Things to do on a Sunday.

Sometimes i think i fail to adequately appreciate the awesome feeling of waking up on a Sunday without a hangover. Personally, a lethal headache coupled with vertigo-inducing nausea and an aversion to light to rival that of Dracula's keep me from accomplishing much on a hung over day. Unless the aim is to lie paralyzed on the couch, unable to tear your eyes away from the Sunday marathon of The City assaulting you from MTV, and dream of a pizza you can't muster the physical strength to order. And let's face it: this is rarely the aim of any day. 

So this morning i awoke to the sun streaming into my apartment through the blinds, the icon of sobriety and spring cheer. And spent my day doing cool things, a few of which i've compiled in a list below, aptly entitled:

Cool things to do when you're not hung over on a Sunday.

1. Read a book in bed. I'm currently on Kingdom of Fear by Hunter S. Thompson, and must say my Sunday got off to a good start with a concise depiction of the stupidity of a past U.S. president, entitled 'Jesus Hated Bald Pussy'.
2. Bake scones for breakfast. Super easy to make, delicious to eat. Not as good as getting breakfast in bed, but probably the next best thing. Enjoy with the Sunday paper and extra strong Earl Grey. 
3. Write. I never seem to find the time to write non-work related stuff during the week, so i took the opportunity to get some words on paper today. What came out was a short story about a lonely recluse of a taxidermist. 
4. Listen to your Sunday playlist. You know, the one that's got all the right songs for a lazy Sunday. Mine currently includes The Drums, Midlake, Ella Fitzgerald and The Cranberries. There's nothing like singing in the shower with Dolores.
5. Venture outdoors. I went on a treasure hunt of sorts today. To the graveyard. The reason for this (apart from my graveyard fetish) is an old book i found at Hagelstam's some months back, which maps out the entire Hietaniemi Graveyard in terms of the most historically and culturally significant grave sites, and tells you who lives under the tombstones. Which is awesome. So there i am, amidst the headstones, breath fogging and book in hand, just before sunset. What i didn't take into account was that there's been so much snow recently that it's hidden half the headstones from sight, as well as blocked all but the main pathways. So i didn't get far on my graveyard adventure, but i did get to see a pretty sunset. As far as Sundays go, i'm not complaining. 

Valtsu Flea Market

It happens at least once a year, sometimes more frequently. It starts with you looking for your Horrorpops t-shirt. You go through your closet, pulling out piles of jeans, t-shirts and long johns. You know it's in there somewhere, but you can't find it. Instead you find your ex-boyfriend's socks, a ridiculous torn top proclaiming you're on a pub crawl, and a pink-and-silver striped cardigan you haven't seen in six years (and wish you hadn't come across now). By the end of this useless scavenger hunt, you know it's time. You call your friends (who, curiously enough, often have coinciding cases of losing favorite clothes into the seething black hole that is one's wardrobe), and set a date. And before you know it, you're hauling numerous blue Ikea bags of stuff into a tram at a ridiculously early hour on a Saturday.

This is what i found myself doing not too long ago. Bleary-eyed, tired as hell, i got off the tram at Valtsun kirppis, looking like a deranged bag lady suffering the after effects of a previous night's drinking. Which was more or less the truth. I blow on my fingers, which, in fingerless gloves, are already blue. Hoisting the bags higher on my shoulder, i venture into the building and find our table. 

Valtsu flea market, at Vallilan Makasiinit, is the biggest flea market in Finland that's open all year round. On the weekends, it's a hub for peddling grannies, vintage-hunting fashion-aficionados, thrift-store-favoring students and seedy old men on the lookout for back issues of porn mags (okay, maybe i made the last one up. maybe not. whatever). The premise is to get there as early as possible, with as much stuff in tow as you can manage, and leave in the afternoon with as little stuff and as much cash as possible. For some reason, what frequently happens in my case is that i end up going home with no money, but just as much stuff. (new stuff, tho. or other people's old stuff, but still.) Which is pretty much what happened this time, too. 

This time, i managed to get rid of some of the ugliest shoes i've ever owned (with the added bonus of the lady who bought them being over the moon with her purchase), some really awful clothes (a black top, curiously rubber-looking from afar. And up close, too, actually.) and some jewelry circa 1999. What i managed to find for myself was way cooler: a black tie and pearls, a very Kurt Cobainy grunge dress, and the perfect smoothie glasses. 

I think i went home with about a tenner in my pocket, while my good-spirited, amicable and easily-approachable friends sold item after item, pocketing some serious coinage. So on my part the money-making goal wasn't quite realized. Neither were my well-rehearsed, fool-proof sales skills and marketing techniques or pleasant demeanor. Ladies, the boozy, blue-fingered, haggard-looking bag lady would like to offer an apology. Next time we do this, it'll be a sunny summer day and we'll be by the seaside, at Hietsun kirppis instead. Where bag ladies (and other folk) can counter last night's drinking with ice cold pints from the restaurant terrace just meters away. Ah.

Valtsun kirppis at Vallilan Makasiinit on Wednesdays, Saturdays and Sundays from 9-15.

Book a space online here. Prices about 26 euros per day.

One Night in Tampere.

Last Friday, three in the afternoon. I leave work, jet home. I throw stuff into a bag, grab a toothbrush and scamper by Subway for something to eat. I get into the car, slam the doors shut and head to Kallio. By four i'm in Kallio, waiting for my media-making colleague and the camera equipment he's brining. At 16.10 he gets into the car and tells me we have a a bit of a hitch when it comes to the gear. It's a little broken. It's okay, we're not running that late yet, we can swing by to get another camera. Agreed, we jet to Punavuori, where we get hitch-free equipment. At 17.35 we're ready to head off. Only 35 minutes behind schedule. This is where the weekend starts. Tampere, here we come. 

19.00, more or less. We find ourselves in Pispala, outside Vastavirta-klubi. On time, with functioning equipment. We meet up with Jenni, our camera woman for the night. The night is looking good, there's a four band lineup of punk. Inside, we have a pint and discuss strategy. We're here to interview Tampere-based garage duo, Jaakko & Jay (#3 of tonight's lineup), as well as the owners of the club that's fast becoming a legend. 

I like this club, and wonder why i've never been here before. It's a good kind of dodgy, like Lepakkomies or Semifinal. The kind that makes you feel at home. Plus there's a foosball table with sticky handles. The dudes from the band sit down to eat (apparently the veggie food used to be better, but is still not bad). We play some foosball after (and at this point my delusions of greatness at said sport shatter), as i'm told that foosball (or Kicker, as it's called here) is taken very seriously, with regular grand tournaments, t-shirts and the like. 

Jaakko and Olli (a.k.a Jay) are more laid-back than a bus-full of stoned hippies. And good-humored too, not to mention polite. They offer incessant social commentary bordering on standup comedy. And it's obvious that they do what they do cause they love doing it. We're happy with the interview (having managed to include a question on shoes that are too small to fit big feet). They head off to do their sound check, we head off to hound down one of the owners of the club. 

We find Piitse and ask him to sing Vastavirta's praise. He's quiet for a while, shrugging, and concludes finally that it must be the good music that draws in the crowds. This is also a man who's clearly where he wants to be. I'll wager Vastavirta lacks a polished branding strategy (actually i'll wager it lacks polished anything), as well as intentions of expanding outside the borders of Tampere (like Ruma, the other Tampere native that appeared in Helsinki one day). Piitse confirms this is not where they're going. They're happy here, doing what they do. And they do it well. 

So do Jaakko and Jay. As always. The energy emanating from these guys on stage is like a sonar blast rattling your innards. Songs are punctuated by the intermission of their famous in-between commentary. They're ready to dispense with the police, assholes and most political parties. With giant smiles and sweat flying. The crowd goes crazy. The hand cam (and me with it) take a fall in the front row when a huge guy (who's seriously feeling the music) jumps backwards and lands on me. He pulls me back up, gives me a thumbs up and climbs on stage with the band. They don't mind at all.

The interviews will go up on soffa.tv as soon as we're done editing. Which will be soon, in any case.