HELSINKI AS IT WAS

Te Awamutu Courier, Volume 60, Issue 4231, 15 January 1940, Page 8

HELSINKI AS IT WAS

A CITY OF MODEST PEOPLE. SPORT-LOVING BUT STUDIOUS. (By A. G. M. in Melbourne Age.) Leaving Turku in the early afternoon, the train wandered through forest and farm land in leisurely style. My compartment was spotless, but twice a woman cleaner dusted it and emptied the ash tray. She was a railwayman’s widow, who worked for her pension. We puffed up easy gradients and rattled down imperceptible hills. Express trains burn coal, while shunting and goods engines stick to wood. Every station had huge piles of neatly stacked billets. To prevent forest fires, funnels were screened with spark arresters. In spite of her 60,000 lakes and countless miles of waterways, Finland is not as rich in “white coal” as Sweden and Norway; the country is too flat. Imported fuel is a big item, but the State-owned railways managed to show a profit. We drew into Helsinki’s handsome terminus at six o’clock. Designed by Eliel Saarinen, this pink granite building with its black metal roof, stately clock tower and impressive statuary, is easily the finest station m Europe. Compared with London’s grimy termini, Helsinki’s clean and attractive station was a town-plan-ner’s dream come true. My hotel, ■the Karelia, lay across a big cobbled square, and the railway clock’s white figures were the last thing I saw before drawing the heavy curtains—it never grows really dark during July.

In contrast to an imposing Diet budding, Finland’s President lives in L h ° QeSt n house facing the South and Se ” try boxes and the Presidential standard were the only signs that this was Helsinki's White House. Nearby is the Swedish Legation, a small-scale reholm r the . , Royal Palace at Stockffishke ,° nSldering that many Finns dislike being reminded that their thisTV 85 ° nCe 3 Pait of Swedea > this building should take first prize in P 1 ° n j’ Be ' Taetful competition. The Orthod demOliS ? ed Warsaw’s Russian left th aathedraI ’ but Finns left their Byzantine church severely alone, while a statue of Tsar Alexander 11. still stands in square. s

Outside Parliament House I oticed an enormous granite boulder 10 ??, T nd erude in comparison with polished columns and ornamented facade. The rock may well stand for the fevv gifts that Nature has handed to Finland; the building shows what Finnish craftsmen have done with such material. Stair cases, however, are in German and Carrara marble; the lifts- are panelled in Brazilian jacaranda. Book cases in the twentyfour committee rooms have carved figures representing various trades and occupations. Each deputy must serve on at least one committee, and these practical decorations remind him that politics is a job, too. Finland is not a wealthy country’ like Sweden. The solitary RollsRoyce I saw- in Helsinki was a taxicab, and it looked old enough to have been used by the last Russian Gov-ernor-General in 1917. There are few signs of wealth. Down in the Legation quarter is a white marble villa, pointed out as the capital’s most lavish home, yet a small house which would not attract any comment in Stockholm or Copenhagen. Diplomats found Helsinki a very pleasant city; yachting, winter sports and no urgent protocols to deliver before breakfast. A careerist with his ear to the ground might have detected faint rumblings in Leningrad, 170 miles away. GUARDING HARBOUR. Guarding Helsinki’s twin harbours is Suomenlinna, a massive fortress built by the Swedes on seven rockv islands. During the Crimean war an Anglo-French fleet bombarded this stronghold for three days without seriously damaging a single gun. Behind its “moat” of shoals, rocks and islets, Suomenlinna is still a tough nut to crock. Big guns cover winding channels, which become dangerous to navigate when mine fields replace buoys and pilots. Everywhere in Helsinki are young men and women wearing white yachting caps, students from the university, 3000 of them . No wonder the numerous book stores sell more than light fiction and magazines. Long winter evenings give the Finns plenty of opportunities for study and reading. Although they buy more books per capita than even the Norwegians, Finns are keen on sport, particularly athletics, skating, skiing and a form of baseball. Paavo Nurmi, the champion distance runner, held no fewer than 37 world titles nine years ago. Now retired, he conducts a men’s clothing store in Helsinki. Other famous residents are Jan Sibelius, the veteran composer, and F. A. Sillanpaa, winner of the 1939 Nobel prize for literature. The 1940 Olympic Games appear to have a hoodoo lurking behind them. Japan, the original host, had to cancel arrangements because of

the China “incident.” Finland took her place and arrangements were well in hand for the opening ceremony next July. The stadium had been rebuilt to seat 63,000 spectators. While other nations plunged into war, Finland pushed ahead with her programme, which included the construction of new wharfs for liners serving as floating hotels. Now the flames of battle have eclipsed the peaceful Olympic torch. For twenty years the Russian bear licked his wounds, posing as an honest creature for whom Baltic honey pots held no temptations. He deceived many people. But the Finns kept their weapons ready; they believed that the bear was still dangerous, even though he wore a hammer and sickle instead of an Imperial eagle on his collar.