Notes for the Aurora Society
by Jim
genre:
Travel
description:
I walked across Finland in 2003 interviewing Finns about their relationship to nature. The book remains unpublished.
chapters
chapter 1:
The Problem with North Americans
The Problem with North Americans
chapter 1
—
updated 12/12/07
—
4982 characters
—
0 people liked it
The woman behind the counter frowned when I came through the door. It was a typical Finnish coffee shop.
The walls had been painted hospital white and it had been furnished with a random assortment of benches from the 1980s. The wallpaper was of sailing ships and dated from the 1960s. There were green, breast-shaped lamps swinging above the plastic tables and the paintings were all blotchy landscapes and had been on the walls since the 1970s. The floor tiles dated from before the Second World War. The toilet was tiled completely in blue. It was rusty but clean; one of the bulbs had burned out and the door wouldn't close if you had to sit down. The whole place was terribly overheated and smelled of dishrag.
There were several men in blue worker overalls crowding the gambling machines near the door. Plastic plants stood in the window that faced the street. The menus and the specials were written in red marker on yellow cardboard and all the coffee cups were the same white.
The shop sold more than just coffee and pastries. There were small, cheap plastic toys for children, tiny square boxes of round licorice, gummy worms, gum drops, and menthol cough drops. Behind the counter was a large mirror and in front of that, on white plywood shelves, were neatly arranged cans of pea soup, sardines, Elovena oatmeal. A smiling blond beauty in traditional clothing standing waist-high in a field of golden grain was on the front. There was Juhla packaged coffee and Presidentii packaged coffee and boxes and of sugar cubes.
The coffee tasted burnt but the pulla, a type of cinammoon roll, was perfect.
Next to the stand of newspapers and women's magazines sat a chubby man with the thickest glasses I had ever seen. He had rubbed his nose red with a handkerchief. It was all stuffed full and made his speech nasally. He was breathing heavy and wore the Canadian flag on his shirt. I asked him where he was from. Quebec.
He was a physicist lecturing at the Helsinki University for the third summer in a row and had something to do with nanoelectromagnetical theory. He tried to explain and I tried, unsuccessfully, to understand. He asked me if I knew about Harold Craighead or Robert Pohl's MEMS semiconductor. I couldn't help him and said I was more interested in anthropology and nature.
"Physics, humans and nature. They're all one in same. Physicists look for the very meaning of life by studying the tiniest details in nature. " He said. Jean-Paul loved Finland. He said that his ancestors were French but his soul was in Finland. He loved the forests and the people and the way the people were with nature. "The Finnish relationship with nature is much more healthy than the way were are in North America. Maybe that's the main reason why I don't want to go home."
"What do you mean?"
"Finns enjoy nature by going for a nice walk, some light skiing or an easy two to three day backpacking trip with nice foods. They go fishing, grill sausages outside and have a few beers. They have comfortable cabins out in the woods that they access through cars. Its nice to be outside in Finland They are civilized here. Human. That's why I want to stay."
"And how do we North Americans do it?"
"North Americans relate to nature through pain. Torture. We either totally disdain and destroy it or we suffer to enjoy it. Cars and drilling or roadless Wilderness. We have no balance when it comes to nature. Finns have balance. But when we North Americans go out to the woods, we got to have it rough. We have to go on weeks-long backpacking trips in service-less back country with almost no food or shelter. We like to get lost. We want to hike ourselves until we can barely walk and then eat some gorp and sleep in the rain and call it fun. That's sick.
"Ridiculous. I am so tired of picking up magazines like Outside and National Geographic only to read yet another article about some jerk-off, hell-bent on a little self-flagellation. Another tortuous, purposeless journey through the Sahara or Central Tibet or whatever. Some ridiculous journey with a lame excuse to conquer some new section of river or to save an endangered deer or antelope. And then they don't actually write about the river or the deer. They write only about all the pain and agony they suffered on the way or how many camels they starved to death. Oh! Its so stupid! And its always a North American." He was angry and pointing at me when he finished.
"Well, I would agree about the magazine articles. But..."
He cut me off with a wave of his hand, looked me over and squinted. "I'll bet climbing 5,000 feet into some mountain wilderness bowl with a sleeping bag, no compass and bag of beef jerky to last a week sounds like great fun to you."
I had to admit, it sounded like my very ideal of fun.
He pointed at me and spoke in a very serious tone. "You are what's wrong with North America."
back to top
The walls had been painted hospital white and it had been furnished with a random assortment of benches from the 1980s. The wallpaper was of sailing ships and dated from the 1960s. There were green, breast-shaped lamps swinging above the plastic tables and the paintings were all blotchy landscapes and had been on the walls since the 1970s. The floor tiles dated from before the Second World War. The toilet was tiled completely in blue. It was rusty but clean; one of the bulbs had burned out and the door wouldn't close if you had to sit down. The whole place was terribly overheated and smelled of dishrag.
There were several men in blue worker overalls crowding the gambling machines near the door. Plastic plants stood in the window that faced the street. The menus and the specials were written in red marker on yellow cardboard and all the coffee cups were the same white.
The shop sold more than just coffee and pastries. There were small, cheap plastic toys for children, tiny square boxes of round licorice, gummy worms, gum drops, and menthol cough drops. Behind the counter was a large mirror and in front of that, on white plywood shelves, were neatly arranged cans of pea soup, sardines, Elovena oatmeal. A smiling blond beauty in traditional clothing standing waist-high in a field of golden grain was on the front. There was Juhla packaged coffee and Presidentii packaged coffee and boxes and of sugar cubes.
The coffee tasted burnt but the pulla, a type of cinammoon roll, was perfect.
Next to the stand of newspapers and women's magazines sat a chubby man with the thickest glasses I had ever seen. He had rubbed his nose red with a handkerchief. It was all stuffed full and made his speech nasally. He was breathing heavy and wore the Canadian flag on his shirt. I asked him where he was from. Quebec.
He was a physicist lecturing at the Helsinki University for the third summer in a row and had something to do with nanoelectromagnetical theory. He tried to explain and I tried, unsuccessfully, to understand. He asked me if I knew about Harold Craighead or Robert Pohl's MEMS semiconductor. I couldn't help him and said I was more interested in anthropology and nature.
"Physics, humans and nature. They're all one in same. Physicists look for the very meaning of life by studying the tiniest details in nature. " He said. Jean-Paul loved Finland. He said that his ancestors were French but his soul was in Finland. He loved the forests and the people and the way the people were with nature. "The Finnish relationship with nature is much more healthy than the way were are in North America. Maybe that's the main reason why I don't want to go home."
"What do you mean?"
"Finns enjoy nature by going for a nice walk, some light skiing or an easy two to three day backpacking trip with nice foods. They go fishing, grill sausages outside and have a few beers. They have comfortable cabins out in the woods that they access through cars. Its nice to be outside in Finland They are civilized here. Human. That's why I want to stay."
"And how do we North Americans do it?"
"North Americans relate to nature through pain. Torture. We either totally disdain and destroy it or we suffer to enjoy it. Cars and drilling or roadless Wilderness. We have no balance when it comes to nature. Finns have balance. But when we North Americans go out to the woods, we got to have it rough. We have to go on weeks-long backpacking trips in service-less back country with almost no food or shelter. We like to get lost. We want to hike ourselves until we can barely walk and then eat some gorp and sleep in the rain and call it fun. That's sick.
"Ridiculous. I am so tired of picking up magazines like Outside and National Geographic only to read yet another article about some jerk-off, hell-bent on a little self-flagellation. Another tortuous, purposeless journey through the Sahara or Central Tibet or whatever. Some ridiculous journey with a lame excuse to conquer some new section of river or to save an endangered deer or antelope. And then they don't actually write about the river or the deer. They write only about all the pain and agony they suffered on the way or how many camels they starved to death. Oh! Its so stupid! And its always a North American." He was angry and pointing at me when he finished.
"Well, I would agree about the magazine articles. But..."
He cut me off with a wave of his hand, looked me over and squinted. "I'll bet climbing 5,000 feet into some mountain wilderness bowl with a sleeping bag, no compass and bag of beef jerky to last a week sounds like great fun to you."
I had to admit, it sounded like my very ideal of fun.
He pointed at me and spoke in a very serious tone. "You are what's wrong with North America."
Did you like this?
vote
