Across the Baltic, Into Helsinki
I woke up around eight in the morning.
In the other beds of our four-berth cabin, Sourav and Dipayan were still fast asleep. I quickly freshened up, pulled on a jacket, grabbed my camera and stepped outside.
The lift took me up to Deck Nine.
Our cruise was sailing through the deep blue waters of the Baltic. Above us stretched an endless blue sky. And all around us blew the Baltic’s famous, bone-chilling wind.
I bought a cup of tea from the restaurant at the front of the deck and lit a cigarette. I was tired after the overnight party on cruise, but there was no trace of fatigue on either my body or my mind.
Our destination was Helsinki—the capital of Finland, tucked away in the north-eastern corner of Europe, on the shores of the Baltic Sea and the Gulf of Bothnia.
The previous evening, we had left the office and taken the metro to the harbour. Our cabin was one of the cheaper ones, with four berths and no windows. But windows were hardly necessary. The cabin was below the waterline.
The three of us—Sourav, Dipayan and I, three colleagues and friends living in Stockholm—had decided to visit Finland. But only Helsinki. You don’t really need much time to explore Helsinki. The rest of Finland needs considerably more time, and that was something we simply didn’t have.
So the plan was simple: an overnight cruise from Stockholm across the Baltic Sea to Helsinki, a full day in the city, and the same cruise back to Stockholm that evening. The return fare was available as a combined ticket too.
A little sea voyage in the chill of autumn. Helsinki’s churches. And nature put on its annual show as the leaves turned gold, yellow, orange and red.
But sightseeing alone isn’t enough. There has to be a little shopping too.
For people in the Nordic countries, these cruises are something of an institution. The duty-free shops on board offer alcohol at considerably cheaper prices, and many travelers use the opportunity to stock up for at least a month.
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The previous evening, we had left the office and taken the metro to the harbour. Our cabin was one of the cheaper ones, with four berths and no windows. But windows were hardly necessary. The cabin was below the waterline.
Once the sun went down around five, the cruise came alive. Magic for children, singing, a short play, a Greek musical group, and then dancing.
People of all ages held their partners close—ballroom, salsa, everything.
After one in the morning, the disco began.
And somewhere around the dance floor, strangers began talking to strangers.
Behind fountains of beer and clouds of cigarette smoke, eyes met. Conversations began. There were kisses, embraces and fleeting moments of intimacy.
By morning, sunlight would wash everything clean again, almost making those nights seem unreal.
“Good morning!”
Sourav and Dipayan had finally arrived on the deck.
“I knew Amlan would be right here,” Sourav announced. “When it comes to tea and cigarettes in the morning, Amlan is selfish.”
I burst out laughing.
Another round of tea arrived, and the morning adda began.
We were finishing our tea when something appeared in the distance.
Suomenlinna.
A small island fortress on the outskirts of Helsinki.
Suomenlinna is also known as the gateway to Helsinki. Two islands lie on either side, making it seem as though the Baltic Sea enters the city through a narrow doorway.
Once we crossed that narrow ‘chicken neck’, the sea began to scatter itself into islands.
Small islands appeared one after another—the kind of landscape geography books simply call an ‘archipelago’.
Green in summer. Ablaze with colour in autumn. Buried beneath snow in winter.
Here, a solitary house. There, a lighthouse. Somewhere else, nothing but trees. And sometimes just a bare piece of rock, lifting its head above the sea.
Beyond Suomenlinna, Helsinki slowly emerged.
First the city was little more than a dot. Then came church spires and towers.
They seemed almost to be calling us in.
We took only our camera bags and water bottles. Everything else stayed on the cruise; we would be returning on the same ship.
Once we got off, we decided to head west.
Most of Helsinki’s famous sights were actually to the north-east, but the park on our left caught our eyes.
Esplanade.
Three people from Kolkata were bound to be drawn to a park like this.
The colours of autumn were everywhere, and shadows played among the trees.
During summer, locals come here carrying baskets of food for picnics. They spend the day talking, laughing and relaxing before returning home.
Helsinki is a city of solitude. A city where people seem to have learnt the art of living alone.
Finland itself is sparsely populated. Across its vast landscape live only about 5.5 million people.
People are few.
And the parks are often quiet.
After wandering through Esplanade, we stopped for a chicken hot dog and another coffee before reaching the Market Square, Kauppatori, in front of the harbour.
It was bright, colourful and buzzing with life.
A local resident later told us, “When I get bored of not seeing people all day, I come to Kauppatori just to see people. But the crowd you see here? Ninety percent of them are tourists.”
Small stalls sold flowers, fruit, vegetables, souvenirs, home décor and cooked food.
We bought a Finland fridge magnet and a T-shirt and walked on to Helsinki Cathedral.
“Wow! Gigantic!” Dipayan was the first to speak.
“You don’t often see such a huge, dazzling white cathedral with green domes in the Nordic countries,” Sourav added.
“This one was completed in 1852,” I explained. “It’s Neoclassical architecture. Look at the main dome and the four smaller ones around it. And the columns at the front.”
Our cameras kept clicking.
“What a serene, dignified building,” Sourav said. “And look around. Even the tourists aren’t shouting.”
“Perhaps that’s the character of this country,” I replied. “Maybe the architect built the cathedral in harmony with the temperament of the people. The influence of one’s surroundings on an artist is eternal.”
We walked on to Helsinki’s Orthodox Cathedral, Uspenski Cathedral.
The two cathedrals were less than a kilometre apart.
“This is architecture we know,” Sourav said.
“Absolutely. Baroque architecture. Red brick. Green domes.”
“But you don’t often see Orthodox cathedrals in the Nordic countries.”
“Exactly. That’s what makes this one special.”
We rested for a while in the park outside.
We had eaten almost nothing all day except the hot dog and some cake that had long since disappeared into our stomachs.
It was time to eat.
Back at the Market Square, Dipayan spotted the moose meat.
“You get moose here, right?”
“It is extremely popular. Come on. Let’s let the moose take responsibility for filling our stomachs today.”
Three plates of moose meatballs disappeared almost instantly.
Delicious.
And nutritious too.
Our next destination was Suomenlinna.
We returned to the harbour, bought tickets and boarded the boat.
As we settled in, Sourav looked towards the city.
“So we didn’t get to ride the Helsinki Eye after all. It’ll be closed in this cold.”
The boat moved away from the harbour, carrying us towards the island fortress built in the eighteenth century.
Looking at it, Sourav said, “Doesn’t it remind you of the mystery of Tintin’s The Black Island?”
“Exactly! Although that was a castle and this is a fortress, the feeling is the same.”
The Swedish king had built the fortress at the edge of the Gulf of Bothnia and the Baltic Sea to protect against Russian aggression.
“He certainly picked an excellent location,” Sourav said. “No need for a moat. There’s sea on all sides.”
“And look at the geometry,” I said. “The outer stone walls form a polygon. Stone rising from the blue sea, with green everywhere inside.”
The boat reached the jetty.
We stepped ashore.
Sea water flowed through the fortress like narrow canals. Around it stood trees dressed in the colours of autumn—green, yellow and orange.
Two roads branched away from each other. A cannon stood further ahead. Beyond it was the little settlement within the fortress—houses, offices and, of course, the royal palace.
For two hours we wandered through Suomenlinna before taking the boat back to Helsinki.
By then, it was almost time for our cruise to Stockholm.
We had one last coffee at the Market Square and boarded the ship.
After freshening up, I went out onto the deck.
The cruise pulled away from Helsinki.
Slowly, the city receded.
The towers became smaller. The buildings faded. The familiar outline of Helsinki grew thinner and thinner until, finally, the entire city dissolved into a single straight line on the horizon.
On the way back to the cabin, I stopped at the duty-free shop and bought some beer and cigarettes.
The previous night’s lack of sleep and a whole day of walking had finally caught up with me.
I had a little drink, finished dinner and slipped into bed.
Outside, the Baltic carried us silently through the darkness.
One long, deep sleep later—
Stockholm.
Image Courtesy: Author
Aurora Borealis
By day, Amlan Chakraborty a technical architect in IT; by passion, he's an explorer, travel writer and photographer. During his travels, he savors the journey on foot or via public transport, immersing himself in the local culture at street food joints and book corners. Through his lens, he captures and shares the essence of nature, humanity, and cultural and socio-political moments.
