Despite the name (literally 'Academic Bookstore'), Akateeminen carries a large selection of modern fiction as well. Books are in Finnish, Swedish, and English, and to a lesser extent German, French, Italian, and Russian.'
It is of some interest to see what books we know are available in Finnish, and also to see what they have in English. Most of the English books would cost a lot more than at home. Hardback science fiction was about FIM 130-185 (US$25-35), trade paperbacks FIM 77-108 (US$15-20), and mass market paperbacks FIM 41-79 (US$8-15). That's for translations into Finnish; originals in English from the United States or Great Britain may be 10-15% cheaper on the average. Fans here must be either very rich or very dedicated. I imagine there are some used bookstores, so that may help.
Last time we were here (in 1986), we looked into buying an English translation of the KALEVALA, but it was too expensive. (Evelyn thinks it was about US$20.) Now it's even more--FIM 134 (US$25) for a mass market British paperback labeled 7.99 (about US$13). We also saw a couple of other British books of interest and may order them all from Hatchard's when we return home. (We now understand why people in Europe are so big on mail-ordering books.)
Evelyn was surprised to see no Sherlock Holmes in Finnish. They had a lot of other mystery writers translated into Finnish from English, and Doyle in English, including some in a line of English 'classics' at only FIM 15 (about US$3). The same line is available at home for about the same price. But here they had some titles we'd seen no place else. They had the first 20th Century thriller, THE RIDDLE OF THE SANDS by Erskine Childers. They also had RAFFLES: THE AMATEUR CRACKSMAN by E. W. Hornung. Raffles is a sort of fictional Deacon Brodie. By day he is a gentleman and champion cricket bowler who is welcome in the highest circles of society. By night he is a master burglar. His stories were popular back at the turn of the century.
After that, we went to the train station. The reason was that in Stockholm we wanted to stay at a youth hostel, so we'd joined the IYHF. They gave us identification cards, but they needed a photograph. The train station had one of those machines that take four pictures for some fixed set of coins--in this case FIM 20. So we needed the photographs for the youth hostel and in addition our well-worn passports expire in another few months so we needed new photographs for them as well. Mark relates, 'I told Evelyn we could probably share--that they take more than one exposure and she could get two and I could get two. She said no, they take only one exposure. Passports require two identical pictures. We both guessed wrong. Evelyn went first, adjusted her seat, put in her coins, and then came the flash. Boy! Do they flash! Your first impulse is to duck and cover. Then as she was leaving it flashed again. Well, she wasted two pictures. Then it was my turn. Again the flashes. Then we just waited for the pictures to come out. It takes about five minutes. Evelyn wondered if they can process two at a time or if we should have waited for one set to come out before shotting a second set. I suggested it would come out with her picture but have my head and my hand.'
'After the five minutes hers popped out. It was a terrible picture that came out, but there was a good pair that looked like the top of her head. Mine came out strange, as perhaps a trick of the lighting and my glasses. My eyes look very wide. If you look carefully you can see that it is just the skin around my eyes blending with the whites of my eyes. But I look like I am trying to hypnotize someone.'
Mark continues, 'It is fun playing with passport photographs. The rules say you should submit two identical photographs, but passport cameras don't do it that way. They use two side-by-side lenses and get your face from two slightly different angles. You have parallax. So what you actually have is a stereoscopic picture of yourself. Pull it up close to your face and slowly pull it away and you get a 3-D image of yourself or the top of your head.'
'The pictures came out wet and you have to hold them a while before them are dry enough to put away. When they came out they had a green tinge to them, but when we looked at them later it had turned to a pink tinge. I don't think we are talking genuine Kodak here. I don't know if we are even talking genuine photographic paper,' Mark concludes.
Evelyn adds, 'We may not see the world through rose-colored glasses, but that's apparently how the world sees us!'
Dinner was at a place nearly across the street called the Turkish Kebab Room (recommended by the 'Lonely Planet' guide). You order at a counter, then they deliver. It isn't fancy, but the price is not unreasonable. Mark had half a roast chicken, rice, and Turkish salad. Evelyn had the same, but gyros instead of chicken, and it came to FIM 91 (about US$17.50). Mark's chicken also seemed to have a ketchup sauce, but he livened it up with some Jamaican pepper sauce.
After dinner we walked back to the room by way of the ice-breaker dock to get some pictures. The room was the next destination, except that we had to find out at the desk in the hotel if they had been able to get reservations for us at the youth hostel in Stockholm (we had asked for them to try before we left this morning). Luck of Leeper struck again. They had tried three youth hostels in Stockholm. No room. So this means we really wasted FIM 30 each on joining the IYHF and another FIM 20 on photographs for the identification card. It's worth it not to have to use those ugly pink photographs.
Back at the room Mark suddenly realized that in two nights he had to make a speech for the Turku Science Fiction Association. He was thinking that he had five more days. He says, 'I probably shouldn't worry about it, but I do. Part of it is my expertise is in obscure films. Who knows what obscure films have played in Finland? Well, I'll have to see what I can do.'
May 24, 1994: Breakfast was the leftover cheese from yesterday. A little time later we went down to the cafeteria, where Evelyn had coffee and Mark had juice which turned out to be orangeade. The plan for today is mostly walking tours of Helsinki, self-guided using the brochure we'd gotten at the tourist information office.
We got to the Uspensky Cathedral about 9:30. That is the local *Greek* Orthodox cathedral. As we walked up the steps a tourist bus arrived. Just our luck. Inside was a nice-looking cathedral. Lots of paintings, lots of gold paint. Cathedrals tend to waste a lot of space over the heads of the worshippers. Mark thinks it harkens back to the days when the cathedral was the tallest building in a city. Sort of advertising. It made the cathedrals easy to see. Actually, Helsinki's two cathedrals are the two highest buildings in the city, and give nice views from their steps as well as being artistic inside. The Uspensky Cathedral is built on a giant outcropping of rock of the sort that is common throughout Helsinki (and Turku as well)--they are a distinctive feature of the geology. While we were there some school classes arrived. All around the Baltic schools seem to have *a lot* of field trips. We seem to run into classes just about wherever we go.
We continued on, building-watching on the walking tour. That is a really good way to see Helsinki. It does not really make for a lot to write about in our logs, however.
The next stop was the local military museum. We started with the usual hall of heroes, portraits, medals they have won, and other trinkets. Mark was reminded of the scene in OCTOBER where the revolutionaries storm the palace and find boxes full of medals to be given out. It is a very effective piece of propaganda.
A room off the main hall shows uniforms and artillery pieces. Some of the uniforms look a lot like German uniforms. Of course, Finland was fighting against the Soviets at first by themselves and later with the help of Germany. The Soviets won this piece of the war and eventually the Finns were fighting the Germans. Mark thinks it is that the helmets curve down over the ears that makes them look German.
In another room we are back to the late 19th Century and the uniforms look Russian and have Cyrillic or double-headed eagles on the buttons. Another room and we are further back, with flintlock pistols and rifles and even swords.
Back in the main hall there are large plaster statues of soldiers in uniform.
There is little English, but there are certificates of the Purple Heart and the Distinguished Flying Cross from the United States to Larry Thorn, born Torni, a Finn who was killed in Vietnam flying with the Americans. There is an exhibit of pistols, including one cut away to show how it works.
There is also a small walk-in bunker with log walls. The display ends with some German and Russian uniforms worn by their troops.
We spent about an hour in the museum, which let us out about noon. Our next event planned was the changing of the guard at the Main Guard Post. However, the guard would not *need* changing until 13:00, so we walked to the Market Square, where we took pictures of some sort of Navy boat that had docked. It was a fair size and had guns, but beyond that we have little knowledge of types of Navy boats. Mark also got some pictures of sea birds who boldly let people get close. There will be no time for breakfast tomorrow, so we dropped into the indoor market to get a chunk of cheese. Mark asked for something called 'Polar' and it looks like Swiss.
Back to the guard post and there was already a crowd forming, almost all of older people. It must be pretty good to get a crowd this big. Then they all moved around to the side of the building. That was odd, because the guard was in front, but perhaps the replacement comes around the building. We milled in with the viewers and they stared at us a bit. 13:00 was approaching. An empty tour bus pulled up and the other viewers got on. We were left standing alone. At 12:55 somebody came out of the guardhouse to replace the guard. No ceremony. Well, that was a bore. (Evelyn looks at it differently; she says, 'Not only do the Finns have a very low-key view of what a parade is, their clocks run fast.')
We were going to be passing the tourist information office so we thought we'd drop in and ask what happened to the changing of the guard. Basically they said they had no idea.
Next we returned to the big bookstore so Evelyn could collect some data for this log (she hadn't noted prices and so on last time). Mark writes, 'I figured it was best to humor Evelyn so she does not get snippy. (Actually, she did so much as organizing that she deserves a chance to pick the activities.)'
Next we went to the Finnish National Gallery in the Ateneum across from the railway station. Here at least we had better luck, since although there was a special exhibition with a higher admission, the admission for the rest of the museum was the same as usual (FIM 10).
We started on the top floor, which are really the most recent works, starting with the Impressionists. The room started with Aalto. I pointed to some nudes on the other wall. 'Here are the Aaltos, there are the barer tones.' A Cezanne ('Road Bridge at L'Estaque') and a Van Gogh ('Street in Auvers-sur-Oise') were in the next room.
There were Rodins with descriptions in Braille. The blind are allowed to feel the sculpture. Yngve Bach had 'Melody of War,' a sort of 'Guernica' with musical instruments.
(In spite of the mention of foreign artists, most of the works were by Finnish artists. There is a separate museum for foreign art which we didn't visit.)
There was a room with a composition in video art, and other modern art. Evelyn writes, 'The modern stuff is at times interesting, but I found myself thinking, 'Is it art?' For example, there was 'Ms. Found in a Bottle' (after the Poe story) which consisted of a wine bottle with a year engraved on it. There was a block of granite about the size of a piece of carry-on luggage with a handle and two clasps labeled 'Suitcase' [I know the feeling!]. |
