Wednesday February 2nd
Many years ago I was a political science exchange student in Finland at the University of Turku during the middle of a below-zero Arctic winter. This happened as a result of a confrontation late one night back in the English student bar where boys went to drink beer after studying in the library each evening and girls drank fizzy water or lemonade. I disliked anything fizzy but couldn’t afford scotch so made do with a glass of juice. A group of boys I studied with said they had all applied for this scholarship and added that girls couldn’t represent their country, which was why there were no girls applying. We got into a heated argument which led to me to apply, just to show them how wrong they were about girls and how upset I was about their attitude. I don’t think I had any real idea, quite, where Finland was on the map. Near to the Arctic Circle perhaps?
I applied and had to write an essay about Scandinavian politics in the two days left. I got the help of a young professor who had just returned from a year in Stockholm. I offered to buy him a pub lunch with my limited funds if he would answer all my questions. I took notes while he drank beer and ate a decent lunch alone, as my budget wouldn’t cover both of us eating and, besides, I only had forty-eight hours to submit my application and needed a decent essay.
Professors conducted selection interviews. I was kept for seven hours in an ante-room, I was the last interview of the day but had been called for early morning. I sat all day and waited until the group of male professors had interviewed the boys ahead of me. To the horror of all the boys who applied, I won the scholarship.
Months later, at the University of Turku, as the sun appeared and the massive amounts of snow and ice began to melt, I went to Helsinki with a new friend, just to walk around and experience the city. We had no money for the long rail journey and a professor gave us a lift there, but we had to hitchhike back to Turku, three hours south of the capital. We got a lift in a truck for the first hour and were dropped by the side of the road. It got darker and colder, and we were beginning to regret our decision and worry about getting back, let alone freezing to death. Eventually a large black taxi pulled up and the driver told us to get in. He was ancient and gruff. We told him we had no money to pay him. ‘Get in the damned car’ he said. We did.
The next hour we got a lecture on how two young girls should not be hitchhiking in the dark, on the main road, he had a daughter our age and he would be furious with her. On it went. We listened in chastened silence as he drove us home. With another hour to go, someone suggested singing, and we sang everything from Russian folk songs to Swedish light opera to old-fashioned English songs of my childhood. We laughed a lot and told many jokes, mine translated by my friend, until we arrived at the university grateful for this father’s kindness. He made us promise never to hitchhike again, and we solemnly gave our word while he watched us enter the dormitory and turn back to wave a thank you and goodbye. He flashed his lights and slowly drove away, glad to have kept us safe.
I have never forgotten the kindness of that man and wonder if the same concern exists today. Who would allow their teenage daughter to get in a car driven by a stranger in the middle of nowhere? One imagines that only the worst would happen, not the extended concern of one parent for the young of others.
