And then this one time, the traveling circus that pays my bills had deposited me in Helsinki, Finland. That trip was an odd one— from the very start, things just didn’t add up. The itinerary called for a five-day stay, but for some reason there were only four days worth of work on the books. With the math in my favor for once, I made a quick decision to exploit this rare and unexpected day off. Without even taking time to unpack, I rose early on that first day, grabbed a quick breakfast of reindeer sausage, and ventured off to explore.
We’d pitched our tents out in the boondoocks, alongside a massive and picturesque lake, so the only way to reach the central business district was by using these electric trolley cars. And even though I instinctively turned up my American nose at this silent, clean-running and energy efficient form of mass transit, I grudgingly took note of how those cars came by every fifteen minutes, just like clockwork. But it wasn’t until after boarding that I spotted the trolley’s cashless payment system, and realized that I was the only early-morning commuter without a metro card!
I tucked myself away in the back of the trolley, doing my best to avoid attention from the other passengers, but thankfully the distinguished Finnish conductor was far too polite to eject an obvious free rider. And then a few minutes later, when I hopped out onto those beautiful cobblestone streets, I finally realized what I’d done. With absolutely no guidebook to rely on— not even a souvenir tourist map— I had no clue where I was going, and no real choice but to spend the day wandering through the capital city. And of course, this was back in the day before everybody began carrying smart phones, so I had nothing more than a discount store digital camera to document my travels.
Helsinki seemed like a clean and well-maintained city, so I don’t fault the gardeners for missing this overgrown branch.
If my schedule hadn’t been so tight, I would’ve checked prices for package tours to the Middle Ages.
Now in retrospect, it probably wouldn’t have broken the bank if I’d dropped 10 Euros on a Rick Steves guidebook at the airport duty-free shop. I mean, if I’d taken the time to do some research, I probably would’ve been able to see a lot more, and maybe even appreciated some of it.
But on the other hand, that would’ve meant that I’d known where I was going.
And where’s the adventure in that?