We
are ascending a gentle slope towards the crest of a hill. Our path is
illuminated by the dim radiance of the moon upon the snow. A silhouette of spruce
lament, as subdued voices can be heard in the distance. We approach the apex, and
our eyes are greeted by an entirely dissimilar view. Before us stands an
expanse of granite memorials. Each is warmed by the placid flame of a candle. I
cannot articulate a single word in response, for such a vision demands utter reticence.
We proceed towards the center of the churchyard, and it is here where
families may light a candle in remembrance of those who have passed before
them. This event occurred on the night of Christmas Eve, and I do not believe
that its impression will ever recede from my memory.
On the sixth day of December, the Utajärvi Orchestra and I
performed a brief concert, as a memorial of Finland’s independence from Russia
in 1917. Throughout the duration of the performance, we played Lippulaulu (a patriotic commemoration of
the Finnish flag) and Maamme (a piece
which is translated as “Our Land,” which is Finland’s national anthem). The
majority of those in attendance were veterans who had served during the Winter
War of 1939-1940. These stalwart contributors of their nation’s freedom
remained in an utter trance of solemnity, as the music satiated the room and
the memories returned into cognition. I had never before observed such a
profound reverence, and I am truly blessed to have witnessed its progression.
On the 18th of this month, I gave a PowerPoint
presentation to a 5th year class in an elementary school. The report
encompassed aspects of the United States’ lower secondary school system vs.
Finland’s primary school system, the recreational time of American adolescents,
and the various traditions of the Christmas season. During the preliminary
introduction, I addressed the students in Finnish; however, previously, the
instructor recommended that I speak in English, as her pupils would benefit
from the experience. Thus, the majority of my presentation proceeded hence, but
the slides were written in both the English and the Finnish languages. Subsequently,
numerous inquiries were articulated; in particular the American Santa Claus and
his inimitable habit of entering each home via descending a chimney was a very
imperative inquest among the students. I thoroughly enjoyed my time amongst
such inquisitive young adults, and I hope that I may have such an opportunity
in the near future.
From the 1st to the 5th of December, I traveled 364 km north of Oulu (approximately 227 miles) to the tranquil village of
Muonio in northern Finland. Fringing upon the threshold between Finland and Sweden,
Muonio harbored an expanse of undulating hills and spruce of which both were enveloped
in a brilliant mantle of snow. Approximately, 130 exchange students were cordially
housed within a hotel lodge under the shadow of three resplendent fells. Fortunately, both Mr. Manninen and our neighbor had permitted me to borrow all the necessary equipment for the
journey. I spent the majority of the weekend cross-country skiing relatively 12 miles with small group of individuals. The other students descended the slopes
of a ski resort on snowboards or skis. During our stay, we visited a reindeer
farm and a sled-dog team encampment. Moreover, we were treated to a history of the lifestyle of the indigenous Sami inhabitants of Lapland.
On the 15th, Mr. Manninen, Elias, Selja, Aapeli,
Milja, Vilma, and I journeyed once more to the highly esteemed summer cottage
in Lalli. However, on this occasion we did not utilize a shovel; instead, on
that morning Mr. Manninen was furnished with a hand saw—the time had finally
arrived to claim a Christmas tree! For one hour, we scoured the grounds to
discern the location of the perfect specimen for the holiday season. Elias and
I pulled a miniature slay, which was laden with Vilma and Milja, as we followed
the company into the forest. Many trees were regarded as having admirable qualities,
but the ultimate decision was left to the entirely capable discretion of Milja and
Vilma. After only a few seconds of deliberation, we were returning to the
cabin—only now Elias and I each had one hand towing the sled and other two dragging
a pair of immaculate Christmas trees.
On the 22nd, the Manninen Family and I traveled
to Oulu to partake in a family pikkujoulu
(a little Christmas party). Many of Mr. Manninen's relatives were in attendance: his
mother and father, his three brothers, his sister-in-laws, and his nephews/nieces.
The evening was indeed very heartening, with numerous Christmas carols, various
games, and the amiable company of my sisters and brothers, of course. I
conversed with many of the family members, and towards the conclusion of the
celebration, Mr. Manninen’s mother procured everyone (including myself) with an
early Christmas gift—a pair of wool gloves she had very considerately woven.
In my previous entry, I related that I would be
participating in a dance course in the third period of my high school. However, I do
not believe the word “participating” adequately illustrates the reality of the
situation. I am of the opinion that the word “impotent” appropriately describes
my inability to dance, yet my partner persists to state that my capabilities
are satisfactory. However, the date of our performance in February is
disconcertingly approaching. Hopefully, I may retain the memory of the majority of the dances when the day arrives. The dances vary from the Viennese Waltz to Finnish
Tango, and I must say that I take the utmost pleasure in each dance.
On the 23rd, the Manninen family and I devoted an
entire evening to decorate the Christmas tree and our home. Subsequently, Vilma, Milja, and Aapeli thoroughly entertained the entire family by dancing to a variety Christmas jingles. Unfortunately, due to the fact that Milja and Vilma were not accustomed to being so disproportionate, they immensely struggled to maintain their balance during the spinning phase of each song.
Earlier that day,
the house was thoroughly cleaned to symbolize the birth of Christ. On
Christmas Eve, Joulupukki (Father
Christmas) visited our home, as we welcomed him with an amiable carol. He
proceeded to sit in the middle of the living room, and after reading the names written upon the packages, he distributed the Christmas presents accordingly. Later that evening, the rather jolly old fellow said
farewell, and the evening was concluded with opening presents and singing
affable Christmas carols.
In November, my mother was very gracious to send me a few of
her illustrious Christmas cookie recipes. Consequently, Sonja and Jenni were
very fond of the notion of preparing these for the Christmas season. Thus, on
the 24th, cookie dough was hurled to every corner and crevice of the
kitchen, as we despairingly wrestled the mixer to the floor--we were still
rasping the residue from off the walls of the kitchen on Christmas Day. However, the
incident could have been conveniently avoided if Jenni would have listened to
my advice to pour four cups of flour into the mixer instead of six—Jenni is
rather persistent, you see. In actuality, the affair was very enjoyable with no
calamities to speak of, as my noticeably sardonic personality had previously
suggested.
As can be derived from the former passage, I have developed
a very strong relationship with my wonderful sisters—particularly Jenni and Sonja. Both
girls are remarkably intelligent, yet they possess a modesty that is beyond my
comprehension. They have been exceedingly charitable with the kindness they
have imparted to me throughout the past five months. Their patience with the
apathetic time it has taken for me to communicate in Finnish has been more
long-suffering than I deserve. Furthermore, Sonja and Jenni have been my
greatest tutors—teaching me an impartial paradigm of modesty, humility, and
honesty. I believe I have developed into a more understanding individual as a
direct consequence of their unconditional benevolence. Indeed, I am greatly privileged
to call them my beloved friends.
Elias, Selja, and Aapeli have also been extraordinary siblings.
Elias continually displays a maturity far beyond his age by his decisive
willingness to assist his father. He excels in every aspect of his life, and he
will undoubtedly become an exceptional man in the future. Selja is a very
creative girl who is never content with the conventional methods of resolving a
problem. Aapeli has remained the family thespian, and his love of computer
games and Aku Ankka (Donald Duck) continues
to thrive.
Milja and Vilma are still little bundles of vivacity, yet
Mrs. Manninen has delegated the commission of chasing them throughout the house
to Sonja and Jenni. The pictures that they have so generously drawn for me continue to fill the sides of my wardrobe. Moreover,Vilma and Milja have a profound infatuation with both card
and board games. Recently, they have been particularly inclined to drag their victim to the
ground, so they may play Safari Photography--but do not be deceived, for these girls are very severe when the game has been initiated.
Mr. and Mrs. Manninen have been exceptionally thoughtful and
wonderful parents to me throughout the entirety of my stay. Their disposition
to assist and encourage me has been one of my greatest reassurances, and my
gratitude for what they have done cannot be adequately expressed. Along with my parent's example, Mr. and Mrs. Manninen's unconditional and inexhaustible adoration for their children will serve as an archetype for my parenting in the future.
On the 2nd of January I will be leaving the
Manninen family and staying with my Rotary President, her husband, and their
9-year-old boy. Although this alteration is integral in the exchange
process, I will deeply miss the company of this truly astonishing family.
Sincerely,
Matt Parlette
