March 24, 2015
The meditation house at the lake near by…
while I am meditating, Agyag is dreaming about Daco
After we packed into the car at the airport and was driving to Maria-Leena’s house, I had to break the news to Agyag. I told her the truth that we did not really come back to Helsinki to buy more of those delicious smoked fish treats that she got last summer. We flew across half way the world to select a nice dog for her to start a family. As soon as the “arranged” word came up in the context of marriage, she gave me that angry feminist canine real bitch look (pun intended) and started scratching the expensive leather seat in the car. (gosh I hate smart female dogs… when we return home the library room will be off limit for the Pumis the baby gate will go back up.) Since I did not expect her negative reaction, I had no clue what to tell her. I wanted to avoid a ridiculous feminist debate with Agyag in front of Marja-Leena (I wanted to avoid embarrassment, Agyag is a dog after all…)
the church boat house. Marja-Leena with the dogs
the meditation house from a different angle…
Because of lack of a better answer, I stole a quote from a Jarod Kintz book. So I told her, “I had an arranged marriage. If I didn’t, how would anybody know when and where to show up…?”
After a long uncomfortable silence we got to Marja-Leena’s home. Fortunately, Agyag’s melodrama was short lived when Pustan Helmen Karhunsammal, “Daco,” the dashing male Pumi appeared in the doorway…
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o9LfCcUaN1o click link…
After things calmed down and “Daco” left, we went for a hike so the dogs could stretch and run. The weather was nice as we walked through the empty skanzen of the park with its restored original buildings hiding the sins and joys of history past.
The Skanzen with its ghostly emptiness…
Then we arrived to the lake. Half of the water has been covered with a continuos ice sheet. Suddenly I did not see Marja-Leena. Before I could panic, she reappeared. I could not believe my eyes she was in her bathing suit marching toward the lake in about 35F temperature and the next second, there she was, swimming toward the ice. She started calling me to join her swimming in the icy lake, however, I regrettably had to decline this very inviting opportunity because I had to watch the dogs so they did not get away (as my excuse was).
I can be an unreasonable person sometimes but I would not believe ever that any “Sampo” or even “Shampoo” would make me lucky or would protect me from hypothermia after a dip in the icy lake… Marja-Leena swimming in the ice cold water while I am hoping that she gets out soon and I do not need to jump in the water to rescue her. Still shivering from the idea…
By the way, I often wondered what makes Finnish people to jump into ice covered body of waters? Could it be CIPA (congenital insensitivity to pain with anhidrosis), an inherited national disorder, when an individual cannot feel extreme heat or cold? Or is it a simply superstition of believing in the “Sampo” the prominent national talisman from the “Kalevala” story that supposed to bring fortune and keep anyone who believes in it away from trouble? I imagine ice lake swimmers smear some “Sampo” in liquid form from a bottle on their bodies, hoping to prevent them from heart attack in the cold water…
I simply cannot resist to throw in my theory of American ingenuity in relation to the “Sampo.” Did it ever occur to anyone that perhaps an early American venture capitalist and a shady inventor joined together, after reading the “Kalevala” on a long and boring sailing trip crossing the Ocean to the Colonies in the New World and came up with this crazy idea to sell some magic liquid that brings great fortune and success for its users and simply name it “Shampoo…?”
While I was petrified on the shore watching Marja-Leena swimming, I’ve had dozens of scenarios running thru my head, how could I get away from jumping into the cold water if Marja-Leena needed to be rescued. One idea was that hopefully she would yell for help in Finnish because than I could have the perfect alibi. I do not speak the language…
