Helsinki, Finland
June 10, 2023
In this place, at this time of year, it’s tough to beat the sun out of bed. That’s because at these latitudes, Apollo’s chariot rarely takes a rest.
During the “night”…like a dimmer switch that never goes off…daylight fades, but never disappears. Since we left Amsterdam, we’ve seen no clouds and nary a star.
From Estonia last evening, we drifted fifty miles across the Gulf of Finland, and into Helsinki Harbor.
Yesterday, as we departed Tallinn, we noted how pleased we’ve been with each of our ports.
We still are. But this time, a favorable opinion needed time to marinate.
If each stop were an earnings call, the previous ones easily exceeded expectations. Afterward, their stock rose. But today’s is the first to have “missed guidance.”
There’s much to like about Helsinki, and perhaps we’d set the bar too high. It didn’t help that we arrived early on a Saturday…when pedestrians were scarce, and locks sealed most commercial doors.
But our initial impression was of a city trying too hard to be “modern”. Much of it abounded in bland (and sometimes atrocious) architecture and nondescript street-scapes. Even the Opera House is ugly, which is a bad sign.
We passed plenty of soul-sucking twentieth century structures. Our initial hour in Helsinki offered “art” and architecture that’s depressingly “novel”, reflecting the “progressive”impulse to be “edgy” yet unedifying. But mostly, it’s demoralizing, disorienting, deranged, and dull.
As we deplored these aesthetic hate crimes, we remembered that, unlike many American cities, those in Europe tend to become more appealing as you get closer to the middle.
And as we moved inward, Helsinki upped its game. Façades and sidewalks shed post-modern apparel, adopting Art Nouveau dignity, neoclassical elegance, and inspired baroque.
Such refinement is what we’d expected, and shouldn’t be too much to ask. After all, models of good taste are all over Europe, and around the Gulf of Finland.
We saw plenty in Tallinn. For its appearance and design, Helsinki itself was called “Little St Petersburg”. And in certain areas, it earned the appellation.
But it took a while.
Finland wasn’t free till the Czar fell. It gained independence in 1917, and Helsinki became its capital. The town dots the Gulf of Finland as part of an archipelago of several hundred islands.
The first settlers came toward the end of the last Ice Age, which some here might argue never ended. Helsinki (like Tallinn) is among major harbors that freezes each winter.
As such, Finns are very effective breaking the ice. They’re known for building Arctic ships equipped with ice-breakers, supplemented with oil-recovery equipment for the fleeting summer months.
Closer to shore, beaches are full in “summer”, as they were today…despite windy temperatures that barely crested 60. But Finns are hardy (to use a more diplomatic term than the one that initially came to mind) enough to swim when the water is frozen.
They’ve had plenty of experience accommodating themselves to harsh conditions. During the “Winter War” of 1939-1941, the Finns invaded Soviet Russia.
This superficial suicide mission was a temporary success, despite the underdogs being overwhelmingly outnumbered and having to engage in combat while riding skis.
After the war, Finland wisely hedged its bets. It signed an agreement with the Soviets, yet kept working with the West. As such, the city crawled with spies from both sides, and was a popular depot for Soviet defectors.
Helsinki is accustomed to being at a crossroads. It was founded by Swedish King Gustav I in 1550 to compete for the lucrative Baltic trade. But the city didn’t really set sail till the early 1800s, when it was taken over by Russia as part of the Grand Duchy of Finland.
In the 19th century, Russians couldn’t travel abroad, so Helsinki became a popular vacation spot for Russian nobility.
Under Czarist rule, German architect Carl Engel was tasked with revising Helsinki in the mold of St Petersburg, which explains the resemblance in the center of town.
The imitation was in evidence along the Esplanade, a gorgeous promenade connecting the grand Erottaja to Market Square, which is analogous to a Finnish Fisherman’s Wharf…with more fruit and less kitsch.
We found Erottaja Square after riding past the hideous Sibelius monument and walking into (and immediately out of) the underwhelming (and overpriced) “Rock Church”.
As the name implies, this curiosity is carved into solid rock, bathed in natural light, and features acoustics that are apparently terrific. After our brief peak, we decided to take their word for it.
Seeking a spot to gather our bearings, we stumbled upon the Kamppi “Chapel of Science”, a repulsive box intended as a place for “silence and contemplation”, but is instead another demoralizing link in the dehumanizing chain of modern architecture.
We decided to stop subjecting ourselves to modernist monstrosities. Instead of wasting more time, we headed straight to the heart of town.
On the way, we passed the “Three Blacksmiths Statue.” Story has it they strike the anvil when a virgin walks by. For whatever reason, many discreet young ladies kept their distance.
As we emerged onto Erottaja, this bustling intersection of Finland’s most notable streets suspended our skepticism and widened our eyes. This was the Helsinki we’d hoped for.
We decided Uspenski Cathedral would be our destination, with Esplanadi being our path to sample appealing sights along the way.
It was worth the walk. Another Engels masterpiece, the park is bounded by his eponymous theater, upscale shops, exquisite cafés, and features a statuary array of famous Finns.
Beyond the far end, past Market Square and across the canal, is a brick façade under green roofs and gold domes, that boldly rises in Russian revival style.
Dedicated to the “Dormition” of the Virgin, Uspenski Cathedral was opened in 1868 and remains the largest Orthodox Church in Western Europe. Behind the cathedral, as in many places in the center of this capital, is a commemorative marker honoring Czar Alexander II.
The interior abounds in ornate arches, Orthodox icons, inlaid gold, precious vessels, and decorative art enlivening every wall.
From Uspenski, we walked back across the water toward Senate Square. Dominating this expansive plaza is the most distinctive structure in Finland.
Another bequest of Carl Engel (who also designed the rest of this square), Helsinki Cathedral reflects neoclassical simplicity and elegance reminiscent of St. Petersburg style.
The footprint is a Greek cross, each end of which features a classic pediment supported by Corinthian columns.
Atop the structure is a majestic dome, surrounded symmetrically by four smaller siblings. These were added by Ernst Lohrmann after Engel’s death, to bear closer resemblance to St Isaac’s in St. Petersburg.
The interior is apparently pristine, with a few touches of color enhancing the organ and altar. Unfortunately, a private event kept us from verifying this assessment with an eyewitness account.
Spread before the cathedral is Senate Square, where the Government Palace, Sederholm House, and main building of the University of Helsinki surround an appealing plaza anchored by a pigeon pedestal that’s also a statue of Alexander II.
Past a plethora of sidewalk cafés, we returned to Market Square, where clear skies and glistening waves provided a glorious canvass for a palette of vendors peddling delectable produce.
Beside the square, behind another monument to Alexander II, are City Hall and the President’s Palace, one of three residences for the Finnish president. As with much of Czarist Helsinki, the soft yellow palace offers neoclassical elegance with a light, pleasant touch.
That’s an appealing way to remember Helsinki, which looks better as we leave than when we arrived.
JD