I enjoy being invisible in a new place. It helps me adjust to unfamiliar customs. It prevents me from seeming like a neophyte while I reconnoiter the roads. It keeps me safe. Sometimes, though, going unnoticed works to my disadvantage. I was in line at a cafeteria style restaurant in Helsinki, Finland. It was lunchtime and the spacious hall was crowded with avid customers. I was hungry. I waited in line for a slice of pizza because it had the shortest queue. A tall drooping man transfixed by his smartphone cut me off to stand in front. I did not say anything. He received his food and clomped away. Even though I was next, the serving lady spun to the cross-armed woman behind me and asked her what she wanted. They exchanged pleasantries along with a slab of sausage and cheese. When the purchaser departed, the attendant turned to disappear into a back room. I was left to stare at a glass display of fifteen pies. I waited. A few patrons came to scan the goodies then, seeing no one at the counter, went away. I lingered alone once more, pacing in hopes someone would come out of the rear. A harried office worker laden with shopping bags arrived. We nodded at one another, ogled the pizzas. No one materialized to assist us. The business suit huffed, walking away while muttering. I followed. It was a trivial setback, yet I was deflated.
Outdoors the wind chilled my ears. The sky was a sheet of lead. The red-tiled theater sneered. The clock tower of the railway station mocked me with its ersatz chimes. Drizzle started. The streets grew slick under my rubber soles. Umbrellas popped open around me, spraying droplets into my face. I huddled into my collar, my stomach growling. I ducked into a gloomy doorway for shelter. Through the opaque windows I caught a peep at white tablecloths. Heaving the ornate metal door, I stepped into a dim chamber of leather chairs and flickering chandeliers. The pinging of cutlery echoed against the walls. The diners looked macabre in the chiaroscuro. The waiters floated by with wooden expressions and dead eyes. I hastened out before anyone could confront me.
Back in the rain, I felt all of Helsinki was cold and unfriendly towards me. My invisibility cloak — which I had so proudly worn — now isolated me from the store-lined avenues, the dripping rowans, the scurrying pedestrians. The day was marred. Curiosity to explore abandoned me. I wanted to board the next train out of this unwelcoming capital. I longed to return to my hotel, but hunger kept me moving. Exiting from a soggy park occupied by circling pigeons who I sensed were readying to ambush me, I encountered a sedate summer-house. From its elegant paned glass siding streamed golden beams. The downpour stylishly cascading down its casements. I lurched up the porticoed stairs, through the open entrance, in a daze.
“Good afternoon,” the hostess said, smiling cheerfully, “a table for one?” I nodded. Light filled the interior despite the gray weather. Couples murmured at each other, friends laughed and clinked water goblets, a baby gurgled with pleasure. “I hope the wet conditions have not dampened things too much for you?” she asked as she led me through a maze of narrow aisles towards an alcove. Knotted into an unhappy mess, I managed a tight smile at her. We passed a mirror and it reflected me grimacing. “The waiter will be right with you,” she said, handing me a menu. I tossed it on my plate, flung off my wet coat, and exhaled into my seat. A wave of heat wafted from above. The aroma of baking drifted my way. I leaned back in my velveteen chair, sighing. I began to notice details again. A potted palm posed demurely adjacent to the large sashed aperture in my corner. I picked up the menu. While deciding between baltic herring or fruit soup, my server popped up. He laid a bread basket in front of me.
“Good afternoon,” he said in a soothing voice, “would you care to start off with a cup of hot coffee?”
“Yes, please!”
“Very good. Let me quickly refer you to our special today, the reindeer stew. Do you have any questions?”
“I was wondering about this fruit soup?”
“Yes, that is a cold soup of blueberries and arrowroot. We also have a toasty vegetable soup you might enjoy more today.”
“That sounds better. I’ll have that and the herring please.”
“Excellent choice.” As he left a second waiter arrived with a steaming pot.
“Coffee?” I agreed eagerly and watched him pouring the amber liquid into my cup. I drank several sips, allowing the beverage to warm me. The outer pane was spattered with drops in a picturesque pattern. A thin draft whistled through the sill, but it no longer seeped into me. I relaxed. The exterior scene appeared cozy. As I progressed through my meal my good humor surfaced.
When I exited the restaurant the Helsinki sky was limpid blue. The green domed cathedral called to me from its dizzying heights. The alleys gleamed with anticipation. The droopy park I had traversed was alive with bird chatter. The boutique fronts had transformed from spartan to chic. Each crooked curve revealed a quirky beauty: a moss-covered vehicle, cartoon hippopotami clambering brick facades, delicate curlicue of adorned lamp posts. The city was sprouting color. There is an adage that says, “Seeing is believing.” I began to understand in Helsinki how believing could also warp into seeing. A single disagreeable incident had tainted my perspective, turned me hostile to an entire destination.The more obstacles thrown my way, the more I was convinced this trip was a mistake. Evidence stacked up as if it were scientific proof. In my angst, I failed to distinguish between reality and my impressions.
As I was slogging through Helsinki after the vexing episode at the pizza depot, a question kept looping through my head: “Why?” It had pursued me as I replayed the event, first to critique my actions, then to blame the attendant. I rearranged the scenario, dissected it, parsed it for clues as to what I could have done differently. Wandering the leafy neighborhoods under a sunnier ambience I realized the reasons did not matter. What I should have been examining was my internal response. This is, after all, what determined my subsequent judgement of the city and my attitude. How I react to the slings of adversity, large or small, impacts my view of the world; it shapes me as a person; it guides my future behavior. Though I do not want it to influence me, others’ directives often determine how I conduct myself. Helsinki has taught me to always check: how do I wish to be influenced by a particular situation? As a traveler, as a storyteller, and a participant of digital media it is imperative I continue to question what I see and what I believe.
TRAVEL NOTE:
How design improves society is of great consequence to Finnish culture. The art of constructing everyday, timeless, functional structures with care towards its beauty, singularity, and usability is crucial to Helsinki’s layout. Finlandia Hall, built by the renowned architect Alvar Aalto, features an optical deception you have to see to believe: viewing the venue from the eastern shore of Töölö bay it appears as if Finlandia Hall is joined on one side to the National Museum’s tower. In actuality the museum resides across the street.
What do you do when circumstances or people sour your travels? How do you rebound from an unpleasant experience?
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Thank You for this post. Have a good day!
Thank you for stopping by. Wishing you a wonderful week in return.
I know exactly how you feel, but you’re right. The key is to be able to control your reactions to whatever is thrown your way. Easy to say, tough to do. But then isn’t it wonderful when you come across that friendly waiter or shopkeeper who somehow knows how to brighten your day? And then you realize in that instance that you can turn it around at the drop of a hat. A nice hot beverage or bowl of soup on a hot day helps a little, too. Sometimes when I’m sightseeing, I forget how tired I get and sitting down with something to drink can be so rejuvenating.
Over the years of traveling I have learned the importance of taking those rest periods to calibrate myself. It is remarkable how a drink, a park bench, or a hot bowl of soup can turn things back around. I forget to check in with myself while exploring, and I have to set in time-outs from my itinerary to do exactly what you recommend.
I had the experience of being completely invisible in Andalucia. It seemed like anytime I was standing in a line people stepped in front of me and servers behind the counter ignored me. I didn’t have a problem in sit down restaurants or when I was with my travel group but on my own at a counter I gave up several times. Don’t know what that dynamic was all about!
😆 Clearly we are both missing something when it comes to getting service at counter lines. Perhaps I am misunderstanding how lines work in other countries and cultures. Or, as another reader was saying, perhaps it’s because I lack the New York ‘in-your-face I will not be ignored’ attitude she practices on these occasions.
Maybe waving my hands around or yelling and stomping my feet would have worked! I’ll give it a try next time!
😆
I am so sorry to read about your horrible experience at the pizza cafeteria. I would probably have felt the same if I were in your position. It’s a good thing that things turned out okay the end but it still does not excuse the shoddy way you were treated. While I can understand that it was not intentional for the man distracted by the handphone to cut queue, there was not justification for the person behind the counter to serve the person behind you and behave as if you were invisible.
Thank you for your sympathy. In hindsight the incident is insignificant, but at the time it influenced the rest of my interactions in Helsinki and was difficult to shake off.
I’m glad things turned around for you. The pictures of the various buildings are magnificent!
Thank you. Glad you like the images! It’s strange how the incident even influenced the sort of photos I took of Helsinki.
How rude! He should not have cut in and she should have served you. But perhaps you were supposed to have something far more delicious than pizza that day.
What a lovely way to look at it. I was very happy with the lunch and with the restaurant. It’s only later we realize these things somehow work themselves out.
Excellent self-evauation and great topic for discussion! Coincidentally, I also had an experience in Helsinki that began to sour me on the place (mine involved a sauna), but we managed to turn it around! We were there in the depths of winter, which didn’t help, but we found small pleasures and much to admire once our eyes and minds were fully open.
Thank you. ☺️ If only I could keep some of these self-evaluations in mind for the next tornado blowing into my life.
My sympathies on your terrible sauna experience in Helsinki. 😟 Was it a culture clash issue? I found the most difficult part was in getting into that open mindset once more. Glad you were able to come out of the incident and be available to the rest of your trip.
Excellent post. When I travel, I often hear “People are strange when you’re a stranger” in my mind. I am glad your adverse pizza experience was countered by the subsequent positive one. I love Helsinki – it is understated and, in my mind under-appreciated. I hope the rest of your time there is pleasant and positive.
Thank you. Your quote is such a good way to keep things in perspective. As you noted, Helsinki is very laid-back. I fell in love with their design district, spending many hours there.
This piece reminded me of my trip to Israel, wandering alone around the market in Jaffa, surrounded by Israeli soldiers, Arab grandmothers and everything in between, all ordering food from the stalls in an unruly mess, and I, trying to gently elbow my way in, hungry and unable to communicate. But you are right: our inner perception is often far from the outer reality, which is a good lesson to remember when travelling to foreign countries.
Ugh, “hungry and unable to communicate” is one of the worst situations to be in. How did you end up sorting out the stall situation in Jaffa?
Part of the fun challenge of being a traveler is to learn to accept, then navigate that dichotomy between how we perceive things and how they really are.
I have had similar experiences. Most of the time, I spoil a situation for myself because of my misperception/misinterpretation. By allowing some time to pass, being outside in nature, hearing the chirping of birds, I can usually let go of my perceived grievances.
Yes, eventually enough time away puts everything back into perspective. I think the key for me is to find those places, the way you have found yours, where I can let go of the grievance.
Traveling isn’t always sweetness and light, is it? 🙂 🙂 My first impressions aren’t always the ones I carry away with me. Being tired/damp/hungry do tend to influence your outlook and a ray of sunshine can transform a gloomy day. Interesting food on offer. 🙂
If traveling were always easy I don’t think it would be as rewarding for me. I certainly wouldn’t have learned as much about myself as I have if it was without challenges to my ego and perception.
There was a hodgepodge of cuisines, which is probably because Helsinki is the capital and an important port. It was the first time I had ever seen cold fruit soup. Eventually tried it and found it delicious. The Finns also love their reindeer meat and dill. 🙂
A terrific article and I’m glad your good humour returned so you could see and enjoy the city properly. I’ve had bad experiences when travelling, particularly on the first day of new places but then subsequent days make up for it. Beautiful photos and very well written.
Thank you, I’m so happy you enjoyed the piece. The first day is the most challenging for me as well as I try to acclimate to everything new all at once.
It’s also amazing how a little food can change everything
Indeed. It’s difficult to be on an intellectual, philosophical, or moral high ground when basic animal necessities do not get satisfied.
It indeed is a good question: what makes me feel like I feel. And, further thinking, how does this influence my appreciation or dissaproval? And: does my attitude towards, in this case a city, find reason in the way I feel? I think this is step nearer to wisdom. Not only as a traveller, a storyteller and a partciipant in digital media, but as a person. 🙂 By the way – the picture of the church is truly great!
Thank you so much for the compliment. As you put it so well, it’s an important question for me to keep asking as I continue to develop as a person.
I think Finland has grown enough in 100 years of independence, so it become one of the destination which must be seen in a lifetime. I already put it in my ‘bucket list’! 😉 Cătălin
Finland’s beauty is worthy of a visit, Cătălin. I hope you will get to experience the grand landscape and Helsinki at some point. Thank you for stopping by to chat. 🙂