Travel and special assistance

As luck would have it, at the end of a three week long Nordic holiday attending a wedding in Helsinki, visiting family in Tampere and celebrating midsummer on the Åland Islands, the day the Englishman and I were packing up the cottage to return home to London via Helsinki (a complicated route from the islands involving an overnight ferry), my back 'went'. I am yet to hear if it is the dreaded slipped disc, but enough to say that my packing activities were suddenly halted.

Although in pain, I could just about walk, so we decided to travel as planned. I had the Englishman to help, and luckily we had just the two pieces of luggage. He could manage with those if I got some help in getting on and off boats and planes.

The first leg of the journey, an overnight crossing with Viking Line from Mariehamn to Helsinki went well enough. We phoned in advance and when we turned up at the terminal a wheelchair was waiting for me. A friendly girl in the Viking ticket office took us on what can only be described as two goods' lifts to the waiting area on the third floor. She wasn't, however, allowed to actually take me onboard so I limped - trying to avoid the small crowd pushing past me - into the ferry. Our cabin was comfortable enough and after a Lonkero (those who have ever tasted this Finnish gin drink know about its restorative qualities) while watching the endless twilight over the Baltic through our cabin window, I actually felt somewhat OK.

As we pulled into a fog laden Helsinki, the shipping company had forgotten about my special needs. The Englishman's very British sarcasm about the impossibility of an overnight miracle cure fell onto dumb Finnish ears, so we had to wait for assistance while the rest of the passengers fought for the few taxis outside. Oh well, at least we got into town eventually, and were able to deposit our luggage at the ground floor of the train station (using a functioning large lift - hurrah). At this stage I was just looking forward to a decent coffee at the Fazer cafe in town, and later a brunch at the Kämp Hotel.

The Helsinki Vantaa airport was in its usual Sunday afternoon chaos. When I asked how it was always thus, the staff replied it was due to many large planes arriving and leaving at the same time (strange thing at an airport, huh?). Luckily BA has its own check-in desk where the staff were sympathetic when the Englishman asked for assistance, while I was sitting on the most stylish - and uncomfortable - airport seat imaginable. Nordic design, eh? After a painful 30-minute wait, we were told the airport staff had forgotten about us. Another 15 minutes later I was picked up and whizzed to the gate, past security and passport queues, by a friendly and efficient member of the airport staff. It took only two goes by the Englishman to see to it that we would get into the aircraft first as my walking was so slow. I was afraid of the Nordic queuing system where no prisoners are taken to get to the front. I'd learned by now that any small shove or push, or a children's pushchair being bashed into my legs, would send painful darts into my spine.

The 3 hour flight was OK. BA aircrew were busy but understanding of my predicament. But at Heathrow it all fell apart. While at this stage I'd been travelling - in pain - for over 20 hours, I just wanted to get off the plane and home as soon as possible. But this wasn't to be. A lift to get me - and a man in his own wheelchair - off the aircraft took the best part of an hour. I was then put into one of those noisy cars which I've often wished would pick me up after a tiring red-eye from NYC and drive me to the passport control. But I tell you, reader, it's not as wonderful as it looks. Because the care of special assistance is covered by several 'agents' at Heathrow. I'm not sure how it all works in other parts of the airport but at least in terminal three, the car dropped me off to wait at an inordinately uncomfortable seat somewhere between the gates and immigration. There were several people at this 'meeting point' who were much more poorly than me, having to wait for about half an hour to be picked up by another 'agent' with a wheelchair. I lost count of how many times the young guy - clearly inexperienced in wheelchair use -  bashed my legs against railing or lift walls, or how much it hurt when he pushed me at speed over bumps and ridges on the floors. I had to tell him to slow down, and to cry out once, before he realised I was human and in pain.

But the problem at Heathrow wasn't just the the lack of experienced staff. According to a lady with a bad leg, who had been travelling with a stick for ten years, the wait for wheelchairs and agents introduces other problems. Taxi drivers outside are kept waiting (and often charge extra for the wait), and by the time the wheelchair is supplied, and the travellers are through passport control, luggage carrousels have been reassigned to the next flight and the unclaimed items removed. All problems, which could have been avoided if the same car had driven everyone to their final destinations.

Needing special assistance truly opened my eyes to how poorly our society looks after disabled people in (at least) the two countries I know. Talking to the other people at Heathrow, it doesn't seem to make any difference if you let the airlines know about your requirements well in advance (which I couldn't do). The service is still poor.

I haven't even commented on the lack of disabled loos almost everywhere, or the number of able-bodied people using the facilities without any shame (this happened to me at Fazer Cafe in Helsinki where, leaning onto a wall and obviously in pain, I had to wait while two giggling Swedish women of my age used the loo before me), or loos in basements where the lift is only accessible through a set of steps (truly ingenious, Hotel Kämp).

After this experience I feel so grateful and lucky to have a temporary problem with my back, because I'm not sure I could cope with another journey needing special assistance.  

London life: Nordic Bakery

Whenever I feel homesick, I veer towards this little bit of Finland in London. It's called Nordic Bakery and is tucked away behind Piccadilly on Golden Square in London. It was set up by a Finnish ice hockey player Jali Wahlsten in 2007 to be like any cafe across Scandinavia serving good coffee and cinnamon buns. And that is exactly what his cafe has succeeded in doing: when sitting in this quiet oasis in the middle of bustling London, I could be in Helsinki, in the Fazer Cafe, having a mid-morning coffee. There are no gimmicks, no logos, just good coffee and delicious sandwiches or cakes.

It was a rainy day when I last visited the Nordic bakery

My usual: Karelian pie with egg butter and a skinny latte

Old-fashioned blueberry pies.

It's impossible to choose what to have.

They also do rye sandwiches with pickled herring or gravad lax and Tiger cake just the way my grandmother did (Tiikerikakku)

The final temptation is to buy some Fazer chocolate to have at home (or for scoffing the lot on the bus on the way home)

You can see why I don't go into the Nordic Bakery all the time - I'd be the size of a barrell if I ate this kind of fare every day. But for a treat, for a little slice of Finland in London, it's perfect.

There is another Nordic Bakery in Marylebone and one is due to open in New York in 2011. The Nordic Bakery Cookbook is also now out.

There seems to be a great demand for Scandinavian cookery just now. Wonder if Mikael Blomberg's incessant coffee drinking in Stieg Larsson's hit Scandi crime novels has anything to do with it?

Nordic Bakery Soho
14a Golden Square
London W1F 9JG

Monday - Friday 8am – 8pm
Saturday 9am – 7pm
Sunday 11am – 6pm

Tel. +44(0)20 3230 1077

Nordic Bakery Marylebone
37b New Cavendish Street
(entrance from Westmoreland Street) London W1G 8JR

Monday - Friday 8am – 7pm
Saturday 9am – 7pm
Sunday 11am – 6pm

Tel. +44 (0)20 7935 3590

Happy Easter

I have a full house this Easter. Both Daughter and Son are at home to celebrate not just Easter, but two big family birthdays, 10 years and one day apart. One of them is tomorrow when we have 14 for lunch here. This is a feat of determination on our part, with scaffolding up around the house and carpets only just re-fitted this morning. Luckily, I have helpers. And they're not so little any more.

'Don't worry, Mum,' said Daughter on the phone to me as she was boarding the London bound plane at Helsinki airport last night, 'it'll be alright; I'm coming home.'

Son on his part has been cooking all day, in preparation for tomorrow. We've all mucked in to clear builders' dust and rubble this afternoon. I even managed half a day in the office followed by a Waitrose shop (=fix).

I hope your Easter will be as wonderful as mine is shaping up to be. I'll leave you with the seasonal decoration in the one and only Fazer Cafe in Helsinki. All those eggs in the baskets are filled with the most wonderful chocolate truffle mixture. Aren't they something else?