HELLO HELSINKI

by Wayne Jordan

I had moose for lunch today. Not mousse, but moose. It did not taste like chicken.

We were docked in Helsinki, Finland. I got off the ship because the sun was shining and the ground was firm. After a few days onboard, cabin fever sets in, even though the ship is the length of three football fields and ten stories high.

When my feet hit the ground, I was confused. What day is it? What city is this? When working on a cruise ship, there are no days off to bookend the work week. The passengers book a 12-day cruise, so the staff works 12 days. When the passengers disembark, new passengers come aboard, and the cycle begins anew. There are only two types of days: sea days and port days. The day of the week is meaningless.

I had some coffee and collected my thoughts. Helsinki, Finland; what do I know about Finland? The cobwebs in my brain parted reluctantly. Finland: Lapland, Reindeer, Olympics, Jean Sibelius. I made my way to the Market Square to have a look around.

My first impression of Helsinki was that it was remarkably clean for a city of its size. There was no trash to be seen on the byways. The streets were lined with sidewalks for pedestrians and wide, paved paths for bicycles. The architecture was a mix of modern office buildings separated by older buildings in Classical Roman and Renaissance styles.

The people were friendly and dressed colorfully. The young women wore spandex pants and layered tops; the young men sported New York Yankees baseball caps. Business people—men and women—were more austere. They dressed in black suits and white shirts. Everyone was on the move, steps clipped, eyes fixed straight ahead. Wherever they were going, it seemed urgent that they get there.

From a pavilion in the park, a rock band pleaded electronically for the sidewalks to crumble. The band was comprised of high school students: eight female singers, all wearing their best Britney Spears outfits, were backed by four long-haired male musicians. They played covers of American pop songs, the girls singing in unison and gyrating to the music. The boys in the band did their best to look cool and disinterested. Overall, the band had more enthusiasm than talent, but that seemed to be part of their charm.

At the market, the vendors’ tables were stacked high with reindeer furs and warm-looking reindeer fur hats. Reindeer and moose-themed souvenirs dominated the vendors’ inventories. Further into the market, I found food vendors. When I’m traveling, I prefer walk-up food vendors to sit-down restaurants; the food vendors are more likely to serve what the locals eat. Today was no exception: many of the businesspeople on their lunch breaks were eating some sort of finger food from paper baskets. Many vendors were selling this food, so I went to a booth to check it out.

The smell of the food was repulsive. It was a sardine-sized fish, deep-fried, head, tail, and all, served crisp and hot in a paper basket. I was offered a free sample. No way, not me. Growing up near the Chesapeake Bay, I used fish that size for bait. I don’t eat bait, even if it is deep-fried.

Most food booths served the fish, but one had something extra: meatballs served with rice pilaf and grilled vegetables. “What is that meat?” I asked the server. “Moose” she answered. It never occurred to this city boy that moose could be food. Well, I wanted local food, and here it was. I tried to act nonchalant as I said, “I’ll have the moose with lemon sauce and rice, please.” Like many game meats, the moose was dry and chewy. The lemon sauce made it palatable. The rice pilaf was quite good, though.

During lunch, I sat on a park bench to enjoy the sun and watch the passers-by. I thought about the moose on my plate and the fried fish I declined. Both belonged here, as much a part of Finland as Sibelius or Lapland. Food has a way of anchoring a memory, and for me, Helsinki will always taste like lemon sauce on chewy moose.

Wayne Jordan is a former cruise ship art auctioneer living in Virginia’s Blue Ridge Mountains. He blogs at memoirclub.net, and his Memoir Club podcast is available on Apple, Spotify, and other podcast platforms.