My trip to Finland reminded me what I like about myself

Some girls go to Tuscany or Bali to find themselves. I went to Helsinki.

I turned 30 this past May. I turned 30 and had recently left a job that, on paper, was a dream job. Amidst this rollercoaster of emotions, transitions, and existential ponderings, I wanted to do something nice for myself. So, I found cheap flights and cheap accommodation, and booked myself a trip to Finland for the autumn.

I’ve always wanted to visit a Nordic country, but had never really given Finland much thought. It wasn’t until the 2023 Eurovision Song Contest (where are all my Käärijä fans at!!), that I thought to look into “the happiest country in the world”.

Maybe there’s something truly special about Finland in particular. Maybe it’s just that I needed something to cling onto while my identity felt like it was in nauseating flux, or maybe a man wearing a neon green bolero jacket and leather pants is enough to put me in a trance.

Whatever the reason, the build-up to my trip to Finland, and the trip itself, helped realign me with parts of myself that had gotten buried, and helped remind me that I do in fact like myself.

The anticipation

I know there’s a sentiment that the anticipation of a vacation can boost happiness just as much as (if not more than) the trip itself. I’m not sure how true that is, but in this case, the build-up was definitely a significant part of my Finland experience.

As I mentioned, just before this trip, I left a dream job. I had a title that was envy-worthy at a social enterprise that was doing actually interesting work. And most importantly, I really enjoyed my small but tight-knit team.

And yet despite all of this, during the two years I held this position, I started losing parts of myself. I became less active, and told myself (and others), that I didn’t care about appearances, while also hating what I saw in the mirror. I went on maybe a few first dates during this time, but had very little interest in pursuing anything meaningful. I didn’t feel like a very fun or supportive friend. I lost my interest in cooking. I tried to carve out time for my own personal creative pursuits, but constantly beat myself up for not being more disciplined. I was constantly frustrated with myself for not being able to juggle it all.

I’m not sure how much of this decline had to do with the demands of the job not aligning with my own ambitions or work behaviors, or other factors at play. All I know is that it happened subtly and slowly, until it was all too much. I tried to keep up appearances as best I could, but I didn’t like myself during this time. After a few honest and respectful conversations with my boss, I decided to step down.

All that’s to say, when I booked my birthday-present-to-me vacation, I had more time on my hands than I had been used to in years. I put some of that time (and newfound energy) towards my creative projects, some of it towards my freelance business, and another chunk of it went to Finland.

I started listening to lots of Finnish music (Robin Packalen was my number one artist on my Spotify Wrapped, and Käärijä was number two ). I read blogs and followed content creators sharing about day-to-day life in Finland. But my favorite thing that I did was to try my darndest to learn as much of the language as possible in just a few months.

The cultural and linguistic prep work I did was a greater reminder of the joys of being a student. Since graduating from university, most of my learning has been in relation to building a craft I already have the groundwork for (like writing), or learning a skill specifically for a job. It’s been a long time since I’ve been so enthusiastic about learning that’s not tied to income or a serious personal goal. Being a novice in something low stakes brought me energy and curiosity that had long been dormant.

Preparing for this trip reminded me to make time for things that aren’t tied to career development or goal-setting or altruism, but simply for sparking curiosity, inspiration, and joy. It also did enrich my experience once it came time for the trip itself.

By the time I was getting on my plane, I felt ready, but also a little anxious. Had I built the trip up too much? I’ve traveled around much of western Europe, and lived in the UK, but would this Nordic country feel more difficult to navigate?

But my fears were quickly dashed. I landed in Helsinki and easily made my way to the train station connected to the airport. I rode the quiet, clean train into the city center, watching simple block buildings and trees glimmering with peak autumn colors whir by. I couldn’t stop smiling. Finally, after months of anticipation, I had made it to Finland.

Traveling with friends

The first half of my vacation was spent with two of my closest friends. I was totally fine with the thought of spending the whole ten days on my own, but when these two heard of my trip, they enthusiastically agreed to join me.

It was particularly special to have them both with me, because we all live in different cities. I’m in Detroit, while one of them is in Glasgow, and the other in London. We all met in the north of Scotland ten years ago, when they were freshmen (or freshers) at university, and I was on study abroad. We became fast friends, and I’m so grateful that we’ve been able to maintain our friendship for a decade, despite miles and oceans and a pandemic keeping us apart at times.

We dubbed this trip our ten-year friendiversary, and I’m so glad they were there for the first half of my time in Finland. With them, I was able to get my bearings in the country.

We stayed in a hip apartment in the Design District of Helsinki, and did a lot of wandering around the capital city. Together, we tried to experience as much quintessential Finnish culture as possible.

We went to a public sauna and plunged into the sea pool (something I may have shied away from on my own). We tried pulla and salmon soup and quickly understood the Finn’s affinity for a good lunch buffet. We marveled at the seamless public transportation that took us to the Student District, to Nuuksio National Park, and more. We went out at night, and learned that the Finns are remarkably quiet people, and that we were often the loudest in the room.

My friends were also impressed with how much Finnish I had learned, although I didn’t really need it, as everyone we talked to spoke perfect English. Still, it was fun to be able to read signs and grocery items and greet shopkeepers in their native language.

Travel is an incredible way to build stronger bonds with the people you love. I’m so grateful that I had this time with two of my closest friends who I see so rarely, and I know that our shared first time in Finland together will always be a cherished memory between us.

Traveling solo

Halfway through the trip, I said goodbye to my friends as they took the train back to the Helsinki Airport. I moved into a smaller Airbnb in Vantaa, a suburb outside of the city, but still well connected to the central station and the larger surrounding area.

While I wouldn’t trade my time in Finland with my two friends for anything, I also was incredibly grateful to have some time to solo travel.

During my time alone in Finland, I really leaned in to the peacefulness of the country. I’ve never been somewhere that’s so consistently calm and quiet. Even walking through the streets of the capital city felt oddly serene. Part of this is because it’s not a densely populated place, but also the Finns are a decidedly introverted population. I don’t know why this is; in the course of the ten days I was there, I only had a full conversation with one Finnish person (and he was a bartender — a captive audience!). So I never got the chance to ask.

Tampere

I took the train to Tampere, where I visited the Moomin Museum. I had only vaguely known of the Moomins before, but you can’t take two steps in Finland without spotting some Moomin memorabilia. The home country of these beloved story characters embraces them wholeheartedly, and after visiting the museum, I understood why.

The Moomin stories, written and illustrated by Tove Jansson, have a wildness to them, and don’t shy away from the reality that life involves hardships. Yet there’s also an intrinsic optimism and whimsy to them. I felt all of this reflected in Finnish culture. Finland is a country that is bitterly cold and dark for a large part of the year, but it is also a country that takes very good care of its people.

During the second half of my trip, I also wandered around Vantaa, enjoying the path along the river, and visited Oodi, Helsinki’s unique central library. But my favorite day was the day I took the bus to Porvoo.

Porvoo

From my research, I thought that Porvoo was just a tiny historic village. It is actually a bonafide city, with a shopping mall and town square and all of the basic modern amenities. But there is still Old Town Porvoo, a part of the city that has preserved its heritage. Porvoo was one of six medieval cities in Finland, and the old town still boasts a cluster of brightly painted cottages, red riverside warehouses, and even a charming cathedral.

I wandered around the Old Town (again, very quiet), and found a path leading out of the city, alongside a river and into a thicket of trees. I walked the path, which eventually led me atop Castle Hill. While this used to be one of the largest ancient fortresses in Finland, it is now a small but pronounced hill with dried up motes around it, and peppered with tall pines.

When I got to the flat top of Castle Hill, I was (surprise, surprise) alone. I had this beautiful, haunting hill to myself. I pulled out the sandwich I had packed from my backpack, and sat on a bench for a blissfully solitary lunch. While I sat there, admiring the trees among the mist, I got a swell of love. Love for Finland, love for such a simple yet deep moment, love for myself.

For the first time in a while, I was proud of myself. I may be 30 and feel like my life is much messier and wayward than I expected it to be at this age, but I was proud that I did something so kind for myself. It’s so easy to make excuses not to book a trip, particularly a solo trip. But I booked the trip, dammit. I booked the trip and allowed myself to get unabashedly excited to experience this quirky little country that so few Americans see as a destination spot.

Sitting on that bench, I was reminded of the parts of myself that I like. I like that I’m willing to go places far away from home on my own. I like that I seek out nature, and in doing so found Castle Hill. I like that I’ve maintained meaningful friendships despite distance. I like that, despite feeling lonely and insecure at times, I have a stubborn independent streak, and I know that I can ultimately take care of myself.

Saying moikka

My last full day in Finland was the day that I had a conversation with a Finn. I stopped by a cocktail bar close to my Airbnb, and roped the quiet bartender into some light conversation. We talked about Finnish food, and Porvoo (where he’s from!), and ice hockey. As I got up to leave, he wished me a safe journey home, and said that he hoped I enjoyed his country. And I did. I enjoyed it so very much.

Finland is not the most staggeringly beautiful country. It has beauty, sure, in its trees and lakes and streams, but it doesn’t have the Swiss Alps or the Grand Canyon. It doesn’t have the most tantalizing culinary scene, or the most raucous nightlife. What it does have is a sense of peace and calm that allowed me to listen to parts of myself that had gotten quiet.

On the morning I left, I was torn. Part of me was ready to get out of this country that seemed to get colder and more damp every day I stayed. But I also wasn’t ready to say goodbye (or moikka, as I used frequently during the trip). This trip, that had revived me and I had spent months in preparation for, was already over. I didn’t, and still don’t, know if I’ll ever be back, and that thought made me want to cry.

As I made my way through the Helsinki airport, ready to depart for home, I stopped in the Moomin Shop and bought myself a small plush Moomintroll. Sure, I had already bought myself a pair of Porvoo-made earrings, and a scarf to bundle against the cold, not to mention Finnish chocolate, face wash, and shampoo.

But the Moomintroll felt important. I wanted more than toiletries or accessories to accompany me back to the states. I wanted a little buddy, something soft and comforting, to remind me that the saunas and the lunch buffets and the quiet, but non unfriendly people are still there, if I choose to return.

Kiitos for reading! I am also a freelance writer, so if you enjoy my content and are in need of any writing services, please check out my portfolio or email me at [email protected] .