A Danish relative who had been to Helsinki on a business trip described a cold, gray pre-Glasnost Soviet-style city peopled by dour giants who turned into drunken maniacs at the first pssscht of a beer can. His business contacts had taken him to a memorably grim strip club on the second floor of a suburban tower block. He shuddered at the recollection and refused to provide further details, other than to confess to waking up, literally, in a gutter the next morning.
