Saunas. Sleeplessness. And a message from a kindred spirit.

When I told people I was going to Finland, I usually got this reaction:

Huh?

This is fair. Finland is, well, pretty random. I don’t know anyone who’s visited outside of work or school. It’s dark. It’s far. And it was currently right in the first stretch of winter.

So why was I going?

It started for me in Portugal. On my second weekend, I was at my friend Nuno’s apartment. He used to live in Helsinki, and he loved it: the nature, the saunas, the clean air. Yet for whatever reason, once he mentioned how delicious the drinking water is, something sparked within me. It gripped me.

Then, in the following months, I kept having images of reindeer pop into my mind, accompanied by a feeling of warmth and excitement. It wouldn’t go away.

And so I knew — I had to go.

I arrived after an overnight flight at 2pm, somewhat refreshed. Upon landing, the entire landscape was pure white — and desolate.

“What the hell am I doing,” I muttered to myself.

That said, I found myself charmed to be there. I was in a really cute AirBnB. The people seemed very kind. The city itself just has clean, easy vibes. It’s a pleasant place to be. My first night, I went to a rustic traditional restaurant and ate reindeer for the first time (it was good).

After, I was so tired I was falling asleep with my eyes open. But that night, something funny happened.

I couldn’t sleep.

This was different from other nights of sleeplessness. As I’d written, this first started back in February, in Barcelona (always on a trip, barren of distraction, does our unconscious decide to speak its mind). So by now, I knew what to do. I had my tactics: switch locations, take magnesium, breathe, and just say to yourself, “even if I don’t sleep for a second, I will be okay.”

Well, none of that shit worked. As soon as I laid down, my heart started pounding. I’d sleep for a second, then snap back into consciousness. Then, I panicked. And that anxiety started to spiral.

By my fourth night, it was getting worse. I was supposed to go on a hike the next day, and was on the verge of cancelling the trip. I even started looking for an earlier flight home, and was willing to pay the steep fee.

I called my Mom. I called a friend. And eventually, I called my therapist.

We chatted for a bit before she finally asked:

“Tell me. What have you been working on, like outside of work?”

This was very astute of her to ask. And I guess I need to share something else.

This Finland trip wasn’t just intuition — it was an audition.

After Portugal, I’d really doubted living in New York. I’d realized so much was working against me: I simply wasn’t my best self while there. The noise, the lack of nature, not to mention the cost, was wearing me down. I was doubting if I even wanted to be a writer, and if I was fooling myself by pursuing these creative types of projects. Maybe it was all this big ego trip, and I was meant to be doing something else entirely.

So in the two months between returning home and coming here, I put my life on hold. I didn’t really date, as what girl wants a guy with a foot out the door. I didn’t start any new classes, hobbies, or activities. I had no interest in making new friends. I was simply coasting, which meant work, gym, then watching three hours of basketball.

I told all this to my therapist. And I’d realized — every time in my life when I’ve questioned my path, I’ve gone into darkness.

“You seem to have this intense need for control,” she said. “Like, your success depends on you figuring it all out, and all these things need to go right for you to have the outcome you want. Just trust yourself and the way you show up.”

“And by the way,” she added, “you should definitely go on that hike tomorrow. Even if you sleep for only two hours.”

Now, it’s time to talk about sauna.

Sauna in Finland is a verb, not a place. The Finns invented sauna over 2,000 years ago. Apparently, there’s one for every two people. They’re in offices and apartment buildings. They even want to put one in the airport. Unlike spas in the States, it’s not a place for zen or centering, but more so for gathering, chatting, and intimate conversation.

I was fortunate to stay right next to a very traditional one. When you walk by, there’s usually six to eight men sitting outside in only towels in the freezing cold, cooling off before returning to the heat.

This was also where I met the Chief.

I was in the sauna and it was starting to fill up. I’d asked someone how long they actually sit in there. As I did, another man asked where I was from. He was an older, burly man, and he started telling me stories of his youth. He’s from Lapland, the very north of Finland, where it’s 20-below-zero and dark 24 hours a day in winter.

“Me and my brother,” he thumbed over to an older man, who nodded, “we cut holes in the ice, seven meters apart. Then, we’d swim back and forth between the holes!” He started laughing, then sat up straight and showed me his shoulder. “After that, they gave me this!” As he said this, he slapped his tattoo: a picture of a Native American Chief.

The Chief was here with his two sons and his older brother. This was their annual tradition — they go bowling, then come and sauna. They’d been doing it over 20 years, and then took a five-year hiatus once COVID hit. This was their first time back.

In sauna, there is an order.

When you walk in, because the guys are too lazy to get up, you ask the people in the uppermost row if they’d like more steam. The men will give permission, or not. If they say yes, you ladle two scoops of water onto the coals.

The guys in there of course have perfected this technique: a smooth, fluid scoop where a heap of water lands perfectly within the hearth, causing it to roar loudly as steam shoots out. When I was leaving, they insisted I do it. I was bashful, but I guess I had to. First, I half missed the hole; then, when I actually hit it, instead of a loud roar, mine made the feeble hissing noise like someone extinguishing a match with wet fingertips.

“Maybe do it a few more times,” the guy said, laughing.

Once you can’t take anymore heat, you go outside to stand in the 20-degree weather. Some guys have a beer. Otherwise, they sit in their towels as steam pours off them. I stood as long as I could, until icicles were half-forming in my hair. Then, for fear of dropping dead, I had to go inside.

“You’re lucky you came here,” someone said. “This is a very traditional sauna, none of the others are like this. No tourists are here. This is how it used to be here in Helsinki.”

“It’s the last of its kind,” he added. “The last one standing.”

Even though sleep was an issue, I thoroughly enjoyed the city itself.

Walking around, I just found myself smiling. Yes, it’s dark (daylight hours are 9am - 3pm), and yes, it seems people are withdrawn and depressed during the winter (several Finns I spoke with said they’d lived in Helsinki their whole lives, and winter gets harder every year). But still, there’s just an easy vibe throughout.

One major highlight was Oodi, their central library.

I spent two days here. The Hygge, as you can see, is through the roof. They also have sound recording booths, editing bays, instruments to rent, 3-D printers, every magazine you’d want, a restaurant, a cafe, four rooms with the latest video game machines, and more…all for free.

One day, I visited a school.

I was curious about returning to teaching, so I reached out to some schools for a tour. One got back to me, and was kind enough to give me a visit.

“We differ from other schools because the parent isn’t our customer,” said my guide. “Our priority is the student.”

Finland takes a more holistic approach to education, she said. If a student is struggling, teachers might look into mental health resources for them, or suggest a therapist. Even their kids, while in day care, start to learn emotional intelligence and how to articulate feelings. Teachers are also far more empowered: free to design their own lesson plans, to pitch new ideas, and most importantly, are not beholden to standardized tests. The results speak for themselves: Finland has one of the best education systems in the world, based off high school graduation rates.

*My last stop on the tour was their Health class. The teacher learned I was from the States, and asked if I’d be back the next day (I would not). “That’s too bad,” she said. “We’re learning about bad diets and poor food systems, so we’re studying the United States!”

I appreciated the casual attitude towards nudity.

My first sauna banned any clothing at all. I felt self-conscious at first being completely nude, yet that evaporated within three minutes.

Nudity for Finns seems to be completely natural. I’d learned from a friend that even as a kid, you go with your family to the sauna, everyone’s naked, and it’s a very normal thing. Actually, it’s not even a thing — I heard certain workplaces have saunas, where you casually go naked with your boss and like, talk about career goals.

My friend Daniela, who lives in Helsinki and is originally from Colombia, told me of the positive effect this outlook has had on her: “Their casual attitude has helped me feel way better about my own body,” she said. “Like, I see all shapes and body types come in, and nobody is self-conscious at all of what they look like, nor judging anyone else. It’s like, body image isn’t really a thing here. It’s really liberating, and it’s done so much for my own self-esteem.”

And lastly, the food.

Someone said, don’t place too much expectations on the food — and that the Finns eat to live, not live to eat. So I didn’t. But I did enjoy some tasty treats:

*Meatballs. Always meatballs. (and “meatball sauce”)*

*And of course, more reindeer (served with mashed potatoes and lingonberries, quite delicious)*

As you could tell, I did go for a hike after that therapy call. And later that night, I met with my other connection in the city, Joonas.

Joonas was introduced by Nuno, my Portuguese friend I mentioned earlier. Joonas is a musician and works for Finland’s public broadcasting radio.

And as soon as we met, we were off.

Joonas is a kindred spirit. We walked and talked for hours. We got mulled wine and reindeer cakes. He took me out of the Christmas market and through the city: into the design district, snowy parks, Helsinki’s “Soho,” and eventually at a bar dedicated to Frida Kahlo.

As we walked, I told him of my discontent in New York. “I just feel when I’m there, I’m stifled,” I said. “Like, I’m not creative, I’m not inspired. I don’t have good ideas. But when I go elsewhere, things seem to erupt.”

“Of course,” he said. “Because we’re hunter-gatherers.”

Lightbulb.

“We need to go and hunt in order to sustain ourselves. To move and get out of our normal environment,” he said. “It doesn’t mean you can’t be creative where you live. But it’s important to always have that next place.”

It’s funny, and I had a sense this would happen: I’d go to Finland to try living there and discover that I had what I wanted in New York all along.

As I said: For two months, I had my foot out the door (or as Yoda says to Luke in Empire Strikes Back, “always with one eye to the horizon — never where he is, right. now!). And actually, I’ve spent a lot of my life like that — always thinking there’s something else better out there.

Now, it’s important to be honest with yourself — to recognize discontent and live in a place where you thrive. But constantly searching leaves you obtuse to signs that could be right in front of you.

As I quote:

“You never know what you’re looking for until you find it. And you’ll never find it if you know what you’re looking for.”

I spend a lot of time trying to “figure it out,” which could very well have caused the insomnia, too (and sleep, as we know, is the thing you can least control).

Life in general seems smoothest for those who live on two feet, not the ones always scrambling in their minds to figure out what’s next.

That’s how you get old and realize, as you look back, how good you actually had it.

Finland: Journey into Darkness

Sedona: Spiritual Disneyland

Portugal: The Last Week