HD5: Stockholm, Sweden

7.11.12 We arrived in Stockholm about 6AM, before the sun was even awake. However, by the time the bus drove from the harbour to the city, the sun decided to peek its head above the horizon and before long the entire city was bathed in a soft pink glow. Stockholm is gorgeous in its own right, but at sunrise it’s one of the most spectacular, breathtaking sights I’ve ever beheld—I say that about a lot of things, but I say this seriously. I was literally at a loss for words at the sight: old European-style buildings painted either orange, pink, salmon, coral, yellow, mustard, or variations of those colours, with wrought-iron window sills and black accents, hanging flower baskets, window flower baskets; elaborate cathedrals; and cobblestone streets backed by the glimmering Baltic Sea (Stockholm is the Scandinavian Venice). Needless to say, I instantly fell in love with Stockholm. (It’s only shortcoming was that, throughout my entire stay in the city/country, I never saw an attractive man. Sweden, as far as I saw, is completely void of attractive males. This fact made me question my newfound dream of moving to Stockholm.) Sasha took us on a tour of the city: we saw the royal palace (where the Swedish king works but does not live), the “Big Church,” the harbour, beautiful statues, Museum Island (though we wouldn’t enter the museums until our return trip), and went to a famous overlook of the city. The city is built on a hundred different islands with canals running through it, hence its nickname of being the Scandinavian Venice. Stockholm is a photographer’s paradise—I would have given anything to own an SLR camera at that point: my little Nikon point-and-shoot didn’t give the city justice in the least bit. We were even privileged to witness a changing of the guards at the royal palace; it was shockingly different from any military ceremony I’ve seen: the guards were unprofessional, for lack of a better word. Their eyes wandered, their steps weren’t exactly synchronized, and I even noticed a couple of them smirk at each other. A random observation that my whole group made was that the guards had humongous feet. Perhaps they just wore large shoes, but my lands, their feet were not proportional to the rest of their normal-sized bodies. You know what they say about men with large feet, though—perhaps it was just Mother Nature’s way of making up for their lack of pretty faces. We had breakfast in a little café and then explored the city on our own. One of the girls found internet access on her smart phone and updated us on the presidential elections in America, to our dismay. None of us are Obama supporters and some of the girls deduced that this was a sign of the second coming—if the world lasts another four years, I’ll make certain to vote. Ironically, the election outcome was pasted on the front page of all the Swedish newspapers and magazines, which resulted in us having a political discussion with a sweet shop owner. We discovered that most, if not all, of Sweden is pro-Obama—Europe, actually, is pro-Obama; she was surprised that we were supporters of Romney. My right-winged roommate kindly explained to her why Romney would have improved our economic situation, while Obama had just put us deeper in debt and will most likely continue to do so. (I don’t know much about politics, so I just sat back and listened.) It was interesting to hear a European’s opinion on American politics; it’s also interesting how interested the world is in our politics—while I just discovered that Sweden has a royal family and a parliament (but that could just be my egocentric ignorance). (Sweds are actually happy with their government and economic situation, though many leave to find work in Norway simply because the pay is 3 times higher there—another interesting fact.) We had a very pleasant conversation about other topics as well and left feeling like we’d made a friend. In fact, the Sweds are a very friendly, grateful people; having been in Russia for three months, we were taken back by how many strangers smiled at us when we passed on the street. I felt, for the first time since leaving America, I could be my usual smiley self in public places; what a relief! I hope Russia doesn’t ruin that natural tendency for me. Our day in Sweden was an enjoyable one; I looked forward to the time we would spend here on our return journey. Once we boarded the bus that afternoon, we drove past the Stockholm Ikea—the largest and busiest Ikea in the world (Ikea is Swedish). Ally, my roommate, worked in the Draper, Utah Ikea and regularly reminds us of her love for it; she was super excited to see the headquarters, though disappointed that we didn’t have the time to explore the inside. Ahead of us was a nine-hour drive to Oslo, Norway, broken up by a dinner break at McDonald’s and few potty stops. I ordered the most delicious sweet chili chicken wrap ever and a chocolate muffin at McDonald’s—if McDonald’s tasted like that in the States, I would eat there all the time (it’s a good thing I don’t live in Sweden, I suppose). Shelley purchased “Swedish fish” at a nearby convenient store, though, of course, the Swedish Fish we’re accustomed to in America are made in Canada; these Swedish fish we nasty (we later discovered that they were salted herring flavored, which is a Swedish delicacy—yum!). When in Rome, do as the Romans do, right? Whatever, I’ll take McDonald’s over herring flavored candy any day. We arrived at our hotel outside of Oslo late at night, right before I nearly threw up from carsickness. I was rather cranky, but a hands-free hot shower, water bottle full of the purest water I’ve ever tasted, and comfortable bed eventually soothed me. Shelley, my roommate for the night, and I decided to watch a little bit of the election news on BBC News before we fell asleep; we could hardly imagine how America itself was reacting to the results. Ironic how I was in the land of kings and queens and America was the country unhappy with their government; it’s funny how things work out.

HD4: Helsinki and Turku, Finland

6.11.2012 This morning at 8, we boarded our ferry to Helsinki, Finland. The “ferry” was more of a small cruise liner, with multiple floors, bars, restaurants, and casinos. As I had only slept a few hours the night before and the rocking of the ship made me nauseous, I took a glance at the Baltic Sea (grey, really big, and bumpy) and found a bench by a window to curl up and catch a few winks. Before I knew it, we docked at Helsinki. I expected to go through customs and get my passport stamped, but, to my disappointment, we were not detained by any customs guards: we simply walked off the ship and into Finland. In fact, instead of being greeted by guards, we were welcomed by an icy wind and sleeting sky. Within minutes of standing outside trying to orient ourselves, my fingers and nose were painfully cold. However, I braved the cold in order to hold the map of the city where I could quickly reference it. Dragging our suitcases behind us, we hiked past the wharf, old brick warehouses, the largest Russian Orthodox cathedral in Helsinki, the royal palace that overlooks the bay, and the main shopping district. Our destination was the train station, where we would meet our Russian coordinator, Guyla, and find our tour bus. En route to the train station, we passed an H&M—one of our favorite places to shop, so we had to go in—and souvenir shops. It was nice to get out of the bitter cold. When we arrived at the train station, we struggled to find Guyla due to the lack of proper directions as to where we were meeting. Finally, we met her and she led us to the tour bus. We would be joining a Russian tour through Scandinavia; Sasha, a soft-spoken (rare), bearded (not so rare), bilingual (rare-ish) Russian (lately, they’re everywhere), who translated what he said in Russian to English, was our tour guide. He took on a bus tour of the city—again, it was a relief to get out of the unexpectedly awful Finnish weather: our first stop was the Helsinki Cathedral, which is the Finnish Evangelical Lutheran cathedral of the Diocese of Helsinki, located in the centre of Helsinki, Finland. The church was originally built from 1830-1852 as a tribute to the Grand Duke of Finland, Tsar Nicholas I of Russia. It was also known as St Nicholas' Church until the independence of Finland in 1917. Originally the church was Orthodox (cited from Wikipedia). As we only had ten minutes here, Alicia (a girl from Moscow 1) and I decided to dash through the square and up the countless intimidating stone stairs to the cathedral and take a glance inside. As the cathedral is Evangelical Lutheran, its interior was dramatically different from the cathedrals we are used to exploring: the walls were not covered in murals; there were no gilded frames, no shining icons, just pristine white pillars, wooden pews, white walls, all directing the eye to the beautiful mural of Christ on the domed ceiling. It was a beautiful, simple cathedral. Alicia and I then proceeded to dash down the stone staircase, which, in retrospect, was an incredible unintelligent idea as they were stone and it was sleeting: at one point, I slipped and literally probably almost died. God knew that I was meant for more than to die by my own stupidity (though, if you’re going to die, it might as well be in an interesting way, like slipping down the stone staircase of the Helsinki Cathedral in Finland), and I came out unscathed. Next stop was Sibelius Park. Lonely Planet’s description is thus: “At lovely Sibelius Park you'll find a steel monument to the great Finnish composer. The organ-like cluster of steel pipes is said to represent the forest. This kinetic modern sculpture was created by artist Eila Hiltunen in 1967 to honor Finland's most famous composer, Jean Sibelius. Born in 1865 in Hämeenlinna, Sibelius wrote music for the glorification of his own people and in defiance of the oppressor, Russia. His most famous composition, Finlandia, came to represent Finnish patriotism and pride. Hiltunen's innovative abstract structure was designed to blend with the natural surroundings. Appropriately for a monument to a composer, the sculpture creates its own music - the hollow stainless-steel pipes echo with the movement of the wind.” It was really quite incredible—I’ll post pictures on my blog. Next was the Temppeliaukio Church, otherwise known as the Church of the Rock, or the Rock Church. This is a Lutheran church building made mostly out of rock and a glazed wood ceiling. Exclusive of the magenta upholstery, the interior causes one to feel like they are outdoors or in a well-lit cave; it’s amazing. An elderly man played the organ and the music filled the vast, circular room with hauntingly beautiful melodies: due to the exposed rock surfaces, the church has excellent acoustics and is often used as a concert hall: over half a million people visit it annually. As this was the last stop, our bus returned to the train station and we were allowed two hours of free time to wander the city. Carrie, Alicia, Ally, Shelley, Whitney and I had been planning our next destination all day: food, wherever and however it could be attained—we hadn’t eaten since dinner the night before in Estonia. We found an indoor food court and ordered burgers and fries from a Nigerian man with dreads who called me “darling” at Hesburger, Scandinavia’s popular fast food chain. Once we were full and warmish, we wandered the main shopping street until it was time to return to the bus. My favorite thing in Helsinki was probably the sculpture; but to be completely honest, I was kind of disappointed with my experience in Helsinki. The city, while attractive, looks just like any normal large city. If it hadn’t been so miserably cold and wet, I probably would have a different opinion, though. I hoped that our next trip to Helsinki on the return journey would redeem it. By the time we were sufficiently dry and comfortable on the bus, we arrived in Turku, the old capital of Finland. Although I had heard so much about Turku from a friend who served his mission in Finland, we only had time to visit the Turku Cathedral, which is the Mother Church of the Evangelical Lutheran Church of Finland, and the country's national shrine. It was built in the 13th century; most of it is original, though it was badly damaged by a fire in 1827 that destroyed 75% of the city. It’s a gigantic, awe-inspiring building with a domed ceiling as high as the heavens and massive pillars. While many of the paintings have been refurbished, the few originals are faded almost out of existence. The ambience within the walls of this giant was solemn and overpowering; I was left speechless. Finally, we were directed back into the bus, which drove us across town. As it was after dark, my view of the city was unfortunately limited, but it only took us a few minutes before we were at the pier. Again, I was speechless as I beheld our place for the night: a monster cruise liner that glittered on the water like the Titanic. I’ve never been on a cruise liner, but I suppose the best place to have a “maiden voyage” is in Scandinavia! After we dropped off our bags in our tiny quarters (with enough room for two bunk beds, a small closet, smaller vanity, and a teeny bathroom) and cleaned up, we decided to explore the ship. We went up to the “sun” deck and braved the bitter cold to snap a rather embarrassing “jumping” picture, and then we wandered the restaurants and bars. One had a bunch of old couples rocking out to classic rock and tables full of men with European swag; another had a Polish guitarist named Jaco that sang us American classic rock and told us funny stories. Soon, I found myself drifting so we returned to our cabin to shower and sleep. In the morning, we would be in Sweden—and I would fall in love.

HD3: Tallinn, Estonia

5.11.12 This morning, my three girls and I pulled ourselves out of bed at around 10AM, got ready for the day and headed out for breakfast. Josh, our disheveled Australian friend, had highly recommended a pancake house called, Krompressor, in Old Town. We found it down a street behind the main square and walked into the empty restaurant—never a good sign. After waiting at the counter for a few minutes, a tall, blonde woman with a surly expression appeared from the back room and said one word, “Closed,” before she glared at us and disappeared. Flabbergasted, we exited the restaurant and noticed that the sign on the door claimed the restaurant opened at 11—in fifteen minutes. Although the pancakes sounded delicious, we decided to spend the next fifteen minutes wondering the nearby restaurants to see if any of them offered a better menu—and better service. Every place, actually, was friendly and welcoming to us but their menus weren’t nearly as attractive, so returned to the pancake house with the surly waitress. And my, oh, my, were those pancakes worth it! I ordered a strawberry pancake with cottage cheese and whipped cream, while Ally and Shelley each ordered apple and vanilla pancakes and Whitney ordered chocolate. Each pancake (which was really more of a thick blini—or super thick crepe) was about the size of my head and had its delicious sweet toppings folded inside. Best pancakes I’ve ever eaten. I also ordered hot chocolate, or kakao, which was half liquid and half whipped chocolate foam; both layers were fantastic. Once our tummies and our (previously sour) moods were warm and happy, we headed out to explore beautiful Vana Tallinn. Vana Tallinn is preserved to look like a medieval city, with old Tudor architecture and cobblestone streets. Vana Tallinn rests at the top of a large hill and is surrounded by an ancient stone wall with ancient stone guard towers and outlooks at all the entrances and corners. With wooden signs for all the stores and the smell of spiced almonds in the air, I felt like I had stepped into a different world. We tried some of the spiced almonds that vendors sold at various corners, ventured inside old cathedrals, perused the street markets, explored chic gift shops, and enjoyed the history of the city before venturing into the “Olde Hansa,” a world-famous restaurant that is fashioned after an old traditional 14th century tavern: the inside was made of stone and wood and the only lighting came from candles on the walls and on the tables. Murals of hunters and game and period life covered the walls and the fireplaces; the waiters and waitresses wore period clothing and all of them had deep Estonian accents; the ambience was surreal, as if we had stepped into a story book. Because it was slightly (though not overwhelmingly) expensive, we each ordered a side dish or appetizer and then shared our food with each other. We ordered boar soup, a meat salad (lettuce, tomatoes, olives, bacon, turkey, and some other kind of meat that could have been anything from poultry to elk or boar), a plate of traditional fried cheeses, and a rose pudding. Everything was unusual but strangely delicious—the rose pudding, made from real rose flavor, was as sweet as eating rose-scented lotion. It was a bizarre experience. Four rose petals decorated the pudding; our waitress explained to us that it is an Estonian superstition or belief that if you make a wish and eat a rose petal (which are edible), your wish will come true. Of course, we all had to take that chance—it was my first time eating a rose petal and it probably won’t be the last. The restrooms at the Olde Hansa were a tourist attraction of their own: the sink was a “teapot” filled with water that hung over a brass basin with a drain; I thought the arrangement was period appropriate and rather intriguing, actually; whoever designed the building thought of everything. I’m so glad we chose to eat lunch here; it was an unbelievably unique experience. After exploring the city a little longer, we hiked up a cobblestone hill to an overlook of the city. It had begun to rain and Vana Tallinn glowed in the darkness like a watercolour painting. We discovered another overlook that viewed modern Tallinn—in the darkness it looked just like any other modern city, so I can’t honestly describe it with the same eloquence as Vana Tallinn. Behind this overlook was an old stone staircase that led to a pathway that lined the base of the ancient wall. Sucking up our courage, we decided to traverse this muddy pathway. To our right, the city wall loomed above us; to our left, a manmade lake glistened in the city lights and two very dedicated football players trained on a nearby well-lit and very wet field. Finally, we found another set of stairs that led us back into the city. As we were wet and cold, we found a little coffee shop (again recommended to us by our Australian friend) and ordered hot cocoa. The coffee shop, according to Josh, was hipster and totally awesome—to me, it was just a white-walled building with an assortment of couches and chairs that resembled the type of couch or chair you would find at either Salvation Army or somebody’s front lawn with a big “FREE” sign on it. The restaurant was clean but cheap in appearance; I obviously wasn’t impressed. The cocoa wasn’t that spectacular either, though it was warm. It became time to meet Carrie, our friend from the International Branch that tagged along with us ILP people, at the Maharaja Indian Cuisine restaurant in the main square. The restaurant had a traditional Indian atmosphere, which we appreciated, and the food was amazing. We ordered naan, a vegetable dish, and a chicken dish with a bowl of rice to share. It wasn’t as tasty as the Taj Mahal in Fort Wayne, Indiana, or as tasty as the dishes I make at home, but it was still a familiar, delicious, satisfying taste. It was fun to get to know Carrie better; she’s such a fun, sweet, hilarious person. She volunteered with ILP in Saint Petersburg over ten years ago, served her mission in Russia, and is now teaching English in Moscow; she speaks nearly fluent Russian and she was a huge help as our translator on the train and in Saint Petersburg. After dinner, with stomachs ready to burst from all the food we’d eaten that day, we headed back to our hostel and crashed for the night. (In retrospect, I will always look back at Tallinn and remember how absolutely delicious and incredible the food was. It was probably the greatest “food day” of my entire life.)

HD2: Saint Petersburg - The Hermitage

4.11.12: My girls and I decided to do our own thing around town today. Our main goal for the day was to visit the Hermitage, the world-famous museum. En route, we stopped at a little restaurant for lunch/breakfast/elevensies. We had heard that these pitas with meat inside were delicious and they were inexpensive as well—we weren’t disappointed, especially when we looked at the menu and realized just what we were eating: shawarma! Iron Man’s favorite food, the food that all the Avengers eat in the last clip of the movie. I really wished I had been wearing my Captain America t-shirt. Shawarma is delicious—I truly trust Iron Man’s taste now. When we arrived at the Hermitage, we discovered huge lines into the entrance. However, Whitney discovered that if you were a Russian citizen or a student you could get a discount that could only be redeemed at the ticket office at the front of the lines; otherwise, you could buy tickets at an electronic kiosk at a regular price and skip the lines. Originally, I had heard that tickets would be around $20 if not more, but in reality the regular priced tickets at the kiosk were only 400 rubles, or around $12. As we only had a few more hours in Saint Petersburg before our bus left for Estonia, we felt this price was reasonable if it allowed us to skip the lines. The Hermitage is one of the largest art museums in the world and includes original artwork from the greats: Monet, Van Gogh, Renoir, and Da Vinci, among others. Sections of the museum are the preserved living quarters of the Romanov family. These are vast halls with intricate carvings, gilded framework, and breathtaking murals and tapestries. The Armorial Hall, one of the grand ballrooms, boasted a several chandeliers, gold pillars, mirrors, and golden sculptures. It was if the Romanovs designed their palace to rival those in heaven. The main entrance boasts two grand staircases, red carpet, gilded framework, and massive sculptures. I tried to imagine myself in a beautiful ball gown and glass slippers as I descended the stair case; what a life of glamour the Romanovs must have lived—before they died gruesome deaths, of course. We only had about two hours within the walls of the Winter Palace, but one could easily spend a full day inside and still not see everything (even if they didn’t get lost, like we did, as the maps were confusing). It is easily the most gorgeous museum I’ve ever been in. I hope to go back someday. Outside the Hermitage, period-esque horse-drawn carriages waited for passengers in the vast Palace Square. I could only imagine what it must have been like to arrive in one to a royal ball or celebration. When we returned to the hostel, we learned that no one else had chosen to visit the Hermitage. We were aghast—who goes to Saint Petersburg and chooses not to visit the Hermitage? In fact, they had all simply bummed it around the city all day, without really seeing anything. I’m so grateful that my girls are my girls—they want to have the richest experience possible and I’m so glad of that. I am in love with Saint Petersburg; I hope to return someday and have more time to explore and appreciate the city’s beauty and rich history. Once we were reunited with the other group, we grabbed our bags and maneuvered the streets until we found our bus that would take us to the Russian border, and then to Tallinn, Estonia. At the border, we collected all our belongings and filed into a plain, boxy building and waited in line to go through customs. I gave the officially-garbed woman my passport, visa, migration card, and registration with Moscow State University and waited while she scanned it all, stamped my passport, tore off part of my visa, and handed it back to me. It’s so nice being legal, and for whatever reason it seems easier for foreigners to leave the country than natives. It’s almost impossible for the common Russian to get a visa to leave the country, for fear the native might be immigrating to another country. I’ve never run into problems trying to get in or out of the country, however. We boarded the bus once again only to drive a short distance before arriving at the Estonian border. This time, a young, uniformed officer boarded our bus and took our passports. When I politely asked if he needed my visa, he glared at me and barked, “No.” He was perhaps not the best introduction to Estonians, but then again I’m sure gruffness is in his job description. I don’t like anyone else having my passport in their possession, especially when I’m in limbo between Russia and Europe, so I said I silent prayer that everything would work out for everyone on the bus. Finally, my passport was returned to me (without an Estonian stamp—poop!) and we continued our journey. A few hours later, we arrived in Tallinn. I had directions to our hostel, but no one in the group (for whatever reason) was listening to me or didn’t quite grasp the idea that I knew what I was doing, until we took the wrong bus and got lost in downtown Tallinn at midnight. Eventually, we found a familiar landmark: the Viru Hotel, which was supposedly at the entrance of Vana Tallinn, or Old Town Tallinn, which was close to our hostel. As we walked past Vana Tallinn, we were greeted by quaint cafes, ancient tower walls, and romantically lit streets. My mood instantly lifted at the prospect of exploring this area when the sun rose in the morning. Finally, we found our hostel: The Monk’s Bunk, which is conveniently located in an alley behind the Swed Bank and next door to SexMax: Erotikkapood (Estonian for erotic shop). Hopefully, we wouldn’t have to judge a book by its cover. Fortunately, the hostel itself was extremely pleasant with a welcoming atmosphere. Josh, the Australian receptionist at the time, who, despite his curly afro, lopsided buttoned shirt, and pajama pants, was very polite, helpful, and funny; he even lent me a towel without charge because I didn’t have any cash (Euros) on me. My girls and I shared a room with three bunk beds, though we had the room reserved for just us. The beds were clean and comfortable, and the bathrooms were newly updated and the cleanest I’ve seen in a hostel. We were especially pleased with and pleasantly surprised by the shower spout connected to the wall—for the first time in three months, we wouldn’t have to hold the shower spout and wash our hair at the same time. Although we were exhausted, Shelley, Whitney and I were starving so we let Ally sleep while we ventured into Vana Tallinn for some grub. We found a classy Mexican restaurant and ordered burritos; they were large and tasty, especially with the added lime juice. We shared the restaurant with a group of British men, probably from Ireland or thereabouts. For the first time it hit us—we’re in Europe! It’s almost too wonderful to believe—all my life I’ve wanted to visit Europe, and here I was, eating tacos in Estonia, listening to Red Hot Chili Peppers on the juke box, and checking out Irishmen. My life is awesome.

ry.