No pain no gain

It’s been a while now since I wrote anything on this blog. I must confess that the reason  for this pause has been the result of the shear volume of bad news going around. It has been hard to write anything at all without trivializing world events.  In the first three months of 2015, Islamic terrorism has featured a lot; the first occurrence being the Charlie Hebdo attack on 7^th January. Yes we were all 'Je suis Charlie' for a while on that one.  Now we are still trying to digest the most recent attack by al-Shabab militants at Garissa University, Kenya, on the 2^nd April.

Since that last attack, which claimed the lives of 148 innocents, I have been trying to once again comprehend how my world view, fueled on a diet of western media, self-irony, bacon sandwiches and beer, will ever come to accept and tolerate the fancies of extremist Muslims; and the simple truth is, it won’t.

While reminding myself of the events surrounding the first three months of 2015, I deliberately watched a video of a man burning to death. Do you remember that one? This was no chance happening; a case of clicking on the wrong link at the wrong time.  I had actively searched for it! I wanted to see the primeval barbarity of Islamist extremists as they burnt a human being to death in the name of their God. It took a while to find the right site; but I knew I had it when a warning popped up stating that I would see disturbing images if I continued. I clicked the mouse! And in doing so, I became one of several million viewers who have watched the horrific execution of Jordanian pilot Muadh al-Kasasbeh. I will not watch it again.

I had wanted to know why ISIS had chosen this barbaric form of execution over their relatively civilised standard methods of beheadings or shootings. Was it because Muadh al-Kasasbeh was a Muslim that he had been executed in this particularly horrific manner?  I know that Islam has a special hell for the apostate. But then I realised that their intension here was to mimic the effects of incendiary bombs dropped from the air. First there was the burning, followed by the smashing of his body under bulldozed concrete. An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth!

In this respect, the Jihadists make a fare point, even though I personally lean more towards the wisdom of Mahatma Gandhi, who famously said that an eye for an eye ends up making the whole world blind. Unfortunately, in Gandhi’s case, such liberal thinking didn’t help him live to a ripe old age; his brief dance on the world’s stage abruptly ended when he was hit by three bullets fired from an assassin’s gun: a gun held by a non-Muslim incidentally.

I slowly began to realise that Muslims have been having a really hard time of it this year. Not only have they been the main victims of violence, they have been portrayed as the main perpetrators too.

Therefore, it is very important not to forget that on the 24^th March 2015, radical Islam took a day off. This was the day when a German co-pilot called Andreas Lubitz decided to leave this world with a bang. He did this by flying a passenger jet into a mountainside at more than 700 kilometres an hour, extinguishing the lives of 149 innocent people in the process.

Interestingly, even the most speculative investigations by the tabloid press failed to find any trace of a link between his actions and the Muslim world. No Jihad inspired video has ever turned up. In fact, common wisdom now accepts that this particular tragedy was actually due to the co-pilot’s suicidal state of mind, which raises some rather awkward questions for a white non-Muslim like myself.

For example, on a scale of depravity, could it actually be worse to kill others in the name of depression rather than in the name of God? Unfortunately I still haven’t got an answer to that one, but it certainly gets me thinking. What  I do know for certain, however, is that we’re all going to have to start being much nicer to one another if 2015 is going to be anything other than an awful year to remember.

Names and numbers

The past week has proven once again why I still love to live in Finland.

Last Friday, just over half of the Finnish parliament (52%) decided to vote in favour of gender-neutral marriage. It was big news for a day and rainbow flags were waved on the steps of the parliament building in celebration. This slim majority decision shows that the democratic process works in Finland and that minorities can have rights too.

Unfortunately, the Archbishop of the Lutheran church may have got a little carried away during all the merriment. He is a modern theologian and, in keeping with the times, used his Facebook account to inform the world that he thought the parliament’s decision was a wonderful thing. This led to 12,000 people resigning from the church in protest over the weekend. You couldn't make it up!

Although this reaction from a disgruntled congregation may appear as a mass exodus of biblical proportions, we should remember that the church has well over 4 million members (75 % of the Finnish population, in fact). Percentage-wise, that means that only about 0.3% of the church population was actually against the idea of same sex marriage. They were such a small minority that they were deemed expendable for the sake of the 99.7% who had another opinion.

I love statistics, because they help me to quickly make some kind of sense of the world I live in. The only thing I try to keep in mind, however, is to question the source as, more often than not, something quoted online has very little substance when examined in detail. This recent gender-neutral marriage vote, for example, is a good example of this. In my opinion, surely it would have been worth knowing how much of the Finnish population is actually gay before putting everyone through the trauma of change.

Unfortunately, I could not find any official statistics to help answer this rather important detail.  However, I did discover that some Gallup polls put the figure for homosexuality in the USA as high as 10%. But then the question arose about what it is that actually classifies people as gay. 

Is being gay a lifestyle choice, do you have to remain gay permanently to be considered gay or is there actually a gay gene? Scientific research is extremely vague on this last part, although it appears to tentatively hint that there is no conclusive evidence that there is a genetic disposition towards homosexuality, despite recent unpublished reports to the contrary. 

And so my conclusion, concerning that vote in Finland last week, is that it has brought a new right to an as yet unknown minority. Let’s hope that this minority actually turns out to be larger than the 0.3% minority who had to leave their church in protest in the first place.

One week later and now we are about to celebrate Finnish Independence Day (6^th December). I always smile when I hear the name as I think Finnish National Day would be a far more appropriate term to use;  after all Finland has been a full-standing member of the EU since 1995. 

Unlike national days elsewhere, the Finnish occasion is actually a somber one, more in line with an Armistice Day than a party. 

I believe that the most bizarre tradition on the day is the president’s party. Every year about 2000 lucky guests (0.04% of the population BTW) will have the right to shake the president’s hand while the rest of the country watches on television (all funded by the tax payer, I might add).  The uninvited masses then take enormous pleasure in comparing and criticizing the dresses of the ladies being presented. You couldn't make it up!

I wish you all a nice weekend of celebration however and with whomever you choose.

Enjoying the November darkness

Vaasa, Finland in November

According to nearly all the Finns I know, November is the least enjoyed month of the year.  All the daylight we once had has now virtually gone, yet it is still too warm for snow to really settle and reflect what little light remains.  

With the Finns, it is always during November that you really notice that the very last remnants of summer joy and happiness have finally been smothered under a national wet blanket of gloom and depression.  

By the end of November, even the clothes worn by the public are almost always jet black, in harmony, I suppose, with the sadness of the surroundings and the general mood of the nation.

Here, in Finland, it has been said that November is the one time of the year when everyone becomes either a sociopath or a psychopath; the sociopaths ignore you when you say hello, while  the psychopaths are the ones doing all the talking.

Nevertheless, I can admit to quite liking November despite the bad reputation it has over here. I suppose this may have a lot to do with the fact that a Finnish November is just like the typical British winters I grew up with. I find that November is a wonderful time for relaxation before the Christmas mayhem begins, and what’s more, since nobody is expected to actually do anything in November, anything that gets done is always a bonus.  

A Finnish winter wheel

Here in Finland it is important to remember that November is the time of year when black ice and snow can appear at any time. As such the one thing that actually needs to be done in November is to change the wheels on cars. Most car owners will have  put winter wheels on their vehicles by now, which are actually studded tyres, even though the law says they are not needed before December 1st. You always know that winter is fast approaching by the distinct flamenco-like takka-takka sound those metal studs make on the asphalt. 

And so with Advent just around the corner, and the explosion of Christmas lights that will come with it, let me wish you all a gloomy November Friday, on what will undoubtedly be the final dark and dismal weekend of the year.

Weighing up the costs

A week has gone by since I returned to Finland and began dealing with a severe case of post-cruise stress (PCS). After the Saga Sapphire experience, readjustment to a normal civilian life has turned out to be much harder to do than anything anyone bothered to mention before I left. And finding the help needed to deal with it has not been easy either. Even in the internet age, it seems that very little support is given to PCS.

But I have learnt to adapt to my new circumstances and to take one day at a time.  Today, for example, I retaught myself how to make my own bed, cook some food and even sweep a floor; the day before I had even managed to summon the courage to weigh myself. Unfortunately, in that respect things hadn’t gone so well.  For it was then that I was confronted, in no uncertain terms, to the awful truth about what happens to anyone spending time on a cruise ship. Two weeks of 5-course-meals, lunchtime desserts, afternoon teas and evening G&T’s had taken a terrible toll on my body. I am sad to say that there are now five kilograms more of me in existence than before. A fitness regime has started.

As I hate gyms with a passion bordering on paranoia, I have decided instead to become a great supporter of bicycling. This is a good choice for me. After all, it is one of the few modes of transport still remaining where the traffic rules can be flaunted with impunity, which I find appealing.   It does feel so rebellious to go through a red light when there are no cars around.  

But don’t get me wrong here. Although I love the concept of breaking rules, I still believe that there are both sensible and irresponsible ways when going about doing it. Furthermore, I do not consider myself to be totally without regard for the sanctity of life, especially my own, as I go about losing those kilos. 

So during a sensible moment yesterday I invested in a set of lights for my bike. It took me a good hour to install them correctly, but I was very pleased with the result.

So after my efforts of last night, you can imagine just how disappointed I was this morning when I discovered that the first winter salvo of snow has been delivered. All those superb fitness plans I had put in place must now go on hold while I search around for snowshoes instead.

Day 14: All good things come to an end

In the Bay of Biscay 14/10/14

After the storm of the day before, Monday was actually spent enjoying a period of blissful calm far from landfall. Aboard the Saga Sapphire cruise ship, we are now in the Bay of Biscay sailing sedately between two large areas of low pressure. Our timing appears to have been perfect for a smooth crossing to England. 

Fortunately, the passenger casualties I had been expecting as a result of our ship’s pitching and rolling on Sunday never appeared. Somehow the dear wrinklies on board, many of whom I have become quite endeared to by now, had all survived intact, which proves that you don’t become old if you are stupid.

Well soon this particular Lap of the Western Med cruise will be over. Our bags are slowly being packed and this evening we will be having our last night on board before arrival and disembarkation in Southampton. I can imagine that the evening meal tonight will be a rather muted affair compared to all the wonderful dinner conversations previously had on board.  I am sure that tonight many of us will be sadly raising a parting glass to fellow passengers who, in all likelihood, will never be seen again.

And as partings go, this will be the last post I write on this blog for a while. To my readers, I do hope that you have enjoyed reading my musings as much as I have enjoyed writing them for you. On a final note, let me simply end by thanking  all of you who actively encouraged me to continue with this project for the duration of the cruise.  Take care and live long!

Day 13: Rockin’ an’ a rollin’

When a plane hits turbulence, the Captain switches on the fasten seatbelt sign and everyone returns to their seats. On a cruise ship, however, things are slightly different.  Here the captain simply tells everyone to hold onto the handrails tightly while we toss about. 

Today there is no mistake that we are now in the Atlantic. At the time of writing we are sailing off the coast of Portugal with 8 metre high swells rolling into our port side, which certainly makes the ship dance around a bit. There are a large number of passengers on the Saga Sapphire with walking sticks, so it is inevitable that there are going to be a few casualties by the end of the day.  However, there are also many passengers who have been brought down to the scourge of bad weather at sea; seasickness.   I am fortunate because I do not succumb to it. Personally, I think this may be down to having spent a great deal of my youth in an inebriated state and so I am rather used to staggering along corridors. However, for the other passengers there are always Stugeron seasickness tablets which are given out for free from the reception or bracelets using acupressure to alleviate the effects of seasickness that can be bought from the shop.

Kevin Woodford (centre) and celebrity guests

 For those not confined to their bunks, there was time earlier today to see a stage show of one of the UK’s most popular cookery game shows, Ready Steady Cook. The idea of the show is to make a meal with a limited amount of unknown ingredients in 25 minutes. The show was held in the famous Britannia Lounge on Deck 8 and was hosted by celebrity chef Kevin Woodford. As I had met Kevin before, I already knew he would be putting on a good show. And so, not only did  Kevin and the rest of the celebrity team succeed in making two very nice dishes under rather difficult circumstances; they also did it in a force 9 gale.

Day 12: Rough and ready in Gibraltar

During our morning sea voyage, many passengers watched pods of dolphins swimming around the ship. No voyage is complete without this wonderful site. Unfortunately I missed it all, and had to be content with listening to enthusiastic accounts of how you just had to be there. 

At the time of the dolphins, I was actually sitting on a good seat in the, by now familiar, Britannia Lounge, waiting to listen to a very interesting lecture on Spanish cuisine by celebrity cook, Jennipher Marshall-Jenkins, no less. Later that morning, as our ship was being moored in the Port of Gibraltar, we were sat on the Veranda sundeck, admiring the famous rock and enjoying a barbeque of tasty chorizo sausages that we had just learnt about in the lecture.  Life is tough!

                                                                                                                              

Gibraltar is to be our last port of call on this trip before starting the home leg to Southampton. Although the rock has been British since 1713, part of the peace treaty after the War of Spanish Succession, the name  actually originates from the Arabic (Jabal Tariq "Mountain of Tariq") and reflects the Moorish history of the region.   

As this was actually my second time to Gibraltar, I decided to avoid the Barbary apes most tourists see and simply wander around the shops during the day. Most of the other cruise-ship passengers had the same idea and were content to shop for duty-free perfumes and alcohol.  

Admittedly Gibraltar is not my favourite place to visit. If you take away the sunshine, all that remains is a fairly typical British high street with the usual tat. There is also a real rough and ready military feel to Gibraltar, which was reinforced, when I was there, by a redcoat re-enactment group parading through the high street.  

In the evening the Saga cruise company drove us to St Michael’s Cave on top of the famous rock to be able to listen to a concert given by the Gibraltar National Choir. Describing themselves as a national choir was an interesting choice of words in my opinion, when you consider that Gibraltar is actually a territory and not a nation.  Perhaps this is just something they say to rile their Spanish neighbours.  

Anyway, the concert itself was a magnificent success enjoyed by everyone who attended. Then as darkness filled the sky, we were driven back to our ship. Finally, with three final blasts of the ship’s horn, we eased our way between the pillars of Hercules and out of the Mediterranean.