Saaran Paapan Sauna on Sacred Lake

Another small red building. Saaran Paapan sauna. It sits on the shore of Pyhäjärvi in Finland. Saara Jääntti's grandfather's sauna sits on the shore of a lake in Finland whose name translates to "Sacred Lake." I spent a wonderful Juhannus there one summer with a gaggle of girls. And it was truly sacred. I met Saara at IFU, the feminist university I attended for 3 months in Hanover, Germany in 2000. The next summer, some of the women there (who were from around the world) planned to meet up again. When my sister Katja and I were accepted to present a paper at Jyväskylä University in Finland the following year (we presented our research on Finnish women and girls of Thunder Bay), we arranged to met up with the women at Saara's grandfather's summer camp. Besides Saara and my sister Katja there was Emily from Wales (she is half Finnish), Barbara from Argentina, Barbara from US and Germany, Nicky from New Zealand, Elisabeth from Austria, Valerie from Guyana, Jana from Germany, and Abha from India. Dear Abha.

Because Saara's grandfather's sauna is small and we were many, we had to go in in 2 shifts. Here was our turn: me, Saara, Barbara from Argentina, Nicky, Katja and Elisabeth. I think Emily is taking the photo as I remember when we got into the sauna, I sat next to her on the top bench. We were really excited to finally get into the sauna as the preparation of the Juhannus sauna was a day long event. Saara kept saying it takes time. It can't be rushed. It's part of the enjoyment, the preparation. The sauna had to be cleaned, swept and freshened up. Some women had the job of collecting wildflowers to decorate the entrance and the dressing room. Other women had the job of scavenging logs from the forest floor for the kiuas [sauna heater] and for the kokko [immense bonfire] that we would hold after the sauna by the lakeshore. As most of the women had no prior knowledge of Juhannus, we decided to invent our own rituals for celebrating this nightless night of wonder.

Inside the sauna, we squeezed together on the small top and bottom bench. This window shows the impression that the sauna was light, but it was not. It was dark as a cave. This window faces the forest trees, which were on a steep slope. When you looked out you saw dark earth and dark forest. The walls of the sauna seeped sap that stuck to your back, a black pitch grabbed at my hair. The scent of pine swamped us. Saara, a woman of many skills and great efficiency, knew how to make her grandfather's sauna very hot. She knew how to get our cackling stilled. Breathing the hot steamy air caused our chattering to slowly fade away. Suddenly all that you could hear was the sound of women breathing as one. The darkness and the heat seemed to climb inside you. We became one big breath with the sauna. The rise and fall of breath, of women sitting skin to skin in the dark. The sauna henki [breath/spirit] had entered us. The magic had begun.

Later, I had the women write in my journal. Abha, our dear beloved IFU sister who later died in a tragic fire in India, wrote this poem for me and sketched an image of me.

pottu kellari is a tater cellar

Last post I told you what a mökki is and posted a link to a photo of someone's place in Finland, but I thought that I would dig out my photos of visiting Finland in 2001 and see if I had taken one. So, I found this photo that I took of a house just down the road from my uncle Leo's and Aunt Aulikki's in Juonikylä (my uncle Leo has sinced passed away; he was my father's brother). One of my pet peeves is the mutilation of Finnish words by English language speakers, so to be sure that mökki is not pronounced "mow-key", the word mökki, phonetically is pronounced more like "mHH-kih" -- at least that's the closed way I can think of to explain the sound of the letter ö to an English speaker.... Did you, btw, click on the link in my last post and read the story about the retired 2nd generation Finnish American man who stealthily built a mökki in his backyard so his wife wouldn't find out what he was up to? His wife, not surprisingly, thought his secret building of the mökki was the epitome of his all-time sneaky maneuvers: “You’ve always had a sneaky side, but this time you’ve outdone yourself,” she said. Interestingly, most Finnish Canadian older generation men here in northwestern Ontario hideaway in their "gratzih"..that is, garage in Finnglish. There is definitely less effort to fill the tongue to say 'gratzih' than "autotalli", which is a garage more correctly in Finnish.

Finns have no shortage of strange, small buildings about the yard, anything from a sauna to a lato and a pottu kellari. Here I am opening the door to my aunt Helena's pottu kellari. My aunt Helena has also since passed away. She was my mother's sister. My cousin, Paivi, lives in her mom's house now.

This is another pottu kellari. This one is outside of Tornio, in the yard of the summer place of my cousin Valma and her husband Mikko. At first I had no idea what this strange building was. I asked my cousin, "mika tuo on?" [What is that?]. She found my question very funny. Looking incredulously at me, she said, Tuo? Se on pottu kellari! What it is it for? I asked. She found that question very funny too. It's for potatoes! she laughed. For storing your potatoes!

Here is my cousin Valma with my sister Katja in front of the lato she and Mikko fixed up. They use it to store firewood, but originally a lato, which is like a small barn but not a barn, was used for storing hay or other such crops. You can see a whole row of pigsqueak or Vuorenkilpi in the flower bed. Pigsqueak is originally a Siberian plant which foretells its hardiness in northern climes. Tornio is way up north in Finland.

Valma and me on the front porch of her and Mikko's kesämökki [summer home]. My cousin Valma made us the best oatmeal porridge each morning for breakfast (served with her homemade lingonberry and lakka hillo [preserves]) and Mikko, without dispute, makes the best smoked salmon ANYWHERE!!!

Under the Saving Grace tree

One of the mosaic garden stones made for creating the "stage" area under the Saving Grace tree at the Midsummer Garden. Although we have a collection of interesting stones, we still have a few more to make. Hopefully, we will have all the stones in place before the Bay St. Film Festival, which is happening this September.

Here's the beginnings of the "stage". Maybe we will call this spot the tapahtumapaikka - the place were things happen. That will be a good word for English tongues to slip over.

This is a small beat-up shed that sits on the edge of the garden lot. We thought to paint its sorry-looking chipboard surface white. Next, Sharon Reid is going to paint a window onto this wall to make the shed look like a little mökki. We've planted a pee-wee hydrangea in front of it, a gift from wood carver Matti Tervo and his wife.

Painted by Katarina Gustafsson, this is a postcard I bought in Stockholm when I was there for a few weeks a few springs back, on my way to present a paper at Oslo University in Norway. This postcard, forgotten in the back of a drawer, came to my mind when I wondered, What to do with that unsightly shed?

Tapiola

In Finnish mythology, Tapio is the god of the forest. Tapiola is a place deep in the forest that is Tapio's realm. In Thunder Bay, Tapiola is just outside the city. The McIntyre River runs through it. One one side of the river, over a small footbridge, is an old sauna and an old wooden outdoor dancefloor. This sign is attached to the sauna building, which has a small kitchen attached to it. On the other side of the river, which harbours tiny leeches that search for unsuspecting toes, is a large field used for soccer or baseball. There's also another small outbuilding painted the rusty red common on older wooden Finnish houses and other buildings in the countryside. Tapiola in Thunder Bay was a popular place in the past, less so today, although there are still soccer games being held there. Little Lyon's Daycare also uses the place occasionally. As well, folks go skiing at Tapiola in the winter as a ski trail skirts the property.

Yesterday I went with my sister and my nephew to Tapiola for a picnic. The BBQ picnic was hosted by Finlandia Club, which owns the property. There were about 50 people attending. The guest musician was Reijo Jokinen, who is visiting from Finland. He is a pelimanni, or folk musician. He knows a lot of old folk tunes, and had played at dances on both Friday and Saturday, too. At Tapiola, however, because it was scorching hot yesterday afternoon, no one went up on the dance floor, as there is no shade.

Here's Matti Väänänen enjoying the sounds of Reijo Jokinen's haitari [accordion]. Reijo called out and asked if there was a pyykipoika [clothespin, but literally a 'laundryboy']. I guess the wind was rustling the pages of his music book. I went inside the kitchen and found a small clip in the drawer. Löytyy jotain! [Found something!] I called out to him. A few minutes later, he asked if there was another one anywhere to be found. I went into the small kitchen and in the back of the drawer found, yes! a pyykipoika. I brought it out to Reijo, who, securing it onto his music book, asked me where my home is in Finland. I said Kauhajoki. Hyyppä. Juonikylä. He then asked me if I knew so-and-so, a very good haitari player from Hyyppä. I said I did not. I guess I should've mentioned that I left Hyyppä 50 odd years ago!

Sunken Gardens at Hillcrest Park

About 1963. There is our new dog, Bullet (we pronounced her name "Puleti");she was named after a dog on one of our favorite tv shows: after Roy Roger's german shepherd. She was part of our family for 17 years. On the park bench sits our mom, me, my sister Della and our father. My sister, Katja, is taking the photo with my dad's camera. That's Dufferin St. behind us. Again, we are in our Sunday best.