See no moose; eat no moose

I just wished Geof "happy birthday in time at home"--which means it's 5:25 in New York. Which means it's 12:25 a.m. in Finland. Which means I'll be up much later than I really want to be, but that is the routine we've fallen into here.

Teemu and Satu working on dinner

Last night, for instance, the entire poetry group had a great dinner made by Teemu and Henriikka, although others helped, too. At some point, a beer run was suggested and subsequently made, and so, we sat around the kitchen table drinking various Finnish beers and discussing various topics. Poetry, language, families, accents, travel, beer, Canada, the U.S., bad jokes . . . it was a good time. I kept looking out the window trying to determine the time, only to fail miserably. By 1:00 a.m., the sky had darkened just enough to give me the sense I was justified in feeling a little tired, and so we left. We walked up a short hill to our little apartment and went straight to bed, both of us tired from our long but enjoyable evening.

Today, Karri suggested that he Geof, Christian Bök and I go again to Naantali for dinner. This time, Naantali was teeming with tourists visiting the open shops and enjoying the beautiful summer weather. We had a fine dinner, and I chose the "game casserole," because Karri suggested the "game" was probably "moose." Unfortunately, since it's (apparently) not moose season, I did not eat a moose casserole, but we did determine that it was comprised of two different antlered (but indeterminate) animals. And I ate it all.

A Naantali doorway

After dinner, we searched for ice-cream and while most of us got pear, I tried orange-caramel. Earlier, we had walked by a group of women knitting beneath some trees with baskets of goods for sale. I stopped briefly but moved on. When we passed again, on our way out of town, I decided I needed to look more closely at their knitted goods, mostly socks of many colorful stripes. We also ran into the St. Birgit's Night procession, and since she is the patron saint of midwives and beer (makers?), what's not to like?

St. Birgit's procession

On the way home, we again searched for moose. Karri always says he can't promise that we'll see any, but he always has us looking. We have hope, anyway. By this time, it was about 11:30; the sky was light salmon, and a skin of fog hovered above the ground.

Because Geof and I are both writing about this trip, I'm well aware of our different perspectives. For instance, although I attended Karri's presentation today and enjoyed it, I will let him document it in more detail. I've also chosen not to write today about a performance we attended by Quo Vadis, a theater troupe housed at the Saari residence this summer. I, therefore, refer you to Geof's postings for more specific information about the poetry workshops and a different perspective.