Last night, a friend of mine was talking to a friend of his about me. And he said that I was from Joensuu, which he knows is a bit of sore point to me, then corrected himself and said, “Well, really, he’s from here but he…” and he glanced at me.

I was born in Helsinki, I lived here until I was 14, and moved back to Helsinki when I was 18.

Of course, some of my best friends are the guys and girls I went to high school with .. in Joensuu, which, I also should note, is a truly nice city. Like all Finnish cities – with the exception of Varkaus – beautiful in the summer, with the river flowing through it, the market square vibrant, people everywhere, riding their bikes, taking walks.

Just amazing.

But I’m just not from there. In fact, when I left Joensuu to go to the university, I pretty much made two vows. One was made in the words of Bruce Springsteen – “it’s a town full of losers, and I’m pulling out of here to wiiiiiiiiiin” – and the other was a decision to forbid the local media to call me an “ex-Joensuuian” as they always did with whoever athlete had ever played even just a season there.

Sound obnoxious?

Well, I did say I was 18.

These days, I get waves of nostalgia about being in Joensuu. How I’d hang out with all my old friends, and play tennis all day, and would know everybody – and that it wouldn’t bother me at all.

I dream of having a looooooong vacation there. A vacation no agenda. Nothing to do. Just be there, ride our bikes, read, meet some friends and take it easy for a while. Like, three weeks.

That’d be nice. Maybe this summer.

But Helsinki is my hometown.