Tonight, their brothers and sisters will cool with the evening and morph into snowflakes. They’ll drift through the air and coat the rooftops and city sidewalks in a pillowy, white blanket. Out will come the snow boots and chunky scarves once again. It’s spring here, they tell us—spring in Helsinki.

The streets are a collection of cobbled bricks and steel tram tracks. Parks and greenspaces are still brown and yellow, but soon they’ll benefit from fresh seed and more sun. Storefronts offer chic goods hawked with kitsch English marketing: 

“One bag can’t save the world, but together, we can make a change.” 

The connection feels loose, but the neon signage is intoxicating.

The scent of roasted beans and freshly baked brownies leaks from the doors of third-wave coffee shops. Croissants are piled high next to small cakes and cookies. The yellows and pinks from the macaroons spill from the window display into the stained glass pane of the neighboring antique shop. Lamps, vintage silverware and handmade furniture decorate windows in Scandinavian fashion. Clutter is sparse and every detail is curated. X complements Y in a Nordic feng shui—a life of matching saucers and tea cups—with purpose and precision found in each and every design. 

The architecture is grand but stark, and despite obvious wealth, nothing here feels ostentatious. Each block is a collision of Art Nouveau, Neo Classical and Modernist styles of architecture. The mixture manages to preserve the history of independence while balancing the remnants of past occupations. (Fins, Swedes, Russians, then back to the Fins). The Jungend (Art Nouveau) style rippled across Europe in the late 1800s and exploded in Finland around the turn of the 20th century. Symmetrical turrets drop into curved facades and rest on thick stone bases. One can imagine the reading nooks near the rounded windows looking down into the street: a blanket, some hot chocolate and a pillow to drift away. 

In contrast, Finland’s contemporary wooden architecture visually stuns with bowed-edged buildings resting ashore like they’d been crafted to sail. Milled pine and birch are shaped to ambitious specs, with rounded corners and graceful curves. When paired with steel, the planks pop and blend with Helsinki’s urban and natural landscape, forecasting a future focused on using renewable resources. By 2035, the country aims for carbon neutrality, and greener construction is a pivotal leap forward.

Helsinki Cathedral towers above Senate Square, imposing in stature but non-threatening in appearance. The inside of the cathedral is sparse and simple: a few statues, a pipe organ and an altar. Senate Square sits at the foot of the cathedral, emanating quiet resolve. There’s no pomp and circumstance here; there’s no glamor or gaudy regalia on display. It’s a place to gather where the people matter. Society brings its purpose to the public square and the state helps them realize their vision.

From the Esplanade to the Old Market, the city is subtle in fishing for one’s attention. It does so with its flavors and tasteful presentation. Smoked salmon is piled high on rye slices and gravlax tartare is dressed with onion and dill. Market stalls promise gut-warming dishes such as soups and stews packed with ingredients pulled from Finland’s far-reaching corners. Honeycombs and jars of propolis are piled high, next to stands selling bear meat and reindeer sausage. The food here is local and hunting is a tradition. 

Löyly Helsinki is “newish,” and to visit is a dream. Resting along the edge of the Baltic shoreline, it captures the feel and flavor of Finnish rejuvenation. From the dry sauna to the smoke sauna, one is primed for a plunge into the sea. Follow it with a trip to the steam sauna, then to the electric sauna, and another dunk in the sea. The temperature in the Baltic on this particular day is 35 degrees Fahrenheit. Feet first, then knees, hips, waistline, chest, shoulders, and head. Yes, the head, and 3 times if one is willing. Dunk, dunk, dunk. Feel the mammalian dive reflex: the frozen thumb of nature pressed deeply against the forehead. Whoosh! The head breaks through the water’s surface after the last plunge. Sewing needles poke the feet and fingers. The aging body is alive once more and bursting with vitality. Aches and soreness evacuate each muscle with every exhale. Energy pumps through veins like water through a firehose. The dunk is a shot of turinabol steroids and suggests to the plunger that they ought to try ripping a phonebook in half or possibly running through a wall. Of course, the cool Nordic air quickly kills the sensation and reminds the body of its doughy substance. Without these brains and thumbs, we’d leave little but our bones behind on earth for a future species to discover.

Run the dry towel across the shoulders and change into something warm. Then walk from the bathhouse into the dining room and stand near the central hearth. A well-vented fire warms the space but refrains from smothering the setting. Floor-to-ceiling windows bring nature just beyond the glass and exactly where it belongs today. It’s cold out there, but in here, it feels like grandma’s house, where the warm air drapes itself around one’s shoulders like a worn-in shawl. A glass of dry riesling post-sauna is pure decadence and feels almost nutritious.

The salmon and potato soup is spiked with the perfect amount of dill. The flavor is fresh, like each ingredient has been pulled from the earth this morning. The black bread and salted butter are a meal unto themselves. The reindeer carpaccio, the fresh roe, a dabble of caviar and perfectly pickled cauliflower—what more can one ask for? Ah, yes. Espresso.

The night gives way to the morning and as the sun reaches the studio floor, bodies begin to stir. One foot, then the next. The room is cold, but the bathroom floor is heated and the shower is piping hot. Muesli with dried fruit and unflavored yogurt mix together into a spackle-like consistency, but it shuts down hunger with a few swallows. As a hand draws back the curtain, the sidewalk shows a thick blanket of yesterday’s rain turned to snow. It’s an inside day, perfect for moving from coffee house to coffee house. Maybe a wander through the storied corridors of the Ateneum Art Museum is in order, along with a visit to the lauded Oodi Central Library. 

Right now, it’s 6:30 a.m., and the city looks abandoned with its closed storefronts and dark windows. The flakes blow sideways against the buildings. The hood goes up; the nose gets tucked, but the air bites through the jacket like it’s hungry for skin. It’s too early and too cold to move, except for the dedicated few. And I’m off to find them and spend the morning grappling and sparring. Jiu Jitsu in Helsinki promises a new view of the city and new views are what travel is all about.