A little bit of Sicily in Åland

Rosario Brancato of Belissimo Glassbar

Åland islands (where we go on our summer holidays) has always been culturally a funny sort of a place. It's closer to Sweden than Finland, yet is an autonomous part of Finland. It has a rich history of seafaring; it even played a role in the Crimean war when the English invaded part of the islands. There's a small green space in Mariehamn called The English Park as a sort monument.

Yet Åland has remained defensively, almost stubbornly, unique. Even post EU membership, there's still legislation in force to protect the islanders from foreign invasion. In order to own land there, or to trade, you basically need to be Finnish and speak passable Swedish (this, odd as it may seem, is quite rare), or marry an Ålänning. Even having passed these tests, you have to live on the islands continuously for five years in order to earn your Åland stripes.

No wonder, then, that there aren't many foreign cafes or restaurants in the capital Mariehamn: so far during the twenty or so years we've been visiting the islands, we've noticed one Thai restaurant, a cafe/home-made chocolate shop run by a Venezuelan lady, a fast food kebab house, and now most recently a Sicilian cafe/bar.

Bellissimo cafe in Mariehamn

This year's newcomer, a Sicilian cafe called Bellissimo, seems to have arrived without much fuss. When the Englishman and I passed it the first time, we didn't go in as the place looked so unremarkable from the outside. But when shopping with my mother in the town a few days later she dragged me inside. (She's always keen to try anything new in Mariehamn.)

We were welcomed with a loud 'Ciao' from the owner, Rosario Brancato, who was busily wiping the counter. When I spotted an expresso machine and a display of ice-creams and the word 'Gelatiera', I was sold. My mother had in her turn spotted the apple cake. Just as in Italy - or Sicily - the man frowned at the request of skimmed milk, so we had double expressos instead of our usual mid-morning lattes. After a long time at the ice-cream counter I chose the cherry yoghurt whip. And boy, was it delicious (so much so I again forgot to take a picture!). My mother's apple cake was equally tasty.

The choice of ice-creams was overwhelming

The apple cake went so quickly I hardly had time to photograph it...

The ice-cream counter was busy

On leaving, Rosario shouted, 'Grazie mille signora!' My mother turned to him, smiled sweetly, and said, 'Ciao'.

This licensed Sicilian cafe should do well in Mariehamn - all I'd ask is that they advertise themselves a little more visibly to the many tourists - an Italian flag outside would do the trick nicely.

Midsummer in Lemland, Åland

After a sleepless night when it never got fully dark, my post about midsummer in Åland is going to be a rather picture-laden one.

The house is traditionally decorated with silver birch branches. 

The festivities started almost as soon as we settled in on Midsummer's Eve. Wood-buring sauna was followed by champagne, and lots and lots of food.

Some of the food we consumed last night.

Smoked salmon cheesecake made by my mother. It was more than delicious.

Various types of cold smoked fish.

This was the starters...I kid you not.

Schnapps to go with the fish.

We sat outside drinking schnapps and beer with various herring and other fish dishes - gravad lax, cold smoked salmon and whitefish, singing drinking songs and generally having a jolly old time.

Traditional Åland decoration for midsummer.

When it was time for bed, we didn't forget to pick seven different kinds of wild flowers for Daughter to put under her pillow. According to folklore on this magical night the flowers would ensure she dreamt of her future husband.

As we walked down to the sauna cottage - our sleeping quarters for the holiday - the Englishman and I just could not believe how light it was at midnight. 

The sun was just setting at midnight.

Our view as we finally made our way to the sauna cottage.

We both promptly woke up at three am when the sun rose again. They say in Finland Midsummer is not sleeping, but for feasting. I may be too old...

Same view at three am today.

Home thoughts

Being back in your home country can be equally as tricky as being a foreigner - immigrant - abroad.

First of all there are all the emotions that family re-unions can ignite. Sometimes they are beautiful and lovely, sometimes an old, deeply buried resentment raises its ugly head and bites the homecoming queen in the bum. The least said about this the better.

Then there are the small cultural differences that you've forgotten about. When I come anywhere near any of the Nordic countries, be it Finland, Sweden or the Åland Islands (where we are at the moment), the first thing that strikes me is the lack of general politeness and social consideration. No-one holds a door open for you. No-one greets you with even the slightest of  nods, whether you are the only other person walking along a deserted country road or not. Very few people smile.

It takes me a few days to remember that these people are not miserable, nor impolite. It's just the way they are; serious and private. Finns are more extreme then Swedes; Ålänningar lie somewhere in between. They say what they mean, they don't speak unless it's necessary to say something. They arrive at parties on time and they expect you to do the same. But the consequence of this sincerity is that ferries run on time, bank cards arrive a day before they were promised. Everything works and you can trust that if a person says they're going to do something, it'll happen.

While we were considering the Big Move, both Stockholm and Helsinki were mentioned. But however much I love being able to catch a train and know it'll arrive on time, or walk along a street and know it'll never be as crowded and claustrophobic as Oxford Street on any given Saturday afternoon, I don't think I could cope with the insular Nordic character. Of course not everyone is like this - I'm generalising terribly. My friends and family are completely different; besides they know my English ways and pander to them.

But I believe that if I'd moved back, after a few months in either Helsinki or Stockholm, I'd be that crazy woman shouting obscenities at passers-by, venting my pent-up anger at my fellow countrymen. In other words, I've become too English, too corrupted to leave the UK. It's just simply too late for me to go back. And that, ladies and gentlemen, makes me very sad indeed.

A large small town

That is how the tourist site Visit Åland describes Mariahamn. Something lost in translation there perhaps? For me, however, this fits perfectly, but then I speak both Finnish and Swedish (spoken here) and have by now after twenty odd years even acquired the Åland accent and use the odd, little quirky word that only the island people know. To give you an example, Nojsa means to make a racket, a word obvioulsy adopted from English. (Explained by the islands' history of seafaring.)

In the tourist season, which basically means the duration of long summer school holidays from June to early August, the capital of the Åland islands is busy with visitors from mainly Finland and Sweden. There are many sailing boats moored in both Österhamn, the Eastern harbour facing Finland, as well as in Västerhamn, the Western harbour, which looks out towards the Swedish coast. Due to its tax free status, the large ferries that criss-cross the Baltic stop here, bringing with them more tourists to the islands and Mariehamn. By the time we usually arrive in mid-July, the tourists are already well settled and planning their return to either mainland. The weather also turns slightly colder in August, and as the tourists flee, the big town becomes a small one again.

Son says there's tumble weed running through Mariehamn by mid August when we walk along the deserted Storgatan. What we and the other tourists forget is that this is what life is normally like here in the 'large small town'. There are only 11,000 inhabitants, a number which at least doubles during the summer months. The telephone directory is the size of a small leaflet, including the Yellow Pages. Everyone knows everyone else. The local newspaper is so starved of news it's invented a new level of sensationalism.

'Joy Riding Arrives in Åland' was a title a few years ago. Reading the article you realised it was nothing more than a set of keys left in a parked car on Torggatan in Mariehamn which had then been driven by an unknown person two blocks north to Norrgatan and abandoned there, unharmed with same keys in the ignition. Today's paper carries the shocking fact that there can be many cars on the roads of Åland with falsified MOT certificates....no figures are given, but the paper claims that there are vehicles on the islands that are dangerous. Big news for a small place.

Don't get me wrong; I love the quirkiness of Åland and Mariehamn. I'd hate it if I didn't find the odd story of stolen flower pots being returned to their rightful owner after a small notice in the paper. I'm most perturbed when I find things have changed from my last visit. I'm not yet sure I like the new traffic filter which takes us from the main road, Hamngatan, to Lemland without having to negotiate the 'large' roundabout. That there was absolutely no need for this new road is another matter altogether, what I find difficult is to see change here on the islands. Perhaps I've just become very British in my outlook, or perhaps I just want to go back in time when I'm visiting my favourite large small town.

Semi-deserted Storgatan 

Whatever, I cannot wait to go into town later today and have my favourite kanelbulla (cinnamon bun) with coffee, or perhaps a slice of Ålandspannkaka with sviskonkräm (pancake with plum jam). I've tried to make it at home, but it just doesn't taste the same without the strong coffee and the hum of quiet conversation in Svarta Katten, our favourite kaffestuga in Mariehamn.

Svarta Katten coffee shop

Island life

We arrived on the island of Åland five days ago now. It was late at night and we'd spent the whole day travelling, first by plane from London to Stockholm, then by ferry to Mariehamn. My mother and step-father's house where we've spent most of our summer holidays since the children were born is just a few minutes drive from the Capital, but you'd not know we are anywhere near 'civilisation'. Well, apart from the occasional rush of cars that speed past when the bridge is lowered after it's let a 'rush' of sailing boats pass the Lemströms Kanal.

The 'busy' road

Husband and I were delighted to find we were going to be sleeping in the sauna cottage, where the sun coming up over the horizon wakes us early and where a swim in the Baltic is just a hop and a skip away. The quality of sleep is different too; we never get so many hours solid rest as we seem to do there. It could be the sea air, or it could be what my mother calls the suopursu-effect. She says the plant, in flower, has calming properties. The sauna cottage is surrounded by these flowers. As this year we have wireless internet access for the first time, I was going to investigate if there was any truth in it, but decided to suspend disbelief instead. Knowing the science behind it would, I'm sure, affect my sleep.

Our abode

Sun rise day before yesterday

Perhaps it's just the slower pace of life on the island that makes us restful and relaxed. Although my mother still works part time in Stockholm where she has a small flat, she has a large vegetable garden here on the island and produces everything from raspberries to courgettes to potatoes. While my step-father helps with the vegetable gardening, he also looks after a few cottages he rents to summer guests, as well as makes the occasional fishing trip and makes sure everyone's glass is always filled at parties. He's also known for his excellent schnapps singing voice.

My mother with some of her produce - I love her Marimekko wellies!

Two days ago I wasn't so thankful for my step-father's ability to welcome his guests, as my head was thumping after the first of (I predict) many parties during our stay here. But today we were all feeling a little sharper.

So this evening my stepfather asked husband and daughter if they'd like to go with him to pick up nets he'd placed just off the shore by the sauna cottage earlier. 'Don't think we'll get any, though,' he said and got onto his bike, closely followed by husband and daughter. After about half an hour daughter ran into the house shouting, 'We've got at least 15!'

The fishing party is off

'Oh oh,' said my step-father. He's a typical fisherman. 'I wanted four or five, not this many!' I could see what he meant; getting the awkward slippery things out of the nets with a poor eyesight wasn't easy. Luckily husband helped. When all were freed, we counted 17. 'Jävlar också!' said my step-father.

A tricky task

Truly fresh fish

Then it was time to gut the fish and salt them. Ready for the smoker tomorrow evening.

I cannot wait to taste the home-smoked abborre - don't they look delicious?

Lets just hope there's no rain tomorrow and we can sit outside and eat while watching the sun set behind the tall pine trees in the distance.