Moving to our new home!

Since Mathilde had been made permanent at her school, we decided it was time to take a big step forward in our lives, and buy a place of our own. So after a lot of hunting on the internet (mostly by Mathilde), but only a couple of visits (and just one by me!) we found the place of our dreams. Well, given our budget, anyway ;-). The location was great (handy for both of us to get to work, near a train station, and in a nice neighbourhood without too much of the concrete that’s unfortunately quite typical for the Cote d’Azur, around), the flat was great (right size, modern but original, and with a swimming pool as a nice bonus – albeit a communal one) and the place was immediately available.

So having thought about it a couple of days, we decided to make an offer, which was accepted! After waiting for a few weeks for the wheels of French bureaucracy to turn, it was finally time to sign at the notary office in Nice. Which, this being France, involved initialling and signing A LOT of papers (including a report which outlines the risk for earthquakes, for example ;-). Having finished the formalities, we happily headed back to Cagnes – after a quick celebration drink at the bar next to Nice train station (not really a glamorous place for it, but hey…).

Then started the minor task of shifting all the stuff across to the new place. We had already made quite a bit of progress filling boxes during the weekend before, so were already partly set to go. Progress was a bit slow in the beginning, since we had but our small Clio for the operation – thankfully the new flat was also in Cagnes-sur-Mer so the distance was a lot shorter than last time… Actually, once you put the seats down, the Clio can fit a surprising amount of stuff. So we managed to shift a fair amount of boxes during the first few days.


Things got easier during the weekend, as Mathilde’s dad, Joel, came over all the way from Angers to help out. We also got to borrow my parent’s Scenic, which was a big help. Stephane, a colleague of Mathilde’s came over to help as well. Things didn’t get off to a great start… First I managed to scratch the Scenic driving out of our old car park (car parks in the south of France tend to be ridiculously cramped), but that was but the start of our troubles. Having emptied the car with Stephane, I figured it was time to open the front door. Two of the keys looked a bit similar, and what did I do? Put the car garage key into the front door! And wasn’t able to get it out, of course. Nothing to do but call the lock smith and wait… Only cost us about 250 euros ;-). Things went more smoothly from then on, and by the end of the weekend we had managed to shift pretty much all the stuff that fit into the Scenic. We even had time to show Joel Haut-de-Cagnes, where we met up with my parents for dinner. I even had time to pop into Monaco “briefly” ;-).

For Monday we had booked a van, the plan being to shift all the big stuff. I started off with Joel in the morning – the plan was that some fellow Finns would come along and help in the evening. Actually, by the time Hannu was able to come and help, there was only the fridge and a plant left to move, pretty much. Funnily enough, the plant gave us more problems than the fridge (the damn thing just wouldn’t fit…). The beers afterwards felt very well-deserved indeed (we even begrudgingly gave one to Sami who joined us last minute and carried a couple of wardrobe shelves upstairs… ;-).

More pictures here.

A very long night in Monaco...

The other big event on the Cote d’Azur other than the Cannes film festival in May is of course the Formula 1 Grand Prix. Since we were in the middle of moving flats, and also because of last year’s less-than overwhelming race experience, I decided to not go and see the actual race this time (it makes much more sense on the telly, anyway…).

But since Kartsa, a mate from the UK who works for MacLaren as a mechanic was naturally in Monaco, I couldn’t very well pass over the opportunity to catch a pint or two. Just take the train there, have a couple of pints, then head back on the last train. Simple, right? Not…

Everything started well, as I took the train to Monaco (well, apart from the 20 minutes delay). As I got out of the train, I quickly realised to my horror that SNCF (the French railroads company) had kindly decided to go on a mini-strike (which meant that the last two trains were cancelled) – excellent timing I must say… Well, no matter, I figured I could take a night bus (I mean last year, I only waited for about 1 hour…). So I wasn’t too worried as I strolled down to meet Kartsa, who was accompanied by another Finn, Petri, who was also in the racing biz. After a couple of not-too-ridiculously overpriced beers sold at a street stand (only about 6 euros for a pint), we headed over to the bar across the street (the name of which I forget), to have the more “normal F1 weekend” priced beers (10 euros each). Here we were joined by Mari (who was visiting the Cote d’Azur for a few days) and Veronique (a friend of Mari’s), and we also bumped into some other MacLaren guys including Spencer the tire wiz.

The atmosphere was great, just as last year. So it like a bit of a pity to leave – but I figured with our move and everything, I better be in bed not too late. So I headed off to the night bus stop just after midnight. And waited. And waited. Then decided to have a F1 weekend-priced cappuccino (5 euros) in the bar next doors. And waited some more. In fact, I waited 3 f***ing hours! Taking a taxi even crossed my mind at some point (although that would’ve cost probably in the region of 150 euros) – but that wasn’t even a possibility (the taxis wouldn’t even take people as far as Nice). Well, at least there were plenty of people in the same situation as me – so the atmosphere was one of resigned solidarity rather than impotent fury.

The bus journey itself can’t be described as a pleasure either – as I had to stand for most of the 1-hour trip. And of course that wasn’t it for me – I still had to change to ANOTHER bloody night bus at the airport – which I had to wait for about an hour for… (this one was “only” half an hour late). Creeping into bed has rarely been such a pleasure as it was tonight – at 5:30 AM…

And the race? Nothing much to write home about, to be honest. It rained, and both of the Finns did poorly. So just as well I didn’t go and see the race.

Cannes film festival

So it’s that time of the year again – the glamour of the Cannes film festival is upon us once more. We didn’t have much time to make the best of it this year, since we had some other supposedly more important tasks at hand (such as moving flats – more about that later). But since Mathilde managed to get her hands on 6 tickets for the Quinzaine des Realisateurs festival (which kind of runs in parallel to the main festival), we figured we had to make the effort.

After a late Mothers Day (I was in London on the day) lunch with my parents in Antibes, we set off to La Bocca (one of the less glamorous parts of Cannes). We left early since we were a bit worried about finding parking (Cannes is bad enough on a normal evening – and this was festival time). After a surprisingly smooth run, we arrived at what we thought was where we were supposed to be, half an hour early. We couldn’t quite figure out which queue we should be in, since there was one queue for festival pass holders and another one for people with invitations (but none for ticket holders), so we asked. Turned out we were at the wrong place – but the doorman was kind enough to let us in anyway! The film was a kind of Japanese version of the English kitchen sink drama called Tokyo Sonata – which got a bit surrealistic towards the end. Great film, all in all!

Since we were still stuck with our 6 tickets, we decided to give two to my parents, but that still left us with 4. So we decided to brave the crowds once more and head into Cannes, on Thursday. This time we dragged Sami and Hannu’s boss, Mika, along. After another surprisingly smooth ride into town in Sami's Audi (which, nice car though it is, unfortunately did pale somewhat in comparison to all the Ferraris we spotted on the way), we walked down towards the venue for tonight – which was a bit more glamorously located this time (just off the Croisette), taking in the glizy crowds as well as the star-spotters and grade B celebs surrounding the Palais des Festivales on the way.


The queues for the viewing were, well, very long (the longest cinema queue I’ve been in during my life, I dare say) – so we were really hoping the movie would be worth it. Was it? Hmmm… The movie, Monsieur Morimoto, was yet again Japanese-themed. It told the story about a Japanese painter who gets kicked out of his flat in Paris, and spends a couple of surrealistic days and nights wandering aimlessly about in Paris, shouting “magnifique” with an incomprehensible Japanese accent at all the ladies in sight, bumming about with some very strange characters indeed, and trying to find his lost painting. The movie was bizarre, to say in the least. I seriously suspect the whole cast and crew were on drugs and/or completely drunk for most of the film. But hey, at least it was original, and “refreshingly uncommercial” (I think it’s fair to say they will struggle to pull in the crowds). After the film, we had a meal at Le Bistrot Gourmand, and had a great time as always (it’s starting to become a bit of a regular place for us in Cannes…).

Pubs and more un-English weather

Having seen Mathilde off at Earl’s Court tube station, I headed back to Waterloo, and jumped on the first train to Guildford. Now was the time to remedy the pub-lessness of the past weekend – so I immediately set up a rendez-vous with the usual gang at the White House (amazingly the weather was still, well, amazing – so the White House beer garden seemed like an obvious choice). Having dropped off my bag at Phil’s, we immediately set off for a pub dinner and some pints. Soon we were joined by Stephane, Manue and Klaus. Events then took a sadly predictable turn – as we ended up playing the quiz machine at Fahrenheit 55 throughout the night (I was assaulted by definite feelings of Déjà vu…).

Next day, having spent the morning at the office, we headed off for a bit of team-building to Bisley – clay pigeon shooting was the chosen activity this time. Neither the Finnish Army training nor the previous shooting session at Bisley helped much – my shooting was decidedly average (well, I did score more hits than misses, at least). Stu was the top dog with 28 hits out of 30 (not bad considering he’d never fired a gun before, or so he claims ;-). After this we headed off to Fleet for the “real team-building” – that is, the pub (followed by an Italian meal). Although it has to be said things were far more civilised than these sort of events usually are – probably since there was no overnight stay included ;-). Steve was kind enough to drive me to my luxury 5 stars hotel (yeah right – we’re talking about the Holiday Inn at Basingstoke here – they really are taking the **** with their prices in this part of the country…).

On Wednesday I decided to pester Adrian for a place to crash – he’s always one of the top candidates (along with Phil) – the fact that he happens to live in Richmond is of course pure coincidence. Things took their normal course – after a couple of pints by the river (the sun was STILL shining, believe it or not – that’s the 6th day in a row now – must be some kind of a national record??) we had a nice meal, and headed back to watch the Apprentice (well, the last part of the program was an exception from the norm). Good night out, all in all!

Getting up for work was getting a bit tough by now, especially since Adrian insists on leaving home 7 AM! (what does he think he is, Finnish or something??) Anyway, I survived…. The destination for tonight was again Guildford, this time Pentti was kind enough to give me a lift. Having dropped my bags of at poor Phil’s place, we headed off to experience one of those English institutions – the Pub Quiz (at George Abbott, unlike the Stoke as usually). Mostly thanks to Phil’s presence, we did well enough to come second As usual, I contributed about 3 points with my odd tidbit of knowledge of world events, geography and cinema. Phil, on the other hand, probably got 20 by knowing all the English pop songs from the 80’s and who scored the overtime goal to clinch the 1946 FA coup 2nd round game between Tranmere Rovers and Ipswich town – or something along those lines). We also had some last minute support from Steve and Kartsa who made an appearance (long time no see…). We ended up giving the wine bottle to Pena, since we decided to carry on celebrating our success by (yep, you guessed it) the quiz machine at Fahrenheit 55.

Definitely time to go back to France and rest….

Weekend in London

After the tough yet rewarding week in Finland, my European Odyssey continued to London. As I arrived in England, I was greeted by blue skies, sunshine and a temperature of over 20 degrees, much to my astonishment. Having spent the day at our office in luvely Farnborough, I jumped on the train down to London – as I was in a hurry to make it to Jawad’s leaving do.

Having arrived in Waterloo, I then jumped on the tube and headed down to Kensington, and checked into our hotel. Barely haven gotten my bearings, I sped back to the underground, and headed to Marble arch for the restaurant Jawad had booked. Turned out everybody else had actually cancelled last-minute – so it ended up being just the two of us! Of well, at least it gave us the opportunity to catch up on the latest, over some very tasty Persian food. After the meal we headed down to a bar just off Oxford street opposite to Selfridges for another leaving do – this time Rosario’s (a friend of Jawad’s whom I’d actually only met the same day!). After a couple of drinks there it was time to head back to the hotel where Mathilde was waiting (she had just arrived from Nice). What a day!

On Saturday, I got up bright ‘n early, and started the day with a jogging session (practice for the Cote d’Azur marathon – honest I’ve already signed up!). A very nice area for a morning run actually, Kensington… I again observed one thing I really like about London – I’m betting there’s no city of the same size in the world with as much parklands and gardens. Having had my dose of exercise, we grabbed a quick breakkie in Starbucks (actually another “institution” I miss from England – even though Starbucks isn’t even English, of course) and headed off to explore the city. Having checked out the wildlife in St. James’s Park (in addition to the curious squirrels that are a standard feature, we also ran into a very sociable pelican, who was unworriedly wandering amongst the crowds) and explored the culinary delights of Selfridge. Having considered delicacies such as Weasel coffee, Monkey picked tea, Mopani worms and Giant toasted ants (which apparently have a “nutty, bacony taste”), we got all boring and settled for some Jelly Beans. After this culinary exploration it was time to head down to Leicester square, to meet up with Winston and Weng, who kindly had made their way all the way from Coventry to meet up.

After a very tasty Chinese lunch, we wandered through Whitehall (past 10 Downing Street, of course) and Westminster down to Waterloo, where the plan was to meet a whole bunch of other old mates for merrymaking! After a few drinks (including one or two vodka shots two many – thanks to our dear Polish friend Krzysztof) in Arch One, we headed down to Southbank for a nice dinner at the Riviera restaurant (nice food, great views over the Thames, more vodka – what more could one ask for?). After another couple of drinks in a bar near Waterloo, we stumbled back to Trafalgar square from where we caught a night bus to our hotel.

As the glorious weather continued on Sunday, we decided to do some more outdoors activities, and spent the morning walking around Canary Warf. It’s one of the parts of London that I’ve always wanted to see – and it was worth the trip for sure. Canary Warf used to be a very depressed part of London, but was redeveloped during the 80’s and 90’s – and rather successfully so if you ask me (the three highest buildings in the UK are also located in Canary Warf).

After a picnic lunch purchased at Pret-a-Manger (I also miss their tasty sandwiches), we headed down to Waterloo for our rendez-vous with Russell and Martha. After a pleasant walk in Regent’s Park, and a jug of Pimm’s (another English institution) at one of the boats moored off the Thames, it was time for dinner. This time we picked Wagamama, a great chain of Japanese restaurants. Having devoured the tasty bowl of noodles, we finished off the night with a typically philosophical discussion about life, cinema, and other important things in life with Ed at the NFT bar. As I was having my pint at the bar, it actually occurred to me that we had not yet been in a proper English pub all weekend – just bars basically. This oversight was something I wowed to remedy over the coming days…

Monday still counted as a weekend for us – since it was a public holiday in France (or rather, a day of solidarity, which means you basically have to take it off – somehow typically French?). As the weather was STILL excellent (that’s already the 4th day in a row – what’s going on here?) we decided it was the perfect day for visiting Kew Gardens (needless to stay, I started the day with a jogging session again, this time in Hyde Park). It’s one of the major London attractions we never made it to during our years in old Blighty. It’s the most popular garden in England (that’s saying something – the English are crazy about their gardens) – and I have to admit it was probably worth the shocking entry fee (13 quid – come on!). We had a very pleasant day walking around amongst the flowers and the trees and the bees… (I must be getting old or something?). A nice and peaceful way to end a great weekend!

More pictures from our London weekend here.

Finland, Finland, Finland

It had been a while since my last visit to Finland, so I was quite looking forward to spending some time in my native country. After a weekend with temperatures in excess of 20 degrees (actually, even warmer than on the Cote d’Azur…), I was looking forward to some nice weather. Alas, 'twas not to be – the temperatures plummeted to a mere 10-12 degrees by the time I arrived (rumour has it even snowed in Oulu!).

On the way from the airport to Helsinki I got a phone call from my brother Janne, who invited me to go and see a play (of all things!). So after a quick but very tasty pizza at Dennis', I headed down to Lilla Teatern for the play. It was a monologue by one of the best Finnish actors around, a living legend almost (by Finnish standards, at least) – Lasse Pöysti. The whole thing was about a lonely chap whose only friend in the world was an elevator. Doesn't sound like much of a story I suppose, but it was very funny and a bit sad (I mean, a story about a guy whose only friend is an elevator has to be a bit sad, right?). The point is, not once did I even yawn during the play – which is pretty remarkable for a 90-minute monologue, I reckon. And in spite of his 80-odd years, old Lasse didn’t seem to have problems remembering the script (except maybe intentionally a couple of times ;-). After the play we had a pint in Praha, after which I rushed home to watch the Finnish Ice-hockey world championships game against Norway (after 2-2 in regular time we managed the winner during extra time - a very painful experience all in all).

Tuesday was spent in the conveniently located Ruoholahti office, after which I headed to the airport with Aki and Riku to pick up the passport I had applied for the day before. After this we went to Sports Academy for dinner (over a few beers, naturally), and to catch up on the latest news. Jani and Jocke also joined our merry pack. After the others headed home (making lame excuses about having to work the next day), Jocke and me continued our adventures in the Helsinki nightlife at an old favourite of mine, Molly Malone. Molly Malone is famous because it is twinned to the oldest pub in Ireland – Brazen head in Dublin (which incidentally is also one of my favourite pubs…). I was nearly overwhelmed by nostalgia (or Guinness?).

On Wednesday, after a somewhat difficult day at the office (mostly because I had to get up at 6:30 in the morning to catch the train to Tampere), I met up with Frank (an old mate from Southwood, whom I ran into at the Ruoholahti office, which is where he works these days) for dinner and some drinks in Iguana. Afterwards I watched Finland continue their championships trials with a win over Slovakia (a slightly more convincing 3-2 win than against Norway – but still not exactly beautiful to watch…).

The next day was less painful work-wise, since I managed to scrounge a lift off Frank to Tampere (who had a meeting there). After work, I met up with Mari (an ex-colleague, whom I bumped into by chance in Nice, where she was actually living for a while at the same time as us) for a Thai dinner – very nice actually. The number (and quality!) of ethnic restaurants in Helsinki has definately increased dramatically in recent years – a change for the better if you ask me.

Friday morning was a bit tough again – as I had to get up before 6 AM to catch my flight to London…. But I suppose by now I was used to it :-)

Puy de Tourrettes

Today was yet another glorious day on the Cote d’Azur, with clear blue skies and blazing sunshine – so we decided to go the beach. Nah, just kidding, we went for a walk, of course! This time we opted upon a trek in the Vallee du Loup, starting in the village of Courmes. Courmes is tiny, picturesque village (more like a hamlet, really) sitting right eastern side of the gorge. Having had a quick walk around the village (took us about 2 minutes – considering there are about 3 streets altogether in Courmes) we set off for the walk.


The footpath took us from a starting altitude of 630 meters up to the plateau de St-Barnabe, at 948 meters. We thought we’d done quite well so far, what with a rather rapid ascent of 300 meters – but of course the worst was yet to come, as we scrambled up the rocky slopes of Puy de Tourrettes, literally crawling up on our knees… (OK, so maybe I’m exaggerating a bit ;-), at the majestic height of 1268 meters. The views were well worth the effort, though, it has to be said…

Having enjoyed the views and rested for a bit, we headed back down the way we came – a lot easier this time ;-). On the way back we came upon a horde of sheep being led over the plateau to their summer residence (the mountains, not a posh villa on Cap Ferrat) – quite a sight (and I’ve never seen so many sheep in one place since I left the British isles!). A nice note to end a very nice walk on…

More pictures here.




Pictured here, some of the pretty flowers we saw on the way (pictures courtesy of Mathilde)

Wappu on the Riviera

The 1st of May (or Wappu, as we say both in Finnish and Swedish) is a BIG party in Finland, a bit less so in France. But since there were, as there often are, a fair few fellow Finns visiting my parents, we figured we'd have a go at it anyway.

We started on the 30th of April ("Wappu-aatto") with a dinner at my parents' place in Antibes. My brother Tomi and his wife Leena were visiting, and Birgitta (my godmother), Ole and Anton had also made their way over from Stockholm. So we had a pretty lively soiree, all in all, with some great food (although some of the steaks were undercooked and some a bit burnt - anything to do with my doing the cooking...?) and nice wine. A bit different from the traditional Finnish Wappu fare (potato salad, pickled herring and vodka) - but hey at least we had colourful balloons ;-)

For the 1st of May we had reserved a nice restaurant in Cannes, Le Bistro Gourmand (where we went just two weekend ago, actually). One of the waitresses (who’s married to the chef, actually) is half-Swedish – so we thought that was kind of appropriate. This time she wasn’t working though… But nonetheless the food was as good as last time. (and since we got the lunch menu price – very reasonably priced to boot).

So quite a peaceful Wappu this time all in all. Must be getting old or something…?