I believe that sexism is the root oppression, the one which, until and unless we uproot it, will continue to put forth the branches of racism, war, class hatred, ageism, competition, ecological disaster, and economic exploitation.
(Robin Morgan, circa 1977)

These could very well be the most profoundly meaningful words that I have ever come across in my life. 

Monet viinin ystävät valittelevat, etteivät oikein tunne viinejä, eivätkä varsinkaan niiden sopivuutta ruokien kanssa. Tämä valittelu on osaltaan oikeutettua monestakin syystä.

Meillä Suomessa on viinikulttuuri varsin nuorta. Vasta keskiajalla linnoissa ja hoveissa juotiin viinejä. Tuosta ajasta on hyvin pitkä ja monivaiheinen tie siihen vaiheeseen, että tavallisen suomalaisen ruokapöydässä on tarjolla maidon ohella/sijasta viinejä. Lisäksi suomalainen viinikulttuuri on kieltolain ajoista vieläkin jollakin tavalla salamyhkäisyyden verhoamaa.

It is Ski Week in South Karelia, an annual break from school and work that could not have come at a better time. It has been a long, hard winter here. In fact, this year has been colder and has had much more severe weather than any winter I can remember since I came to Finland. To kick off the Ski Week celebrations, a minor miracle occurred. For the first time in about two months, my thermometer showed a plus-degree temperature. Although it was barely 1C and it didn’t remain that way for long, it was an incredibly welcomed moment.

A couple of weeks ago, there was a special day in Finland. Across the country people celebrated the annual observance of Shrovetide by going outside, jumping on sleds or strapping on skis, and heading for the nearest hill. Afterwards, they indulged in large quantities of cream-filled pastries in front of warming fires. Why, you may ask? Well, as far as I can tell, it’s a day that signals when we can start counting down to a time when it is almost, but not quite, the end of winter.

I’ve been a bit under the weather lately and haven’t had much time to write. In fact, I’ve been far too busy lounging on the sofa in front of the TV while making unreasonable demands on my family to grant a series of overly dramatic requests. ‘Get Daddy some juice, will you? Please! (Sniff, sniff) Don’t worry, this may be the last time (cough, cough). It won’t be long now…(hack, hack)’ From my vantage point on the sofa I have come to conclude two things: first, that my family can tell the difference between real and fake illness; and second, that Finland is both the best and worst place in the world to get sick.