Libraries & The Smell of Old Books.

I like libraries. Having said that, i hadn't been to one in Finland since i moved back from Paris a couple of years ago. And to be honest, in the last five years, visits to the library have been exclusively academia-related. Hours of essay-writing and crappy vending-machine tea, armfuls of textbooks, journal hunting in the dusty recesses of research rooms...you get the drift. 

Well, i decided to make it right and head to the library with the sole ambition of borrowing some entirely academia-unrelated reading. And so i traipsed off to Rikhardinkadun kirjasto. And quite the bibliophile's wet dream that place is, too. The library was founded in 1882, and the building retains a lot of its original features. The coolest of which is the book tower, which is the highest point of the library. A spiral staircase leads up to the very top floor, which houses English Fiction. You can see clouds sailing above you, looking up through the skylight at the top of the tower. It's old, charming and eerie in equal amounts. I wanted to find a corner, build a fort and sit there with a blanket, flashlight and a thermos of tea and spend the night reading books. It's kinda awesome.

I spent an hour browsing the bookcases (and smelling the books - yeah, i'm one of those sneaky, old-book-smell-loving library pervs), trying to figure out what i wanted to borrow. i realized i'm a complete library-noob, continuously marveling at the fact that i could just pick out any books, and they'd let me take them home to read. I had to remind myself several times that that is, indeed, the premise a library operates on. And they didn't have to be bricks of books that dealt with the consequences of modernity in regard with self identity, or critical essays about the role of media as the fourth estate. (Which are the kinds of books i've come home with on my most recent, academia-heavy library visits.)

So there i was, like a fat kid at an all-you-can-eat buffet, hoarding books. In the end, i didn't take out all the ones i wanted (they'll still be here next time, i told myself - another great thing about libraries), and got out the following: Factotum by Charles Bukowski (a marvelous account of women, booze and chronic unemployment in America during WWII), The Bloody Chamber by Angela Carter (absolutely fantastic reworkings of classic fairy tales; dark, erotic and always wondrous) and Filth by Irvine Welsh (i thought Trainspotting was brilliant, but this was better. Mental problems; genital rashes; substance abuse of all sorts; the misogyny, racism and corruption of the Scottish police force in the 90s and intestinal parasites. The shit, in other words.)

Having vicariously drunk myself into oblivion, killed Bluebeard and hosted a particularly observant and intellectual tape worm, i need something new to read. If you've read something awesome lately, do leave me a recommendation (and it doesn't have to involve intestinal parasites - although that would be a bonus, of course). And if you haven't, i recommend you drop by the library and pick up one the aforementioned reads (and smell some old books while you're at it).

 

Autumn: Mushrooms and Movies

It's September. Today i saw determined looking bar staff packing away terrace tables and chairs, probably to be seen next some time in May. On my walk home from a bar on the weekend i didn't see a single person sprawled out in the park, leisurely whiling away the hours between last calls and brunch next morning; a sight that has been a decadent affirmation of summer, and the happily ambivalent attitude to real life that goes with it. I refused to agree when someone stated it with conviction on the last night of Flow Festival, but now i can't deny it any longer. Summer's finally over.

Although this realization is often coupled with a sense of nostalgia and romanticized reminiscing of that far too short season, i don't mind autumn - in fact, it's quite welcome. I'm not gonna launch into that whole spiel about this being the time for some post-summer introspection, regular exercise, new projects and lighting candles when the rain pelts on your windows on a dark and dreary night. Nope. I'll leave that to womens' magazines (seriously, they tell you the same thing every year, WTF?). Instead, i'll tell you what i think is awesome about this season. In two words: mushrooms & movies.
 

The former were found in copious quantities in a rainy forest in Nuuksio over the weekend. First time in my life that i found torvisienet, which is why i was particularly excited upon spotting the curious looking fungi hiding under a fallen tree trunk (my mushroom book warned me one may easily mistake a torvisieni for a fallen leaf or other decaying plant material on the forest floor. You don't say? Luckily, that's not the case with any other mushroom). In any case, i reckon heading into the bush for some dinner ingredients is something everyone should have a go at. And there's still time, too, as the mushroom season extends until the end of October, at least (according to the aforementioned mushroom book, anyhow).

On the movie front, there's Helsinki International Film Festival, Rakkautta & Anarkiaa. Choosing which ones to see is the hardest part; there are so many movies it's confusing. I reckon your best bet (if you haven't got your tickets yet, that is) is to get a festival pass (11 films/70 euros), leaf through the catalogue, and pick your favorites. Unless you're on the ball with this and getting around to it early, you'll probably not get tickets to all the ones you wanna see. But i reckon this is a good thing, cause this way you can spend your remaining tickets on movies you wouldn't normally choose to see. It's nice to be taken out of your comfort zone and field of interest every once in a while - even if it is only cinematically. Personally, i'm quite looking forward to seeing Heartbeats, All That I Love, Dharma Guns and L.A. Zombie, among others. As well as spending most of my evenings this week in the comforting darkness of a movie theatre. 

Back at the ranch, the fungi was about to meet its end. The 'shrooms were thrown in a pan along with some onions, soy cream and a good handful of spices and herbs, and ended up on a plate with some wholewheat spaghetti, topped off with some parmesan. There's something awesome about eating food you've foraged yourself. Even if it is from a stretch of forest crowded on all sides by houses and infested with other urban foragers, and even if that thing moving on the sizzling frying pan happens to be a slug that's crawled out of one of the mushrooms, seriously wishing it wasn't gonna end up as the protein constituent of your next meal. When this amounts to too much excitement for autumn, i recommend you light those candles and invest in some knitting needles.

Eating Italian at Vaelsa Pasta & Co.

Some time ago, a little Italian restaurant took over the tiny space that used to house Subway at the Iso Roba end of Annankatu. While i quite enjoy the occasional sub, the presence of a new, non-chain Italian is a welcome addition to the Helsinki restaurant scene. So last Friday my mom, my brother and i decide to try it out.

They've done a nice job with the place. Gone are the harsh lights, clinical tiles and potato chip stands of the Subway days. In their place are low-hung, softly lit lamps, wall-to-wall carpeting and Italian music. They've turned the tiny space into a cozy, intimate restaurant. 

We skim the menu, which is versatile enough to offer a nice selection, while being condensed enough to make choosing easy. I opt for the Insalata Caprese for a starter (9.70e). The tomatoes are juicy and the mozzarella melts in your mouth. The pesto, of course, is home-made. 

My brother goes for the Bruschetta al Pomodoro (6/10e), which, he affirms between mouthfuls, is just as it should be. I sneak a bite; these flavors are why i love Italian food. Simple, straightforward, fresh ingredients. I wouldn't have minded the bread being a little more toasted, but apart from that, the starter was delicious.

The Risotto ai Funghi Portobello (15.50e) is the one of the three vegetarian mains on the menu; i choose it over the Pasta al Pomodoro (10e) and Pasta al Pesto (12.70e). Our mains take a while to get to us (the charming owner apologizes for this, as they're currently catering to a party of twelve that arrived just before us), but it's worth the wait. I'm a big fan of risotto, and i couldn't live without mushrooms. This is comfort food at its best, and i'm not disappointed.

I'm stuffed after the main course, but ordering dessert is the best part about eating out, so i decide i can manage the Sorbetto al Limone (5e). It's frothy, icy and very zesty, and in its lightness, a great way to finish off a big meal. My brother (who is on weekend leave from the army, and looks increasingly more like Skeletor every time i see him) goes for the Tiramisu (9.70e). I dig into it too, and it's gorgeous. I let Skeletor finish it, though. All in all, dinner was delicious, made all the more brilliant by the splendid company (this praise has nothing to do with the fact that my mom was awesome and picked up the bill). As far as i'm concerned, i say support your local Italian. 

Vaelsa Pasta & Co. Annankatu 4, 00120 Helsinki

Culture in the City: Pecha Kucha & Kiasma

September is looking like an interesting month. In addition to it seeming as if we're coming out of a scorching summer and plummeting towards winter faster than you can say 'global warming', it seems as if we're falling (if not quite as fast) towards sobriety. Or i am.

And i'm not alone, either. A group of us decided that after a summer of perpetual inebriation, it was time for some enforced alcohol-free quality time.

So not being drunk or shivering on the floor of the bathroom feeling the after-effects thereof, leaves time for doing a whole lot of other things things. Like getting cultured. Which is why on Thursday night i found myself at Kaapelitehdas for Pecha Kucha Night. Organized as part of Helsinki Design Week, the night saw 12 speakers from around the world giving design-focused presentations. The idea of Pecha Kucha (for those yet unacquainted with it) is that each speaker puts together a presentation of 20 slides and has 20 seconds to talk about each slide. This amounts to six minutes, forty seconds and a succinct, dynamic presentation.

Topics ranged from education to architecture, with a curious addition of a presentation focusing on architects' haircuts (probably my personal favorite). I hadn't been to a Pecha Kucha Night before, but i came out of there thinking that was 7.50 e well spent (all this stimulating knowledge for the price of a very expensive pint!), and i'd definitely go again.

A sober weekend is a curious thing. This hardly means i've never experienced one (i have. probably not recently, but it's been done), but perhaps i'm paying more attention to the difference now that abstinence has become this month's norm. In any case, this sober Sunday started off with brunch at Primula (who have upped the price of brunch from 10 to 13 euros!) and was followed by a visit to Kiasma, which has been free of charge to go to all week as part of the 20th birthday celebrations of Valtion taidemuseo.

This museum visit's highlights included these bubbles, entitled ILMA, by artist Hilda Kozari, in which she has captured the signature scents of Helsinki, Paris and Budapest. I like the idea, and there's something surreal about standing in a bubble that attempts to trap the scent of an entire city into a little, opaque, echoey orb. I can see how Paris smelled like Paris (heavy on the perfumed, refined scent), while Kristine, Anna and I all agreed that Helsinki smelled of man. Does Helsinki smell like a man? I don't think so. Unless the characteristic smell of the city is a club filled with peach-fuzz mustache-sporting barely-legals who think that when it comes to aftershave, more is more.

Ei, by Pekka Syrjälä. This reminded me of thoothpaste.

The biggest highlight, though, was Jacob Dahlgren's The Wonderful World of Abstraction. This jungle of ribbons suspended from the ceiling was the best thing about the exhibit. You walk into it, and the flowing wall of color envelopes you and screws up your depth perception, so it's as if you're walking through a dreamlike, trippy, vertical rainbow.

i was also feeling these mismatched, stitched-up frankenstein toys. Endearing.

There's also a wall to which you can stick your own personal message on a post-it. A lot of them are from international museum visitors. Like this one, from Barney Stinson. Culture and sobriety are awesome.