Personal Freedom vs The Other

In Colorado, baker is facing charges for refusing to decorate cake for a gay-wedding. Accused of discrimination, man is facing paying loads of money that can cost him his business, if not a house (based on the amount his colleague from Oregon had to pay).* Reading of cases like this, I can’t help but wonder who is being discriminated. Is it a couple, who can choose another baker, or a baker, who can’t put away his religious-based views for business’ sake? How far one persons freedom expands, and where is the borderline between personal beliefs, desires, views and the other individual’s freedom?

(c) www.uwtsd.ac.uk

Whenever we start dividing people based on their region of origin, their appearance – no matter if it’s “nature given”, or artificial, – religious/spiritual views, sexuality – including sexual orientation, – most likely we will end up in a trap where we make distinguish of what is acceptable for us, who are “we” in the opposition of “them”. It is part of self-identity, to be the me in relation to the other. Problems start at the point where we expand means of the me and the us to the extend of suffocating the other. Or by demonizing the other to the extend of accepting every breath as personal offense. Leading not only to inability to perceive the other in neutral way, it deprives of the ability to accept the others’ personal freedom and rights to have the opinion that differs from our own. Especially, if the others view is related to a view that considered to be outdated, or previously was fought against.

For many decades now the demonized image was of a white straight man, who used to suppress every possible group, nationality or species. Nowadays, no matter what he says, it is perceived with precaution (to say the least). Because, no matter what are his intentions, past of his breed outs a mark of distrust. Unlike other groups,  if he expresses his view, it must be discrimination or desire to diminish the others. Saying that, I want to point not to the cases of sexism, racism, or any other type of discrimination. Cases, when he is being discriminated by having privilege of everyone in this part of the world: personal freedom.

By rejecting order from a customer, no matter what the reason, the only person who is harmed is businessman himself. Rejecting the order due to personal beliefs, according to which the order is offensive to him, entrepreneur puts himself in non-beneficial position by losing possible profit. Customer, on the other hand, has all the choice among specialists in the field, who would gladly accept and fulfill the order.

Reflecting on the subject, can’t help but think that no one has rights to abuse or punish the other for not accepting our believes. Unless the view is crossing the line of common human rights and safety. But, who can tell how to distinguish personal beliefs from destructive ideology? Perhaps, someone else will.


* http://www.nationalreview.com/article/422566/colorado-baker-gay-wedding-cake-court-appeal

Happy Birthday or Doctor is coming: Part 2

Third time is a charm. Ambulance with two part-time-firement-part-time-paramedics arrived only in an hour after the call. Wondering, why doctors let Maria go, they carefully examined her and offered us a ride back to Haartmann sairaala. “I don’t remember much from the last night, but I do remember those vikings,” – admitted the birthday-girl next morning. Wish I could say the same. Paramedics left us in the hospital, wished good luck and left. Unfortunately, when you are on a weekend night in a state hospital, luck is not enough. That night, only two doctors, few nurses were supposed to handle the stream of patients.

(photo: The Guardian)

 “Nurse, she is in pain, where is doctor?” – “Doctor is coming, please wait.” Twenty minutes later: “Where is doctor?” – “Doctor is coming!” Two hours later, my hand was already numb after being squeezed so hard, I considered asking doctor to examine it at once, too. Two and a half hours later doctor called for us. Ten more minutes later, doc released Maria, and told her to wait for the test results. In a waiting room. In a chair. Moaning in pain. “Nurse, my friend needs to lay down. Please, find a free bed.” Few minutes later, after quite challenging ride of a wheelchair, Maria was resting in bed. If moaning in pain can be considered as a rest. “Well, she is not going to die, or even to faint,” – nurse said in a comforting voice. “And a doctor is coming.”  

While doctor was on his way,  the long stream of new patients passed by us. Just as paramedics from the last ambulance said: on weekends, 90% accidents are alcohol-related. Girl on a bed next to us was a living proof. Not feeling her legs, nor understanding who and where she was, still she appeared to be quite reasonable party animal, compared to the creature, delivered by “our” viking-docs. Mixed alcohol with various drugs, blondy wasn’t capable to move. Nurses quickly covered her with colorful wires and tubes. Shortly, she regained an ability to move only to roll herself in a blanket, burrito-style, and to stare at us. “You are very pretty” – she told as I passed by. “You too, dear. But please, stay and bed and don’t follow me now.” – “Okeeeeeeeeey.”

Doctor was still coming. He arrived at 6 a.m., when Maria’s screams could be heard in  a whole neighboring area. With bored look at his face – it’s not a life-threatening situation, after all, – he went through test result, doc commanded to inject painkillers and left. Pain decided that it won’t give up so easily, and would keep company for a while.

Real help arrived with a morning shift, shortly after 8 a.m. Quickly, they gave medicines. Pain, that led my friend through nine levels of hell and back, finally was released. Few hours later, she was released also from the hospital. Morning shift apologized on behalf of their colleagues, telling that the lot already became legendary due to their neglect towards patients. Happy to trade papers with diagnosis to candies, cheerful nurse wished us good luck. Next day we packed a plastic back, and wished Maria good luck. With no birthday cake, but filled with memories about the most spectacular birthday ever, safely she arrived home.

Happy Birthday or Doctor is coming: Part 1

“No matter what, tomorrow we are going to Porvoo” – said Maria – my sister-from-another-mother – on our way to Suomenlinna on Saturday. On Sunday she turned 25, and we had planned a huge program for that day, including a trip, dinner at the restaurant and overall good mood and lots of fun. However, instead of good time, life presented us with a good story for later. 

Morning didn’t forebode anything unusual to happen. Not until after the breakfast, when Maria’s stomach first sent a signal on a change of plans. By early afternoon, holding moaning-out-of-pain Maria’s hand, first call to an ambulance was made. An hour later I called 112 again, to ask why ambulance hasn’t yet arrived. “They are coming!”. True, two hours later they arrived. three paramedics looked at the birthday girl, measured blood pressure, made sure she’s not pregnant, and told that by noon she’d be fine. “Drink sweet juice, and in case of high fever call us again”. Thank you, doctors. We are going to call in two hours. Now, instead of silent moans, room was filled with heart-wrecking sound, that scared even paramedics, who arrived hour-and-a-half since the second call. As examined Maria more closely, they decided that she indeed must have been hospitalized. 30 minutes of medical manipulations in ambulance, and screams fade away and off we went to the hospital: Haartmann sairaala. With the promise to let her mother know what has happened, shortly after 6p.m. they took her away and told to wait for a nurse with news. 

Time went by. One hour. Two hours. In the company of my worries and kind-hearted people who supported us on the phone, I finally found a nurse who “shall tell about the progress”. Two more hours later, the same nurse told about test results, that doctor is coming and soon we can go home. By 11 p.m. we came back home, barely surviving the ride in a cab. Dog was taken care of, so I could focus on Maria, who still was nasty shade of green. Exhausted,  we dropped on a bed, turned off lights only to turn them on 20 minutes later. “Call the ambulance!” – pain returned and was gaining strength. “Hello, need an ambulance. We just came back from the hospital, but pain is getting worse, we must get her back there!” – “Ok, they are coming.”

Life begins after coffee

Smell of freshly brewed coffee in the morning pushes inner on button. Day only begins after coffee.

There are two types of people in the world: morning people, and those, who run on coffee. I belong to the second lot. Blessed as I am with work as a freelancer, the price I pay is late nights and early mornings, day after day with no prospects of proper rest. However, may it be so, that my natural biological hours are as such that early nights and I are not compatible? Don't mind the reason, but the fact is – mornings are unpleasant, real-life continuum of nightmares. Until the first cup of bitter, velvety fluid gets into the system. 

Tuesdays are the hardest days in my universe: weekend’s vibe fades away, it's time to face cruel reality of the whole week of hard work ahead. So it was this week as well. Besides feeling sickish – no one has canceled flu season, and one has to make their peace with that,  – energy level was of negative meaning. I was able to force myself out of bed 3h after my alarm clock went off, and I was hopelessly late for Aamustartti suomeen class. Dog was displeased with the delay in our schedule, feelings of guilt and anger greeted alongside with the sunshine and wind outside. 

Now. Get up, feet in slippers, move to the kitchen. Open the cupboard, find filters, find coffee, find measure spoon. Pour water, 3 spoonfuls of grounded coffee. Press the button. Wait for magic. Few minutes. Meanwhile, play with dog, put yoghurt on the table, take out favorite mug. Not necessary in this order, but necessary do that. Not necessary yoghurt, but put something on the table. Notice, an orchid is in bloom, finally! Make a note – at the moment I read three books, written by the same author. Also, need to try more recipes from Kinfolk cookbook. Coffee machine notified that it’s done with work. Pour coffee in the mug, that made it all the way from Åland islands. Now, coffee, blueberry yoghurt, e-mail, episode of a TV-show on a background, and tiny dog on a lap. Hands get warmer with every sip, sun is shining brighter and the day ahead appears to be active and productive. 

After another cup of coffee in the early afternoon, perhaps.

Helsinki the way I know it

Every morning I pack my notebook and papers, put on a coat and make sure that scarf securely protects my neck from the cold. Make sure the door is locked. Now I’m ready to face piercing wind coming from the sea. Wind shall not be a surprise, as I live right next to the harbor. Four weeks ago ferry brought my dog and personal belongings to that terminal. We’ve got the key for a small apartment that is called home, and begun an adventure under the code name “Finnish life”.

Ferry Helsinki-Tallinn. Rainy winter in Hel.

“Finns are unfriendly, reserved, and warm up only after unreasonable amount of alcohol while in sauna” – good people warned. Also, Finns never look each other in the eyes, and brace yourself if you dare to smile at someone. If you are lucky, the person would just be confused and feel invaded. If luck abandoned you, you are about to get raped or punched in the face – depending on broadness of your smile (and layers of clothes are you wearing). Should I mention that these are only few out of many stereotypes I had to listen to while packed bags to leave? No doubt, stereotypes can be useful, but not when they build Chinese wall between you and new culture, make you prejudice and hostile before you even get to know the place and people.

During the Summer 2014 I spent long time in Finland for the first time. It was hard not to notice that people in fact do look at each other – and not only on feet, but actually in the eyes. “It’s different in the big city!”. Not to argue, but no, it’s not different. Since day one in Helsinki, I noticed that people do establish eye contact, may even smile at you and it does not seem to be outrageous accident. 

The other day I took a detour from usual route home from university. The weather was surprisingly calm and warm. Many small shops and cafes, few cars on a road and occasional passersby. Walked slowly, exploring windows of shops that sells postcards, stuff for artists, ethnic accessories, and clothes, bakeries with their tempting looking cakes and pastry (oh how hard it was to force myself to pass them by without spending all money there!) when I caught a glance of a man, who was wiping the floor in one of the stores. He smiled. I smiled back. “Moi!” – he said, waving at me. “Moi!”. Turned back to see him still looking and smiling at me. Walked down Michelinkatu, getting closer to the place called home, a young man took off his old-fashioned hat to greet me. 

Maybe it was that kind of a day, or I bumped onto two out of three extraverts in the city, but small things make difference, difference on perspective and feeling about life in the place, about people and self. Smiles, friendly glances, greetings from strangers and silly jokes from a guy at the canteen – together it makes one feel accepted, welcome and home. Also, feels good to break couple stereotypes. :)


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Copenhagen: the capital of great coffee

Denmark is famous with Anderson, Kierkegaard, mermaid and pastry. Great as they are on their own, still the joy of experiencing all good thing gets fuller after a cup of rich, slightly bitter divine nectar we call coffee.

Copenhagen in november is not the warmest place on Earth, no matter what slippers- and shorts-wearing locals say. Running around in the misty, windy weather, – or cycling around, if you want to fit it completely, – at some point is going to bring up a desire to get a hot beverage in the system. If it’s still too early for mulled wine – whether it’s not a Christmas time yet, or simply too early in the morning, – the instinct would suggest a cup of coffee. Lucky are those coffee-lovers who inhabit Danish capital, as coffee shops treat them oh so well. 

On every corner you will see a bakery or a coffee shop: small ones, bigger ones, chain or “local” ones – for every taste, for any mood. One the door is open, the smell of freshly brewed coffee and pastry take you over. Just like Pandora’s box: once unlocked, you have to deal with consequences, such as lighter money pocket, and pants that are getting tighter every day. Unless you have an exceptional self-control, but who does when the smell is mouth-filling? Easy to accept this morning routine, and hard to give up.

On my first morning in Copenhagen I woke up in my tiny room in the Old Town, washed up and joined the stream of good sleepy copenhageners on their way to get the first cup of coffee and a freshly baked pastry from one of many coffee shops. My choice was one of the bakeries I discovered on some internet forum, and I wasn’t wrong with my choice. Can the morning start any better than with entering the place that smells like heaven on earth? Hardly. After a brief walk on cold and rainy streets of the old part of the town, the comforting feeling of warmth and the coffee-pastry smell welcomed me once I opened the door of my place of choice. Shelves full with various Danish pastry, and each piece is huge. Pretty barista served me perfectly-brewed double cappuccino, and left me to enjoy it with pastry that took ages to choose. Rich, velvety and mildly bitter taste of coffee, combined with merely sweet pastry set me on the wave of positive attitude and great motivation.

Other day I was leaving for Helsingør to see Hamlet’s castle, to be amazed how close Sweden is, and enjoy the town. So I picked the place that was the closest to my hostel. Despite an early hour, barista was so contagiously cheerful, that even if I wanted to, I would not be able to stay moody (I’m not the morning person, and in early hour of a new day I'd make the Grumpy cat look cheery compared to me). Great service, and strong, yet soft in taste, coffee and fresh pastry (although, unlike the first one, pastry for this place is baked elsewhere and delivered early in the morning, so can’t expect it to be warm)… Moments like these make good memories. Not grande, but those small pleasant ones we in the notebook, blog or in memos on the phone. Many mornings have passed since then, but I remember small tables by the window, passers-by with paper bags with pastry or bread in one hand, and sachets and laptop cases in the other one. The day ahead was as busy as ever – no one gets rid of work by going on vacation, not if you are a freelancer! – but for this short moment you know that all the rush, worries and planning can wait. 5 more minutes, please.

However, not all of my coffee-experiences in the great city of Copenhagen were positive. Being a passionate liquorice-lover, I try everything that has liquorice: from chocolate to ice cream, and now there is a coffee on that list. It was served in another chain coffee shop. Always crowded, it gained my trust, but never trust the pack! Instead of coffee late I’ve got late with close-to-no coffee, mixed with liquorice-flavored sirup. Disappointed, I had to comfort myself with traditional travelers food from Chinese bistro, which was, – unlike the coffee, – amazing. 

Probably, Copenhagen is one of the best places for coffee-lovers if not in the whole Europe, then in Scandinavia for sure. Coffee of various levels of strength, shades of aftertaste, and great mood that it necessary will bring to you. Especially, if comes with famous Danish pastry. But please, no matter what, don’t take that liquorice-flavored one – you deserve better. :)

Guilty pleasures: Starbucks and me

Just like everyone, I have my guilty pleasures, such as cheesy music from 90’s, unreasonable amounts of sweets in the evening, junk food for lunch, or gingerbread late and grande cappuccino from the soul-sucking corporation of Starbucks any time of the day. The place on the Central station in Copenhagen seem not to be amongst the most popular places to get coffee. Unlike in Helsinki, or even in the airport in Copenhagen, there never was a line, in fact, hardly ever there were more than couple travelers, killing time before the departure. So no wonder why barista remembered my order and my name by the third day. It didn’t make me feel less guilty about liking the drink a bit too much, but certainly increased the level of joy of drinking it from my to-go cup with the smiley next to my name. 

Whenever I have free time in Helsinki, or just want to work in a coffee shop like cool kids do, I go to the Starbucks, order grande cappuccino from the barista who, if I’m lucky, is going to spell my name correctly, take the place by the window. In winter you’d better pick a table in front of the bar, otherwise you will risk to freeze to death, or to catch some common cold, because doors get opened all the time and frosty air gets under your skin despite all the layers of woolen sweaters you are wearing. The noise of espresso machine, blender, cups, buzzing of many voices speaking different languages, being pushed from time to time, and drinking coffee out of a big white mug – that creates the special inspiring atmosphere in places like Starbucks. 

Tuesday was the first day in weeks when the Sun has finally appeared in this part of the globe. I took a walk down the Löönrotinkatu, enjoyed the city, before my legs got so frozen I couldn’t feel them. The Starbucks was full with the fashion and habit victims, enjoying their drinks. Among them, sitting by my favorite table, was a man with the  small, black notebook. Thin, probably tall from what I could tell from his posture, with goatee and mid-length, curly, dark hair. By the look at him, one could say the man was the embodiment of the stereotypes on poets or artists. Before I looked away, he made an unusual gesture: he put the pen in a bottle of quill, and started writing something down. 

Woman with a laptop, man with a tablet, woman with a newspaper, man with a magazine, girl with a player, boy with a phone – we are so used to combinations like this, we hardly ever pay attention anymore. In fact, we are one of them, too. A man with a bottle of quill and a feather-pen breaks the pattern. Almost like a flashback from another era, someone who hardly fits in this neurotic, rushing, tumultuous scenery. Anxious about fitting in, wearing right colors, cool laptop and the newest iPhone, reading trendy life-style magazines, and staying unique – we don’t leave any space for our true wishes, we don’t listen what we want, but rather what we have to want. Maybe that man is another lonely soul seeking for more attention, he is not authentic, but a poser, but still he made me wanted about what I truly want of this day? When sun sets down, and city falls asleep, where it leaves me, with my haves, musts, shoulds, and true desires. Maybe another cup of coffee will help me to find the answer.