Once reached Turku I said goodbye to Jussi amd his wife and it was time to turn southward. The Finnish coastal route brought back the flat, gently undulating roads I had missed while in Norway. The journey was only slightly more challenging due to strong headwinds, which I suspect will continue to dog me through the Baltic States. Weather-wise, Finland was a blessing; I was fortunate to experience a record-breaking summer, with temperatures soaring as high as the hottest on record. Jussi and another cyclist met along the way reminded me that, with a bit of bad luck, I could have been pedaling through chilly temperatures and even seen the season’s first snow flurries! They were probably exaggerating, but their point was clear—I couldn’t have wished for better conditions. Early one morning at the Ekenäs campsite, a man grumbled that the night’s low temperature had been 19 degrees, and then launched into doomsday predictions about global warming.
“I’ve never seen so many Italians spending their summer holidays in Finland!” he told me.
He had a valid point, but I told him I was cycling and selfishly, at least for now, this felt just fine!
The only rainfall I encountered in Finland was at night while staying near Siuntio. Fortunately, I had planned ahead and was hosted by a couple of cyclists who kindly offered me the use of a cozy wooden cabin in their garden. Ralf, a German by birth and a professional carpenter, explained that he had built the cabin as a display of his craftsmanship for potential buyers. It had no electricity but was perfect for my stay, keeping me sheltered through the night downpour. As soon as I arrived, Carola welcomed me into their house, provided a towel and told me to feel free to use their kitchen and help myself with ingredients and spices as if I was a paying customer. In return, I repaid their hospitality with a touch of clumsiness, breaking a glass that shattered into hundreds of pieces. After cleaning up, we spent a pleasant hour chatting. Carola, a ‘Swedish Finn,’ communicated with Ralf using the Swedish language.
“Finnish is just too hard a language.” Ralf told me.
“I’ve been here twenty years and have long since given up trying to learn it!”
Reaching Helsinki stirred up a flood of memories from a city I used to visit regularly for a few years. Familiar places brought back vivid flashbacks, including the times I’d explored the city on a rental bicycle. Like most large cities I’ve encountered on this journey, Helsinki was in the midst of a transformation, with major infrastructure projects in full swing. This pattern was so widespread across European cities that I felt compelled to investigate why. From my brief research, it seems the main culprit is the European Recovery Plan, designed to boost economies and provide jobs after the COVID pandemic. However, it has one significant drawback: it has transformed most city centres into messy building sites. Even Helsinki Cathedral, or Suurkirkko as it’s known in Finnish, wasn’t spared—it was partly shrouded in scaffolding that reached all the way to its blue rooftop. With rain forecasted for the next few days, I decided to take advantage of a sunny day and take the ferry to Tallinn, where I spent time sightseeing a fascinating city, even though the skies were mostly cloudy and there was a fair bit of rain. Estonia promises better weather starting tomorrow, when I will resume cycling and exploring the sights and sounds of another country I'm visiting for the first time.
Three months on the road feels like the right time to reflect on my first attempt at an extended journey. Much of it has been enjoyable, some of it thrilling, but there have also been some challenges. Cycling through so many interesting places, meeting kind and generous people—often willing to help without being asked—has reminded me that the world is much better and safer than we’re led to believe. There’s a small sense of achievement in seeing how far I’ve come by cycling slowly, but it’s nothing special; anyone, young or old, could do it. As long as you have the time, it’s more about stamina than strength and power. At times, things can get tough and uncomfortable, and there’s an urge to return to the familiar comforts we usually take for granted. At such times, without determination, it’s easy to lose motivation and give in to the temptation to call it a day. If I had set some arbitrary time limit for ‘success,’ at this three-month mark, I’ve probably just passed it. I wonder if some people naturally adapt to long journeys or if it’s a learning process of trial and adjustment. The shift between a tourist mindset and that of a traveler is something I still struggle with. In the end, the only reason to continue is to find joy in the journey itself, and as long as I do, I’ll keep pushing forward and see how much further it will take me.