The Best Day(s) of Summer
“It felt like autumn already yesterday, " Marie said a couple of months ago on a Sunday, pouring more coffee into the mug painted with faces of Disney princesses. “But today, it’s warm again.” She has the habit of taking more than she drinks. I think that’s cute, all the half-empty coffee mugs around the house. The mug in her hand was soon becoming one.
I looked out the kitchen window; the sun was doing its best, waking the village to the new day. I like to call it a “village”, even though it isn't one. Käpylä is one of the neighbourhoods in Helsinki. Helsinki is the capital of Finland, so it is big compared to any other city in Finland. There are, however, only five and a half million people in Finland and around half a million in Helsinki. So Käpylä, 5 kilometres from the city centre, may at least feel like a village with its wooden houses and the atmosphere they form.
“It’s still summer,” I concluded as I sipped some coffee. It didn't taste very good, though.
Our summer here in the north is short. So you have to take all you can from that. Finnish summer is short “and only a little snowy”, as the saying goes. Everything is temporary, and you have to take the best out of the time there is. Every July, most Finnish families and couples spend four weeks on holiday. Yep, that’s right, four weeks away from the office and its ever-growing demands. Finland is virtually shut down the entire month, so if you’re trying to reach any business partner during the only (almost) surely warm month, good luck. Of course, exceptions exist, like bankers or lawyers, who tend to answer whenever. I should know, as I’m such.
For everyone else, summer holidays mean shutting down work phones and accidentally forgetting their work laptop passwords. Thus begins a vacation, a mixed bag of dreams and the unpredictable but inevitable hurdles that stand in their way.
As a kid, the start of the summer holidays felt like an explosion of happiness and freedom. The whole summer stretched ahead, free from the constraints of school and brimming with expectations. Expectations were always there, evolving as the years passed. Swimming all summer long at age 5 gave way to spending endless hours with friends by age 10 (mostly swimming, of course), attending summer camps around age 12, meeting girls by age 15, as well as generally trying to play it cool and perhaps even meeting “the” girl by age 17 as I did. All these were punctuated by travel and an ever-present indulgence in good food. The form of that food might have changed over the years, but some classics never grow old.
The only hitch with such high expectations? They rarely, if ever, come entirely true. One might fall into the trap of focusing on what didn’t happen.
As we age, you might think the weight of expectations will ease, but that's hardly the case. The stakes only seem to rise. The freedom once felt as a child evolves into a different kind of freedom—one laden with its own set of obligations.
Now, there's a pressing need to create perfect moments, not just for ourselves but often for our families. We aim for idyllic getaways that look like they've been plucked straight from travel magazines. These elaborate outings don't require meticulous planning but still dodge the too-hot, too-cold, and mosquito-filled times—”räkkä” as we call the worst periods here. Gatherings with friends and family are expected to unfold seamlessly and maintain a cheerful atmosphere under the midnight sun.
Yet, much like in our younger years, reality has a knack for diverging from our carefully crafted plans. While our expectations may evolve, one lesson remains constant: perfection is an elusive goal, even when it comes to something as seemingly straightforward as a summer vacation.
The beauty of the Nordic way of doing summer holidays often lies in their paradox. We head out to escape from our busy lives for several weeks in a row with one promise to ourselves: “This year, I’ll focus on doing nothing”. Yet the holidays are packed with many things, and returning to the office may even feel like a relief.
Last summer, we decided to live more relaxedly and, for example, not venture out of the country or plan too many things. It wasn’t just a choice. Prices had already skyrocketed by the time we started looking at travel offers abroad and cabin rentals in Finland. So we did what many other families choose to do—those who can afford it, at least. We decided to go week by week and fill our days with activities right here at home.
From amusement parks like Linnanmäki to the Helsinki Zoo on an island, our calendars quickly filled up. Then there were a few days at the cabin, sailing and swimming in various spots - with the local sandy swimming place (the “pit”, as we called it) being our favourite. We were even lucky with surprisingly good weather. Which it wasn’t throughout the summer. It nearly, but only nearly, rained during our Linnanmäki trip, making the park blissfully empty. The jackets and raincoats stayed almost untouched on our sailing trip, and our four-decades-old engine didn’t fail us - this time. And let’s not forget the countless ice creams consumed. The summer was enjoyable, but we could’ve had easier times with more planning ahead. So this year, we did just that.
We booked our trip to Greece well on time, scheduled our sailing trip, and agreed with my parents when to spend time with them in the summer cottage. As Marie said yesterday, “We didn’t even have time to have a glass of wine in the garden.” It is true, “but there were so many other things we did that you wanted to do”, I thought. Afte so many years together, I knew better not to say it out loud. “The kids enjoyed it,” I replied.
In the end, we do most of the stuff for the kids. I do enjoy Linnanmäki and the zoo, of course, even though the latter brings some mixed feelings. But I enjoy them through the kids. It’s a cliché, but when the kids are happy they make me happy. What I am sure of is that we wouldn’t be spending so much time on playgrounds without the kids, but it’s worth the time, of which you only have so much in your hands. Kids grow, and suddenly they’re no longer interested in spending time together with the parents. Those places and moments, be it the local zoo in the rain or a sunny day in a small village in Greece, are made magical only after they’re shared with the family. Or that’s what I answered to a colleague who asked how my summer was, after complaining that their “summer was as good as it can be, with a toddler”. It was intentional, trying to counter the complaints with a short note that such complaints don’t make any sense. Somehow however nowadays it’s ok to say that the holiday was ruined because it was shared with your kid. But no one will say that the romantic holiday in Paris was ruined because of constant fights with the wife.
So, not only for the kids but for ourselves, we tried to do things the whole family enjoyed, especially the boys. Still, I had a nagging feeling that we didn’t do enough, not by quantity but by quality.
The slow coffee moment didn’t last long—they rarely do. “Hey,” I interrupted the boys’ verbal fight about whose turn it was to speak next. “It seems to be a nice day outside today. Should we cycle to the Pit?” It felt like a fitting end to the summer, especially as it was the last weekend before the boys returned to kindergarten and we returned to work. Didn't take long to pack, and soon we were by the door. Wolf did everything else than what we asked. “Dad”, he said and still didn't put the shoes on. I felt the anger going up from stomach to my head. “You still don't have the shoes on”. Wolf came closer to me. “Morning hug”, and gave a long hug. My heart warmed and melt the anger.
Those moments don't last forever. They should. Life is a line of passing moments and thoughts. The warmest ones we forget. ”You pay attention to the little details, life is so much more beautiful then.”, was one of the greatest compliments I have had. Maybe I forget that.
"It was a good summer, wasn't it?” I asked the family as I handed an unwrapped ice cream to our little Lynx.
“Yes, it was,” Marie replied. At first, I wasn't sure if she genuinely meant it, but I’d like to think she did.
As Marie has taught me, open-ended questions can sometimes be challenging for toddlers, so I took a different approach.
“What if everyone mentions one thing they loved most about the summer?” I suggested. After all, life is beautiful because of all the little details, good and bad, not despite of them.
“For me, it was the whole week we got to spend together on our boat.”, I continued. And it truly was, not just because I love sailing. There isn't much to do out there except be with each other, which brings a sort of primal satisfaction—especially when surrounded by the expansive sea. Granted, it's the Baltic Sea, so maybe not that wide. But still.
"Marie took a moment before giving her answer, “For me, it was our trip to see the concert.” I agreed; the journey to mid-Finland for a kids concert was delightful, and the concert itself was fantastic.
As for little Lynx, everyone could have guessed his answer before he even spoke: “Moomin World.” These days, it's a summer staple that wraps nostalgia and childhood excitement into one package. So why not.
Our Wulf was gazing at the small artificial lake while finishing his vanilla with chocolate topping. Without turning his head, he softly said, “The best thing for me was that the whole family was together.” I kissed the top of his head, more proud than words could express. Marie couldn't hold back her tears. “Mom's okay,” I assured them, “she's crying because she's happy. Because the summer was so great.”
