Helsinki: Stone Cold or Just a Hard Sell?
Just under two hours on a ferry is all it takes to get from Tallinn, Estonia, to Helsinki, Finland. I hopped on a Viking Line ferry, expecting a simple ride. Instead? Floating casino. Duty-free alcohol shop. A bar in the front, another in the back—probably one next to the captain’s wheel too.
I even threw 10 euros into a slot machine—not because I expected to win, but because I needed coins for a locker. That way, I could stash my backpack and head to the deck to breathe in that crisp Baltic Sea air.
From Budget-Friendly to Wallet-Busting
The moment I arrived in Helsinki, my wallet felt it. Taxi rides in Tallinn? Five euros. Here? Twenty for a measly four kilometers. My Airbnb turned out to be in what felt like a dormitory suburb, and to top it off, it was pouring rain. Finland was not making the best first impression.
The next morning, things started looking up. Turns out, I was just 200 meters from the main railway line, and Helsinki’s city center was only a 10-minute train ride away. Even better? I found a Lavazza machine on the station platform. One euro eighty, “plop,” and I had a hot espresso in my hands. Finland was growing on me.
A City Built on Stone, Sweden, and Russia
Helsinki isn’t one of those cities with a charming medieval old town. It’s newer, built during the Renaissance by the King of Sweden and later fortified by Imperial Russia. Stone buildings, a mix of Swedish and Russian influences, and a dash of Art Deco—especially in the central train station.
Like its Baltic neighbors, Helsinki has an odd architectural contrast: Russian Orthodox churches just a few steps away from Lutheran ones. A bit of a culture clash, but an interesting one.
The Best Smoked Fish in the Worst Weather
The rain just wouldn’t stop. After 24 hours of downpours, I decided to do what I do best: eat well. So I splurged on one of Helsinki’s fanciest restaurants at the end of the Esplanade, overlooking the sea.
Kappeli sits under a giant wrought-iron glass roof, and as the rain hammered down, I dug into a platter of the best smoked fish I’d had on my trip—smoked ciscoes, Baltic herring, marinated salmon—all prepared with serious skill. It cost me my kebab budget for the next two weeks, but no regrets.
Where’s the Internet Café?
Finland, like Estonia, has gone fully digital. I needed to print some documents, so I started hunting for an internet café. Bad move—those don’t exist in a country where nobody uses paper anymore.
At an Apple Store, I asked an employee where I could print something. He looked at me, dead serious, and said, “I haven’t had a printer in four years. We do everything online here. But if you really need one, try the municipal library.”
So off to the library I went—and what a place. Workstations for sewing, Linux-powered computers, books (of course), and librarians who looked like they moonlighted in death metal bands. Black T-shirts, intense stares, a few battle scars. But hey, they were super helpful.
One thing I did notice—people in Finland (and most places I visited on this trip) don’t smile much. Not like in North America, where grins are practically mandatory. Different vibes, that’s all.
Lapland’s Golden Berries
Finally, the rain let up, and I got to explore the harbor market. That’s where I spotted them—those small golden berries I’d seen in Newfoundland, Northern Quebec, Norway, and Sweden. Cloudberries.
In Finland, they call them hillaa, and the vendor told me these ones came straight from Lapland. I popped one in my mouth, and boom—instant nostalgia. A taste that took me back to so many places, all packed into one tiny berry.