i heart in May

1. Maailma kylässä -festari. The one and only place to be this weekend, and one of the only things i've had space in my life for recently; the office has become my second (sometimes first) home in the last months. (Currently writing this in the little bed i've made underneath my desk.) i love this job.
2. Fortune cookies. Kitschy and adorable. Bought some from Vii Voan on Hämeentie to cheer up the hardworking peeps at work. Deep insight along the lines of 'Charitable activities will stave off loneliness' goes down awesome in a group of sleep-deprived, hyperactive, semi-deranged festival producers.
3. Charley Harper. Birds, skulls, symmetry. 
4. My bike. Or Black Death, as i like to call him. This rickety wonder-vehicle takes me swiftly from Kaisaniemen puisto to our office in Töölö - a trek i've been making at least twice a day for the past week. Often with random festival site-bound equipment strapped precariously to the frame.
5. Beirut. I must have been living under a rock when this band showed up, cause i've only recently discovered it. Carnivalesque, obscure, merrily haunting music that's ideal for when you're writing.
6. Luau Tattoo. Saw Iris' sketch for my new tat today - it's gorgeous and i cannot wait to have it done.
7. Arcade Fire. And moreover, having gotten a ticket for the gig at Senaatintori at the end of June.
8. Nosturi's roof. That thing just slid open after the Endstand gig. I knew it could do that, but seeing it was something completely different.
9. The Hipstamatic app for the iPhone. Seeing life through a pseudo-artsy, old school lens; i love the feel this app gives photos. 
10. Peppermint tea. Cause hell, it's peppermint tea.

A One Night Stand

There was something significant about Saturday night. In addition to savoring the glorious feeling of a subsiding hangover, standing in line outside Nosturi, i was taking in the buzzing anticipation rippling through the crowd. Bittersweet as it may be, this is the one and only, last ever gig Finnish punk fiends Manifesto Jukebox and Endstand are ever gonna play. 

The folks in line know this, and this is surely a show some of them have been looking forward to for years. At nine in the evening, the line is immense - the second half of which was behind me at the time the above photo was taken. Nosturi is sold out. 

The place is packed. After making it inside, i spend most the Wasted gig trying to find a spot where 160 cm is a tall enough height to get a view of the stage. These spots are scarce in a sea of fist-pumping people and the occasional stage-obscuring Mohawk.

Manifesto Jukebox has been around since 1998. It's clear these guys know what they're doing, and after the first five minutes it becomes evident their attitude hasn't suffered  regardless of their absence from the Finnish punk scene in the past couple of years. I gotta hand it to Antti Luukkainen. In addition to being rather charming in his role as vocalist for the Atom Notes and singing bluesy tunes in Last Calls, he manages a rather convincing scream. My admiration is cut short when, suddenly, from somewhere in the dimness, a pint comes sailing and hits me in the head. Having stated my whopping height above, and the ratio of tall people and even taller hair, i'm not sure how this was possible, seeing as i was quite concealed (at least when it came to glimpsing the stage). Nevertheless, the plastic vessel in question managed to avoid every head but mine. I almost had to laugh when it happened - this was clearly karmic payback for the unproductive and slightly hazardous habit of pint-throwing i sometimes slip into in the wee hours of the night. That'll teach her. There's no question, i deserved it.

By the time the band finishes, the heat is becoming intense. I race to the bar (along with half of the folks there) and, after deciding not to risk what's promising to be a good night with a beer, order a pint of coke. I weave my way in back through the crowd and we settle in front of the black curtain drawn in front of the stage and wait.

  

I've never seen Endstand before, i've only heard stories describing the relentless energy of frontman Janne Tamminen. And i'm not disappointed. He looks like a big kid on stage. Until he opens his mouth. And roars. He has a presence, and he puts all of it into the music. A circle pit forms almost instantly, drawing half of the people present into the spiraling whorl. There's clapping and screaming. There are fists in the air. There are people on stage, jumping into the audience. There are people who have flown in just to see this gig.  "We're just a bunch of small town guys who had too much time on their hands - if we can do this anyone can", Janne says. Too quickly, the gig is over and the guys have left the stage. I realize my t-shirt is sticking to my back. I turn around, look into the crowd and see something i've never seen before: the roof of Nosturi is sliding open. It looks more than a little surreal, seeing the clouds from inside. The night air feels nice. What a night of firsts and lasts.

Saddest Summer.

Friday, 21.00, Koffin puisto

Green patches of grass grow scarce on the slopes of Koffari as groups of people flock into the park. Plastic bags full of bottles clink and the chatter gets louder as the Friday-minded merrymakers find somewhere to sit. Phones ring as missing friends are directed this way, someone's ghetto blaster can be heard from halfway across the park, while some drunkard sneakily peeing against the brick wall gets fined by the police, who are also spending the evening on the grassy knolls of Helsinki's nicest outdoor living room. It's the hottest day of summer so far. In addition to the temperature, spirits and alcohol intakes alike, are high.

Friday, 22.30, somewhere between Kamppi and Töölö

It's still warm as we make the trek towards Korjaamo to check out Leaders of the Republic. I'm in a shopping cart, thereby proving to myself that both a thirteen-year-old and a jackass reside somewhere inside of me. Buildings flash by as the cart speeds downhill. It's a pleasant mode of transport. Up until the point where we hit a curb and i catapult out of it and hit the pavement.

Saturday, 03.00, Bar Loose

We've made it from Korjaamo to Loose. This time on foot. We're starving and craving burgers. After sitting around with pints for the best part of an hour, convinced they've stopped serving food already, Linda goes to the bar, to make sure. Just in case they haven't. Turns out they have. Three minutes ago. Face-palm and epic failure. We look at each other and sip on our beers in silence.

Saturday, 11.00, Hietsun kirppis

It's hot. Anne and Karri have arrived at the market at eight in the morning with what seems like a truckload of stuff. They're gonna make some money. I'm gonna need somewhere to sit. My head hurts and i want food. I'm not the only one suffering; their Boston terrier, Lara, is hanging her tongue out and keeling over under a table in the heat. The scorching sun, the haggling crowds and acute dehydration are making me want to do the same. Feeling like my presence might result in an undesirable effect on sales akin to that of the Valtsu flea market expedition some months ago, i wander off into Koffari via Subway for some breakfast, and leave them to do business.

Saturday, 15.00, Taivallahden satama

Some food, a banana split flavored ice cream and bike ride later, I'm on a boat. It's awesome. Taivallahti is gorgeous, the sea is sparkling and the breeze is working wonders on my aching brain. The cider is cold and the conversation verging on the absurd. The toilet on-board isn't functioning, so we frequent the public facilities at Mestaritalli's terrace. The only problem is that we don't actually have the key to the harbor gate. You need this key to open the gate, regardless of which side of the gate you are on. The people from the neighboring boat, who were kind enough to loan us their key, have left. We're on our own. We hope our cunning piece-of-rope-holding-door-open plan is foolproof. 

I head towards the toilets. The gate is closed. Locked. I'm stuck on this side. The wrong side. I glance back to the boat at the end of the pier. The folks on-board can't be of much help. I look from the water to the toilets on the other side of the gate. Not feeling like swimming, i go for the lesser of two evils and decide to climb over the metal frame around the gate. Easier said than done, but on a intoxicated summer Saturday when you really need to pee, you find yourself doing wondrous things.

Saturday, 21.00, Bar Loose

We've been craving these burgers for ages. Especially after last night's failed attempt at a midnight snack. So here we are, this time before three in the morning, for some long-awaited sustenance. We set off towards Koffari with burgers in tow. It's still light out. Koffari is, if possible, even more packed than on the night before. We walk through the entire park, trying to find our friends. It's a frigging circus. Pre-pubescent teens hurling in a bush. A group of hammered guys leering at the female police patrolling the park. Hipsters with guitars. Gypsies collecting bottles. A dude doing some fire-juggling. I sit down to eat my burger and survey my surroundings. This is madness. My burger is awesome. If this weekend is anything to go by, this summer is gonna suck big time.

Trying to Hate Siltanen

I don't get thrown out of bars often. Granted, it may have happened once or twice, but it's not like it's an everyday occurrence. So ever since i almost got thrown out of Siltanen some months ago (a dramatic tale involving a birthday party, a snowstorm and some jaeger bombs) i've held a bitter and thoroughly justified grudge against the place itself, and certain members of the bar staff especially, whose textbook hipsterishness coupled with a  total ambivalence towards customer service have left me dumbstruck on more than one occasion.

However, despite this deep-seated disfavor, i'll confess that on equally as many an occasion i've found myself spending the sunny hours of a summer evening lounging on said restaurant's terrace with a cold drink in hand and a plate of food in front of me. Nevertheless, where the service disappoints, the food has yet to.

This Monday was no exception, when six starving ladies sat down for dinner. Siltanen brought in a new summer menu not too long ago, which features sandwiches, soups, salads and the like – with vegetarians taken into account too. Prices average about a tenner, which won't set you on the road to bankruptcy. Also, portions are a good size, so making a pit stop by the dodgy-looking hot dog cart on your way home won't be necessary.

I decided to go for Ali Baba's Feast, a huge platter of hummus, spicy pita bread, couscous, aubergine dip, taboulleh, falafel and tzatziki. I reckon this platter is big enough to share between two, but such was the magnitude of my hunger that i devoured it all single-handedly. Washed down with a pint of ice cold Crowmoor, it was gooood. Falafels were crisp, the spiciness of the bread was a nice touch and the hummus was delicious. It's worth mentioning, though, that this here Ali Baba comes laced with garlic, to the extent that you can still taste it two days later. In any case, well worth the 12 euros.

And though Anne's Galette sandwich probably featured more meat than bread, i had to take a picture just to document the ambitious presentation. I'm told that in addition to good presentation, the taste was also spot on.

So yeah, Siltanen, as long as you make food this good, i simply can't hate you, no matter how hard i try.

Siltanen, Hämeentie 13 B

Yesterday Was Gorgeous.

And a good day. Because of the small things. Strange dream of Quick Draw McGraw. Huge mug of tea in the morning. Biking to work in the sunshine. 'Mama, i wanna go surfing' blaring on the iPod. A laughter-inducing text message outlining drunken escapades of nights before. 

Lots of little things.  Somewhere in between recording a radio ad and having a power lunch at the Nepalese on the corner, i spotted a bunch of Mayday balloons. Meandering outside someone's window, stuck to the power cord, this flock of superheroes  and my little ponies left over from the previous weekend's mayhem made me smile. 

The sunshine persisted well into the evening, when a gang of hungry women decided to dine at Tori. The restaurant no longer serves alcohol, which, in the eyes of many, is a fairly sad thing. The food, however, is still good enough a reason to pay the place a visit. What's more, the kitchen was happy to satisfy my veggie burger-craving by whipping up a hearty tofu burger, even when it wasn't on the menu. 

At the end of the day, full of food and seriously sleepy, i biked home, still smiling, like some victorious urban cowboy riding into the beautifully pollution-tinted sunset of an urban cityscape. 'Yessir', i thought to myself, as the empty beer cans tumbled by in the dry evening breeze; 'it was a good day, this one'. Now if only yesterday could Quick-Draw-McGraw today's offensively frigid and thoroughly drenched ass.