Dog food

*NZ woman to send dog food to starving children

A New Zealand woman plans to send 6,000 packs of dehydrated dog food powder to starving children in Kenya.

Christine Drummond, founder of Mighty Mix dog food, told The Press of Christchurch today that her mixture, called NZ's Raw Dry Nourish, would be shipped in March to Rusinga Island on Kenya's Lake Victoria.

She said it was made of freeze-dried beef, mutton, pork, chicken, deer velvet, green lip mussels, kelp, garlic, eggs, whole grain cereals and flax-seed flour - the same ingredients she puts into her company's dog biscuits.

Drummond said she was working with Kenya's Mercy Mission charity, which would add water to the powder to create a "nutritional supplement."

"The dogs thrive on it," Gaynor Siviter, an agent for Mighty Mix dog food, told the paper.

"They have energy, put on weight. It's bizarre, but if it's edible and it works for these people, then it's a brilliant idea. It beats eating rice."*


I mean... honestly! She has claimed that the 42 k amount of this food would feed as many as 160 children for two months, which leads to each child eating 4,3 kilos of this loveliness per day. Great thinking.

I read this quality newspiece while I was enjoying a highly sophisticated lunch of meat & cabbage casserole, which very much looks like dog food: brown and green mush of something you'd have no idea what it is about.

But I am a Finn returning back to Hel and this is my first lunch in my new home. Saying no to all fascinating, imaginative and sensual take-outs and Hel restaurants and opting for a dog food lunch is my priviledge. But I also had some feta cheese salad with my pile of mush, so maybe I'm just half a puppy.

Another Finnish specialty in the horror chamber of ready-made meals is liver casserole, brown mush of something you'd have no idea what it is about. There are different schools. First, there's the raisin debate, whether to have raisins in your liver casserole or not. In shops, you find two kinds. Some media hype personality was just asked this crucial question of whether he prefers his with or without raisins, and he replied that he prefers his liver casserole without liver.

So it isn't everyone's, ummm, cup of tea. But for those who enjoy this liver cup of tea, there are more debates - whether to have it with ketchup or not, and further on, heated or cold. The most interesting preference I've heard so far is to have liver casserole with ketchup, and cold, "Because warming up just destroys that lovely mega size industrial food taste of the casserole." I can't remember whether this guy was a raisin man or not, but he surely likes his convenience food. I've also seen him dip fridge cold wieners in a jar of hot mustard. Yummy.

Blinfully happy

Sigh of relief. There's such a huge symbolic value of Tarja Halonen having been re-elected as our president, and, who knows, it might also have some practical bearings, at least with the NATO question.

Just before I came back to Hel, I met someone who was born in Vancouver (one of those three people who actually have!). She described how she misses all the cultural buzz in Europe when she's away, but also feels how it is imposed on her while she stays in Europe, visiting Finland on a regular basis. That is so true: in the case of Vancouver, it isn't too vibrant a city, but then again, that lack of Overloaded Buzz typical of European culture gives a great opportunity and freedom to do your own thing. In the detached bubble that Vancouver is, it is easy to build yourself a life of your own liking, construct yourself anew. The Vancouver spirit is made for entrepreneurs. I feel grateful; in an indirect way, Vancouver helped me give the motivation and insights that my work is now based on.

Our Siberian exhilaration is over, at least for now, and Hel has descended into its normal hovering-around-zero winter blues.

There were some absolute soul-food moments last week.

While driving through a snowy landscape with Coldplay's sweet and melancholy 'Talk' on the radio (what a U2 guitar that song has!), I realized how much has changed. While gazing at the silhouette of silent woods and fields and frozen waters I suddenly remembered how we were driving on the same road from our trip to London in February 2001. I was terrified. Having moved from England six months before, Finland felt like such a depressing hellhole, a country where nothing happens and a country that makes anyone prematurely dead. Now, I was simply happy and cozy and nostalgic with the exact same landscape. And I'm even ready to admit how there is so much happening here that I feel overwhelmed. I must be prematurely dying.

A staring nation, that's what we Finns are. Two weeks in, and we still wonder everytime someone stares at us if there's a spot of coal on our noses or spinach in our grins. But oh no, in this blessed country, the further apart you are from someone, the longer and harder you need to stare. And you need to look strangers in the eye as much as possible, with as much terror in your eyes as possible. That should suffice and scare away any outsiders. Or make them go and study how owls behave.

Yay, there's nothing better you can eat in Hel in winter than blins. These thick pancakes made with buckwheat are served with fish roe or caviar, chopped onions, sour cream, gherkins, forest mushroom salad, smoked salmon and pickled beets. Blins offer another reason to down some ice cold vodka, but I had mine with a glass of South African white wine which worked perfectly.

Documentary festival hit the spot. 'The Campaign' ('Vaalitaisto'), by Pasi Riiali & Mikko Peltonen, a tragicomic story of two young chaps and their local election campaign in a small Finnish village is sure to give good laughs, and will be on tv next week, Feb 8 (TV2 in Finland). Another gem I spotted was 'Down and Out' ('Ihan pihalla'), by Virva Guttorm, a story of a young woman searching for her Sami identity (she has a Finnish mother and a Sami father), also with comic elements.

I'm constantly wondering what home, roots and living abroad mean for different people and so I interviewed Guttorm, who is a true cosmopolitan (I mean neither the cocktail nor the magazine - damn this terminology deflation!), hoping to build bridges between different cultures. She just flew to live in the States, after a life so far spent in Utsjoki, Austria, Germany, Norway and several Finnish towns.

Found: Cool art, warm wine and a fab home

http://www.kiasma.fi/ars06_html/index.php?lang=en

Got generously taken to a pre-tour of Ars 06 exhibition at Kiasma on Friday. Opposed to the previous Ars I saw in 1995 with its “Hey, I mixed my sperm and blood and urine in a blender and I want you to see my juices flow” type pieces (I'm not joking; there was a Danish artist Henrik Plenge Jakobsen who did exactly that. Chap's juices were also shaken in a washing machine) there was an atmosphere of sensuous contemplation instead of pure bodily intention to shock. Having been back in Hel for three days, still with jet lag, the timing was perfect.

Together with the stimulating works of art, we could peak at the beautiful slices of snowy white Hel through huge windows. Great shock treatment and a warm welcome at the same time. Gonna buy the go-as-much-as-u-like ticket at 15 euros; there are quite a few pieces that require more time (video installations, photographs). And just the pure joy of hanging around in the ingeniously designed space is good for anyone's soul.

I just wrote some lines, trying to describe our favourites works at the exhibition, but it's futile. They have to be experienced at the spot. This is what they say on the website:

"The subtitle of the exhibition is Sense of the Real. The human experiences like joy and sorrow are never far apart, but dependent on the perspective and on who experiences them. One person’s Paradise may be another’s Hell. Sometimes the first impression may be misleading. The works in ARS 06 are approachable and yet very complex. They also open up vistas to horrifying and hurtful things."

After the exhibition, went to have a glass of wine, which turned out to be warm – thanks to the obscure placing of the wine bottles near hot lamps. When our friend went to take his glass of red back, they simply remarked the bottles cannot be kept anywhere else (?!) and poured another warm glass to him.

Scrubbed and cleaned our new home this weekend, the place is fab but was also fabulously dusty when we first stepped in. Now that those black fingerprints are off the doors and there is a sweet scent of tar in the sauna, we can't wait to get our stuff and move in! We found ourselves gazing out the windows all the time. It is as if we have never seen pure white snow before. I'm tempted to grab my laptop and do my work from there already. Some lamps and a few other things needed, ahem, from IKEA I'm afraid.

Were supposed to go and vote today but it turned out the main post office reserved for the purpose had closed at two, when we were happily having lunch in an Indian restaurant. I have to say that watching the two exhausted, irritated presidential candidates who try to pretend they love and support everything does not exactly make you want to vote at all. So we went for a drink instead. We still have two days to miss the presidential gesture.

Friends tried to lure us to do some tobogganing yesterday, but people have been known to die in this weather (okay, it's just the hobos in Russia, but still). It should get “warmer” tomorrow, with only -4. Whoopee.

Our faces are all red and terrified from just 10-minute-maximum walks outside today. Five days in Hel, and I haven't been to sauna yet. Will go to the hotel sauna tonight. These extreme temperature variations (from -20 celsius to +80 celsius) during the Finnish winter are the biting spice of life.

All hail Siberia

Already at the smoky, smelly, stuffy, over-crowded, over-heated and under-airconditioned Heathrow I was thinking, I'm home. The lovely, old, rugged Europe.

Lesson of the day 1 in Hel was: don't try speaking outside with the North-East wind of 19 km/hr, it will grab and bite your lungs. The recommended policy is to speak as little as possible here, anyway. Just spare those vocal cords. Speaking and laughing are for foreigners and obscure-looking mammals that reside in Gobi desert.

It's five in the morning and I have been awake all night. Controlled transfer into another time zone, my ass. Will I ever learn to do it? I missed the Madonna documentary on the telly, steadily sleeping when it was on. Oh, the misery of life.

- 22, wind chill -32, broken clouds. I'm not sure whether this is a compliment or an insult: a friend of ours remarked that we have brought winter in town (they've basically had plus degrees here in Helsinki earlier this winter). It's clear that the weather fairies accompanying us must be high on something. I have had several welcoming e-mails with a reference to our very own domestic Siberia.

But it was still a heartwarming sight to see a bit of snow amidst all the silent spruce trees at the airport. Standing by the luggage merry-go-round, I could see all the solemn night owl gazes from behind glasses, and all men with ponytails, one of them wearing a borsalino, too. What's this, a spy movie?

So few cars on the roads.

At the underground station, I ran into a friend, who's getting married in a few weeks. The gorgeous plan is to do it on a frozen lake, in an ice castle. So to all those I have told virtually none of my friends get married and/or has kids, here we go: an exception. And this was my first day back in Hel. Who knows what lies around the corner?

Love the pure, wholesome food, the tangy black ryebread and fish and cheese. Love love love it.

Next week, will head to see a few films at the Docu festival, at least the successful documentary of not so successful Enron.

www.docpoint.info/eng/index.html

Almost happy songs

Another shade of rainy gray, the last one for us in Vancouver, has revealed its fugly face. Half a day of downtown downpour left.

Just to soak in another type of cheerfulness, I have been listening to 'Helsinki-Vantaa', a song of our beloved Hel airport, by the Finnish a cappella choir Semmarit (who we, curiously enough, last saw here in Vancouver. These guys mix stand-up comedy and slapstick humour with singing in a way that even when the lyrics are mostly in Finnish the audiences abroad totally enjoy the show. Plus they're cute. 'Nuf said).

A sample of Helsinki-Vantaa can be found at

http://www.semmarit.fi/www/english/hakkaan_helsinki.htm


HELSINKI - VANTAA

kotimaan naama on tylsä ja väritön
pilvien alla on lentokin tärinätön
vettä ja vilua viidessä polvessa
hämäriä ääniä hei herää
tää on helsinki-vantaa

kotimaan kamara on harmaa ja vakava
lasku on tukeva ja juhla on takana
matalasta portista katsetta kumaraan
kaulusta pystyyn ja hymy pois
tää on helsinki-vantaa

antaa muiden jäädä aurinkoon
me laskeudumme pitkään ahdinkoon


here's my quick translation, just to give the idea:

HELSINKI-VANTAA

face of homeland, boring and pale
not even flying beneath the clouds has vibe
rainy and frosty, already for five generations
curious sounds, hey it's time to wake up
this is helsinki-vantaa

soil of homeland, gray and grim
landing is sturdy and party is over
shallow gate makes the gaze go down
lift your collar and drown that smile
this is helsinki-vantaa

let others bathe in the sun
we are landing into deep desperation


Talking about the thrills of transportation, even better yet a song can be listened to here:

http://www.amateurtransplants.com/

- go to 'listen', click on 'London underground', lean back and enjoy!

Wet entertainment

Umbrellas drying in the bathtub seems to be the all too familiar and all too depressing sight just right now. It's curious how, now that we are about to leave this town, it keeps raining like no before; we have had a three-week drizzle galore. They say that Vancouverites would be no good in hell because they would simply not catch fire thanks to all the meteorological wetness.

Our three years in Vancouver have mostly been spectacularly beautiful, with lots of crisp and sunny summer and winter mornings. I have especially enjoyed the slow and mellow autumns. Luckily, this gray January rain won't pave any way for nostalgia.

Another curious 'n wet thing to have experienced upon leaving was a couple of days ago, when we travelled to Tofino on Vancouver Island. We went to see how the Pacific rages over in the storm season and got to relax in one of the best saunas - probably anywhere. Built by Finnish-born Sulo (whose name translates literally to 'Grace', being one of those cutey cute men's names we have in Finland, another example being Aarre, which translates to 'Treasure'), who lead his parents to Canada when he was just one year old, the design of this sauna was ingenously good.

The sufficient ventilation and humidity and softness were all there. And it was hot enough! Sulo had also incorporated an outdoor shower next to the sauna. Splashing ooozingly cold water all over in the pitch black January night while the Pacific waves were roaring in the background was definitely one of the best experiences of this new year.

Spring is here

The new year has hardly begun and the cherry trees are blossoming here already! Went for a walk today in Coal Harbour and in Stanley Park, where we had to look twice to believe what really was there. No, it wasn't a prank. Three cherry trees had really gone hormone crazy and were wearing pale pink costumes. I don't even have to dream of spring.

The horrible truth will of course uncover itself sooner than I think; spring in Helsinki is a long game of hide-and-seek and an event of getting anyone's faith tested. All doubting Thomases unite, you will have what you desire when Hel and spring collide.

Roo(s)ted Cosmos

Two weeks to go before I descend in Hel. What is it that I now suspect I'm going to miss from Vancouver? Landscape; mountains above all. Inexpensive, great sushi. A few exceptional people. Mild climate. Leisurely pace of life. Multiculturalism. Urban Fare and Capers (the nicest grocery stores!). The Daily Show with Jon Stewart – although it's an American telly show... Being surrounded by so much English language every day. Having everything virtually round the corner in Yaletown. Gym in my building. It remains to be seen what other things I may miss.

Quite a few people describe living in Vancouver by saying it's like being on a holiday. The outdoorsy, eating-out lifestyle and relaxed rhythm of life add to that feeling of being on a vacation, but so does the sense of being detached from the rest of the world, and the rest of Canada. This detachment is both physical and psychological. You need to make an effort to keep yourself involved and in the know, whereas elsewhere things like news and politics are pretty much thrown on your face whether you want them in your life or not.

The disconnectedness can be a huge advantage. Vancouver is a perfect place to be if you have your own thing to do, if you are an entrepreneur at heart or if you feel like hatching some ideas in peace and quiet. It's a comfortable, easy place to be – just like an ideal holiday destination. But the detachment has its downsides, too. Lack of career opportunities keeps the brain-drain going. There are no big employers and no international institutions, no robust finances. Quite a few people move to Vancouver expecting it to give them fab lives, but turn back after a while: they may love the great lifestyle, but are left with thin job opportunities. This is probably one of the factors keeping the headcount the same: there's just as much traffic in as there's out.

An interesting concept also to do with this detachment of Vancouver is “Rooted Cosmopolitans” (by Robert Kaplan): a group of people who have their physical homes in one place, but who move around a lot professionally and intellectually. Journalist Jennifer Brown described this phenomenon in the July 2005 issue of Vancouver magazine. Many of these new type of internationalists keep returning to Vancouver because they think it's the greatest place on Earth, only to flee again after professional projects.

So much of the work in the knowledge society of today happens on the virtual spheres that the amount of these Rooted Cosmopolitans must be growing globally. It's all about laptops and wireless connections, baby.