Coffee Time in Helsinki

In deference to the culture which I am now in, I went out for afternoon coffee at the neighborhood coffee shop.  (Usually I only have coffee in the morning.)  In further deference, I selected a piece of pulla to have with my coffee.

The taste of the finely-textured, semi-sweet dessert bread with the distinct taste of cardamom brought back memories of mummo Anna (i.e., Grandmother Anna)  that would make it at my house several times a week when I was growing up.  This was some sort of specialty pulla given related to the upcoming Easter season, and this had both berries and a glaze and a splash of powdered sugar.  I had never eaten a pulla like this, but it was quite a treat with the coffee–which, in deference to my origin, was an Americano!  Note to dad: I did not, however, dunk the pulla in the coffee.


Welcome to Finland!

I am one who appreciates irony more than most.  And to an already richly ironic life, I added yet another one of those vignettes in life that seem to define it…..

I spent a healthy effort in moving to Finland.  As one may have seen in previous posts, I had to research my genealogy to get my grandparents’ birth certificates, obtain my parents’ birth certificates with Apostilles, fly to Finland and tender my application to remigrate (as they call it) for permanent residency.  Later last year the Finnish Immigration Service sent the card to me in Bulgaria, and finally I made my flight reservation to Finland a week ago.  These efforts spanned over a year and thus were spread out before, during, and after the election and its profound polarization.  My observation that America was undergoing a hellish period of history was a central reason for my obtaining a remigration permit!

And so I landed a few days ago and immediately called the Population Registrar (known as the Maistraatti) to activate my residence.  The person who answered the phone could not have been more welcoming or pleasant.  She asked who I was and what kind of a card I had, and when I told her, she mysteriously sounded more happy than many Finns and told me to just come down to the office any time I wanted to check in.  And so I rode the bus into downtown Helsinki, and went up to the second floor and into the office.  This was GLORIOUS!  Over a year’s effort had come to fruition!  I looked around and saw that they called numbers, and with the excitement of a ten year old, I went over to the ticket machine, pushed the button and grabbed my ticket!

I was already feeling somewhat of a flood of emotion (for me anyway), and my ticket did nothing to stem it, and indeed, it sort of made things go sideways for a few seconds.  I am not someone to interpret the world in metaphorical or supernatural terms, but if there is a deity who intervenes in peoples’ lives, he definitely has an ironic sense of humor!!