uudet rakennusta Tallinnissa

Some buildings of more recent construction from Estonia's capitol.

Intricate detailing on a triangular brick building from 1903.


The heroic Soviet-era (1964) Kosmos cinema, with its heroic fire stair.


Tallinn has more flower markets, and more people carrying bouquets, than any other city I have been in.

Despite its efforts to remain neutral during World War II, Estonia was occupied first by the Soviets and later by the Nazis. After the war, the country remained under the control of the Soviet Union until 1991. All three periods of occupation are addressed in the Museum of Occupations. The building, designed by Indrek Peil and Siiri Vallner, is square in plan; however, one corner has been eroded at the base. The entrance is through this corner, via a small paved courtyard which contains several small birches and three basins for rainwater.

The courtyard promotes a contemplative mood despite its small size and the absence of any seating. This has been achieved by making the building withdraw from the adjacent streets (one of which is quite busy) with a centripetal focus. The entrance corner is not the most obvious one; it faces the somewhat quieter side street. The courtyard's design is not a a naturalistic mimesis, but is suggestive of landscapes in the manner of a Zen garden or medieval cloister. The reflective surfaces of the glazing, and the rhythm of its mullions which echo the spacing of several planted birches, seem to enlarge the space, while the dripping of rainwater into three catch basins distracts the ear from the sound of traffic passing outside.

Architects often seek to control the experience of a user of a building (through a singular directed circulation path), or even the review of the building's design (through digital presentations that allow for only a single image or motion clip to be viewed at any one time). The hubris of this approach is that no single person, no matter how clever or careful, can fully anticipate all the ways in which a work will be used or understood. When W. B. Yeats wrote, "if an author interprets a poem of his own, he limits its suggestibility," he understood that a work can become enriched by layers of individual understanding. In an article in the Estonian Architectural Review, the building's designers acknowledge this fact, and also point out the political implications of architectural control:

"All space that someone has somehow organised is in some way controlled. While there were particular authorities for this and relatively direct means during the Soviet era, now the objectives and means are simply different. In contemporary society driven by advertising and consumption, we move ever more in space that is intended to have a certain pre-planned effect on us...To a certain extent as a reaction, we wanted to build a building that would be ideologically neutral, that would not forbid or command, where the user would not be looked after to excess and his thoughts would not thought for him in advance."

A department store building in steel and wood. Wood cladding is surprisingly rare in contemporary Finnish building, but is prevalent in Tallinn.

"Better"? Well, perhaps - it is cheese-flavored...

(posted 21 September)

Viron omakotitalo

My Finnish student resident permit expired on the 31st of August. According to the Finnish border guard, I had to leave the Schengen zone no later than that day, but I could reenter any time thereafter and be considered a tourist. Fortunately, Estonia has not fully implemented the Schengen Convention, and thus by spending one night in Tallinn I could come back to Finland and stay for up to three additional months.

The first time I visited Tallinn I was only able to see the medieval center of the city and the open-air museum on its western outskirts. On this trip I had more time and was able to wander through some of the other quarters. Most of the buildings predate the era of Soviet control (which began during World War II and lasted until 1991). Most common is the vernacular wood type that is characterized by having its long side parallel to the street, a gabled dormer, and the entrance approximately in the center of a symmetrical facade. (It reminds me of an old American railway caboose.) It is almost invariably painted brown, yellow, red, or light green.
This example is typical in its proportions but small in scale; most buildings of this type are two to three stories high. When set adjacent to each other they are often separated by masonry fire walls.

The simplicity of the building is frequently counterpointed by elaborate doors, door handles, and awnings.

Newer buildings are often similar in form and color, if not always in materials and detailing, and thus maintain a cohesive street rhythm.
Like the New England saltbox, the Tallinn wood building can be enlarged incrementally.
It can also be articulated to correspond to site conditions. Here is an example from a corner where two streets meet diagonally.
On the opposite corner is this modern interpretation. Although heavy-handed, it does a fine job of respecting the streetscape. The eyebrow dormers are not common, but are found on some of the historical precedents.
For dinner I ate at the medieval-themed restaurant in the center of town. Despite its kitsch, the food was quite good. I had game sausages with horseradish cream, a variety of fruit and vegetable compotes, and some delicious herb-flavored beer.

(posted 21 September)

savusauna

The most traditional Finnish building type is the sauna, and the original form of the sauna is the smoke sauna (savusauna). This type of sauna is heated by burning wood under the pile of rocks in the corner of the sauna. After several hours, the fire is extinguished and the building is vented briefly to allow carbon monoxide to escape. The sauna is then ready for use; the rocks stay hot for many hours.

The Muuramen Saunakylä is an open-air museum devoted to the smoke sauna. Examples from various parts of the country, dating from the 19th and early 20th centuries, have been brought to the town of Muurame (southwest of Jyväskylä) and rebuilt. Many of them are still usable and can be rented by groups; once a week, one of the saunas is even opened to the public. (Although I was not able to take a smoke sauna at Muurame, I did enjoy one later at Kuusijärvi, in Vantaa). Vernacular saunas can be grouped into eastern, western, and northern forms, based on minor but persistent variations in configuration and building techniques. Additionally, in the west the sauna was used for drying malt and curing meat, while elsewhere these tasks were done in the house. Saunas in all parts of the country were used for giving birth and laying out corpses, as well as bathing.

A "cool" sauna is about 70 C (160 F) and a "warm" sauna is about 90 C (190 F). Because a sauna gets so hot, fixtures must be of wood; metal could cause burns. Often a root or branch that has grown into an appropriate shape is used in lieu of a piece of wood that has been worked by hand.

Before vestibules were added to the typical sauna plan, a separate structure, the kota, was sometimes built outside the entrance to the sauna. This was used for household chores such as heating water.

Traditionally, a bride and her entourage had a sauna before her wedding. A thistle was included in the bouquet placed on her chair, as a reminder that married life had its share of thorns!

During World War II, Finnish soldiers built saunas near the front lines. These provided a place to warm up during one of the coldest winters recorded in Europe, and the heat from the sauna was effective in eliminating lice from skin and clothing. Equally important, the sauna provided a comfortable, familiar place amid the rigors of war. The Muuramen saunkylä has one wartime sauna, built using only an axe and a knife, and assembled without metal fastenings.

The equivalent of "George Washington slept here"? Mauno Koivisto was the president of Finland from 1982-1994.

The door to this sauna shows that ribbed textures in Finland predate Alvar Aalto's work!

The sauna has been a favorite project for Finnish architects. Many young practioners have gotten their start designing a sauna. For established architects the sauna provides an opportunity to step away from polemic and reconnect with tradition. Aalto's smoke sauna at his "experimental house" on Muuratsalo has more in common with buildings centuries old than with his masterpieces of modernity. However, rather than alternating the direction of the logs which form the walls, he stacked them with all of their root ends facing the lake, producing a pitched roof.


The smoke sauna became less common during the second half of the 20th century, as electric saunas - much quicker to heat - became common. However, the smoke sauna is regaining its popularity. Aficionados claim that the löyly (heat) from the smoke sauna is "softer" than that from the electric one. I was not able to appreciate this subtle difference, but certainly the air in a smoke sauna has a pleasant taste that more than compensates for the soot that accumulates on one's body.

As I dislike heat, I find the inside of the sauna oppressive. However, the darkness and near-silence of the room (broken only by dripping sweat, the roar of water on the hot rocks, and occasional low conversation) prompt a meditative mood. It is also gratifying to step outside and feel the motion of wind against the skin without getting cold - the residual heat of the sauna keeps the body warm for a long time. And there is no denying the sauna ritual induces a calmness which persists for hours afterwards.

(posted 21 September)

Säynätsalo

Lake Päijänne is the deepest and (after Saimaa) the second-largest lake in FInland. At its north end is the city of Jyväskylä, the capitol of central Finland. Some 20 km south of the city is the island of Säynätsalo, famous for its civic center (Alvar Aalto, 1951).

Since 1993 Säynätsalo has in fact been a part of the city of Jyväskylä. According to the staff of the civic cnter, the town council still meets about ten times a year, but its role is strictly advisory, as all binding decisions (including all budget matters) are handled in Jyväskylä.

The civic center includes two guest rooms facing the courtyard, so I was able to stay in the building itself for two nights. Although they share bath and toilet facilties, at 40 € per night the price is hard to beat. In fact, there isn't anywhere else to stay on Säynätsalo.

The town of Säynätsalo occupies essentially the entire island. A few service buildings are scattered about the middle of the island, inside the Parviaisentie ring road, and the mills (mostly mothballed) are at the south, near the Louhunsalmi bridge to Lehtisaari. I'm not the only one to have noticed that there really isn't a well-defined town center...

Single-family residences make up the great majority of the building stock. Almost every yard contains one or more apple trees, and the smell of apples is prevalent.

(posted 22 September)

Hyvää Suomesta

Among Europeans, Finnish food is not always highly regarded, but I have found that it is generally quite good. The cuisine is based on high-quality raw ingredients rather than elaborate preparations; it might thus be considered closer to the Italian tradition than to the French. Here are eleven Finnish foods which I will particuarly miss after I return to North America:

1. Korvasieniä. These are the amazing mushrooms that I wrote about earlier. The first time I had them was from a can; I didn't know what they were but thought them delicious. Since then, I've found them fresh, and have realized that - as good as the canned ones are - the fresh ones are infinitely better, and are among the world's best mushrooms. For me, korvasieniä are right up there with truffles; much as I love morels and cèpes (porcini), these are better. I am in fact already missing them, since they are spring mushrooms and the season has ended.

2. The world's best seafood. This might be hyperbole, as I haven't spent time in Portugal, Norway, or Japan. Still, I grew up in San Diego (home of the tuna fleet and beach-fresh abalone), where I worked one summer for a NMFS scientist studying albacore; I've eaten Midwest perch still alive when it hit the frying pan (the instinct of my grandfather, who is a surgeon, is to keep the patient alive under the knife...); and I now live in Seattle, where Washington's (and, thanks to Queen Anne Thriftway, Alaska's) fabulous salmon is readily available. Still, the Finnish fish surpasses them all. Even the salmon can be even better than the superlative Pacific Northwest product.

3. Kuha merits its own entry. This fish - the English name is "pike-perch" – is without question the best I have ever eaten. The one drawback to being in Finland in the summer is that the kuha spawns in July and thus cannot be sold in stores. Kuha is a dense, meaty freshwater whitefish which has a pronounced, distinctive flavor; Midwesterners compare it to Walleye.

4. Open-faced sandwiches. These traditional lunch foods typically consist of one slice of bread; butter or mayonnaise; vegetables such as lettuce or pickled onions; and seafood such as shrimp, fried herring, or cured salmon. One of these sandwiches, from a reputable café such as the ones at Stockmann or Kappeli, makes a tasty, healthy, and inexpensive lunch.

5. New potatoes. The potatoes available now are still quite good, but the ones from the beginning of the season were exquisite. Even the university dining halls, as institutional as any in the U.S., serve good potatoes. The ones I found this spring were, without a doubt, the best that I have ever eaten.

6. Salmiakkia. The quintessential Finnish candy is salmiakki: licorish flavored with salty ammonium chloride (sal ammoniac). This is a flavor you either love or you hate, and I am among the former. The chewy pastilles tend to have a somewhat soapy taste, but the hard candy (excellent when dissolved in koskenkorva) is delicious, as is the Fazer chocolate with liquid salmiakki filling. This leads me to…

7. Fazer milk chocolate. In general I prefer dark chocolate; my favorite is the "Caraïbe" from French producer Valrhona (which Shelley and I visited a few years ago). However, as far as milk chocolate goes, the ubiquitous Fazer brand is excellent. The half-milk, half-white bar emblazoned with the Finnish flag is my favorite, but the big (100g) milk chocolate is a fantastic value at 1,75 Euros.

8. Hard cider is readily available - Finland is the world's second-greatest cider-drinking country (I am not sure what the first is). I am not a beer drinker, so cider is an excellent bar alternative. Options range from the premium dry cider made by Hartwall to sweeter, fruit-flavored options (cassis, cloudberry, rhubarb, pear, strawberry...) produced in Sweden.

9. Pitsa Nikolai. Most Finnish pizza is disappointing (to put it charitably), but the "Nikolai" from the pizzeria at the south end of Iso Mustasaari is delicious, if a bit unusual. The thin, wood-fired crust is topped with capers, chopped pickles, and sour cream. It may not be Neapolitan, but it is good!

10. Limppua. Finland is a place to eat dark bread, not white bread. The soft rye bread (quite dark, and untainted by caraway) is delicious with butter and jam, and the moist syrup-based limppu from western Finland is the one thing that I have never allowed myself to run out of. In addition to the regular version, I have enjoyed a hazelnut version, Degerbylimpan, from the Åland islands.

11. Jogurttia. The breadth of yogurt options is remarkable. Notwithstanding the cloudberry, arctic bramble, blackcurrant, and lingonberry yogurts and viiliä that are all readily available, my favorite is the metsämansikka (wild strawberry) yogurt from Valio. Imagine eating Berthillon fraise de bois ice cream for breakfast...but imagine that it is actually healthy...and now imagine that it costs only 2,95 Euros per liter!

And five that I will not:

1. Karjalanpiirakkaa. These boat-shaped pastries, made of rye-flour crimped crusts are filled with rice and topped with butter mixed with hard-boiled eggs. Although ubiquitous, they are disappointing, even in Karelia itself. I have had a great karjalanpiirakka, but it was in Seattle, at the Nordic Heritage Museum's annual Finnish bazaar! Here I have been unable to find them fresh from the oven.

2. Lakkaa. Cloudberries are a delicacy from Lapland; many Sámi families supplement their income by picking cloudberries during the summer. To be fair they have their own unique flavor; unfortunately, it is not one that I personally am fond of. Lakkaa look like yellowish-orange raspberries, but have a pronounced tropical taste.

3. Olutta. Finnish beer is, with the exception of Sahti and a few microbrews (Savonlinna's Huvila is one), no different than cheap American beer.

4. Muikku. Not that this freshwater fish, from lake Saimaa is at all bad - but its reputation exceeds its quality. Other fish, such as kuha, lohi (salmon), ahven (perch), and silli (herring) are usually even better options. Muikkukukko, a rye bread filled with layers of muikku and pork, is a traditional pastry from Savo.

5. Jäätelöä. Finns eat a lot of ice cream, but most of it is produced by two large dariy consortia. The only quality ice cream I have found here is from the Ben & Jerry's kiosk in Kamppi. Surely this presents an opportunity for some enterprising ice cream producer...

tuoreimmat uutiset

I am making a number of posts to my blog this week. In addition to the posts below, please note the new entry for the Lauritsala church. Please check back soon for more entries. (Note that new entries are being dated by when I visited the places referred to.)

matkustan Eestiin

Estonia is less than two hours from Helsinki by boat. My friend Jocelyn and I took a Nordic Jet Line boat across the Gulf of Finland and spent the day in the capitol, Tallinn.

Tallinn was a member of the Hanseatic League and is a much older city than Helsinki. It was founded around the 10th century and was shown on a map dated to 1154. The well-preserved old town sits on a terraced hill surrounded by the newer parts of the city. The skyline is domimated by the square tower and spire of St Olav's church, which at one time was the tallest building in Europe (159 meters high).
Unlike most medieval streets, those in Tallinn are not narrow. Perhaps this, like the cranes that project from the gables of many buildings, is the result of the city's commercial legacy.
The Estonian Open Air Museum is about half an hour west of the city center. Helsinki's Seurasaari is a model for this museum, which consists of vernacular building relocated from various regions of the country. However, the Estonian museum is much more informative than Seurasaari. It consists of 72 buildings, most of which were built in the 19th century. The prevalence of stacked timber construction and the use of certain wood details relate these buildings to their Finnish contemporaries. However, in Estonia roofs were more often thatched than shingled.
Most doorways were square: not only low overhead, but raised off the ground. Entering a room required sitting down and then swinging the legs over the sill. The log which formed the sill was smoothed through the action of people using it. Moreover, the doorway was used not only as an entrance but also as a place to sit. Level threshholds and automated opening devices make the act of passing through modern door almost inconsequential. The Estonian farmhouse doors required physical engagement with the building but enhanced "the dialetics of inside and outside" (Gaston Bachelard).
The museum is beautifully set in a wooded area on the shore of the Baltic. Wild strawberries, raspberries, and red currants grow around and between the buildings. We found some snails that would emerge from their tightly-shut shells after being warmed under the breath.
Estonian is the language most closely related to Finnish, and many words were familiar to me (although Estonian words more often end with consonants and include a few differently-accented vowels). An example, from a book about doorknobs sold at the museum shop: "Kui palju oma elu jooksjul puudutab inimene teise inimese kätt teretamaks, lohutamaks, hellitamaks. Sagedamini käest, puudutatakse maja 'kätt' - ukselinki. Sedasama, mis lõunapoolsel tänavaküljel on soojem, mille kuju tuntakse peo all, kuid tihti ei märgata."("A person touches the hand of another person numerous times during their life, in greeting, in sympathy, with affection. Even more often, a hand touches the 'hand' of a house - the doorknob. The very same one that feels a bit warmer on the southern side of the street, the shape of which you can feel inside your palm, and yet the thing which often goes unnoticed.")

- Ene Kull and Risto Paju. Ava Open. Tallinn: Printon, 2006. (p. 13)

(posted 23 July)