How to Fail at Being Finnish #8

Celebrating Friend's Day with Samuel Beckett

The message arrived from our kids’ daycare like a ferret with a drinking problem telling me my similes aren’t funny:

Dear Parents, Stomach flu is circulating among the children. If your child is ill, don’t bring them back until they’ve been without symptoms AT LEAST 24 hours.

But it wasn’t until a few hours later at the dinner table that the real bad news hit. Having asked our son how his day had been, he casually revealed that his best friend had been sick all evening the day before.

My wife and I looked to each other.

“You mean last night? And she was at school today?” I asked him.

“Yeah,” he said. “She was fine today. Relax, Daddy.”

My wife and I looked to each other… again.

It’s one of my great joys that my son, once such a picky eater, eats whatever the hell I put in front of him these days. Beans, lentil stew, green pasta, he is a joy to cook for, even if it does take a pint of ketchup to facilitate the process from time to time.

This is partly why, less than an hour after dinner following what I can only describe as an explosive, Linda Blair in The Exorcist-level stomach evacuation of my son’s dinner, cleaning my sofa cushions was such a significant job.

It is 11:03 on Friday as I write this, almost 2 days since my son’s illness began. Being the kind of person who does what they’re told, I’ve kept him and his sister at home since then. In this time, neither my son nor my daughter have been anything other than a picture of health.

“Isn’t it odd you were sick just that once and then totally fine,” I said to my son at breakfast earlier.

“Yeah,” he replied. “Probly not really sick.”

“You did vomit pretty badly,” I replied.

“Probly just your cooking, Daddy.”

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Pastry fit for a poem

Last week we celebrated a little something called Runebergin Päivä (Runeberg’s Day) here in Finland. This day marks the birth of Finland’s national poet Johan Runeberg.

And it’s a personal favourite of mine because it involves eating these things…

I’m happy to report that I dedicated an entire post to my recipe for these little darlings a year or two back and I’ve removed the paywall so you can have a look.

And remember I have a full colour ebook full of my most popular Nordic bun recipes available to paid subscribers here. Or you can buy a copy for a discounted price here.

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Finnish Valentine’s Day

This weekend some of you might be looking forward to a more recognisable celebration than one marking a long-deceased Finnish poet.

I do of course mean Valentine’s Day.

In our house, however, there will be little time set aside for romantic cards or flowers or gaudy, heart-shaped boxes of chocolate. And that’s not because I’m a terrible husband (cue wife in comments), it’s because I am committed to integrating into Finnish life and refuse to impose my own ethnocentric ideas of normality on our relationship.

In other words, Valentine’s Day just isn’t a thing in Finland as it is elsewhere. It actually has a different name entirely here: Ystävänpäivä, which means Friend’s Day. And, accordingly, it’s dedicated not to romance but cherishing one’s friends instead.

I really like this idea. With all the business/busy-ness of life, all the obligations and work and vomiting children, it’s all too easy to let it go too long without checking in with even the best of friends. What a great idea to have a day set aside for them.

I learnt the other day that Finland is one of the hardest countries to make friends in as an immigrant. Now, the idea of consciously trying to make friends at my age makes me want to run away to the hills for the rest of my life. I mean, you must be aware of how bad my jokes are by now, right? Accordingly, I admit that I’ve not tried all that hard to befriend any Finns other than my wife and kids since I moved here. Do I think this is healthy? I do not. But honestly, sat here writing this, watching my little ones off “sick” from school playing Lego with each other, they are simply all I need.

So in addition to a brief WhatsApp message I’ll send this weekend to a few weirdos I still consider best mates back in London, let me offer those of you reading this my Ystävänpäivä greetings as well.

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A love poem out of left field

All that said, if you’re looking for an expression of love for someone in your life, let me leave you with a love poem of profound beauty you might not have read before. This is from “Cascando” by Samuel Beckett. It was read at my wedding and I have always found the brutal, almost stubborn, love evoked deeply moving. Here’s a stanza, but do click on and read the whole thing.

if you do not teach me I shall not learn
saying again there is a last
even of last times
last times of begging
last times of loving
of knowing not knowing pretending
a last even of last times of saying
if you do not love me I shall not be loved
if I do not love you I shall not love

Read the whole poem here.

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One final thing…

My marathon, occasionally hellish full-time Finnish language course is coming to an end this month. I’m opening up bookings for online, 1-to-1 cooking lessons once again. Read more about them here and get in touch if any classes take your fancy!