Trip! Or, Repetition Makes Us Happy

Life can only be understood backwards; but it must be lived forwards. — Søren Kierkegaard

So, it's Sunday, and we're home a week from Scandinavia, and Jenifer and I decide to see a movie. I figure by this time I have the whole driving-a-car-again-after-not-driving-a-car-for-23-days routine down, and so with utter confidence, nay, abandon, I pull into the lot of the local Regal Marketplace and park. We get out and proceed in the direction of the multiplex. One small detail, however, suddenly captures our attention. The car is still running. That's odd, I think, my keys are not . . . in . . . my . . . pocket!

I mention this not to draw untoward criticism of my driving abilities or general wherewithal, but to provide a moviegoing tip for the cost-conscious screenwriter. See, the manager, after contacting the licensed professional dour-faced police officer who eventually unlocked the locked door, gave us two tickets to the movie of our choice, so that we might "let go of our stress." I can't promise this strategy will work every time, but you never know. Lady in the Water, by the way, is a fine film.

But you're not interested in finances and stress reduction, you say. That's alright, since the plan all along was to recap the last two days in Copenhagen and then provide an analysis of What It All Means. Before we get started, however, I should point out that a smattering of photographs from the trip (to Sweden, Finland, and Denmark, for those just joining us) now accompany the text (thanks to Mozilla Firefox and not that other big-name browswer).

Friday, then, began with another helping of the Best Brunch Ever, served up at Cafe Europa. Jenifer and I had discovered this place towards the end of our last trip to Copenhagen, and it was one of the chief experiences we were determined to repeat. On our first stroll down Strøget this time, we both sighed in relief as we saw that Europa ("Since 1989") still occupied the same corner.

It's been suggested that I have a touch of OCD, so I endeavor where possible to try new things, to avoid the safe, familiar, comfortable patterns. This is most easily and fruitfully done when traveling. Sometimes, though, it's best to stick with what works, and that's where the concept of Repetition Makes Us Happy, as Jenifer likes to tease, really shines.

We followed up our repast with a trip to the Danish Museum of Art and Design, completing our Nordic design hat trick. The 20th century exhibits were the most exciting, and it was illuminating to see everyday objects -- chairs, lamps, posters -- embodying the concepts I'd studied in graduate school. Here the accompanying words of Adorno and Baudrillard and Lyotard came to life, here one saw how the design, production, and consumption of material culture informed a nation's identity. From "Ecology, recycling, and sustainable design":

Environmental design . . . incorporates embryonic concepts for new patterns of consumption, e.g. right of use instead of right of ownership, joint rather than individual ownership, and focus on opportunities for upgrading or repairing existing objects instead of buying new ones.

The Danes put this into practice. Perhaps one of the most visible ways is Copenhagen's City Bike program, wherein you unlock a public bicycle by depositing a 20-kroner coin, and then ride, rack the bike, and collect your deposit. (Incidentally, the white-and-green building in the background of the picture on the City Bike's home page is to my direct right in the "brunch" shot above.) I only wish the Danes would innovate a similar City Toilet program.

The museum also houses plenty of other artifacts, some illustrating the history of the famous Danish Design (originally inspired by English woodworking), others more regional pieces. Jenifer was particularly moved by the textiles, which illustrated the history of two highly regarded female designers and the studio they shared as master and apprentice.

Afterwards, we chanced upon more trail magic in the form of a two-hour conversation with a nearby shopkeeper, leaving just in time to cross town and catch our assigned seats for the further adventures of Will and Elizabeth. We found it thoroughly entertaining, as good or even better than the first one, though I missed a few lines of dialogue while trying to read the Danish subtitles.

Saturday saw us breakfasting once more at Europa -- our fourth such outing that week -- and then shopping a bit and spending our final Copenhagen hours at Tivoli Gardens, one of the world's oldest amusement parks (second only to one in nearby Klampenborg). Then back to our home in Islands Brygge and the reality of an early-morning flight.

It's strange to be in a place that feels so familiar. If I have a spiritual home, it's Copenhagen. And yet Jenifer and I both felt something of a letdown this time, a feeling we were loathe to acknowledge. Repetition wasn't Making Us as Happy as we expected. We realized after a few days that the city hadn't changed dramatically (apart from the swarm of high-season tourists), but that our expectations of repeating our honeymoon were unrealistic. This time the magic, the newness, was to be found in Sweden and Finland, which were previously unknown to us. And so returning to Denmark was like returning to an old friend rather than meeting a new lover. Not as wondrous an experience, but deeper.

Speaking of old friends, I was asked whether, in terms of the script research, I had found what I was looking for. I had conceived the trip, in part, as a research venture that would enhance my knowledge of Norse history and culture — what I needed to write my historical epic. In some ways I had found what I was looking for, discovering a wealth of material I hadn’t conjured from the pile of books I’d read. In a number of cases, however, plans that seemed sure bets on paper did not come to pass. So I decided to seek a middle way, a balance between structure and spontaneity: an idea of what I wanted coupled with a willingness to receive what the universe was willing to offer. More and more, I saw that sometimes my expectations were either unrealistic or too stringent, and the things that happened did so easily, without struggle. Sometimes letting go is the best way forward. Sometimes, Fun is Simple.

Form and Function in Finland

The past several days we've spent wandering the streets and museums of Helsinki. This city takes its architecture and design very seriously, which is no accident considering that the city is the only European capital without a medieval past and was actively planned by a Berliner and modeled, in part, after St. Petersburg. The three main styles are Neoclassical, Art Nouveau, and Functionalism. The buildings are very dramatic, and even modern buildings fit very well with the older ones, even those that look like they come from a Soviet version of Blade Runner.

On our first day, hobbling and lurching, we did a walking tour that took us through the marina and examples of all the architectural styles. The city streets are a blend of old and new, with narrow, wire-guided trams running along tracks and expensive luxury cars bustling through. A trip down Bulevardi, a wide residential street, took us to Saaga, a restaurant featuring traditional Sami dishes. Jenifer had root vegetables with wheat and cep (mushroom) soup. I had snow grouse with mashed potatoes and crowberries. These little black berries have a tart flavor that quickly dissipates, and are exclusive to northern Finland, Sweden, Norway, western Jutland in Denmark, northern Canada, and Alaska. For dessert we had cranberries served in a bowl made of ice, with hot caramel sauce drizzled over them. Very tart, strong, and good!

On Saturday we visited Kiasma, Helsinki's modern art museum. Our favorite piece was an installation called "Solitude and Stability." After taking off our shoes as instructed, we "carefully and silently" entered a dark room. We stepped onto the gold-painted wood floor near a smooth boulder -- and then our reality shifted. Everything was moving, and the boulder was somehow gliding towards us. Jenifer squealed as we fought to maintain our balance, and suddenly we realized that the floor was moving back and forth, and the boulder was moving independently. Most of the exihibits were equally thought-provoking and amazing.

Next we visited the Design Museum, located in the heart of the city's design district. The museum provides an in-depth history of Finnish graphic, furniture, and industrial design over the past 150 years. Just as with the Historical Museum's Viking Room in Stockholm, we could see the lasting influence of past Finnish designs on modern products. For example, a particular stool designed in the early 20th century is still mass-produced and today available through IKEA. We even saw a number of these stools in the open-air market by Helsinki's harbor. And old glassware designs are still sold by iitaala, a major Finnish design firm.

Afterwards, we walked to the main square in front of the cathedral and enjoyed a traditional Finnish meal. Jenifer had onion and cep pancakes with dijon sauce and root vegetables. I had reindeer soup, followed by the "forest man's skewer" -- reindeer meat and moose sausage, as well as mashed potatoes and lightly marinated cabbage. Again the food was excellent.

Today we continued our journey through Finnish art at the Art Museum of the Ateneum. This museum houses the most significant part of the Finnish National Gallery, featuring the country's finest paintings and sculptures. Most of the work dated no earlier than the 1860s, when Finland's artists began seeking a cultural identity independent of the influences of Sweden and Russia. Landscapes, portraits of Finnish everyday life, and the Romantic depictions of the Kalevala, Finland's national epic, formed the bulk of the collection. The museum is currently running an exhibition featuring works from all the Nordic countries -- Finland, the three Scandinavian countries, and Iceland -- as well the Minneapolis Institute of Art.

Two things about the collections particularly struck us. First, the great number of women painters represented and the high esteem in which they were held in their day and after. Second, the paintings of Akseli (Axel) Gallen-Kallela, who has been called Finland's national painter. Some works are powerful landscapes, others are intimate portraits of both European luminaries and everyday folk, and still others were highly stylized depictions of scenes from the Kalevala. These last were particularly bold, with strong outlining around the figures, vibrant colors, and a style reminiscent of N.C. Wyeth's illustration work.

We've been both moved and surprised by both the powerful creativity of the Finns, as well as how highly they value design in all forms: from everyday objects designed for function and beauty to commanding public buildings and spaces.