Five things about Mexico

I’m sorry I have been quiet for a long time now. My life in Mexico has been quite unexpected in many ways. But during this time I have paid attention to few things that for a Northern European might be difficult to adapt at first. Here are some five things about Mexico that I want to educate you about.

Five reasons why you can’t sleep:

1. Your neighbor’s hundred and ten roosters start their morning serenade at 4 am and continue for hours.

2. Wild dogs in the neighborhood host illegal dog fights every night.

3. Somewhere close by somebody is burning a ton of plastic and the smell makes you want to puke.

4. The cute cat babies under your window, where their wild mom found a nest for them, start screaming for food or for their mom.

5. When you’re taking a nap in the afternoon, the local newspaper car drives by shouting in the megaphone how some kid in the next village was killed and his body ripped in parts.

Five things, which are most different from home:

1. It’s okay to drive one-way street to the wrong direction.

2. You find scorpions in your bathroom.

3. Yard work tools include jungle knife.

4. When Mexicans say, “it’s not spicy at all” you will die if you eat it.

5. No warm water in the house (but it’s Mexico, so why would you need warm water?)

Five reasons, why you have to love Mexico:

1. It’s okay to drive one-way street to the wrong direction.

2. Food: tacos from street vendors are absolutely fantastic!

3. It never snows.

4. You get to use jungle knife when working in your yard. Talking about Indiana Jones!

5. If you run out of food, there are ton of roosters running around, waiting to be cooked.

Always one fly in the soup

The Mexicans have a saying that there is always at least one fly in the soup. By that they mean that there is always some kind of problem in your life. Oh boy is that right!

First when I got to my new house, I was greeted by a total mess left by the previous person living there. She had left her furniture, which I knew and am grateful of, but also a lot of other.. stuff. Hard to describe. The fridge was a mess, I found things I didn’t even recognize anymore. Took me five times to clean the floor until it was even remotely clean, the stove doesn’t work and there is not water in the kitchen. But on the bright side, I have a beautiful back yard with lots of flowers and plants (aloe vera!), butterflies and birds.. and tons of insects and dreadfully big spiders!

But that is not all. After I got the house to somewhat livable condition, my car broke down. You see, the house is not exactly on the highway, so a car is a necessity. We fixed the car. It broke again. We fixed it again. It broke down three times.

And in addition to that, I caught some terrible stomach bug only God knows where, and have not been able to eat properly for three days. But hey, I wanted to learn the Mexican lifestyle and culture! So welcome, and enjoy!

But all of those things aside, my new home town is very pretty with awesome beaches and the mountains in the back, gorgeous view of the ocean and most importantly – really good tacos! Maybe in time I will learn to enjoy my soup with a few flies in it. And I prefer flies to bees anyway.

I will try to report my movements and life here in Mexico the best I can. However internet is also hard to come by, so be patient. And please, come to visit!

"Everyone has seen photographs of Mexicans wearing those big sombreros. When you come to Mexico, the astonishing thing is, nobody wears these hats at all."

-Bruce Beresford

Made in China

Grown-up world is often serious and lacks imagination, which makes it sometimes hard to carry. I have had the privilege of being in the company of two intelligent and happy young boys, full of life, dreams and imagination. We have been talking about the most interesting things like the kitchen ghost, who is shy of people but likes to move stuff around in the kitchen so you won’t find anything, and magic dust, which is hard to come by these days; you have to become a member of magic society by completing dangerous tasks.

Both boys are so much fun and the closest brothers I’ve ever known, but completely different characters.  7-year-old Joshua is a thinker and reader, and he often asks difficult (also funny) questions or makes interesting remarks.

I’d like to share some of those moments and remarks with you.

One evening we were having chicken for dinner, when Joshua started telling how previous year at school they had an experiment with farm animals. They brought chicken eggs to class and watched them hatch and grow from small chicks to bigger chicks and eventually they went back to the farm.

Joshua: “Those chicks were so cute! I love them, especially the black one. But she is probably a chicken by now, and has her own chicks.”

Me: “Yes, and we are probably eating her right now.”

(people trying not to laugh, failing epically… Finally dad tried to calm the situation)

Dad: “Yes, it was nice that you had those chicks. Now please eat your chicken.”

Joshua likes spaceships a lot. One day he told me he wants to call NASA and ask if he could use one their spaceships and launch some ants to space.

Me: “what do you think the people at NASA would say to such a request?”

Joshua: “Well they would probably think it’s a joke. But don’t worry, I will explain to them that it is not a joke but an experiment, so I am sure they will understand.”

Joshua: “Helena, are some people allergic to fish?”

Me: “Yes, some people are.”

Joshua: “Awww. So they can’t have an aquarium then.”

Me: “No, for sure they can have aquarium. They just can’t eat fish.”

Joshua: “Oh, I see. Well how about if your grandpa is allergic to fish?”

Me: “You can still eat it, if you are not allergic.”

Joshua: “So you just have to make sure your grandpa doesn’t eat any fish.”

Joshua: “This watch is not original.”

Me: “How do you know that?”

Joshua: “It’s not made in China. All original things are made in China.”

I’ve also had some very funny moments with the younger brother, Sam. With him it’s mostly something physically funny, he tends to do tricks and expressions. Also he is quite the daredevil, climbs absolutely anything in a blink of an eye.

We went to visit aquarium with Sam quite recently and saw some tigers there. A conversation followed few days later:

Sam: “What do you want for your birthday, Helena?”

Me: “I want a tiger. Can you get one for me?”

Sam: “Sure.”

Me: “How do you plan getting it?”

Sam: “I can spend the night at the aquarium and when everyone is sleeping, I will take one of theirs and I can mail it to you to Mexico.”

Me: “Oh, thanks. What do you think the mailman will say about that package delivery?”

Sam: “Ohh, he would probably say he is not gonna deliver it. But his boss will make him do it.”

Me: “Oh, then we have nothing to worry. I will be waiting for my tiger.”

These are just few examples of the moments I’ve experienced and will cherish rest of my life. And today, when I had to say goodbye to the boys, they nicely came to me and handed me a present, gave me hugs and kisses and thanked me for playing with them. And after receiving my present, Samuel sincerely asked me: “so what are you going to give us, Helena?”

Well, I don’t know. My heart you have already stolen. My thoughts and prayers are with you every day. Probably I cannot give you anything compared to what you have given me; and I am not just talking about the present.

Joshua and Samuel, you are the true inspiration of my life.

"Helena, this is your last day here, and I am kind of sad. I wish I could come wherever you go and play with you every day."

Samuel, 5 y.

The last ride

Yesterday I said goodbye to a really close friend. I don’t know when I will see her again, if ever. But this is not the first time I have left her, and I feel sad.

I still remember the first day we met like it was yesterday. It was a cold December day almost four years ago, with tons of snow everywhere. We were introduced by a lady, who told me she was sometimes suspicious of new people but once I would get to know her, she would be the best friend ever.

When I saw her, I felt connection instantly. I knew we would be really good friends. I really wanted to make the effort to win her trust and get to know her well. So we began our friendship. Sure it was rough at first; she was very stubborn and liked to do things her own way – just like me. But I had been right; we had a connection, which soon grew into a profound relationship.

But then, around nine months after we had met, I had to leave. I know she might have not understood. I left with no explanation. Sure, I would be mad about that too.

I saw her briefly almost two years ago, when I was visiting Colorado. She remembered me well. Same thing this time: when I went to meet her about a month ago, she played upset, but couldn’t be angry at me for long. She still remembered all the fun that we had together.

But yesterday was goodbye – again. I didn’t tell her that I am leaving soon. I didn’t have to. She knew. So while the sun was setting behind the magnificent Rocky Mountains, coloring the sky deep orange, there we were, side by side, silently. No words were needed. She understood. She knew I was sad too.

She stood calmly while I groomed her and made her ready for our last ride. She tried to comfort me by gently rubbing her head against my shoulder. And in her eyes I saw, that she would miss me, but she knew I had to go.

I have gone through countless of goodbyes in my life, but this one has by far been the hardest. It’s only once in a million years that you meet such a soul mate. Shoshoni, you will always be the mare of my heart.

"The essential joy of being with horses is that it brings us in contact with the rare elements of grace, beauty, spirit and fire."

- Sharon Ralls Lemon

Me no speak no Americano

As much as I love the magnificent sight of the Rocky Mountains, the warm Colorado sun which warms up the days long until September, the current exchange rate which makes me a king in America, and the large coffees, when I was asked by a random small talk acquaintance, if I could move to the States, my immediate answer was: no way!

It’s fun to visit, but I would go crazy if I actually lived here. I don’t want to offend anyone, I’m just being honest. And here is why:

1) Americans still believe that having just two extreme opposites in the government is democracy.

2) Americans have absolutely no idea what socialism is. For them it’s the biggest nightmare and the end of the American dream. When the world’s third richest man Warren Buffet publicly stated that the tax cuts for the wealthiest have gone too far, and that they need to pay their share, he was accused of being a socialist. Excuse me?!

3) Whenever I hear the word ‘terrorism’ here I want to puke. Attitude towards Muslims and Arabs is unheard-of.

4) The pure lies spread in the news, mostly in TV. It is true that America has an outstanding record in investigative and war journalism, but they also hold high records in propaganda. It makes me sick to watch some news shows (Fox news, krhm), because of the pure lies, opinions and assumptions that they portray as facts.

5) Many Americans actually truly believe that they are the greatest nation in the whole world. Any nation that lifts itself to such stand, I feel uncomfortable with. Definitely don’t want to live there.

I could continue this list for a long way. My intention is not to insult anyone and I know there are many Americans who do not fall into the category I portray here. But sadly enough, this is the feeling that I have been getting since I’ve been here.

So since I will not be staying here, my future country of living will be… Mexico! Because politics and journalism is so much simpler there! All you have to do is pay the drug cartels for protection. Awesome.

All kidding aside, I will be going back to Mexico and starting to write my thesis there. It’s going to be an interesting ride, so tag along.

"Politics is the art of looking for trouble, finding it whether it exists or not, diagnosing it incorrectly, and applying the wrong remedy."

-Earnest Benn

Love is patient, love is kind

Today I have a topic in mind that probably differs from previous texts. You may think it’s not very journalistic, you may think it’s soft, you may think it’s idealistic, you may think it’s nothing but a vague dream. And you might be right. But I’m going to write about it anyway.

I’m talking about love.

When I look at the world today, it makes my heart ache. It seems that human kind is incapable of love. Sure people love each other, they love their children, their parents, their spouses, even their siblings (most of the time). But what does it really mean to love?

The Bible describes real love very powerfully: ”Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.” (1^st Cor. 13: 4-7, NIV)

Now think about the people you love. Is this the kind of love you feel? What if you get hurt? Is it easy to dig back up all the old things, things you have forgiven already?

True love does not seek for its own good, true love forgives, true love doesn’t remember the wrong things or the pain. But who can really love like this? Is it even possible for humans?

Jesus teaches us to love our enemies and pray for those who seek to hurt us. His teachings were revolutionary at his time – and they still are today. Now whether you are Christian or not, these words must make you think. Even if you don’t believe in God, maybe you believe in love, or in peace. Peace in the world or in your heart can’t be accomplished without pure love.

I truly believe that the only solution to the problems of the world is to start loving each other. Forgiving the people who hurt you the most, praying for those who seek to destroy you and your family. That is the only way.

Hatred is easy. Love is hard.

It is so easy to become bitter, to carry anger in your heart, to hate others and blame them for the pain. Loving is difficult. Loving your enemy is not easy. It does not come to us naturally. But loving is also a choice. It’s a decision we make.

Maybe it’s idealistic. Maybe it has nothing to do with journalism. But I believe it and I stand by it.

"And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love."

- 1st Cor. 13:13

Respect the Mountain

Three years ago in August in Colorado, United States, at the Rocky Mountains National Park, I pushed myself to the limits I didn’t know I had and conquered the highest mountain and the most difficult climb (class 3) at the Park.  And I did it all in outstanding time: that was due to the bet I had with my friends, who at the time were laughing at me when I said I wanted to climb Longs Peak in five hours (final time was 4hrs 20 minutes, which for a first timer is really good).

I remember coming down the mountain, my whole body in pain, my lungs screaming for mercy and my muscles aching. Even though the breathtaking view on top of that 14,250 feet (4,3km) mountain was totally worth the pain, I swore to myself that I would never put myself through that much suffering ever again.

Yet there I was, climbing the same mountain exactly three years after.

There is just something amazingly magnificent about mountains. I’ve always been in love with nature, and connecting with it has been close to my heart. I also want to push myself to the limits, to exceed myself.

This time I knew that I was not in as good shape as I was three years ago – back then I trained six months just for the climb. Also my sickness in Mexico had squeezed me out of my strength pretty bad and it was only about three weeks ago that I started training again.

But I still wanted to climb it. Test myself. Test the mountain.

If last time I conquered the mountain, this time definitely the mountain conquered me. With my friend, we were able to climb all the way to the Keyhole, so about 12 kilometers. But the last kilometer to the peak was impossible for us to reach. The weather was drastic, the wind so strong that I could not stand up without being blown away. So we realized that we have to respect the mountain and its powers and not risk it. It was too dangerous. Besides dark clouds were gathering above us and lightings are the biggest threat while on a mountain.

Like I learned in Croatia, at the Plitvice Lakes National Park, nature will always be stronger than man, nature will always win. This time the powerful mountain was too powerful for me to conquer. Respect, Longs Peak! Still it was a good climb, and my body is once again in pain.

Can’t wait for the next challenge!

"You can never conquer the mountain. You can only conquer yourself."

-James Whittaker

Guns

I’m far away from the tragedy of Norway, but it doesn’t mean I don’t feel it. It was a horrible massacre and a terrorist attack which should never have happened. But it did.

We know something about shootings in Finland too: the school shootings in Jokela 2007 and in Kauhajoki 2008. Every Finn will certainly remember the horrific moments of these tragedies. Innocent students and teachers murdered – for what?

We all agreed that something has to be done. But what? That’s where no one agrees.

The former Finnish prime minister Matti  Vanhanen demands changes in gun laws in Finland: a claim that has been made by others before. To make it more difficult to get a license for a gun, and forbid certain automatic guns all together.

But does that really change anything? For me it sounds like an easy way out. Something needs to be done, so let’s change the law, that’s what politicians know how to do. But is the problem really the guns that exist?

Guns cannot shoot by themselves. Guns cannot load themselves. Guns don’t kill people. People kill people. If we don’t fix the actual problem, changing the gun laws will not change anything; except make the life of hunters and sports shooters more difficult. And we have a lot of them in Finland: people who are law-obedient citizens, but happen to work, compete or otherwise hobby guns. And there is nothing wrong with that.

Breivik did not shoot all those people just because he happened to have access to a gun. If a person is set on doing something that terrible, he or she will do it one way or the other. A gun is only means to a goal. If you don’t have a gun, you think of something else.

Besides, gun laws only affect legal guns. Nowadays pretty much anyone can get a hold of an illegal gun even in Finland.

My question is what went wrong in our society so that a person can get so angry at the world he wants to massacre innocent people, teenagers, students, teachers?

And what can be done?

"No law ever prevented a crime"

- Author unknown

Dying for Truth

I’m sorry I haven’t written anything since I got out of the hospital – I’ve been too busy doing everything I wanted to do in Mexico. I went scuba diving, jetskiing, wrote an article about getting sick on a vacation, went up to a small town in the mountains, tried some awesome seafood.

So I’ve been enjoying myself. Finally! But I haven’t totally forgotten journalism or the sad reality here in Mexico.

Yesterday a female crime reporter and columnist Yolanda Ordaz de la Cruz was found murdered in the city of Veracruz. Headcount for murdered journalists since 2000 has risen to 77; 23 have gone missing since 2003.

“Ordaz was one of those journalists who were exposed to danger because of their reporting speciality. At the same time, a link to organized crime obviously cannot be excluded in a state where three feared gangs, the Zetas, the Gulf Cartel and Michoacán’s La Familia, operate. And it is hard not to link Ordaz’s murder with that of her colleague, López, whose columns may have upset certain officials,” says Reporters without Borders.

Ordaz is the seventh murdered journalist in Mexico this year. In June her colleague Noel Lopez Olguin was found dead after been missing for three months.

I find myself speechless. I have the utmost respect for these brave journalists, who risked their lives for the truth. No one should ever have to die because of truth. The truth is our right, the right of the people. Journalists in Europe working in safe offices with safe subjects and have no idea what the reality can be. But don’t get me wrong: all journalists should be able to work in a safe office, write about the truth and at the end of the day, go home to their families with no fear of being threatened, kidnapped or killed. Or even worse; fear that something would happen to their loved ones.

It’s so easy to forget what happens to hundreds of journalists every year when you don’t have to face it every day. And who am I to say, anyway? I’m in Mexico, yes, but I have nothing in common with these brave reporters: except maybe passion for journalism and thirst for truth. But I can’t count myself as one of them: I wouldn’t dare to put myself in their league.

Reporters without Borders is working hard to protect journalists, trying to establish different programs and raise awareness. But is it helping? Can we see a future where every single journalist can work without fear?

I do not think so. And I find it absolutely remarkable that despite the fact they might be tortured or killed, many journalists keep going. They are not stopping. They have a higher calling.

I do not want to die because of my job, but I do envy these journalists: they have a deep passion that I want to share with them. Hopefully one day we can all share it – and be safe.

"Journalism can never be silent: that is its greatest virtue and its greatest fault. I must speak, and speak immediately, while the echoes of wonder, the claims of triumph and the signs of horror are still in the air."

-Henry Anatole Grunwald

Going Home

I’m looking at the mountains of Sierra Madre. I can see them from my window at the hospital. It looks like it’s going to be a nice day.

My doctor said I can go home today.

I’m smiling, yet I have tears in my eyes. Is it really over? Am I really well again?

Of course I will have to eat antibiotics for another week, and probably take some pain medication. But I can go home.

I’ve been sick almost two weeks now. That’s half of my vacation in Mexico. From life’s perspective it’s a really short period of time. But when you are really sick, the concept of time changes. When you sweat in high fever, tossing and turning in your bed, feeling pain all over your body, minutes seem to last hours and hours seem to last forever. Or when you’ve been on the verge of unconsciousness for a day, it feels like you just closed your eyes five minutes ago.

I want to thank everybody who has been thinking about me, praying for me, sending me messages or writing on my Facebook, commenting on my posts and pictures. My last blog post was the most read post ever, so that shows me that people do care. You have helped me to smile through this time. I’ve learned that kind words, smiles and caring touches can really make a huge difference in one’s life.

Staying in the hospital gave me a lot of time to think. About life, what is important to me, what to be thankful for. And I’ve realized that I have absolutely nothing to complain about. There are a lot of people who spend most of their lifetime in a hospital; or people who are seriously sick but never receive hospital care or medication.

I’m lucky in so many ways and humbled by the fact that I’ve done nothing to deserve it. And I’m thankful for this experience I had, how it made me view my life in a different way.

But today. Today I’m going home.

"Ollaanko enkeleitä toisillemme, siipiesi suojaan saanko painaa pään? Jos oomme enkeleitä toisillemme, saamme rakkautemme kestämään."

- Jope Ruonansuu, "Enkeleitä toisillemme"

Behind the hospital curtains

I watch a nurse whose name I don’t know to put an IV in my vain. I answer a bunch of questions about my age, religion, place of birth and known diseases (none). I’ve never spend a night in a hospital before, and never would I ever have guessed my first one would be in Mexico.

That was 34 hours ago. I’m sitting in my room, in San Javier Marina Hospital, Puerto Vallarta, typing. Yes, I have my own room; I also have bathroom with shower and TV (the TV is not in the bathroom). I order my breakfasts, lunches and dinners from a menu. I’ve talked to a nutritionist who works here, I’ve talked customer representative who wanted to know if I have any complaints. Only one: the fact that I’m still sick.

It’s almost like staying in a hotel, except that I’m attached to a rack of tubes, bags of drugs and a monitor; and instead of spa treatment and massages I have to pee in a cup and I wear a gown. I start to think that I’m in one of the episodes of House. At this point I wouldn’t mind a self-centered, strongly sarcastic and ego-centric doctor, if he would just know how to actually make me better.

Right about now I’m also very happy about my insurance, which covers the costs of this private hospital. Otherwise I would have had to go to a public one, where I would be queuing with hundred and something other patients, sharing a room (or the hallway) with bunch of others. Although my nurse Alex, who also works at the public hospital, told me that people there are very humble and it’s rewarding to work there. I’m sure I would hear many touching life stories there. Here I mainly talk to myself.

I’m forced to sharpen my crappy Spanish, though. Some of the staff don't speak English. Si, yo tengo mucho dolor. No, no necesito pipi ahora. Me gusta comer pescado. Si, yo se que me parezco a la mierda.

But in the end there is only one thing that has really kept me sane during these long, long days of sickness. And that is the man, who faithfully has been helping me with every single small thing, checking my temperature, feeding me when I’m too tired to eat, forcing me to drink when he knows I’m dehydrating, and brushing my teeth when I have difficulties using my right hand because of the IV.

He skipped work to stay with me yesterday, smuggled me dinner when I missed mine here and slept the night on a couch (and not a comfortable one) next to my bed. It is only his jokes, which make me laugh even if in pain, and sincere caring that has made me feel really happy to be here, no matter the circumstances.

Therefore, dear friends and readers, do not worry for me. For I have all the attention and care I need to get well.


"Patients sometimes get better. You have no idea why, but unless you give a reason, they won't pay you."
-Dr. Gregory House

Sleepless in Mexico

The dawn is almost here, but I have not been able to sleep for hours. In fact I am writing this blog in high fever, so no guarantees of the quality.


What was supposed to be simple infection cured by antibiotics has turned out to be endless visits to hospitals, meeting with different doctors and specialists, changing drugs and antibiotics. I am now taking some antibiotics as shots straight into the vain. I take drugs that are supposed to help with fever and pain: they do neither. Instead I get side effects like rash and weird tingling in my muscles.


I don't sleep at night. I toss and turn and try to deal with fever. Usually in the morning I fall asleep for couple of hours.


This is not how I was planning to spend my vacation in Mexico. Oh no, I was supposed to tan at the beach, to learn how to surf, eat tacos (to be honest, I have done that) and enjoy myself. Well, it's just as fun to try to guess what kind of side effects I'm having yet again from new drugs I have to take, and how much money I eventually end up paying for them (I have a hint: a lot!).


And so far the doctors have absolutely no idea which bacteria is causing my infection. Isn't this exciting?


Today I am supposed to get final results of my tests. Let's hope that clears things out. Because if I am yet again just prescribed new drugs, I am going to do some serious damage. And if you don't hear from me for a while, I'm probably hallucinating in a Mexican hospital or arrested in a Mexican jail for destroying a hospital. 


"A hospital is no place to be sick"
-Samuel Goldwin

Fever in Mexico

I have been trying to think hard what to write about Mexico. It has been said that to write well you have to write what you truly know. I could write more about drug wars and violence: I could write about corruption and political issues.

But I have not really experienced any of that since I’ve been here. I’m on the west coast, in a more touristic beach city with surfers and scuba divers: life is quite different here. Only thing I’ve noticed so far is the police, who carry automatic weapons you could never ever see regular officers carry in Europe.

But I don’t really want to write about the guns of the police.

I have a better topic in mind. And this is definitely about personal experience.

People who know me would say I’m very independent: I don’t need anyone to take care of me. I’ve been around, I’ve done this and that, whatever life throws at me, I’ll survive. Well Mexico taught me that sometimes you need someone, and it’s okay to need help. Because only when you are helpless and vulnerable you can truly receive – and understand - kindness from another person.

Yesterday morning I felt unbelievably bad, thinking first I’d had too much sun, deciding to stay in bed. Around afternoon I had high fever, unable to get out of bed at all, unable really to even sit. I felt seriously dehydrated as well, but couldn’t get up to drink.

I had no understanding of time. I felt like floating, maybe outside my body, being somewhere else. And it was right then, when a friend came to check up on me. I could not even raise my head to say hello: I had absolutely no strength left in me.

He got me Gatorade and some other Mexican stuff for dehydration, forced me to drink, and basically fed me little bit of food, although I was not able to eat more than three bites. Feeling how hot I was he insisted taking me to hospital, which I refused couple of times: it’s just a fever, I said.

Finally at midnight, being in severe pain, my condition was bad enough for me to admit I needed to see a doctor. My friend drove me to emergency care in the middle of the night. He made sure I got the best treatment, helped me fill out the papers and talked to the doctor.

It was nothing deadly: an infection that only required antibiotics. But without my friend I would probably still be in my bed, unable to get up, unable to drink, hallucinating in high fever.

I know what you are thinking: that’s very sweet, but not really anything special. Quite frankly, any friend would do the same. True. I’m not so much touched by what he did; I’m touched by the devotion and sincerity he did it with. I have never received such innocent and sincere kindness and caring from anyone (except my parents). It truly touched my heart. 

Nobody likes to be helpless. Nobody likes to be unable to take care of themselves. But maybe sometimes we need to be helpless in order to learn something: about life, about fellow humans… about love.

"Kindness is a language which the deaf can hear and the blind can see."

-Mark Twain

No to drugs

Mexico is one of the most dangerous countries for media in the western hemisphere, says the website of Reporters without Borders.


I stare at the statistics. 71 journalists murdered in Mexico after 2000. Many disappeared. None of the murders or disappearances has ever been solved, no one has even been arrested or tried.


Mexico seems to be a dangerous country for journalists - matching even for Columbia and Libya. And that is where I'm going to be tomorrow. Chilling.


The reason for all the danger is obvious: drug cartels. Cartels fight against each other and against the government; even though corruption is high, Mexico's official policy is to tackle the drug problem. Unfortunately it seems like a lost cause.


More than 36 000 people have been killed in the drug wars since 2006. Cartels especially target police officers: either work for us or die. Juarez, city on the northern border, is one of the most dangerous places in the world. Children grow up with violence: it's rare to find an eight-year-old who hasn't witnessed murder. 

It's a tragic world with no end in sight. It is definitely not a problem Mexico can solve by themselves: United States is hugely involved since the guns the cartels use are bought from the States and most of the drugs end up in the American market. A random guy in California buying weed for weekend might think he is not harming anyone, but that is not the whole truth. Buying any kind of illegal drug, even weed, supports drug cartels and violence involved in the business. Mexican cartels have long dominated marijuana market in the States and it serves huge junk of their profits.


Back in the 70s and 80s Columbia used to be the biggest cocaine producer and smuggler in the Americas: now they have lost the competition to Mexicans. Mexican cartels have gained power and have started to smuggle drugs also to Europe and Australia.


While countries all over the world continue to fight drugs domestically, it's not nearly enough. The problems lie much deeper. Wider international co-operation is needed. Countries like Mexico, Columbia and Afghanistan can not overcome this by themselves: it is just not going to happen, because while the roots of the problems are there, the money comes elsewhere.


Solving the drug problem is international responsibility.


Everyone can make a difference. Lighting up marijuana joint supports drug violence. Say no to drugs.


"Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere."
-Martin Luther King Jr.

Need to have a headline here but can't really think of anything

I have landed on the continent of the Americas - so less exotically I am in the States right now.

Mostly I have been vacationing, so I don't really have smart topics in mind. I have enjoyed the warm summer days, marveled the magnificent Rocky Mountains, hooked up with people I haven't seen in years.

Some of my friends are getting married while others divorced, some have changed jobs or moved, some are pregnant. I've been gone only for few years: it's amazing how life can change.

I wonder what has happened in the lives of my Finnish friends by the time I come to visit?

How much can you actually control what happens? Sure you make the decisions in life, but not all things are controllable. Eventually we are just teeny tiny crumbs in the universe, trying to leave some footprints on this tiny planet (and we're leaving a footprint all right).

If you read this far, you might wonder what my point is (because surely a journalist would always have a point). To be honest I don't have one. I have no idea what I am writing about, I just needed to type something in order to have a new blog post.

Truthfully I have not been thinking about journalism since I left Europe (okay, that's a lie. I even dream about journalism. I meant my blog. Haven't thought about blogging since I left).

Next week I am headed to Mexico, and I am sure that country just boils with interesting topics. So... hang in there (or not).

"A question that sometimes drives me hazy: am I or are the others crazy?"
-Albert Einstein

On the road again

I have not completely unpacked my suitcase ever since I left Finland in January. It seemed unwise: I’d be going again soon enough. Plus I feel comfortable having my clothes in the suitcase rather than in a closet. If I put them in a closet, it means I’m staying. And I don’t want to stay.

I’ve been travelling outside Holland so much that I don’t really feel that I’ve lived here. But when I look back now I realize I have felt comfortable in this weird Dutch society. I love the biking, how convenient it is and how people take it seriously. I love how the bikes most people use would be considered really crappy in Finland, but how they actually are comfy and useful here.

I’m going to miss my afternoon lattes in the cozy Dutch cafes, where the service is terrible but no one really cares. I’m going to miss my awesome gym, which had zumba classes every day – so addicted! And I don’t know how I will adapt to a life where I am no longer a hobbit in the land of giants.

But most importantly I’m going to miss all the funny and intelligent people I had the privilege of becoming friends with. Even though I was absent every other week, I grew fond of the time we spent together; interesting conversations about journalism over a drink, joking around in the classroom, playing games and just having a good time.

I love travelling because I love meeting new people. Every person I encounter is like a newspaper article; with some I spend more time than with others, but each is worth reading. Some make me laugh, some make me cry, some make me think; all of them shape my view of the world.

And then there are some I feel are worth saving: I file them up in a folder to keep them with me.

This is the case with most of the people I met in Holland. But don’t worry, I’m not actually going to put you in a folder. It was a metaphor. Which you of course knew (it gets so much better when you explain it, doesn’t it?).

I should probably say that I’m sad to leave, but that would be a lie. I’m not sad, quite the opposite. One chapter in my life has ended, but it doesn’t mean the new one couldn’t be even better. Always be thankful for the experiences you had, but confident tomorrow will be even more exciting.

I know most of you will return to your home countries (or just stay in Holland if you happen to be Dutch). You know that’s not the case with me. But I want to tell you that I’m sure your home towns and cities can offer you a life full of challenges and adventures. I’m living a gypsy life, but you can choose to stay put and still have an exciting life.

Follow your dreams. Don’t listen to the people who tell you that you can’t do something. Together we are going to rock the world. 

"No person has the right to rain on your dreams."

-Marian Wright Edelman

21st Century Journalism

What does it mean to be a journalist?

Are journalists watchmen of democracy? Are we the sound of truth? Are we supposed to widen the horizon of knowledge and produce quality information with perfect grammar?

Yes. We are supposed to be and do all that.

But is it really so?

A good friend of mine, and one of the most promising young journalists in Finland, started her summer job in a Finnish paper this summer. After few weeks on the job she was told pretty much to forget what she learned at journalism school. Reality simply doesn’t work like theory.

This of course applies for every field of profession. But in this case ‘forgetting what you have been taught’ meant not really checking your facts and figures (you’re just supposed to know them all) and not caring whether your grammar and language is pleasant and correct: as long as it’s understandable it’s good enough.

Why is that, you might ask. So did I. The answer is simple: there is no time. Working in a busy newsroom or a paper you are supposed to produce text for articles in less than an hour. At that point of course you should have all the information you need. But there is no time for editing or double checking.

I understand that journalism is tough business, but this trend visible in it worries me. We still have responsibility of what we write and publish. In a hectic atmosphere like that, who can really guarantee quality, or even truth?

It seems like papers nowadays don’t care for quality. Journalism is business like any other; the only purpose is to sell. If you can sell with quality journalism, good. But in fierce competition speed and efficiency win accuracy and wide research of information.

It’s not that journalists don’t care about journalism anymore. But they are left with few choices. They too are just employees who want to get paid. And when you want to have a job, you have to roll with it.

This is exactly why I prefer to stay as freelancer. I can decide what I do, when I do it and how. I can double or triple check my information and find as many sources as I feel necessary. Sure the money is never stable, but I’m not in it for money. There is no money in journalism – at least not for journalists.

So what does it really mean to be a journalist? I don’t have the perfect answer, but I will learn while years go by; for sure it’s much more than I imagined before. 

"In journalism, there has always been a tension between getting it first and getting it right."

-Ellen Goodman