From Russia with Love . . . And No Internet
Up is down and down is up. After five days of clouds and rain across the Baltic, our arrival in Helsinki coincided with blue skies and highs in the mid-70s. You wouldn’t know you were in the EU’s northernmost capital.
Earlier today, we toured Suomenlinna, aka “the Gibraltar of the north”.
The story goes as follows: the Finns, then part of the kingdom of Sweden, starting building the fortress in the middle of the 18th Century (financed by gold from France) to keep the western-looking Russians at bay. Suomenlinna translates as “Finnish castle”.
Fast-forward a half-century: Finland becomes part of Russia, the garrison thus flying the Russian flag for the next century – despite a naval attack by the British and the French (who paid to help build the monstrosity) during the Crimean War.
Second fast-forward: Finland takes control of the fortress once it declares its independence in 1919. In the Second World War, it’s used by Finnish forces in military sorties against . . . its old tenants, the Soviets (ex-Russians).
Sounds like America’s experience in Afghanistan, where the dance partners – Brits, Russians, Americans, Afghan freedom fighters, Afghan oppressors – have changed over the past few centuries.
Sunday’s port of call was Stockholm. My favorite thing about the city: leaving it. And that’s not meant as an insult.
In order to sail from Stockholm to Helsinki, one exits a 30-mile archipelago that contains about 30,000 specks of land (“islands, rocks, reefs, stones, we count them all,” our tour guide said). Sailing through the waters, as the sun began its gradual descent, the shoreline could not have been any prettier. Imagine four hours on a slow cruise past quaint summer villages and retreats, children’s camps, plus scads of sail and speedboats. A fitting end to one of the most photogenic towns I’ve ever visited.
As for our time in port, I’m happy to report that almost 56 years to the day that he was denied an extra day of shore leave, thus preventing a visit to the Grand Hotel, Midshipman Whalen finally got to belly up to the bar (his favorite, a mai tai – he said it was worth the wait).
Prior to the afternoon boozing, we took in the Vasamuseet, home of the mighty Swedish warship that sank in Stockholm harbor on her maiden voyage in August 1628, only to be raised out of the muck 360-plus years later, largely restored and put on exhibition as a tribute to Sweden’s ambitious past as a competitor for Baltic dominance.
About the sinking: it seems the Swedes made a serious design blunder. They had installed two gun decks instead of the usual one and didn’t figure the need for additional ballast. Small wonder the Vasa toppled with only two sails hoisted in a mild breeze.
Moral of the story: following the sinking (made worse by the fact that few Swedish sailors knew how to swim), the public wanted someone’s head on a stick. An inquiry was held. Naval officers and architects were grilled. In the end, everyone was criticized for losing the ship. But nobody took the rap.
Why do I get the sense that this is how the debt-ceiling stink is going to end? The public not liking the deal. Everyone involved in the tragic voyage to blame, but no one paying the price (taxpayers excluded).
We also stopped at the Stadshuset, site of the Stockholm side of the Nobel presentation. I asked a local what she thought of Obama winning the Peace Prize, as Nobel’s original intent was to laud those who had “conferred the greatest benefit on mankind“ (translation: lifetime achievement; body of work).
Her response, with a smile and a shrug of the shoulders: “I love the Norwegians; I don’t always understand the Norwegians.”
Tomorrow: St. Petersburg.
Already, the organized chaos that is visiting Russia is complicating matters. Arrival and departure cards have to be filled out. The ship’s dinner routine is altered due to evening excursions. Warnings have been posted about pickpockets, avoiding local drinking water, and byo toilet paper if departing the ship.
We lose yet another hour of time tonight. And our Internet service, due to our geographical position (60 degrees north latitude).
Primitive, nyet?
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Re: From Russia with Love . . . And No Internet
Oh! You should stop by Теремок for some blini! Delicious. I think there's one on Nevsky Prospect.
Enjoy Petersburg. I love that city.