It's Christmas every day in Rovaneimi...

I've been to Finland three times now. The first time was in February 2020, just before lockdown, the second time I flew there just for dinner in August 2022 and now I'm back again in April 2023. One thing has characterised all three trips: every hotel I have been booked in to has given me a room right at the very end of a corridor. Every hotel. Back in February 2020 at the Scandic Simonkentta, I think I was in room 602, I can't remember exactly, but it was right at the very end of a corridor on the right. It was the same with the second visit, when I stayed in the Scandic Paasi, and at the Santa Claus Hotel in Rovaneimi (room 560) AND yesterday (Saturday 15April) at the Indigo Hotel (room 411). Once again, I'm at the end of the corridor, this time on the left hand side. The only difference about the Indigo Hotel, from where I am writing this blog, is that the doors open inwards. Everywhere else, in fact, everywhere else, not just the hotels, doors open outwards to make it easier for people to escape their rooms if they need to kick the doors down to escape, say, a fire. Why the Indigo bucked the trend, I don't know.

Santa Claus Hotel, Rovaneimi

I flew from Rovaneimi at just gone 1400hrs. It was a very pleasant flight. The skies were clear and cloudless and below me I could see the barren landscape of Finland with it's frozen lakes and rivers and all I could think about was that I rode the night train to Rovaneimi and that all of that was below me; what took me all night will be over in an hour and all we got for free from Finnair was a small cup of blueberry juice. Not that I'm complaining. Finnair has been brilliant and it was only a one-hour, 10-minute flight. I was sitting in seat 1a with plenty of leg room. It was a small plane with two rows of two seats and it was packed.

On reaching Helsinki I took the train into the city and then trundled my suitcase along cobbled streets (not ideal) to the Indigo Hotel on Bulevardi. The pleasant nature of this hotel was revealed immediately with an efficient check-in, the room (411) was good and I decided to get a walk in before dinner. I paced it out for 2.14 miles, following a straightforward but random route in the shape of a square and then, when I got back to the room I phoned home and then started to wonder about where to have dinner. A trendy pasta restaurant was suggested, but in all honesty I couldn't be bothered with 'trendy' so I stayed at the hotel's Bröd restaurant where I enjoyed gravlax followed by steak with pollenta chips and rounded off with a lime posset, which I could have done without because it was tasteless. But let's not criticise the hotel, it was fantastic. I sat there reading The Big Midweek – Life Inside the Fall by Steve Hanley in between eating and drinking. I ordered a bottle of sparkling Pellegrino and, not really wanting a no-alcohol Heineken, I opted for a non-alcoholic cider, and let's face it, non-alcoholic cider is apple juice, why not simply offer me an apple juice? Either way, it was a pleasant drink, much pleasanter than a Heineken 00.

It's Christmas all year round in Rovaneimi

I had a long chat with the waitress, so long I almost let my green tea go cold, and then I paid up and headed back to room 411. I messed around with the room lights and then sat and read my book until I felt tired enough to sleep, but then I awoke around 0304 and here I am writing. It's now 0509.

Daybreak, 0444 in Rovaneimi. This the view from my hotel window...

In Rovaneimi yesterday I realised that Santa Claus works full-time throughout the year. There's a Santa Claus theme park full of souvenir shops and a decent buffet restaurant, the Three Elves, and after a pleasant lunch we headed for the airport and the short flight to Helsinki. But I found it hard to believe that Santa is working in April, meeting people from all over the world and agreeing to have his photograph taken. I felt that I was too old to sit on his knee and so only managed a brief glimpse of the great man - who I thought lived in the street next to mine in the UK (clearly I am mistaken) - but I found that it's Christmas all-year round up there in the Arctic Circle, even my hotel, the aptly named Santa Claus Hotel, had Christmas trees on top of the entrance canopy. Elsewhere there were Christmas lights too. First thing in the morning in Rovaneimi it was minus six degrees. As the day progressed it warmed up a little to around plus 2 degrees and there were patches of ice around that needed to be avoided.

Hearty breakfast in Rovaneimi

Snow is everywhere. It features prominently in family photographs on Finnish iphones and can be seen banked up on the roadsides and in car parks, huge piles of the stuff blended with black/grey grit giving it the appearance of a skunk, like the cartoon character Pepé Le Pew. From the air the snow makes the ground below look like a choppy sea full of white horses crashing hither and thither, and on the roofs of houses there are chunks of the stuff, unsullied by grit, waiting to slide off and hit the ground – and we're talking two to three feet thick slabs of it.

Rovaneimi airport is tiny and there are very little in the way of flights on the departures board, just the Helsinki flight that I'm on and another one. Security was, again, a doddle, and soon we were boarding the flight. I was told as we sat drinking our tea and coffee, that a famous Finnish actress had just walked past us, but such information was alien to me as I don't know any famous Finnish actresses.

While it's warmer in Helsinki than in Rovaneimi, it's still cold and there was a bitter wind that prompted me to do up the buttons on my coat before continuing my journey on foot from the central station to the Indigo hotel, but it's getting warmer here and the Finnish people are looking forward to having barbecues in their back gardens even if they will have to don coats. While the sun is shining and the sky is blue, it's still brass monkey weather. According to my pal Ilkka, the barbecue season has already started. In Tornio yesterday evidence of the beginning of barbecue season was there for all to see in a Motonet store where shop assistants were stocking up with gas cylinders. Inside the shop – which was a huge, cavernous space on the edge of town – there was plenty of different styles of barbecue equipment ranging from the disposable to some pretty impressive pieces of kit that wouldn't look out of place in a modern kitchen. As for Motonet, it was one of those places where you could buy anything: knives, camping equipment, weather-proof clothing, DIY equipment, sweets, outdoor games, stuff for your car, anything at all.

Yours truly at the Arctic Circle...

One of the best things about Finland is Karl Fazer chocolates. I was pleased to note as I walked along Bulevardi that there was a Karl Fazer coffee shop and it was just across the street from my hotel. I went in for a coffee and a pistachio cake and sat there reading before heading back to the hotel to decide upon my dining arrangements. It opens at 1000 this morning, which gives me a little time to chill although I'm not really sure if I'll do that, despite telling the people behind the counter that I'd be back. Instead I might mosey on up to the shops, but then again, perhaps not as I can't really afford to buy anything from Finland's expensive stores, like Stockmann, although it's nice to have a look. Or is it? Perhaps I'll just get resentful and I don't what that as this trip has been full of positivity in so many ways.

It's 0539. Is it even worth going back to bed? I should do because I've a long day ahead of me and then it's work on Monday

I was told the hotel had a swimming pool. It doesn't, although I might be confusing it with another hotel in Canada, across the river from Detroit. Annoying when you consider that I packed a pair of trunks. But all things considered I wonder whether I would have taken the plunge had there been one, probably not. There's simply too much to do, like getting to the station to catch a train to the airport and then all the hassles of security and sitting around waiting for the flight home.

Another virtually empty airport in Finland, this one is Rovaneimi

When I woke up this morning at the ungodly hour of just gone 0300, I checked in online and I'm so glad that I remembered. I had another aisle seat at the back of the plane but now, to my sheer amazement, I'm sitting in seat 3A, which is quite unbelievable. I'm so pleased that I remembered as the flight is full according to the BA website and they're asking for volunteers to take another flight. All well and good, I thought, but the only reason I'm here in Finland on a Sunday – giving up my entire weekend – is because BA was only offering a business class seat on Saturday and that would have cost £1,100 so there was no way I was going to give up seat 1A to possibly find myself spending another night here in Helsinki. Why Finland is so popular at the moment I'm not sure, but all the flights appear to be full. On that extortionate business class seat, it's simply not worth it. Later, sitting in seat 3A I was directly behind the two rows of business class seats, separated by a curtain, and that seems to me to be a piss poor incentive to fork out over £1,000. Alright, so I had to suffer small paper cups of water from the plane's supplies as opposed to a bottle of mineral water, but so what? In fact, one small gripe: I pressed the service button on the panel above the seat and when the cabin crew member arrived I asked if I could buy a bottle of mineral water. Moments earlier I had seen her walk past with a trolley full of bottles of mineral water. "I'm sorry, these are for business class," she said snootily and then offered me some sub-standard tiny cups of water from the plane's tap. I'm so glad I didn't pay that £1,100 for a business class ticket. None of those bottles were given to any of the eight people sitting in rows one and two, and that's what I hate about capitalism and the snobbery that goes with it.

Frozen rivers from the air...

Earlier, having woken up at an ungodly hour, I went back to bed having set the alarm to wake me at 0700 and when it did I pressed the snooze button. I repeated the process until it was 0730 (because I was tired and didn't want to get up) and then jumped in the shower, cutting my foot on the door as I jumped out to find a towel. I made a make-shift bandage with some tissues, which are still there now, wedged between my toes, but there's no pain and it's not that bad.

Breakfast at the Indigo was okay, but not mind-blowing and while I've always said that a hotel stands or falls on the quality of its breakfast, the Indigo is different: it's the friendly staff that hold it together. The fresh fruit looked dry and everything else had that insignificant look about it. I chose scrambled egg, mushrooms, vegetables and small sausages, a plate of the dry-looking pineapple chunks, two miniature apple pies, a tiny pain au chocolate and a small Danish pastry and then later a small bowl of yoghurt, I think it was strawberry-flavoured, but you can never tell with yoghurt. I also had three mini chocolate HobNob style biscuits - and I mean mini, they were tiny - a glass of cranberry juice and an English breakfast tea. I sat there reading and then I went back to the room. 

I planned to nip out for a brief walk, wary, of course, that blue skies and sunshine in Finland don't always mean it's warm out there, it's not. I had a late check-out so my plan was to mooch around, possibly have a coffee, but it's easy to get carried away, especially as I'm reading Steve Hanley's The Big Midweek so perhaps I'll leave the book behind, get a brief walk out of the way and then come back to check out. I didn't bother with the walk in the end, but decided to walk to the central station rather than order a cab. I never order a cab unless absolutely necessary.

View from room 411, Indigo Hotel, Helsinki

Apart from cutting one of my toes in the shower, I'm generally feeling fine, but there's no time to chill out with a book. Despite the fact that I've been forced to stay in Helsinki for another night thanks to BA's greed, apart from dinner in the hotel, that's about all I get. After breakfast, time started to run out and I quickly realised that my plan to sit in a cafe reading was out of the question as I'd needed to get moving towards the central station to catch a train to the airport. I had the full two hours once I'd reached the airport. I found somewhere to eat and ordered a foccacia bread filled with cheese and ham and followed by a caramel cheese cake, not forgetting a cappuccino. Once finished I checked the announcements board and noticed that I needed to make my way to passport control. I wish that I'd known about this earlier as once through passport control there were more cafés and I realised that I could have sat in a Starbuck's closer to gate 40. In fact I was lucky that there hadn't been queues because I was under the impression, having already gone through security, that there was nothing more to do other than go to the gate, and that the next step was boarding the plane. How wrong was I! But there were no queues, this was Finland after all, and there's nobody around so all was well and soon I was boarding the plane. It was a pleasant flight of roughly two hours and twenty five minutes and I read a lot of my book whilst occasionally glancing out of the window at the hazy blue skies.

No trains! It wouldn't happen in Finland...

UK Grim

As we approached the UK, of course, the clouds gathered, but there was no turbulence. We landed safely and then the shite started to happen. Travelling by train from Helsinki airport to the centre of town cost 4.30 Euros (around £3.50) but in the UK, a one-way trip on the Heathrow Express into London set me back £25. What a rip-off. Then, once on the train, I was faced with a shuffling beggar and a nutter in a bright yellow tracksuit and then, to top things off, when I reached the concourse of Victoria station I noticed a sign saying 'no Southern trains' due to engineering work. I went back on the tube, headed for Blackfriars and then got a Thameslink train to East Croydon before jumping in a taxi home. Oh to be back in Finland, I thought to myself. All the trains run on time – and are state-owned – and the people are happy even if it is a little cold.

Heathrow baggage reclaim...a very long wait

Heading back to Blighty...

I never set my alarm, but was up by 0600hrs anyway and looking forward to what the hotel offered for breakfast, although I had a pretty good idea: cake, of course, and plenty of it. I was right... and I was happy!

A cream-filled croissant, a custard-filled slice of cake, some small round pastries full of custard, it was all happening on my table. The friendly waitress offered me a cappuccino and I accepted. Later she offered me another and again, I accepted. There was fruit, fresh fruit and a fruit salad which, I think, I ordered and then didn't eat, at least I can't remember eating it, such was the excitement of the cake and the frothy coffee. I had time and so indulged myself. A yoghurt followed and an apple, which I munched away as other guests arrived, well, two – make that three – other guests: a mother and daughter combo, actually five other guests, there was a couple of slightly rotund ladies and an edgy-looking woman with a roughish face who sat alone, like I did, and looked pre-occupied. 

Through the gate and waiting for the bus to the plane...

Breakfast over I went to my room and packed, not that I hadn't done most of it already, it was just the electric toothbrush and toothpaste to put away and then I waltzed downstairs to the rather baronial hall lobby where I checked out, told them how much I loved the hotel and then ordered a cab to the airport. It arrived in minutes and soon I was on my way. The journey took all of 15 minutes and then I was faced with the chaos of the airport which seemed to be unnaturally busy. There were school kids and holidaymakers queuing up for something or other, probably a flight, one queue wound its way out of the building (I saw it when my taxi pulled up). There were soldiers with guns and sunglasses and I was asked where I was going. I said "London" and all was well, I could continue into the terminal building. What the hell was going on? I would never find out. Perhaps it was because it was Saturday, who knows? Once inside I found the BA check-in and waited for it to open, then it was a case of handing over (ahem) my case, getting my boarding pass (seat 35F, a window seat) and then heading for another queue (for security). It all went pretty smoothly and I found myself standing with a lot of red-faced people, clearly skiers and those who follow other outdoor pursuits, like climbing. I wasn't bothered. There are so many things I won't do and climbing and skiing are just two of them. I won't jump out of an aeroplane either or go diving looking for sharks.

On the plane...

Once through I sprayed myself with a Polo aftershave tester (it was free so why not?) and then ordered a ham and mozzarella roll as I knew that BA would only offer a bag of shitty pretzels and a small bottle of mineral water. Once microwaved, the roll melted and became a spludgy mess on a white plate...but that didn't stop me.

The flight was alright. Most of it was clear, but as we approached the UK the cloud thickened and I found myself thinking of the Tory party, Dominic fucking Raab in particular, and all the shite the UK liked to pile upon its people who, like cockroaches, scuttle around under the cover of cloud, moaning about their lot. I, of course, was one of them too and now I was heading home to be as much of a cockroach as everybody else. Soon, little gaps appeared in the cloud, revealing England's green and unpleasant land. The plane shuddered as it penetrated the big chunks of cumulus dotted around the skies and I started wondering why the pilot doesn't aim for the clear bits and avoid the cloud? But of course, he never does, instead he heads straight for a fucking great lump of the stuff and we all suffer as a result... or I do, nobody else seems to be bothered. Soon we were down on the ground and from then onwards, everything was fairly easy.

I found a sign saying "last toilet before passport control" and thought: that's where I'm headed! There was something intriguing about the last toilet before passport control and the walk there was interesting too because there was nobody around. I started to wonder whether, when I left the toilet, I'd be 500 years in the future or something whacky of that nature. But no, I was still in the 21st Century and I was back on track. 

Looking down on Italy...

There was nobody at passport control, my bag was on the reclaim when I got there (reclaim conveyor 8) and soon I was swanning through customs without a care in the world. I headed straight for Costa Coffee, from where I write this blogpost, as there's a train strike so I thought I'd get my bearings, have something to eat (prawn and mayo sarnie, a Millionaire's Shortbread and an English Breakfast tea) and then head for home either in a taxi or by train. 

It was a good trip overall and while I had been inwardly moaning about air travel from the minute I reached the airport, as we approached Gatwick today I asked myself whether there had really been any major hassles. The answer, of course, was no, there was nothing from the outward flight to the inward one that was really bad... apart from BA cancelling my return flight, but even that meant a few free hours in Verona, a wander around the city, a really nice dinner in Caffe Dante and, of course, a night in a decent hotel.

On Wednesday afternoon when I flew out to Italy I had the choice of queuing for a human being to check me in or use the machines; I opted eventually for the latter and it was alright. The flight out was ok, there was no turbulence, and when I reached Verona there was Maria waiting to pick me up and take me to Storo and the Polentera hotel. 

Approaching Gatwick airport.

On the return trip it was roughly the same: the taxi arrived within two minutes of being ordered, I checked in fairly successfully and yes, I queued for security but there's no way around that. It didn't take long and soon I was through and chilling (if that's the word) before the flight and, as outlined above, that was fine too. That said, however, I'm annoyed that flying is so cheap. Certainly, when I can, I'll take the train (like to Dusseldorf in June). I can't get the train to Detroit sadly and I'm guessing that a cabin on a cargo ship will be beyond my company's means and will add around 10 days to the trip. So I'll have to put up and shut up and make the most of what is thrown at me.

I'm not a great fan of flying, but I do a fair bit of it one way or the other. I don't mind it on a good day when there's no weather to deal with, but if it's cloudy and rainy (or worse) then I invariably get a little anxious. I'm  not overly keen on long flights because there's bound to be turbulence somewhere along the line and I hate it. Also, long haul flights leave me knackered and incapable and in need of recovery, so yes, more rail travel, certainly in Europe is on the cards, but when it comes to the US or the Middle East of the Far East I'll have to put up with flying.

England's green and unpleasant land, well, it's not that bad...

In search of the last toilets before passport control at Gatwick airport.

"Last toilets before Passport control!"