Liina, a former journalism classmate, had invited me and a few friends to her house party. It was the last shebang before a plumbing overhaul.
Uzair, Albert, Shizuka and I arrived at around 8:45 p.m. with two mud cakes and some long drinks. We walked into a living room full of personality: pink walls and white graffiti of animal characters; some hanging flower leis; a large vintage green sofa; pictures of tropical places; posters of musicians like Blondie and The Black Keys; and a shelf with a stack of vinyl records. It was a collection of great pop culture icons throughout the last few decades.
After a slightly awkward incident (a long drink leaked over the sofa and into the mud cake, and we had to rush everything to the bathroom), Liina started to lead us around her home. In the first room, there were about seven people, men and women, standing or sitting about. Someone was speaking in a dramatic way, and when he stopped, there was an applause from the others. I wasn't sure if it was actually some kind of performance.
Liina's room was wide and spacious, adorned with movie posters and pictures of celebrities on the walls; VHS tapes and DVDs on shelves; stacks of magazines published by different film communities; a lava lamp; and a mannequin wearing over a dozen lanyards (probably passes for film festivals and screenings). There was a bed planted in the center. "I moved here 12 years ago, so it still looks like the room of a 22 year old," Liina said straightforwardly. She went to the television to put on some eighties music. Finally she switched it to something she said played at the last "bad taste" party.
We learned a bit more about Liina's work, but there were many drawn out silences, and our wide, observing eyes traced the whole of this intriguing woman's room.
Liina's friend, a cheerful Pilates and flamenco dance instructor, came in. The two girls switched to Finnish, and we left for the kitchen, passing a new room with a new clique of people. At the kitchen were four people sitting around the table. We acknowledged each other, but no introductions. The table held an assortment of vegetables as well as salmon quiche, hummus and chocolate brownies. On the ground was a large tub of a dark red liquid. Everything tasted great and the drink was sweet and potent. One of Liina's flatmates later told me it was common in Finland to make homemade wine. She was very friendly and sociable, and I learned that she is from the east of Finland and would like to be a librarian.
I overheard someone saying he was majoring in photojournalism, so I introduced myself. I pointed to Uzair, who is also very interested in photography, and the three of us struck up a conversation. The student, kind, with genuinely interested eyes, is in his 6th year at UTA, but said he would give up college anytime if he found a job. He was curious about the projects we were doing in Finland. I said I wanted to do at least two photo or audio stories before I left. Uzair brought up the faces of Finland photo project he'd like to work on. We talked more about past internships and current day freelancing/careers in journalism.
It was approaching midnight, so I decided to check up on Albert and Shizuka, who were in the room where people wrote haiku and drew their souls. My friends sat on the ground, and on the bed was a freelance journalist for Aamulehti (Finland's second largest circulated daily). Spontaneously, I took a letter paper and attempted to draw my soul.
First a small green circle, and then a surrounding circle in a different color, then another, and another, and so on until it filled the page. I drew a pointy, zig-zagged circle in one of the margins. In the four corners, I drew arrows pointing toward the middle of the page and out of the page. Finally, I drew a long line from one corner of the page to the very center. I added a small black box on the page, with the word "Conformity" cramped inside. I also drew something of a heart that read "Open" inside.
Liina's flatmate entered and gave the drawing an analysis:
Soon, it was back to Uzair, Albert, Shizuka and I alone in the room. We got off on deep, heated conversation paths that didn't quite lead us to concrete conclusions. Doesn't matter though; I am happy to know such honest, unique, thoughtful people.
At 2:30 a.m., people had migrated to the kitchen. Liina went to go to a club to invite people over for an after-party. We decided to call it a night.
It was a nice, long walk with lovely friends through this quiet, snowy, still place.
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Two things I forgot to mention (probably among others):
1. Uzair and my new photojournalism buddy prescribed a stereotype: Finnish people don't approach people they don't know, but they communicate well with people who approach them.
2. Liina lent me the book: "Speech Culture in Finland," which may prove to be very insightful and interesting.
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Here is a very interesting excerpt from an article "Politeness expectations in different cultures":
"It is, of course, a good thing if a traveler gets acquainted with the cultural norms of the country he is visiting and tries to obey them as well as he can. However, expecting every visitor to know these norms by heart, many of which have been implanted into locals through years of being raised and living in the place, can be quite unreasonable.
The polite thing would be to not apply the same politeness assumptions to people who come from a different culture.
This gets especially egregious when people from one culture consider a foreigner rude and impolite, and starts shunning him, because he does not conform to the same cultural politeness norms as the locals. It's rather unreasonable to expect everybody to have the same concepts of social norms as them. Having such expectations is, in fact, disrespectful in a way: There is no respect and understanding to the differences between cultures.
Finnish people in particular have often have problems with this. The politeness expectations in Finland are quite reserved compared to many other countries. If, for example, a cashier greets you, you are expected to greet back, and after a meal (if you didn't make it yourself) you are expected to thank the person who made it (mostly as a matter of protocol than anything else), and if you want to get the attention of a stranger you are expected to say (the Finnish equivalent of) "excuse me" rather than "hey you", and other similar things, but otherwise Finns usually don't litter their everyday speech with politeness and formalities, not even when speaking with strangers, except perhaps in extremely formal situations (such as when directly addressing the President of Finland or something along those lines).
It may be quite telling that there is no Finnish word for "please". (If a request is done politely, it can be formulated with more polite forms, such as the Finnish equivalents of "would you" and "if you would be so kind", but there simply is no word that means "please".)
Unlike in many other cultures, it is normal to address even strangers quite informally and, unlike for example in many parts of the United States, to seldom address them by name. In these parts of the United States, this behavior in particular can sometimes be considered rude. There it is a norm to mention the name of the person you are addressing, and avoiding it can be seen as quite rude and thoughtless.
Many a Finn has found out the hard way that what is the cultural norm in Finland with respect to politeness is quite a lot lower than the equivalent norms in many other countries. In many other countries, for example the United States, speech is often abundant in polite forms such as "would you", "please", "sir", "if you'd be so kind", using the name of the person you are talking to, and so on, even when the people know each other very well. Someone not doing so might be considered dislikeable and be shunned.
In Finland it would feel strange to litter speech so abundantly with pleasantries and politeness, especially among friends. Not that it would be completely outlandish, but it's just not the norm. It would certainly be peculiar.
The thing I find a bit annoying is when politeness expectations are put on Finns (or in general on any people from another culture) without taking into consideration that they are, actually, from another culture and things might be different there. If a person from another country doesn't litter their speech with pleasantries, it doesn't necessarily mean that they are being rude and impolite, and assuming so is unreasonable and unfair.
Cultures are different, and people should understand that."
Finally!
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