September 2010 Archives

When I first started learning about Finland, one of the factoids that enchanted me the most was how berry-picking and mushroom-picking in the forest were something of a national pastime.  There was just something so innocent and natural and simple and sweet about that.  It's something I have really really really wanted to do.  Sinttu and I went mushroom hunting over the summer, but it was too hot and dry and we didn't find anything.

But it's cooled off and has been raining quite a bit, which means the forests are nice and marshy and prime for a mushroom harvest!  There is a law here called "every man's right" which basically means that you're free to roam wherever you like and pick whatever wild berries or mushrooms you find. So Sinttu, Sami, and I geared up in our rubber boots last Saturday, and headed out to the Oittaa forest near Lake Bodom. 

 
We weren't drunk or on shrooms, I swear, although our route might suggest otherwise. 

Now, I don't know much about mushrooms.  Previously all I knew was that they come in big cans or little cans, either sliced or button style.  I have learned a lot about them since moving here, and even bought the official Finnish mushroom guidebook (not that I can read it).  Mushrooms are categorized in the following ways:

             * Edible
            ** Edible, tastes pretty good
           *** Edible, delicious
             ° Worthless
             † Kinda poisonous
          † † Really poisonous
       † † † You're going to die
† † † * * * Confusingly, they are delicious AND you'll die.  Prioritize. 

(FYI, all the poisonous ones are usually the bright, exciting-looking ones.  The Super Mario mushrooms with the polka-dotted red caps?  Two daggers.)

We trekked through the forest with our mushroom knives and buckets, and the plan was to focus on one specific three star mushroom that is very popular and in season: the trumpet chantarelle.  But of course, I got distracted by the six million other weird mushrooms we saw, and spent more of the afternoon taking photos than picking the chantarelles...




This is going to sound crazy, but picking mushrooms feels a lot like playing slot machines.  When you find the ones you're looking for, you get a little rush like you do when you hit a jackpot.  And when you're done picking that batch, you immediately start jonesing to find the next batch.  You keep thinking that you're on the verge of a major progressive free spin jackpot, and you just don't want to leave the forest casino!  If my legs hadn't been screaming at me from all the hiking and squatting, I could have stayed out there all day.  It was a wonderful way to calm your mind, being out in nature, singularly focused on one very specific and basic task: finding these guys!  The famous trumpet chantarelles!

 

After almost 4 hours and two full buckets, we finally called it a day and went back to Sinttu and Sami's where we took a sauna to loosen up our tired legs.  Then Sinttu made these mushrooms into a very edible and very delicious creamy forest mushroom soup. 

An absolutely perfect Finnish autumn day.

My friend Anji was just here for a visit, and it was basically a two-week-long giggle fest / slumber party / YouTube marathon.  To commemorate those two weeks, here are the videos that made us laugh the hardest:

1. Pankun the Genius Chimp Learns How to Do Fancy Flower Arrangements (Sort Of)




2. Outtakes from an Interview with Seth Galifianakis (Zach's "twin brother")




3. Why the F$ck Are You Making a Stupid Duck Face?




4. A Clip from the Ol' "Puttin' on the Hits" Lip Syncing Show




Now...if only there were a video with Seth Galifianakis and Pankun singing the "Duck Face" on "Puttin' on the Hits," I only would have had to embed one video!

I have loved tennis since I was a little kid.  I would play against the wall in the garage, and when I got too tall and my swings got too mighty, I would play against the side of the house.  I was jealous that my sister Lindy got to go watch a John McEnroe exhibition match in Amarillo without me.  In seventh grade I bought a pair of Andre Agassi's "Challenge Court" Nike tennis shoes with hot pink rebel detail.  I spent that whole summer at tennis camp, crushing on my tennis coach Dave.

I loved to play, but I loved to watch it on TV, too.  I have vivid memories of John McEnroe's temper tantrums.  Pete Sampras vomiting on court.  The time Michael Chang got horrible leg cramps and had to serve underhanded.  Thinking Jim Courier looked like Rocky from "Mask".  Learning how to say "Ivanisevic".  Andre Agassi's first year at Wimbledon, where everyone was all a-titter speculating how he'd challenge the "you must wear 85% white" rule.  (We all thought he would push it to the max and have leopard print accents or something...but he showed up in head-to-toe white with no detail color whatsoever.)

During all those years, it never really occurred to me that I could go see any of that in person.  It wasn't until I lived in Australia in 2001 that I ever even considered going to a tennis match.  I was living there with my sister and her family, and tickets to the Australian Open weren't that expensive and Melbourne was an easy roadtrip away.  We went, and the whole experience only made me love tennis harder...and made me vow that I would see every single Grand Slam tennis tournament in person before I died.

Well, I guess I can die now.  Because with that last post about Wimbledon, I can officially declare that life goal complete! 

1. Australian Open (January 2001)
   
   
   
   We had show court tickets to one of the night sessions, which was one women's match and one men's match.  We saw Elena Dementieva play against...I have no idea, I don't remember.  All I remember is that Dementieva wore pink.  And the men's match was Carlos Moya (who was one of my favorites at the time) versus Lleyton Hewitt (the hometown Aussie boy who I hated).  I had so much fun in the stands being one of the lone Moya supporters.  I'm pretty sure I did a few crotch chops to the Aussie fans.  And it worked, because Hewitt lost.  Yay!
   
   
2. US Open (August 2007)
   
   
   
   I joined the USTA purely to be able to buy pre-sale show court tickets for this one.  I scored day session seats on Arthur Ashe stadium, which is the biggest #1 show court.  We saw Justin Henin play someone.  Then the men's match was Mardy Fish versus Tommy Robredo.  I was a little disappointed, because I don't really follow those guys.  But!  We were on the side of the stadium where if you climb to the tippy top row (which was only about three steps, our seats were awful), you could peek over the ledge and see 75% of Louis Armstrong stadium court below.  And that was the big Novak Djokovic / Radek Stepanek 5 setter that was the talk of the tournament that year.
   
   
3. Roland Garros / French Open (May 2010)
   
   
   
   I already covered my day in Paris a little while ago, but I'll quickly summarize it here again for the sake of thoroughness.  I wasn't able to get tickets to the big #1 Court Philippe Chatrier, I had to settle for tickets to the #2 Court Suzanne Lenglen.  But our luck was retarded good because Nadal was playing that day, the schedule was organized to ensure he was on the biggest court.  Meaning that none other than Roger Federer himself was on my court!  I got to see the greatest tennis player of all time!?  I'm still in shock.
   
   
4. Wimbledon (June 2010)
   
   
   
   I just covered my day in Wimbledon, which was complete with 4-5 hours in queue to get in, a visit from Her Royal Highness Queen Elizabeth II, strawberries, cream, Pimms, getting to see Isner/Mahut (the longest match ever boys) in the flesh, a nap on Henman Hill, and finishing the day watching Rafael Nadal win on the jumbotron.
   

So to recap, ladies and gentleman, I officially have a CAREER GRAND SLAM.  This is one of those life goals I never ever ever thought I would complete, and much like Inigo Montoya, now that it's done, I don't know what to do with the rest of my life.  Should I shoot for a calendar grand slam next? 

It was a dark basement.  The drummer made eyes with the girls on the front row, took off his shirt, and took his place behind his drum kit.  The lead guitar player slung his guitar over his shoulder and made sure his tattoos were visible.  The bassist fluffed his hair and assumed the standard bassist wide-leg stance.  The singer was nowhere to be seen.

After the rest of the band started playing the intro the first song, he appeared from the wings.  His hair was blond and voluminous.  His bandanas were plentiful.  His leather fingerless gloves were mismatched.  His pants were skin tight, and belted (despite the pants being lycra).  His denim jacket had the KISS logo on the back.  His eyeliner and lip gloss were flawless.  He took to the stage, and each step was a high kick that would be the envy of any Rockette or Dallas Cowboy Cheerleader.

Welcome to the Reckless Love gig.

There have been a lot of these throwback hair bands over the last few years.  Like The Darkness.  And Steel Panther.  But I always feel like those guys are playing with a sarcastic "wink-wink, isn't this funny and retro?" undertone.  Not so with Reckless Love.  When I hear their songs or watch their videos, I'm instantly whisked away in my mind to my basement in 1988, playing pool with teased hair, and listening to Poison.  Actually, there is a lot about Reckless Love that reminds me of Poison.  Can you spot the similarities?

                        


It was a small venue, so Anji and I were able to squeeze our way to the very front to have an unobstructed view of the band.  There was lots of eye contact.  And winking.  And lip puckering.  And pelvic thrusting.  And additional high kicks.  In fact, anytime there was a break in the song, Olli would just break into high kicks and I'm not sure how the bass player made it through the whole show without getting kicked in the head. 

All in all, ridiculously fun show.  When it was over, I was sad to leave the warm embrace of 1988 and come back upstairs.  I wanted to stay in that time warp basement, lost in the bass player's eyes, forever.

(This post is the closest thing I've ever written to fan fiction.  But it was real.  This post was fan non-fiction.)

Editor's note: the events described here actually happened June 24-26, 2010.

The Wimbledon tennis tournament was an epic event this year, for many reasons:

1. The record was broken for the longest tennis match in history (11 hours, 5 minutes of play over three days, the match finished 6-4, 3-6, 6-7(7-9), 7-6(7-3), 70-68 for a total of 183 games).
   
   
2. The Queen was there.
   
   
3. I WAS THERE!!!!  Thereby officially completing my life goal to attend all 4 grand slam tennis tournaments in person!

The Wimbledon tennis tournament is as absolutely as complicated as possible for attendees.  All the other tournaments work like any normal event.  You decide you want to go, tickets go on sale, and then you buy them off the internet.  Wimbledon has more of an elitist slant.  If you want show court tickets, you have to write a letter to the All England Lawn and Tennis Club 12 months in advance of the tournament, respectfully requesting to be included in the lottery to determine who will be eligible to purchase tickets.  Then IF they approve your request and IF your name is drawn, you are allowed to buy tickets in advance.  Well, last summer I had no idea I would be living in Europe, much less attending their prissy tournament, which made it impossible to satisfy all their little aristocratic requirements.  So if you're unable to jump through all those hoops, your only other option is queuing on the day of.  And there are no guarantees you will get in. 



As you can see in the photo to the left above, the process for queuing is so convoluted that it literally requires a 40 page booklet to explain it.  My sisters had come to visit me, and we planned the whole trip around being able to go to Wimbledon.  So it was very unnerving to have no idea if we'd actually be able to get on the grounds.  We arrived before 7am for an 11am start time.  And we waited.  And waited.  And waited.  And we waited some more.

After four or five hours in line, it became clear that we really were going to be able to get in!  Yay!  We patted each other on the back and congratulated ourselves on our good fortune.  Then as we were winding through all the pathways to get to the entrance, over the loudspeaker we heard a kindly British gentleman explaining that the Queen would be arriving on Henman's Hill / Murray's Mount at 11am.  I assumed I misheard it, and that there was a Queen cover band playing to open the day or something.  No!  The Queen was actually there!  You're probably thinking, "Whooptie fucking whoo, like she doesn't have her own royal box and isn't there every single year."  To which I would say, "You're wrong!  Tar fed!  This is the first time Her Royal Highness has attended the tournament since 1977.  IN YOUR FACE."

We patted each other on the back and congratulated ourselves on our good fortune again.  I mean really, how many people go to England and actually get to see the Queen in the flesh??  We camped out on the hill waiting for Lizzie Boo to arrive.  She was adorable and well-dressed and delightful.  She waved.  She smiled.  She looked a little confused.  She was there to see Britain's own Andy Murray play, who just so happened to be playing Finland's own Jarkko Niemenen.  They bowed to her like good little boys:

 

It was a wonderful day.  The weather was perfect and sunshiney.  We had strawberries and cream.  We drank Pimm's.  We saw Isner and Mahut walking back to their court for their second day of playing the same match.  Did I mention that WE SAW THE QUEEN??  It turned out to be the picture perfect Wimbledon experience, and I'm so glad that my sisters were here to do it with me.  The only thing that would have made it better would have been a John McEnroe sighting, but did I mention WE SAW THE QUEEN??

After Wimbledon we did lots of fun sightseeing in London, went on a day trip to visit Bath and Salisbury and Stonehenge.  I got yelled at for trying to take a picture of a picture of the Magna Carta, did cheerleading jumps in front of the Stonehenge stones, and had the best English vacation I ever could have hoped for.  I am patting myself on the back right now and congratulating myself on my good fortune.