Frankly, amusement parks don’t give me much amusement. I can see all the happy people running around, sprinting back to the end of the line to ride the same rides over and over again, but like Steve Butabi told his brother Doug in “A Night at the Roxbury”:

I can't taste it, Doug! I can't! I'm so scared right now I don't know what to do!

Of course, I never say that out loud. That’s just something I tell myself when I’m leaning against a wall somewhere, guarding everybody’s bags, clothes, cameras, while updating my Facebook status, looking as cool as I possibly can.

» Continued

It finally happened. For weeks now, I’ve been walking around wearing a white shoe on my left foot, and a black one on my right, except on a few days when I’ve had a black shoe on my right foot and a white one on my right, and nobody's said anything.

Today, though, when it happened, I was wearing white on left, black on right, and I had just got scrambled eggs, a sandwich, and the local Tampere specialty mustamakkara, a blood sausage.

» Continued

Let’s say you’re in charge of a big science park, a place that introduces science to kids and families. Let’s say you want to have a unique attraction, something to keep people buzzing about your fine establishment for years and years.

Because you know that what you have is pretty darn good. You have all the cool things that people love to try out; the Indian fakir spike mats, the mirrors, the car with the square wheels, and dozens and dozens of other cool tests that explain gravity, light, mathematics, and laws of physics in an entertaining way.

But, like I said, let’s say you also want to spice it up a bit. Would you go with dancing bears, or an Einstein lookalike walking around, solving math problems with the visitors, fireworks in a bottle, or a full-blown particle accelerator?

Or would you instead train rats to play basketball with a ball that - in its former life - used to be in a deodorant roll-on stick? And would you then stop there, or would you create a pro league for the rats?

You know how “they” always say that 80 percent of human communication is body language. Some of them actually throw the numbers around a bit, based on “new studies” - this is where Son would ask me if I meant that ironically, and I kind of do - or whatever happens to suit their message so who knows which number is right. Maybe it’s 55 percent, or maybe 93.

Let’s just agree that it’s very important, muy importante.

» Continued

“Success is 10 percent inspiration and 90 percent perspiration.”
– Thomas Alva Edison

Terry, my Canadian (exchange student) brother had a buddy called Sweaty. I’ve never met Sweaty, and in the only photo I’ve ever seen of him, he was asleep - or passed out - and not really sweaty, but I’ve always felt a connection to him.

I’m sure you can figure out why.

» Continued

“What an honor that the amazing Markoolio was born in my fatherland”
– Son, July 15, jumping up in joy

You can take the boy out of Finland, but you can’t take Finland out of the boy. Even if the boy sometimes does everything to keep Finland deep, deep, deep down in the dungeons of his soul. All you have to do is trash talk Finland - or tell the boy everything you know about the country - and the boy will come to the country’s rescue, or answer in mono-syllable sentences.

Unless you’re a Finn, of course, in which case the boy will join you in trash talking Finland.

» Continued

Turns out, I didn’t know anybody. I thought I could put all the names and faces together, but I didn’t recognize my best buddy. I probably would have had somebody asked me to find him in the crowd sitting in the sun, but when he came to shake my hand, I drew a blank.

Then again, he wasn’t sure who I was, either.

Almost like the first day of school.

Except a lot more fun.

Because on the first day of school I cried.

The last time I saw the dozen or so people I’m about to meet in six hours, Ronald Reagan had just sworn in as President of the United States of America, and a rockabilly fever swept over Finland. No cause and effect, at least I don’t think so, but simply a coincidence.

» Continued

The first time my father came home and told my mother that he’d just witnessed a man die, I was about 11 years old. And - at least as far as I know - my father wasn’t a Mob hitman, so this was not an every day occurrence at the house.

» Continued

So, what's going on here? Write your suggestion in the comments section.

I’m writing this in the kitchen of the northern-most Swedish family in the world, looking over the world’s northern-most concrete plant, with my back towards the northern-most hospital in the world. I believe that right now, I may just be the northern-most Finnish freelancer in the world, and for sure, this is my northern-most blog entry ever.

» Continued

FADE IN.

INT. CAFETERIA - DAY.

Two men standing in line to a buffet table. They work in the same office, but don't usually eat lunch together.


Man in a suit and a red tie steps aside, and lets the man in a blue tie reach for the turkey.


FADE OUT.

Don't know much about history
Don't know much biology
Don't know much about a science book
Don't know much about the French I took
– Wonderful World, Sam Cooke

Yes, I do know that I love her - and since it looks like a wonderful world to me, she must love me, too – but still, I can’t get over the fact that I really don’t seem to know anything.

Well, I have no problem with that, it’s been a slow but steady process since the day I laughed when our high school biology teacher told everybody in the class that we’d be at our smartest when we graduate.

» Continued

Here's a column I wrote for Profile, Finnish Aalto University's School of Economics - my alma mater - magazine about the fear of social media.

“Agoraphobia is a condition where the sufferer becomes anxious in environments that are unfamiliar or where he or she perceives that they have little control. Triggers for this anxiety may include open spaces, crowds (social anxiety), or traveling (even short distances). Agoraphobia is often, but not always, compounded by a fear of social embarrassment, as the agoraphobic fears the onset of a panic attack and appearing distraught in public.”

» Continued

“Now that I’ve just tasted coffee, it tops my list of things that taste bad”
– Son, June 28, 2010

Many of the human treats are truly acquired tastes. Who really likes the taste of beer? Coffee? Wasabi? Any kind of alcohol? Blue cheese? I know I didn’t. On the other hand, some of my early favorites don’t taste that good anymore. Like, milk, and specifically breast milk.

» Continued

The 117-year-old star in character, Vanity Fair style:

Matti Vanhanen sits in his kitchen and makes coffee. It’s early, the clock’s not yet six, but Vanhanen has already been up for a good half hour. He’s showered, and fed the few animals he keeps on his farm. Four cows, a few pigs, and a camel.

» Continued

Traditions are funny. Not in the ha-ha funny sense, but the other, the “you’re right, now that I think about it” kind of way. It’s interesting how they are created, and especially how fast things become tradition, or at least the way they’ve “always been done”.

» Continued

Son, "in character", Vanity Fair style.

“The Crown Princess waved at me!”
– Son, outside the Royal Castle in Stockholm, June 19, 2010 at 6 pm

We made the trek from our Stockholm suburbia to downtown Stockholm, the self-proclaimed Capital of Scandinavia, now, thanks to the Royal Wedding also doubling as the love capital of the world. The subway ride was free partly to make sure no idiot - especially a Finnish-born idiot - would decide to drive to the city, and partly because the Princess herself wanted to keep her wedding as environmentally friendly as possible.

» Continued

In hindsight, it was obvious. The unwillingness to admit a mistake and the bossy attitude were there. He even had that certain look, that posture, the quick step in his walk, and the majestic jaw - a “Disney jaw” his old school nurse had called it, the same one who always said he’d grow up to be Somebody.

» Continued

Welcome “back”, man.

I know it’s tough to find great participatory journalism projects, something to really throw yourself into these days, and I suppose your “stunt” is just a sign of the times, but still, dude, “to be without Internet”?

Two words, buddy: “Oooooooooooo-ooooh.”

» Continued

A few days ago, I heard an interesting radio show about an experiment some Washington Post reporters ran, on themselves.

So when eight Post reporters got to talking about their attachment -- no, addiction -- to their BlackBerrys, phones, Twitter and Facebook, it was only natural that someone said, okay, let's go without, if only for a week. No Web, period. If you need to talk to someone, do it in person or by phone.
Everyone got excited: What would our friends and loved ones think if we didn't respond to their texts and e-mails? Would we be able to do our work? Could we make it five whole days?

Some of them did.

» Continued

Here's one from NHL.com. Click here if you want to see it as is in the wild, or keep reading below.

Back in the day, when Finns dominated the world’s car racing circuit, an adage was born: "You need a Finn to win." It hasn't been as apt in the NHL, with only seven Finnish Stanley Cup winners, and with the first three earning their rings with the same team, the Edmonton Oilers dynasty of the 1980s.

» Continued

I don’t know how many hours I’ve spent playing hockey, and even less, how many hours I’ve spent sitting in a locker room, or in the parking lot, talking to teammates about the games, and … stuff.
Or how many hours I’ve spent watching, listening to, or reading about hockey.

Let’s just say that I started about 35 years ago, and haven’t quit yet.

» Continued

Here's one from the archives, from the pages of Off The Post. A story about Father, Son, and the Stanley Cup.

» Continued

I guess that just like we all like to think of ourselves as great drivers - or at least better than average - we all probably think we’re the ultimate neighbors. Because - realistically - who wouldn’t want to live next to me, right?

» Continued

Last week, I shared an elevator with a Russian man who was wearing a pink pullover and pink pants. We shared the elevator going down and I went to see if I couldn't find a place where I could buy chips and a Coke, he to see if he couldn't own the dance floor at the Piano Bar in the lobby.

He was successful. I wasn't.

» Continued

Finnish goaltender Antti Niemi is one of the big stories in this year's Stanley Cup Playoffs. I wrote a piece about him for The Hockey News June 7 issue:

"One day, my father called me to tell me he had been at the local rink to see a junior game and had seen a goalie that impressed him," said Markus Lehto, Niemi's Helsinki-based European agent. "My father is no super scout, but he used to be the CEO of another rink and a team manager with Jokerit, so he knows his hockey."
Still, when his father mentioned "Antti Niemi," Lehto thought his dad was kidding. The only Antti Niemi he knew was the Finnish national soccer team's goalkeeper. But Lehto made a note and went to see the kid.

Read the story here (pdf, 3.1MB).

Of all the superpowers, invisibility is my favorite. I used to love the 1970s show, The Invisible Man. There’s a Finnish children’s book I adored in which the protagonist eats some invisibility powder and walks through walls. I was a fan of another 1970s show the name of which escapes me, but in which the star, named “nobody”, would tug on his scarf, and turn invisible.

» Continued

I admit it, I missed the memo on fist bumps. I guess I was still pretty much on the map when the secret handshakes were around, although the one me and Terry had in 1985 wasn’t ever used. It had three different stages, ending in a finger hook. Maybe even a pointing gesture. But it was never used in a real-life situation.

Nobody’s doing the secret handshakes anymore. It’s all fist bumps. I’m not saying that I don’t like it, because I kind of do. I get the bonding, and in some way, I like most hand gestures: the peace sign, the thumbs up, high-five, and the like.

» Continued

Seeing the silver man, the Roman soldier, the clown, and the human water fountain do their tricks - or in silver man's and Roman soldier's case, doing absolutely nothing - on the square outside the Cologne Cathedral made me think what I always think when I see street artists.

» Continued

The sports camp is about to end. We’ve had a week of fun, a week of cracking jokes in the dark when we were supposed to be sleeping, and getting ready for the sports activities we’ll be doing the next day. It’s always the same guys, too, with the same jokes, but they’re kind of funny, and I’m the new kid anyway, so I’ll just lie on my mattress and listen. And giggle.

» Continued

Well, yeah, I guess I can do anything.

It's playoff time and those not playing anymore just have to hit the links.

» Finland Squeaks by Germany

» Nummelin In a One-Man Club

» Born To Be a Goalie

» Russia Starts Road to Gold

» The Little (Red) Engine That Can

» Danish Shock Therapy

Well, maybe not faces, but names that make me think of familiar faces. In Germany, everybody is Anders.

I went through high school in a city with a population of about 50 000. Not a huge city, in other words, but still a major town in Finland, well-known and all.

» Continued

COLOGNE – The hotel room is nice. Small, but nice, and the view over the Cologne cathedral to the left, and the hockey arena to the right keeps him focused.

“They’re my two cathedrals,” says Risto Pakarinen, a Finnish hockey reporter, in Cologne to cover the 2010 IIHF World Championship.

To the uninitiated, that means the hockey world championships.

Um, ice hockey.

Starting tomorrow, Mr. Pakarinen and his three IIHF.com writer and two photographer colleagues will cover all 56 games, ending in the final that will be played on May 23. By then, Mr. Pakarinen will have used every piece of clothing in his suitcase.

“Probably, yes. But most of it just once,” he says, sitting in an armchair, examining his media accreditation.

“Next year, I have to get a better photo. I’m not really that fat, am I? It’s the fisheye lens they have in them web cameras,” he says.

Outside his hotel, the euro could be crumbling, the Crown Princess of Sweden might break her engagement, and ABBA could announce a secret comeback, and he wouldn’t know.

Some 1408 kilometers northeast of the hotel, garbage cans were emptied today, because Mr. Pakarinen lifted them to the curb in the morning, but for the next 19 days, for him, days will have no names. He goes from game day to game day, in a haze.

He says he likes Germany. Or, the little he’s seen in a day. A tram, a McDonald’s, a hotel, and a hockey arena.

“I saw people offering free hugs to strangers in the old town. That’s nice, right?” he adds, and looks at his accreditation.

“And I get free food with this. That’s nice, too.”

Mr. Pakarinen is off to the IIHF World Championship 2010 tournament in Cologne, Germany so I wanted to give you a heads-up about the fact that there will be hockey stuff here as well. Hope you enjoy it, even if you're not a big hockey fan. He usually keeps it pretty light, so let's hope he'll write mostly about things that are non-game related, because, really, those who care can just log on IIHF.com and see all his stuff and because - this is just my opinion - that stuff is so much more interesting.

Just a reminder, you can follow him on Twitter as well. (His latest tweet is also posted here, you'll see it in the left sidebar).

– Webmaster

I’ve always spent a lot of time with Dad at work. It was at the backroom of my uncle’s store he made all those hockey masks for me, and it was the same store where I crashed through the glass door. (I was trying to be as cool as Dad and his colleagues who ran up the three stairs inside the store, opened the door, and kept on running.)

When Dad took a job at another store, I followed him there, playing my first games of Pong there, and having endless hours of fun with a typewriter, and a pencil and a fan.

» Continued

For a guy who still has the 18 'Til I Die T-shirt from Bryan Adams's 1996 European Tour and several other T-shirts that are twice as old as his kids, I feel surprisingly confident with my ability to spot – and even better, to create – fashion trends.

» Continued

There’s nothing like a nickname to date you. Not to the whole world, but in relation to your buddies. What works in high school, may not work in the adult world. Sometimes people outgrow their nicknames. That’s why the Finnish Minister of Foreign Affairs doesn’t want to be called “Tico”, like when we played minor hockey against each other, but Alexander.

» Continued

She came running from behind me, and swooshed by, with a quick step, arms pumping up and down, giving her the beautiful rhythm I think she has. I've said it a hundred times, I'll say it again: Daughter knows how to run!

She stopped, and opened her jacket, then took it off, ignoring Wife's and my protest.

"I'll wear it, I'll wear the hood over my head. Just the hood," she said, then asked me to help her put on the jacket so the hood was over her head.

I did, and then kept on walking. Two seconds later she came running again - oh, so beautifully - yelling that she was a superhero.

I did the same thing when I was a kid as did surely millions of kids around the world. I would wear my yellow bathrobe an jump down from the benches in the sauna dressing room, pretending I was flying. I know I haven't told Daughter about that, so it must be an idea that just occurred to her. And to millions of kids around the world.

We all want to be superheros. We all want to be powerful. We all want to be special. Only the heroes change.

In her head, Daughter was Batman.

Jumping down from that bench in a Helsinki suburb decades earlier, I wanted to be Super-Goofy.

Every day, at around 2.45 pm, I get in the car and drive ten kilometers south, to the Finnish School in Stockholm, to pick up Son and Daughter. Or, every day when I’m not at the Olympics or the hockey World Championships for a couple of weeks at a time. But, as a rule, I’m at the school and kindergarten at three, and then we drive back up, singing, and talking about their day – and Star Wars.

We’re back home at 3.45, the latest, and then we hang around about an hour, before it’s time for me to start to cook dinner. When the kids are sick - I hear Daughter coughing now - or have a random Easter holiday, they can stay at home with me.

» Continued

“Ha ha, like your old boss”
– Wife, on Swedish Prime Minister Fredrik Reinfeldt sticking his fingers up his nose while watching hockey.

Bosses, I’ve had a few. But then again, too few great ones to mention. I’m probably not an easy employee, and it’s not because I want to be difficult or because I think I’m smarter that the rest – although I understand that even writing that as a possibility probably qualifies me as a jerk – or because I ask tough questions. I sometimes do ask silly questions and I often tried to make everybody laugh at a company meeting, back when I still had bosses.

These days, I have clients.

» Continued

What exactly is going through his mind? Leave your suggestion in the comments. The winner will receive the high resolution image with the thought bubble s/he penned in it, in return email.

When I moved to Sweden over twelve years ago, I told my parents that it wasn’t such a big deal because “Stockholm is closer to Helsinki than Joensuu is”. Helsinki was my hometown then, and Joensuu theirs.

It’s true. The distance between Stockholm and Helsinki is 398 kilometers, while the Joensuu-Helsinki trek is a 440-kilometer one (and I know every inch of it).

» Continued

I’ve gone retro. I’ve gone back to using a pencil. Trying to, at least.

Pens have always been my luxury item. I’m not big on rings or bracelets. I’m not a shoe collector, and the odd days I wear a watch, it’s my ten-year-old plastic watch with The Phantom’s face on it, and the text, “The Phantom, the man who never dies”. I like watches, but I’m too cheap to get the really nice ones.

» Continued

When I first met Wife and we started dating, she lived not far from where we live now. It’s a ten-minute drive from our house to the cul-de-sac where the other yellow house is. My place across town, on the south side, about a five-minute walk from our first apartment together, was an 18-minute drive from her. But that’s in the middle of the night, with no traffic, and with some speeding.

» Continued

“I hate luck!”
– Son

We all hate luck when it works against us, don’t we? In Son’s case, the luck he so much despised was the wind in my sails as I moved my two knights into a striking position, about to kill his king in our friendly Easter holiday afternoon game of chess.

» Continued