disaster soup and weirdness galore

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Day 8 Thursday, July 28th, 2011

The day was sultry, with little breeze as we headed off to visit places from my childhood memory. In Vuoriniemi, we stopped outside my grandparents old home where I had last visited as a seven-year-old.

It’s funny how the memory of a child is so vastly different from that of an adult. My child’s memory remembered the house, a long way from the road, the enormous granite boulder down which we used to slide, the barn, red and huge to house the cow and horse, a long way from the house. The scale was totally out. I was surprised to discover that the house was right next to the road, less than fifty meters, the barn was right next to the house, and even the boulder had shrunk. They have been moved!
A trip to my grandparent's previous house which I had visited as an even smaller child, but had no real memory of, followed. We also stopped at the cemetery where they are at rest. It was very moving to walk among the gravestones of family members, and my aunt was able to tell me much about the people who lay there from her memories as a child growing up in this area. It brought to me a sense of the roots I too have in some small way to this land and the people and the history. Roots that as a migrant child were torn from the ground, and you don't realise are there, but yet remain. (a teary).

We continued our trip towards the south to Imatra.
On the way we stopped for lunch near the Finnish Russian border, the "gateway to lake Ladoga". I was told to be on the lookout for guard towers along the road as we passed along the border. These relicts of the cold war were however either well hidden or have been removed in the light of closer relations with their Russian neighbours. (or I was asleep. Managing on five or so hours of sleep for the last week is taking it’s toll).
We sat to eat at a kiosk, which advertised a local specialty, smoked fish soup. This was sold fresh from an iron pot for 6 euro and was served with dark rye bread and water. Being game, I thought that any local specialty must be worth trying at least once. The soup was definitely something to try – once. Watery, yet oily, powerfully smoke flavoured with pieces of a small smoked fish and not quite cooked potato and plenty of chives floating around, in water so hot I burned my tongue. The bread and water was good. Henceforth it shall be referred to as disaster soup.

Next to the kiosk was an unusual statue park. The statues were created by a somewhat eccentric man who had spent years building hundreds of statues from concrete. Each of them is unique and sports a real set of false teeth (apparently a deal made with a local dentist to pass on to him any false teeth which had been replaced). Over 500 statues in varying poses and dress greet the visitor; an entire yoga class, some in poses a yogi would be proud of, rows of children performing ballet and circus acts, others in national dress of various nations as well as animals and birds surprise around every corner. Statues with their tongues poking out, one scratching his butt, another getting spanked being some of the other sights which delight you as you wonder around the garden.
The local council has taken on the care of and display of the statue park after the death of the sculptor a few years ago.


Arriving in Imatra in southern Karelia, to visit my uncle Timo and his wife Tarja. My aunt is a keen quilter too and she immediately whisked me off to meet a local quilter who showed me her numerous quilts in her lovely home. I felt very happy to see so many beautiful quilts, and felt a quilters’ fellow feeling to see all the Works in progress or UFO’s (Un Finished Objects).
In the evening I met my cousin Kati, and went for a swim in the nearby lake to wash off the heat of the day.
My time lag has nearly disappeared,(thank god). Apparently it repairs itself about by about an hour a day, which means that after 7 days, my sleep patterns have returned to near normal.

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Photos

My grandparent's home
This was the home I remember my grandparents owned (only smaller)

the statue park
the receiving line for guests

Border information plaque
lets you know how the border is marked incase you are blundering about in the forest