We're back from a trip to Tallinn, Estonia, which was declared this year's cultural capital of Europe (along with Turku). I think Vicky (a.k.a. Vikkinger) put it best in her status update:
"Wow, we had a great time, but now I need to get back into the academic groove.
I forgot to mention how happy I am to be volunteering at Doc Lounge this season. Basically I am selling tickets at the front door, putting up posters, and spreading the word around friends and university circles. I get to watch documentaries produced in Finland and abroad, which have been entertaining, informative and inspiring.
Last week I saw Ikuisesti Sinun (Forever Yours). The documentary followed several children who were taken into foster care. The main themes were childhood innocence and the relationship between children and their biological parents. The documentary wasn't so hard hitting, but the producer caught some beautiful moments. Moments of anger, loneliness, sadness and satisfaction. The audio and visual quality was great. I liked the editing; it was sometimes choppy, which paralleled the situation; and it was continuous, keeping our attention and understanding. However, the documentary raised several ethical questions for me: In a tense, emotional situation, how close may a documentarian get before intruding? How does she/he decide whether the dramatic scene is relevant to the story, at the vulnerability of the characters involved? What are the director's motives behind an emotionally-charged story like this? Does it matter?
I would like to intern at a documentary production company and see the process (thought and technical) of creating something like this. It's not just picking up a camera and shooting everything I guess...
Time for dinner, and then for more studies.
As a p.s., I'm really missing my mom.
Tuesday, October 25, 2011
Wednesday, October 19, 2011
Public Service Media, uncovering its flaws and virtues
"America is unique in its nearly complete reliance on commercial media to present comprehensive information about government and politics, to hold political and business elites to account through critical commentary and investigative reporting, and to provide a forum for a broad range of voices and viewpoints." (SaveTheNews.org)
A few days ago, I began working on a paper for a journalism course: Nordic Public Service Media in Global Comparison. But I soon realized that I was in need of some guidance. I remembered Marko Ala-Fossi, Lecturer in Radio at the University of Tampere, who gave a guest lecture about public service radio a few weeks ago. I decided to visit him in all my confusion about the public media system in the United States. The conversation inevitably turned to the Finnish media system. I left with clarity and focus, and with a lot more questions.
In Finland, there is a straightforward license fee of 295 euros per year that every household with a television pays. Twelve percent in Finland don't pay this fee. (In Italy, it's 25 percent.) "Free riding" is common especially among students, who don't want to incur extra costs. As a result, the current current Finnish government has made two big promises regarding the media system: it has promised to solve YLE's* funding system and it has promised to begin taxing newspapers. Newspapers receive substantial tax breaks and delivery subsidies. In 2008, YLE received 381 million euros. Indirectly, 313 euros went to support the newspaper industry.
The public media landscape in the United States is different. Americans pay 1.43 U.S. dollars per capita, and public broadcasting is relatively marginal. There have been many calls to eliminate all federal funding. Movements to save this funding are pointing to Finland and Germany, where people pay more to receive quality content. To this, Marko says that Finland is so small and with a small market. "People spend a lot of money per capita to make media vibrant."
*YLE is Finland's national broadcasting company.
To learn more about the Finnish public service media, visit:
A few days ago, I began working on a paper for a journalism course: Nordic Public Service Media in Global Comparison. But I soon realized that I was in need of some guidance. I remembered Marko Ala-Fossi, Lecturer in Radio at the University of Tampere, who gave a guest lecture about public service radio a few weeks ago. I decided to visit him in all my confusion about the public media system in the United States. The conversation inevitably turned to the Finnish media system. I left with clarity and focus, and with a lot more questions.
In Finland, there is a straightforward license fee of 295 euros per year that every household with a television pays. Twelve percent in Finland don't pay this fee. (In Italy, it's 25 percent.) "Free riding" is common especially among students, who don't want to incur extra costs. As a result, the current current Finnish government has made two big promises regarding the media system: it has promised to solve YLE's* funding system and it has promised to begin taxing newspapers. Newspapers receive substantial tax breaks and delivery subsidies. In 2008, YLE received 381 million euros. Indirectly, 313 euros went to support the newspaper industry.
The public media landscape in the United States is different. Americans pay 1.43 U.S. dollars per capita, and public broadcasting is relatively marginal. There have been many calls to eliminate all federal funding. Movements to save this funding are pointing to Finland and Germany, where people pay more to receive quality content. To this, Marko says that Finland is so small and with a small market. "People spend a lot of money per capita to make media vibrant."
*YLE is Finland's national broadcasting company.
To learn more about the Finnish public service media, visit:
Thursday, October 13, 2011
Midnight Musings
What makes communicating with Finns so distinctly different and "difficult?" While this may spark an interesting discussion drawing from literature, cultural norms and tradition, I am wary that this type discourse may perpetuate generalizations or visions of "us" versus "them."
Indeed, I am guilty of stereotyping. When people have asked, "How are people in Oregon?" I remember describing them as generally friendly, liberal and environmentally conscious. Generally? This is ridiculous. I also know conservatives who throw bottles and paper into the trash can. Anyway...
We don't fit molds. Do we? Do we actually try to place ourselves in molds? Are we really so different from each other? The more I try to get a grip on humanity and the complexities of the world, the less settled and confident I feel. My stereotypes, classifications and opinions are shattered as I am introduced to new people, places and ideas. But the shattered conventions in my thinking make way for clearer, deeper and more founded revelations. I become more vulnerable and open. And this can be interpreted in a million ways.
Indeed, I am guilty of stereotyping. When people have asked, "How are people in Oregon?" I remember describing them as generally friendly, liberal and environmentally conscious. Generally? This is ridiculous. I also know conservatives who throw bottles and paper into the trash can. Anyway...
We don't fit molds. Do we? Do we actually try to place ourselves in molds? Are we really so different from each other? The more I try to get a grip on humanity and the complexities of the world, the less settled and confident I feel. My stereotypes, classifications and opinions are shattered as I am introduced to new people, places and ideas. But the shattered conventions in my thinking make way for clearer, deeper and more founded revelations. I become more vulnerable and open. And this can be interpreted in a million ways.
Sunday, October 9, 2011
Weekend in Oslo, Hyvää viikonloppua
My lips are chapped from Oslo.
It was a weekend trip that we planned a few months ago. We booked a flight from Friday to Sunday for 26 euros. I was so caught up in studies and other obligations, that Oslo crept up as a surprise. The surprise would be a very scenic and adventurous one. There were 13 of us in total.
Friday morning, we took a six euro shuttle from the train station on Hämeenkatu to the Tampere airport. There we were scanned and screened thoroughly and rudely. 9:00 came, and we boarded. The flight was 20 minutes ahead of schedule, getting us to Norway (Rygge) in a little over an hour. Ryanair's classic trumpet celebrated the landing. A bit creepy.
There was a bus going from Rygge to Oslo for 210 krones (NOK) round trip. We had to wait 45 minutes until it came.
The bus ride was pleasant, but I was so tired from the previous sleepless nights to enjoy the landscapes. Anyway, there were forests and cottages. The sky was a light shade of blue. We were lucky.
At the Anker Hostel in Oslo, linen cost us an extra 50 NOK. We were frustrated about the unanticipated costs, but we were relieved to put our bags in the room and check out the city.
I should mention that this has been my first hostel experience. During my exchange in Spain, we took a week trip to Italy, staying in places that were called "hostels," but were hotels, and whose rooms we didn't share. In this hostel, we were four girls sharing a room with three strangers. The three other girls stayed with a man they found on couchsurfing, and the guys stayed in a different room. I was nervous about the hostel, but it wasn't bad. So, it was expensive and dirty, but probably livable for a few nights.
The sun gleamed on Oslo. People were smiling, walking their dogs and talking to each other. They looked at each other. I felt a warm, comforting sensation, like I had been missing out on public human companionship for months. The streets were narrower than the ones in Finland. There were many large buildings, making us feel closed in. McDonalds advertised its 10 NOK cheeseburger, better than the 90 NOK Big Mac meals. (Oslo is very expensive, if you haven't gathered.)
By the way, so many trees.
We walked past museums, through the city center and near the Domkirke church, completed in 1697. There seemed to be an explosion of color compared to Tampere. In the architecture, clothing, people, food, expression, etc. Our first destination was the Slottet (The Royal Palace). This is where the Norweigan and Swedish King Charles III lived in the 19th century. Today the Norweigan monarch resides there, and the palace was carefully guarded by three silent young men.
The other side of the palace wasn't so interesting, but there was a cute pond with ducks to look at. We proceeded to the National Gallery, where Munch's original painting Scream is living. At last, we didn't enter because it wasn't free and the Munch museum often held a different version of the painting (when we later went, there was no version at all). The day was wearing on and we decided to check out the Vigelandsparken (Vigeland Sculpture Park), apparently the world's largest sculpture park. The sculptures were impressive and evocative. I had never seen something similar.
Evening fell, and we had just enough energy to stop at a grocery store and make it back to our hostel.
At the hostel I met a guy from Israel who was fasting for Yom Kippur. He said that while he isn't so religious, he wanted to be respectful. After the army service, he traveled around Thailand for a few months. He arrived in Israel and began to work. Most recently, he has been traveling around Scandanavia and Berlin, and will start college as a journalism student this year. He's 25 years old.
I had a great sleep. And I really needed it. The following day, we checked out of the hostel and marched to the Munch-Museet (The Munch Museum). We went back to the city center for lunch (McDonalds) and then split up into two groups. One stayed in town. The other bought a transportation ticket for some longer excursions. I went with them. We took a 30-minute subway ride to the Holmenkollen Ski Jump. The subway became a train, and we saw the most beautiful Scandanavian landscapes of pine forests and cottages. We reached the final metro station (Frognerseteren) and walked down to the traditional Norweigan restaurant, overlooking Oslo. This is the area that Munch found inspiration to paint Scream. What a stunning view....
I should interject about how comfortable and easily my group traveled together. While we disagreed at times, we got along very well and had a great time together. Bonding with them is one of the most lasting memories I have from the trip.
The Holmenkollen Ski Jump was as tall and powerful as it looks in the pictures. I was so out of shape that it was hard to walk to the top. But I made it. After a half an hour, we were ready to be on our way.
Next destination: Island. Issue: All the museums we wanted to see on the museum were closed. It was almost night, and there was not much to see. Decision: Take a ferry to the island, and then take it back to Oslo.
The ferry ride was smooth. The staff members were friendly and chatty. I'll always remember Anika, who sold me(/forced me to buy in a motherly way) a popular Norweigan chocolate "Kvikk Lunsj" or Quick Lunch. She said I must try it with coffee. On the way back, I asked if Anika was from Oslo. "No," she replied. "I'm from the island. You know, all I do is hunting and fishing." I didn't know how to respond and she bursted out laughing. "No, I'm joking," she said. At the end of our conversation, she said, "Don't forget me and the Quick Lunch!"
At 9 in the evening, we met the Brazilian girls at the Opera House. We split up again, and didn't meet until our bus left from the Oslo station at 4 in the morning.
My feet were sore, my eyes were strained and my lips were chapped all the way back home.
Oslo was beautiful, and I am back with many memories.
It was a weekend trip that we planned a few months ago. We booked a flight from Friday to Sunday for 26 euros. I was so caught up in studies and other obligations, that Oslo crept up as a surprise. The surprise would be a very scenic and adventurous one. There were 13 of us in total.
Friday morning, we took a six euro shuttle from the train station on Hämeenkatu to the Tampere airport. There we were scanned and screened thoroughly and rudely. 9:00 came, and we boarded. The flight was 20 minutes ahead of schedule, getting us to Norway (Rygge) in a little over an hour. Ryanair's classic trumpet celebrated the landing. A bit creepy.
There was a bus going from Rygge to Oslo for 210 krones (NOK) round trip. We had to wait 45 minutes until it came.
The bus ride was pleasant, but I was so tired from the previous sleepless nights to enjoy the landscapes. Anyway, there were forests and cottages. The sky was a light shade of blue. We were lucky.
At the Anker Hostel in Oslo, linen cost us an extra 50 NOK. We were frustrated about the unanticipated costs, but we were relieved to put our bags in the room and check out the city.
I should mention that this has been my first hostel experience. During my exchange in Spain, we took a week trip to Italy, staying in places that were called "hostels," but were hotels, and whose rooms we didn't share. In this hostel, we were four girls sharing a room with three strangers. The three other girls stayed with a man they found on couchsurfing, and the guys stayed in a different room. I was nervous about the hostel, but it wasn't bad. So, it was expensive and dirty, but probably livable for a few nights.
The sun gleamed on Oslo. People were smiling, walking their dogs and talking to each other. They looked at each other. I felt a warm, comforting sensation, like I had been missing out on public human companionship for months. The streets were narrower than the ones in Finland. There were many large buildings, making us feel closed in. McDonalds advertised its 10 NOK cheeseburger, better than the 90 NOK Big Mac meals. (Oslo is very expensive, if you haven't gathered.)
By the way, so many trees.
We walked past museums, through the city center and near the Domkirke church, completed in 1697. There seemed to be an explosion of color compared to Tampere. In the architecture, clothing, people, food, expression, etc. Our first destination was the Slottet (The Royal Palace). This is where the Norweigan and Swedish King Charles III lived in the 19th century. Today the Norweigan monarch resides there, and the palace was carefully guarded by three silent young men.
The other side of the palace wasn't so interesting, but there was a cute pond with ducks to look at. We proceeded to the National Gallery, where Munch's original painting Scream is living. At last, we didn't enter because it wasn't free and the Munch museum often held a different version of the painting (when we later went, there was no version at all). The day was wearing on and we decided to check out the Vigelandsparken (Vigeland Sculpture Park), apparently the world's largest sculpture park. The sculptures were impressive and evocative. I had never seen something similar.
Evening fell, and we had just enough energy to stop at a grocery store and make it back to our hostel.
At the hostel I met a guy from Israel who was fasting for Yom Kippur. He said that while he isn't so religious, he wanted to be respectful. After the army service, he traveled around Thailand for a few months. He arrived in Israel and began to work. Most recently, he has been traveling around Scandanavia and Berlin, and will start college as a journalism student this year. He's 25 years old.
I had a great sleep. And I really needed it. The following day, we checked out of the hostel and marched to the Munch-Museet (The Munch Museum). We went back to the city center for lunch (McDonalds) and then split up into two groups. One stayed in town. The other bought a transportation ticket for some longer excursions. I went with them. We took a 30-minute subway ride to the Holmenkollen Ski Jump. The subway became a train, and we saw the most beautiful Scandanavian landscapes of pine forests and cottages. We reached the final metro station (Frognerseteren) and walked down to the traditional Norweigan restaurant, overlooking Oslo. This is the area that Munch found inspiration to paint Scream. What a stunning view....
I should interject about how comfortable and easily my group traveled together. While we disagreed at times, we got along very well and had a great time together. Bonding with them is one of the most lasting memories I have from the trip.
The Holmenkollen Ski Jump was as tall and powerful as it looks in the pictures. I was so out of shape that it was hard to walk to the top. But I made it. After a half an hour, we were ready to be on our way.
Next destination: Island. Issue: All the museums we wanted to see on the museum were closed. It was almost night, and there was not much to see. Decision: Take a ferry to the island, and then take it back to Oslo.
The ferry ride was smooth. The staff members were friendly and chatty. I'll always remember Anika, who sold me(/forced me to buy in a motherly way) a popular Norweigan chocolate "Kvikk Lunsj" or Quick Lunch. She said I must try it with coffee. On the way back, I asked if Anika was from Oslo. "No," she replied. "I'm from the island. You know, all I do is hunting and fishing." I didn't know how to respond and she bursted out laughing. "No, I'm joking," she said. At the end of our conversation, she said, "Don't forget me and the Quick Lunch!"
At 9 in the evening, we met the Brazilian girls at the Opera House. We split up again, and didn't meet until our bus left from the Oslo station at 4 in the morning.
My feet were sore, my eyes were strained and my lips were chapped all the way back home.
Oslo was beautiful, and I am back with many memories.
Saturday, October 1, 2011
Who am I again?
"How can you be Jewish and Chinese if you don't speak Hebrew and you don't speak Chinese?" Peter asked sincerely.
Indeed, we are a country of immigrants. I have American friends who have German, French, Chinese, Irish, English, etc. roots; and these friends don't have a strong connection with their respective culture or language.
The fact that I claimed ethnicities, but admitted to having little connection to them, came as a shock to Peter.
"I was born in the Czech Republic," he said. "I speak Czech. My family is Czech. I am not Czech by law; I am Austrian -- but I think I'm more Czech than you are Jewish or Chinese."
My immediate response was defensive: "How can you be more of an ethnicity than me?"
Ethnicity is defined as "the fact or state of belonging to a social group that has a common national or cultural tradition" in Oxford American Dictionary.
So, I am ... American? A college student? Does it matter?!
The farther we got into discussion, the more the ache in my chest grew. I wanted to express in a million words how these classifications were social constructs; that we are labeling and grouping people because it feels normal and real; we continue to follow the conventions our ancestors left us. But if we take ourselves out of this world of thinking that we have created and follow; a world with borders and generalizations and groupings; what can we see? Maybe more classifications within groups. Maybe the walls we have created can be broken.
This conversation began when my neighbor told me he thought that Judaism was only a religion, and not a people with a nation.
I think I also become defensive out of habit, pride and honor for my family.
Indeed, we are a country of immigrants. I have American friends who have German, French, Chinese, Irish, English, etc. roots; and these friends don't have a strong connection with their respective culture or language.
The fact that I claimed ethnicities, but admitted to having little connection to them, came as a shock to Peter.
"I was born in the Czech Republic," he said. "I speak Czech. My family is Czech. I am not Czech by law; I am Austrian -- but I think I'm more Czech than you are Jewish or Chinese."
My immediate response was defensive: "How can you be more of an ethnicity than me?"
Ethnicity is defined as "the fact or state of belonging to a social group that has a common national or cultural tradition" in Oxford American Dictionary.
So, I am ... American? A college student? Does it matter?!
The farther we got into discussion, the more the ache in my chest grew. I wanted to express in a million words how these classifications were social constructs; that we are labeling and grouping people because it feels normal and real; we continue to follow the conventions our ancestors left us. But if we take ourselves out of this world of thinking that we have created and follow; a world with borders and generalizations and groupings; what can we see? Maybe more classifications within groups. Maybe the walls we have created can be broken.
This conversation began when my neighbor told me he thought that Judaism was only a religion, and not a people with a nation.
I think I also become defensive out of habit, pride and honor for my family.
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