Terve, Ville Peltonen!

Minu nimeni on Bil Lewis.  Ma oli Suomi Mai 1997, ja minulla on pieni
historia...  (As you can see, I can't really speak any Finnish, but I
do fake it a bit.)

Anyway, the reason I'm writing is because on my last trip there,
something happened which involves you.  Sort of.

I'm a computer scientist and often travel to Europe to teach.  Most
recently, I was invited by Nokia Data to give a class in Espoo.  On
my way, I visited with a Swedish friend in Stockholm, whose family
came from the Helsinki area.  She did a disertation on the church in
the town where they came from, Pernå.  I figured that I would visit
it if I got the chance.

After a fine visit with friends in Tallinn (that's another story), I
arrived in Helsinki and gave the class.  It went quite well.  As
often happens in Europe, once the class was over, I was on my own.
So I decided to make the trip to Pernå on Saturday.  The bus arrived
in early afternoon, leaving me a few hours to visit and still make
the 5 o'clock bus back.

Things started well.  I missed the town center as the bus drove
though, but when it passed the church, I got out.  I wandered around
the grounds a bit, read all the tombstones, then went in.  Yup, it was
Anita's church.  I recognized the German woodcarvings, the coats of
arms, the ship model dedicated to the marinars lost at sea, etc.

I found the caretaker in the back, and started a converstation with
her.  She was rather quiet and reserved (her Swedish wasn't that
good, Finnish was out of the question), but once I explained that
Anita was a friend and that's why I was there... she opened right up.
We spent a wonderful hour with her telling me about "her" church and
all of the things in it.  I took a photo for Anita.

Then it was time to close.  I wandered down to the sea and watched
the boats sailing across the bay.  Stopped on a lonely hill and
played my flute for a bit (I love doing that).  A jogger came by,
stopped (!), chatted, and jogged on.  I was amazed to find out that I
had already passed through town (I didn't remember seeing any
town...).  So I walked back up the road towards the direction the bus
had come, wondering if I should just wait at the nearest bus stop, or
if I should keep going.  Didn't want to miss the last bus until 9pm!

I found a little dirt sideroad and walked down that.  Just a few
houses, nothing more. Saw a young girl and asked her for directions.
She looked at me as if to say "Who are you?  What are you doing in
our town??"  But told she me that another 2 km up the road there was
a hamburger kiosk.  I walked there.

I figured that I had just enough time to have a burger and beer
before the bus came.  This is where the story begins...

Pernå, as you can guess, is not a very large village. 3000 in the
entire commune. The center of town consists (as near as I can tell)
of one kiosk, a tiny bank branch, and 20 apartments.  Which is to say
that everyone knows everyone else, and probably everything about
them.  And they don't get tourists.

As I entered the kiosk, everyone (there were perhaps a dozen adults
in the outside veranda drinking beer, and six teenagers a bit further
off), turned to stare. Complete silence reigned for 30 seconds.  Then
they began their conversations again, peeking glances at me as I
ordered my burger and a small Kulta.

As I returned to the veranda, I asked a couple if I might sit at
their table.  In English, to emphasize my foreigness.  I explained
that I had been to visit Anita's church.  They nodded uncomfortably,
and sat quietly for a bit. The woman said a few words to me, but the
man nothing. Then the man decided it was time to depart.  The wife
accompanied him up the hill, then returned and sat at the next table
where her friends were.

My burger came and I ate it quietly.  I observed the other table now
and then, smiling and nodding to the occupants when it seemed
appropriate. I thought of the bus that was due to arrive in a few
minutes.

THEN... a young man of 30? suddenly stood up and announced that he
intended to converse with the American in English.  I looked up,
nodded my approval and waved him to the seat opposite.  He plopped
himself heavily down in it and said, in decent, slightly intoxicated
English, "My name is Robert!"

Well, Robert and I began to talk. About the church and Anita, about
the classes I teach, about the work he does, his girlfriend, about
everything. We talked about summer and winter and hunting. (Did you
know that whole villages pool their money to buy a license for one
elk, and whomever shoots one gets to use it?) Hunting is a big thing
in Finland, rather like in the half of the US not living in big
cities. I mentioned that sometimes folks would hunt out of season,
knowing that the chances of getting caught were zilch.  Not in
Finland! Everybody knows everything everyone else does.

Our conversations grew lively, and after a bit, the woman returned to
our table to join in. The crew at the other table was now paying some
attention to our conversation. Robert pulled out his mobile phone and
told his girlfriend to come and meet us. Sometime in there, the 5
o'clock bus came and went. Another beer.

We talked about the dove hunt, when my brother and I would saddle up
the horses and ride down south in Utah.  (This is actually the only
hunting I've ever done, but I have no qualms about talking up things
I only know about second hand.) We talked about boating. We discussed
hocky and the NHL. The San Jose Sharks are very popular (I don't know
why!) and I saw a number of Sharks jackets on kids.  They have some
Finnish players.  I even talked about hang gliding a bit. We didn't
talk about computers.

The girlfriend appeared, as did another beer. The girl (from page
one) showed up on her bike on the way to soccor practice. "He speaks
Swedish, you know!" A few more people gathered on their way here and
there. Listened a bit, added a comment or two, then went on their
way. A few curious kids looked in.  The jogger even stopped by
briefly.

It was a pity I had to fly out the next day. Next time I come to
Finland, I was advised to come by and spend a few days fishing with
Robert.  I may.  The time flew, and the 9pm bus was due soon.

Robert took off his cap, and pulled a small cloisonette pin from
it. "This is the symbol of the local semi-pro hocky team near
Pernå. You must take it to the Sharks arena and display it on the
banner there so that Ville will see it and know that his arch-rivals
have an eye on him, even in America.  This is very important. If you
can't do it, you must return the pin home to me."

I swore most solomnly that I would do as he wished.

Mind you, I've never see a Sharks game. I'm not a big fan of
professional sports. I had trouble imaging such a banner where I
could pin this defiant symbol. None the less, I felt confident that I
would come up with something satisfactory.

It struck 9. The kiosk was closing and the bus pulled into
view. Handshakes, hugs, kisses, and waves, I departed. Attached
firmly to my cap was a tiny cloisonette pin which signified far more
than one could ever imagine.

================
Bil@LambdaCS.com
http://www.LambdaCS.com

Bil Lewis
352 Central Ave.
Menlo Park, Ca
94025