No contest, it's kooky

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This was published 16 years ago

No contest, it's kooky

What sort of city has meat-hurling mutants as ambassadors? Amy Cooper finds out.

By Amy Cooper

THIS week the Eurovision Song Contest descends on the Finnish capital Helsinki, and the city's residents will confront the annual circus of latex, Lycra, fright wigs and off-key warbling while millions worldwide tune in for a laugh.

Many locals are unenthusiastic about the impending freak show. When it was revealed that Eurovision's theme this year would be "true fantasy", one commentator proclaimed: "Now we know hell is a cold place."

But the Finns have only themselves to blame. The competition comes here courtesy of last year's Finnish winners: five men in monster masks, called Lordi. The heavy metal band pushed the boundaries of even Eurovision's extreme standards of bizarre. Its members favour meat and exploding dolls as stage props.

Some Finns are too embarrassed even to discuss Lordi. Others see the band as the saviours of a perennial Eurovision underachiever (Finland has come last eight times) and even a statement of national pride.

What sort of country nominates meat-hurling mutants as its ambassadors? Arriving in Helsinki just weeks before Eurovision hits town, I hope to find out.

It's the eve of a general election and the papers are full of politics, but Prime Minister Matti Vanhanen dominates the headlines for other reasons. He's the subject of kiss-and-tell revelations from an ex-girlfriend, which include his favourite endearment: "Your kisses taste better than a baked potato."

The romance began with a rendezvous in Ikea and ended with a text message stating: "That's it."

The Finns approve. Their woolly-jumper-wearing prime minister, once derided for his teetotalism and fondness for wood chopping, is dubbed the sexiest man in Finland. Next day, he's re-elected.

There's a light covering of snow on the cobbled Pohjoisesplanadi, the wide boulevard approaching Helsinki's South Harbour, and flakes eddying on the evening air make glittering halos around streetlights. No wonder Finland is said to be Santa Claus's real home. This is Christmas card pretty.

It's spring, but the inner harbour is still frozen over. Bulky icebreakers loom in the Katajanokka Terminal, ready to carve a path out to sea for ferries bound for Sweden and Estonia.

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I'm admiring the way the fishing boats seem to be sitting on a white carpet when a woman in a bathing suit emerges from a nearby building and lowers herself down a ladder, through a hole in the ice and into the freezing sea. I watch, appalled, recalling that Finland has Europe's second-highest suicide rate. Surely you wouldn't elect to end it all in a floral one-piece and matching swimming cap?

"She's been in the sauna," says my local companion. "Now she'll take a dip in the cold water. It's a favourite pastime of Finns."

There's only one place to ponder this madness: a warm bar. We retire to the nearby Kappeli, an elegant glass pavilion lit from within by crystal chandeliers. Surrounded by snow and this area's St Petersburg-style architecture, it looks like a mini winter palace for a tsar.

Kappeli, says the blurb on our menu, began as a milk stall in 1837 before becoming "a little pleasure house from which to sell cakes and soft drinks". It's now a smart restaurant and bar serving gourmet fare and the inevitable vodka cocktails. We order the local beer, Karhu. The waitress stares at us a while, for no discernible reason. "You are interesting people," she muses, deadpan, and marches off.

Is she making fun? "Hard to tell," says our host. "In Finland, if someone is laughing or smiling we say they are drunk or crazy."

They're a puzzle, the Finns. Nothing like the remote Scandinavian stereotype, these inhabitants of Europe's far north are helpful and hospitable. Unbidden, they rush to assist when you're poring over a map.

They're implacable under pressure, too. When a fire alarm turfs everyone in our hotel onto the freezing street in their nightwear for more than half an hour, no one even scowls. And yet there's that notorious suicide rate, the tendency toward melancholy and alcoholism, and the impenetrable humour, which veers wildly between slapstick and deadpan - often in the same sentence.

Some attribute the national character to the country's extreme climate of almost all-day sunlight in summer, and the kaamos - polar night - that shrouds the winter months in 24-hour darkness. Spring often arrives suddenly, as it did on our visit. Right now, the typical Finnish countenance - glimpsed beneath layers of wool and fleece - has a shiny, newly hatched appearance. Eyes are bright, skins translucently pale.

In Helsinki at this time of year everyone spends a disproportionate amount of time disrobing and rerobing. Restaurants, bars and shops contain thickets of coat and hat stands. When exploring the city's haunts you learn to allow for all this undressing.

But they also know how to play. At Hotel Glo, the new lifestyle hotel, ice-blonde, all-female hosts tell us you can order a guitar from room service if suddenly seized by the urge to strum. The sleek room has a plush tiger sitting on the bed, and the most comprehensive bed linen menu I've ever seen (try sheets that stabilise the electric fields of the body). With hampers of cute but useful items - mini laundry kit, suitcase freshener, thermal socks, Glo's cool rooms capture Helsinki's signature style: a fusion of fun and function.

Check out the famous local designs in the city's shops: Marimekko fabrics in funky, bold prints; Tonfisk's beautiful tableware; iittala's elegantly durable glass and of course, Nokia mobile phones, Finland's most famous export.

The city's buildings are a feast too and the next day I visit one of the most impressive - the 1952 Olympic stadium. You can climb its 72-metre tower and look down at the city. "Can we take the stairs?" I ask the attendant. He does the Finnish deadpan. "They're closed. Some people fell off."

"On purpose?" I say. "Perhaps," he replies, with a hint of smile.

We take the lift to the top, where the iron sky is closer and a biting breeze tugs at our layers. The view reflects a history of Russian and Swedish rule as well as a host of influential 20th-century architects.

Frozen fairytale lakes and stately buildings in shades of ochre, sand and cream soften the starker modern structures; the low light bounces off the Lutheran and Orthodox cathedrals' gold-tipped spires, and the harbour outlines it all in white. The overall impression is simultaneously forbidding and inviting.

This panorama is as close as you'll come to a convenient definition of a city where baked potato kisses, vodka, all-day sunshine and endless night, roasting saunas and frozen swims, ethereal blondes and outlandish Lordi all belong. Up here, near the top of the world, Helsinki's offbeat beauty will continue to captivate long after the Eurovision kitsch-fest has passed through.

TRIP NOTES

* Qantas and British Airways fly daily to Helsinki from Sydney via Singapore.

* Christmas in the land of Santa is special. Celebrations begin on November 20 when St Nick himself opens the city's dedicated Christmas street and switches on the spectacular Christmas lights - but don't forget the all-day darkness. Summer offers 19-hour days and milder weather (temperatures can reach the high 20s).

* Walking tours are the best way to enjoy Helsinki's impressive architecture and the city is small enough to navigate easily on foot. Pick up route guides at tourist information offices.

* Trams, ferries and buses are efficient and clearly signposted. For hassle-free travel, buy a Helsinki Card, valid for 24, 48 or 72 hours, starting at EUR33 ($54) for adults. The card allows you to roam the city at your own pace and includes transport and admission fees for attractions.

* Other must-sees include the ferry trip to Suomenlinna maritime fortress, a six-island garrison town dating back to the 1700s; the Temppeliaukio Church, quarried out of natural bedrock; and the Sauna Bar, where you can steam, eat and drink under one roof.

* Shop at Stockmann, the seven-floor "Harrods of Helsinki", for funky Finnish designs.

* Hotels suit all tastes and budgets. For contemporary Scandinavian cool, stay at Palace Kamp Hotel Glo, a "lifestyle hotel" at the heart of the city (www.palacekamp.fi); or for old-style luxury try Hotel Kamp, once a favourite haunt of the Finnish composer Jean Sibelius (www.hotelkamp.fi).

* Food and drink are expensive in Finland. Prepare to spend $10 to $20 more than you would in Sydney when dining out.

* For planning your trip, the Helsinki Expert tour shop is a comprehensive one-stop source of accommodation, information, tours and news. The office is at Pohjoisesplanadi 19, or see www.helsinkiexpert.fi.

The writer travelled as a guest of Finlandia vodka.

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