A wasted life in the far north?

In all my travels, all my drifting so to speak, it always seemed best to just go independently, “sigma-ly” drifting, but at every point, humans being human, we’d gather friends and in some cases … family.

Can’t remember the last time I was bored or even lonely … or at least it was back in the past … I suspect it might also be sometime in the next few years too the way things are going. One time I particularly remember as desolate, where the entire empty life flashed before and I saw no prospects, was in Lucerne at the far end of that covered bridge, sitting on a concrete step … but that’s another story.

A second time (different other era) was in Rovaniemi:

It was one summer. As I was escaping Madrid’s 40 degree temp and mayhem by train, leaving behind the two Canadian gals, a Senorita named Luisa was sitting in the compartment and seemed not unhappy for me to be there … that tale’s been told before here, so fast fwd past our time in a Narbonne hotel for dinner, the journey to Firenze, the issue of anaesthetic gangs near Nice and Marseilles, the tale of Firenze and Roma, the trip north, into fascistic Berlin, still in Soviet days, north to the Denmark train, the boat to Stockholm, the boat to Turku (see map) …

… I started drinking with a Finn coming home and he was going to a folk festival east of Kokkola (see map), what did I have planned? He took me in his car, with me acting as his navigator: “Just trust me,” I assured him, “I know this country as I know restraint.” 

There were moments alone but not lonely in Kaustinen … though I do ask … have you ever been at a Finnish folk festival? I went south next day, in a compartment with an Ivy League American (I was on first class Eurail you see).

So … Helsinki … what to do? Some people said take the night train, saved on accommodation … why not? Now if you look north-east of Helsinki (see map), you’ll see lotsa lakes … it’s lake country … lake after lake after lake … and eventually, one gets mightily close to the Soviet border … I could see them, the guards, in the night out of the window, I shuddered. 

Little did I know that years later, I’d be going to St Petersburg from the other direction … by river.

Anyway, I’d teamed up with two Queenslanders … yes well I was young, wasn’t I, we do such things … I’d been married to a Qlder, forgive me.  We made it to Rovaniemi and went to the info place where they spoke English … last I saw of them, though she wrote a year or so later that they’d split. Sad. Anyway, I was billetted at a place I think is up in that forested hilly area maybe:

Now this is where memory plays tricks. Is that the hilly area or is the photographer standing near their home and that’s the town to the south? Really can’t remember, but I’ve used the episode in my long book.

A just retired couple had the house, my room had a grand view, all Finn cons and they had a daughter working in Helsinki … she was travelling up to them … great joy.

She was a tad bossy boots but otherwise fine, we went everywhere, then I was silly enough to break my wrist trying to fly down a bobsled track through the air, outside the track. Hospital was good.

Think it was that, plus not wanting sauna in their yard, plus she had work … well the deal was not sealed and there I was having to come back home to a new job … in this condition. It was the second time I particularly remember as desolate, where the entire empty life flashed before and I saw no prospects.

I still have no prospects, perhaps an empty life … but I don’t feel that … and that’s the thing.

It’s not our situation per se … it’s shirley how we feel about it … and don’t call me shirley.