Getting Extra Credit

His memory is easy to see in my mind. Freckled and red-haired, eager and quick with a proud smile, a cheerful kid prepared to submit the crowning achievement of his 7th grade body of work—his country report, complete with poster boards, essays, illustrations, and dioramas. He knows how many lakes are in the northern territory, he knows about the people’s culinary love of herring, he is familiar with their general obsession with reindeer. He learned the weather is frigid in the winter, but mild and surprisingly pleasant in the summer. He is ready to talk about aurora borealis, equipped with pictures of purple stripes in the night sky. He loves that the national sport is ice hockey. He is prepared with a few words in the native tongue, like hei and kiitos. He is even armed with the national flag—a snow white fabric decorated with a slightly off-centered blue cross.

For almost fifteen years, Chris Simmons has been filled with the dream of one day visiting this place he got to know so well. So when the itinerary of the Distant Adventure was finalized, and Finland was on the tour, Simmons did what had been waiting in the wings since he was thirteen—he bought a ticket to Helsinki. And using those fifteen years of wisdom, he brought along his better half, Sara. On second thought, maybe she brought him.

What Simmons probably left out of his report is that the bicycle should be the Finnish national icon, or at least the symbol of the capital city. Helsinki is built for bicycles. It is the only city I have ever visited with separate bicycle signals (red—yellow—green…go), and a bike lane as wide as the road itself. In our best effort to assimilate, we hired two bikes, borrowed two more from our hotel, and took to the streets for two days of exploration. (I learned quickly that Jeannie is as daunting for fellow road travelers behind handlebars as she is behind a steering wheel. She actually sent a Finn over the top of his front wheel when she made a sudden right turn—it was his fault.)

To know Simmons is to know wanderlust. Seeing Finland through his curious eyes was the instant remedy to even the slightest hint of traveler’s fatigue. His passion for the nuances of foreign life was energizing. He questioned everything, took delight in everything. Plus, I had someone to share in the oddities of Finnish cuisine—fried whole whitefish and reindeer sausage. (My travel mate wasn’t up for the latter—her love for Christmas runs too deep.) Simmons has an unmatched excitement for things that exist in only one place. He found the planet’s only pub tram—a city cable car converted to a bar, transporting cider drinking tourists from one end of Helsinki to the other. At our farewell dinner we ordered “snaps” from the appetizer menu, thinking we were getting some Finnish style peas. Moments later, our waiter produced a shot glass filled with a toxic potion. Simmons will try anything once. He hasn’t lost touch with his inner 7th grader. I love him for that.