Finland features fine food, wintry frolic - and the tango!

0 Comments | Insight on the News, Jan 9, 1995 | by Tony Munroe

Perched at the top of Europe, as far off the beaten path as one can get, lies Finnish Lapland, a land of reindeer, rolling terrain and limitless winter recreation.

Sandwiched between Norway and Russia, northern Lapland is peopled by 7,500 hearty souls spread across an area the size of Belgium. After a day and night of exploring Helsinki, Finland's charming and manageable capital city, our group of 10 set off for the more northern climes of this beautiful, strangely exotic country.

We stayed at the Hotel Riekonkieppi in the resort area called Saariselka, about a half-hour drive from Ivalo airport and 28 miles from the Russian border. Saariselka is a popular winter vacation spot for Finns, as well as for other Scandinavians and Germans, but it is not overly touristy. No other Americans were about. Most Finns, by the way, speak pretty good English.

Saariselka is hilly country, and the resort offers downhill skiing, but cross-country is the preferred sport. Whether they like it or not, all Finns know how to cross-country ski -- they learn it in school. Novices can pick up the skill easily, however, although one needs stamina. Finnish Lapland has extensive, well-marked ski trails, and getting out on the boards is a great way to take in the strange and subtly gorgeous scenery.

Dogsledding, which is not indigenous to Lapland, is gaining in popularity among tourists -- and for good reason. It's fun if also exhausting.

Each sled has a driver and a passenger, but the passenger doesn't do much. The driver, on the other hand, not only steers -- by leaning -- but also helps push the sled uphill. (If the driver doesn't help, the dogs stop and look back with annoyance.) Running uphill through deep snow with heavy boots -- you have to keep up with the dogs or lose your sled -- is far different from leisurely lugging the old Flexible Flyer up the neighborhood slope.

Not that going downhill is a breeze either. On the steeper inclines, one struggles to keep the sled from overtaking the dogs by pushing down with one foot on a rudimentary brake that digs into the snow. Nevertheless, whipping down a narrow path, dogs mushing furiously ahead, beautiful rolling scenery all around, is invigorating indeed.

But of all the outdoor sporting activities in Lapland, my favorite may have been the silliest -- ice fishing. There is something soothing (although probably less so if it's bitter cold) about spreading a reindeer skin on a frozen lake, hooking a worm onto a line and dropping it through a hole in the ice -- then cracking a cold Lapin Kulta (Lapland Gold) beer. However, after an hour we had nary a nibble.

Our futility was rewarded by a snowmobile ride across the lake to a brand-new log cabin -- the only dwelling in sight -- for reindeer sausages cooked over a fire and a sauna bath.

If Finns appreciate the outdoors, they also enjoy countering the effects of the cold weather with saunas -- there's a sauna for every four Finns. Across the road from the hotel at Saariselka is a "tropical spa," an unpretentious place with several types of saunas and a massive swimming pool with whirlpools, slides and a wave-making machine. Families, many with young children, frolic in this incongruous tropical paradise in the middle of frozen Lapland, full of lush greenery beneath a steamy glass dome. Three inebriated young men (Norwegians, a Finn assures me), are far more boisterous than any of the dozens of youngsters in the pool.

At the spa, like just about everywhere, Finns were eager to know what visitors thought of their country. Although they seemed a bit standoffish at first, they were engaging and had a wry sense of humor. The Finns call people from Lapland "Lapps," but the indigenous people of this area refer to themselves as "Saami." There aren't many Saami in Finland -- only about 5,000, compared with some 40,000 in Norway.

Visiting a reindeer farm run by a Saami couple, we took turns riding in reindeer-pulled sleds. Reindeer, though friendly enough, are less obedient than mules. Each sled is pulled by just one animal and, depending on the beast's mood, the passenger is treated to either a slow plod or vigorous canter.

On our last night at the resort, we went on a snowmobile safari by moonlight. Though snowmobiles are loud polluters of pristine environments, they are also a lot of fun to drive. Our journey took us up and over the smooth, rounded hills near Saariselka, and we stopped often to soak up moonlit vistas.

As is the case with nearly every activity we pursued in Lapland, hearty refreshments awaited our arrival at a tepee-style tent somewhere out in the woods. Once again, we sat around a fire and sipped Lapin Kultas as one of our guides played the guitar and sang the American blues standard "Cotton Fields" in a thick Finnish accent.

Finns love live music. This tradition goes way back and is enjoying a resurgence after suffering through tough economic times when bands were prohibitively expensive to hire, according to Ritva Muller of the Finnish Tourist Board. We visited one ski lodge near Saariselka where, at about 1 p.m., dozens of couples -- all wearing cross-country ski boots -- were dancing rather formally to live music.