tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-70253962879268938932024-02-22T23:05:26.099+01:00THE COUNTRY THAT IS NO MOREIn early summer of 2011 my good friend Emil Ems and I set off to see a forgotten country - Karelia. Karelia is now again open to visitors, so we paid dearly for a Russian visa and set off to see for ourselves what remained of a land about which we both had heard so many stories. Markus Lehtipuu was our trusted companion on the trip and proved an invaluable travel partner with his comprehensive grasp of all things Karelian.Per Magnus Wijkmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14217307266155847493noreply@blogger.comBlogger15125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7025396287926893893.post-66727633777699366302012-04-03T18:14:00.032+02:002012-04-03T21:08:44.243+02:00A LONG FAREWELL TO GREATNESS<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJiqBz-xX_MGDbCUQKk962_yJOMijoimm4s8BVDafSLY90p8lw8zIhN6s3ScuVIwnaxBOgkyuUNxsl4nKH-xC5j8bdXomWRLL3g6nQcKGvI-TdOMwUPWxW4nrAFimpg7p6wRVSI9d0bodu/s1600/DSC_0269+Master.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJiqBz-xX_MGDbCUQKk962_yJOMijoimm4s8BVDafSLY90p8lw8zIhN6s3ScuVIwnaxBOgkyuUNxsl4nKH-xC5j8bdXomWRLL3g6nQcKGvI-TdOMwUPWxW4nrAFimpg7p6wRVSI9d0bodu/s1600/DSC_0269+Master.jpg" /></a></div><div><br />
</div><div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">In our journey to Karelia we saw the traces left by V<span class="Apple-style-span">ikings, Hanseatic merchants, men of the sword, men of the cross and people of culture. We have now come to the end of our voyage and it is time to say “Farewell” to Karelia.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 16px;"><br />
</span></div><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">We thank the readers who have followed us on our journey and <a href="http://www.linkedin.com/pub/markus-lehtipuu/9/163/617">Markus Lehtipuu</a> who guided us. We say farewell to the living and the dead whom we encountered on our journey in time and space as we ventured from west to east and back and visited historical sites renowned at different times during a millennium. We saw Karelia’s present: a sadly neglected waste land. We saw shadows of its past: a bountiful nature, a remarkable architecture and a rich literary culture. But we saw no signs of a future better than the present. Longing for the past had replaced hopes for the future.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt;"><br />
</span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">We felt like passengers on a space ship lost in space<b> </b>unable to either reach its destination or return home. The epic poem <i><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Aniara_(opera)">Aniara</a>: A Review of Mankind in Time and Space</i> by Swedish writer and Nobel Laureate <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Harry_Martinson">Harry Martinson</a> <span class="msoIns">– </span><span class="Apple-style-span">himself a volunteer in the Winter War </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline;">– <span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: line-through;">contains a ‘Song about Karelia’. In it a doomed passenger recalls his fondest memory of planet earth, to which he will never return. We share this longing to return to a lost home:</span></span></span><br />
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</span></span></span></div><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span lang="SV" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 12pt;">Skönast ibland sköna glimtar syns dock skymten av Karelen,<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span lang="SV" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 12pt;">Som ett vattenglim bland träden, som ett ljusnat sommarvatten<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span lang="SV" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 12pt;">i den juniljusa tiden då en kväll knappt hinner skymmas <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span lang="SV" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 12pt;">förrn den träflöjtsklara göken ropar åt den ljuva Aino<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span lang="SV" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 12pt;">att ta dimmans slöja med sig, stiga upp ur junivatten<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span lang="SV" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 12pt;">gå emot den stigna röken, komma till den glada göken,<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">i det susande Karelen.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
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</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 12pt;">Wonder among many wonders is the glimpse of fair Karelia,<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 12pt;">like a fleeting flash of water seen through trees one clear June evening, <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 12pt;">when the lakes in summer lighten and the dusk has barely settled <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 12pt;">e’er the sylvan-fluted cuckoo calls upon the gorgeous Aino <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 12pt;">veiled in mist to venture forward, to arise from June’s warm water, <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 12pt;">to sneak through the rising vapors and embrace the joyous cuckoo, <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">in the whispering Karelia. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">Per Magnus Wijkman Emil Ems<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">Author Photographer</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
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</span></div></div>Per Magnus Wijkmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14217307266155847493noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7025396287926893893.post-65881389740599522672012-03-30T01:20:00.032+02:002012-03-30T16:53:07.374+02:00LA TRISTESSE DE MON REPOS<div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWV64JrQBkOVocV-ePlN9id3o7wcQwi7ULF5yGCbdbBg9ZBRmyD6wbU8HLjm6JI-0k-lU01sZ3ICk2jjJgRI4iWgikaoXGL4SkUZaRBu_wGAs_7mUItHnyRYIMsi0RWTKvYy_PIN2ycLiz/s1600/_DSC0107+Master.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="514" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWV64JrQBkOVocV-ePlN9id3o7wcQwi7ULF5yGCbdbBg9ZBRmyD6wbU8HLjm6JI-0k-lU01sZ3ICk2jjJgRI4iWgikaoXGL4SkUZaRBu_wGAs_7mUItHnyRYIMsi0RWTKvYy_PIN2ycLiz/s640/_DSC0107+Master.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';"> </span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">About five kilometers outside of the town of Viborg (Viipuri), lies Mon Repos, a late 18th century manor on a verdant island embraced by blue waves. Here on Europe’s Northeastern periphery, a continental European, Ludwig Heinrich (von) Nicolay (1737-1820), acquired the property Mon Repos and formed it as a physical embodiment of Enlightenment ideals. While lacking the opulence of German manors of the period, it possessed an appeal that with time earned it popular affection and symbolized the loss of this part of Finland to Russia in 1944. <o:p></o:p></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"> </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRlvP_edL3Ihst9WGF_PgYwmadFTIhCxIu_bs58KcYbme3IYPbAKTV3buv816jZVDLfZbqL_LjYc6fxkyCRmXfA_Mleww612cMGiokCBUNZe_KwVH4s1VQqlHgE_UVl3yZ_Jx3zmuePa0t/s1600/_DSC0089+Master_1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRlvP_edL3Ihst9WGF_PgYwmadFTIhCxIu_bs58KcYbme3IYPbAKTV3buv816jZVDLfZbqL_LjYc6fxkyCRmXfA_Mleww612cMGiokCBUNZe_KwVH4s1VQqlHgE_UVl3yZ_Jx3zmuePa0t/s400/_DSC0089+Master_1.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><div class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">The once renowned English Garden of Mon Repos</span></i></div></td></tr>
</tbody></table><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">Nicolay bought the site, sight unseen, in 1788 from Duke Friedrich Wilhelm von Württemberg, one of the many Europeans recruited by the court in St Petersburg during the reign of Catherine the Great to ‘Europeanize’ Russia. Nicolay was born in Strasbourg and died at Mon Repos. He came to St Petersburg in 1769 as tutor for Catherine’s son, the future Czar Paul I (1754-1801). In 1776 Paul married Princess Sophia Dorothea von Württemberg (ah, networks!). After the court murder of Czar Paul I in 1801 (some Europeanization!), Nicolay finished an eventful career by serving as private secretary to Paul’s widow, now in her capacity as Dowager Maria Feodorovna. Enjoying the same distinguished title as Goethe, Geheimerat, Nicolay devoted himself to finalizing Mon Repos. Its similarity to Fredrick the Great’s Sans Souci in Potsdam is no coincidence since the manor’s first owner, Duke Friedrich Wilhelm, had modeled it on his uncle’s house Mon Repos in Württemberg, which in turn was modeled on Sans Souci. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLjZrWJhZUnwAJYW_tNrlYzaan9VjeTuwVNu0d6piJNxedTVH5kIxPx0LXkeRjE6q7fTpqlbykKCIaF8ds5oGOaEW9mnW-e5M-f8VJ_Mg8n4C19BubgkfAGXoehyphenhyphenbmgky7Skts-GzljfWG/s1600/MonreposHerrenhaus.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="208" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLjZrWJhZUnwAJYW_tNrlYzaan9VjeTuwVNu0d6piJNxedTVH5kIxPx0LXkeRjE6q7fTpqlbykKCIaF8ds5oGOaEW9mnW-e5M-f8VJ_Mg8n4C19BubgkfAGXoehyphenhyphenbmgky7Skts-GzljfWG/s640/MonreposHerrenhaus.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><div class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Mon Repos manor in the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mon_Repos_(Vyborg)">1830s</a></span></i></div></td></tr>
</tbody></table></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">No trip to Viborg is complete without a visit to Mon Repos. So we drove out of the town along crooked roads, guided by intuition rather than by road signs. Perhaps it was not meant to be easy to find the manor because, as we were to discover, Mon Repos had survived the war undamaged but had fared badly during Soviet rule. Few sights are sadder for those who have seen the manor in the 1930s than the sight of it today. And few songs capture this sadness better than the song “Do you remember Mon Repos?” (“Muistatko Monrepos’n?”) from 1955. Click <b><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6XY3oAB7Vyk">here</a></b> to hear Annikki Tähti sing it. But the park has been well restored since 1992 and a walk in it does much to dispel this sadness. Mon Repos is more than just the buildings. Today the park is its greatest charm. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMEY2XDWrYFVKyphxSwKZcdk5LguzilvF-1ligDIQUQmPi3DIzZaNlpcxuPlOX2fevp_fUatv1Y_Of-ZNQjr5O7Xo-cum9f1WpdkBJnF8ZCSAnI0WiFToNZ_SxHd6EwhN1jltENX00BbHu/s1600/Monrepos+Overview+(1).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="370" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMEY2XDWrYFVKyphxSwKZcdk5LguzilvF-1ligDIQUQmPi3DIzZaNlpcxuPlOX2fevp_fUatv1Y_Of-ZNQjr5O7Xo-cum9f1WpdkBJnF8ZCSAnI0WiFToNZ_SxHd6EwhN1jltENX00BbHu/s640/Monrepos+Overview+(1).jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><div class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">The manor houses of Mon Repos in the <a href="http://books.google.com/books/about/Karelen_landet_som_var.html?id=uFchNQAACAAJ">1930s</a></span></i></div></td></tr>
</tbody></table></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">We parked our car in the small parking lot beside a white six-door limousine, marveling at finding this symbol of conspicuous consumption here, and entered the gates to Mon Repos. No sooner had we stepped inside them than the magnificent landscaping seduced us. Our visit to Mon Repos started with a long, leisurely walk through its English Garden, once renowned in Europe.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXFBuJGsi6xELVv7Krhd7r2XMamd3y1mJC95VCqRy82eDhUbLp2RFZRNiwQWSDy7uDPrx0E66C4z8vree4sF9BN5gO6MBaTyjTLyrQfPA34DrTT2rPS0OgjlPLinFIoEzrsElSfEpRde7E/s1600/_DSC0174+Master.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXFBuJGsi6xELVv7Krhd7r2XMamd3y1mJC95VCqRy82eDhUbLp2RFZRNiwQWSDy7uDPrx0E66C4z8vree4sF9BN5gO6MBaTyjTLyrQfPA34DrTT2rPS0OgjlPLinFIoEzrsElSfEpRde7E/s400/_DSC0174+Master.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><div class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">A luxurious limousine surprised us in the parking lot </span></i></div></td></tr>
</tbody></table></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">Nicolay had designed the park as though it were an integral part of the manor house (and vice versa). He imported rare trees and plants from continental Europe. He decorated the park with statues, equipped it with well-placed benches for resting, arched graceful Japanese bridges over the streams, built piers for excursions by boat around the Bay of Viborg and designed much else to please the senses. In short, we entered a vast garden of delights. Thomas Jefferson at Monticello would have nodded in approval. Had Jean-Jacques Rousseau, like Voltaire, accepted the Czar’s invitation to visit he could have indulged himself in solitary reveries during endless walks here. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2Qbxk8PuLLQhW0IcIIl1-6kx64pXG3LcIU5XGkF3pxWg25tdjjkLk_7SZl8wrqHJnfaPHQZwt4xhEWSKtCAaxN0vnkt6d_ZPpEejNopOrCK508imsFOopxN64e_gWYuB42yua1PHOuVwH/s1600/_DSC0144+Master.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="516" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2Qbxk8PuLLQhW0IcIIl1-6kx64pXG3LcIU5XGkF3pxWg25tdjjkLk_7SZl8wrqHJnfaPHQZwt4xhEWSKtCAaxN0vnkt6d_ZPpEejNopOrCK508imsFOopxN64e_gWYuB42yua1PHOuVwH/s640/_DSC0144+Master.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><div class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Arched bridges, pleasant to see and pleasant to tread</span></i></div></td></tr>
</tbody></table></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">We approached the bay and saw a Greek Temple, called Neptune’s House, which Nicolay had built on a promontory. Thanks to voluntary Finnish efforts this temple had recently received a coat of white paint and glistened in the sun. Standing beneath its burnished pillars we enjoyed an elevated view of the sea. Only screeching seagulls, gliding lazily on warm up-winds, broke the silence. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhb2VgbTcMYqo7P4Pj4dVu5_VOmxsZo6C2saBpnfeIWdiJ928RE7Ub9NCemUCbuE8wspvALDQLZezcWp8Yq2Uwx9PQkueBZJVS4KvaReg9bw973AbIDYq1VhP4dGSWyY-9VG7G6zthzq0J3/s1600/Neptuns+tempel.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="290" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhb2VgbTcMYqo7P4Pj4dVu5_VOmxsZo6C2saBpnfeIWdiJ928RE7Ub9NCemUCbuE8wspvALDQLZezcWp8Yq2Uwx9PQkueBZJVS4KvaReg9bw973AbIDYq1VhP4dGSWyY-9VG7G6zthzq0J3/s400/Neptuns+tempel.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><div class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">The <a href="http://books.google.com/books/about/Karelen_landet_som_var.html?id=uFchNQAACAAJ">classical heritage</a> flourishing</span></i></div></td></tr>
</tbody></table></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">Creeks ran through the park and we crossed them on small bridges, artfully positioned in the gardens. Their aesthetic charm invited us repeatedly to extend our wanderings until we lost track of time. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4Kbcw6CIH_7eQDVWfCu9v-dpyKbrc0BbRRJdbAtBjcBMkzVV3Woxzqrn1yejYgZcnbJfaOB7sRlRIHyS4ik-fQEK67yK3bpMGA_tKWHmx0jRgfeyh1Or3iBqn8R9ZZQJIqrPuq0ljCXYJ/s1600/_DSC0091+Master.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4Kbcw6CIH_7eQDVWfCu9v-dpyKbrc0BbRRJdbAtBjcBMkzVV3Woxzqrn1yejYgZcnbJfaOB7sRlRIHyS4ik-fQEK67yK3bpMGA_tKWHmx0jRgfeyh1Or3iBqn8R9ZZQJIqrPuq0ljCXYJ/s320/_DSC0091+Master.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><div class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: ti; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">The trails for walking through the park transported us in many ways</span></i></div></td></tr>
</tbody></table></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">The walking paths led us along semi-wild shores and up steep hills where Nicolay had placed statues, obelisks transported from Italy, and the statue of a Karelian bard playing a kantele. Placing a singer of the orally transmitted Kalevala among classical pillars and statues incorporated this Finnish epic in the Homeric tradition. Unfortunately there is no picture of this statue, since we bypassed its location without noticing it. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj064KfotS7KwQc0nGxhO1H47-BRJGiZBK4kVz5xZT5HzeUvo8vyNMDQQaVxhKlUJtp4TAaJdyIiO2plRUos8mowBH7zR9hzIYylzUvLLLOFEPSez3St4mkiC65Ra8EKFs4AOVGSejX9Mmd/s1600/_DSC0128+Master_1+(1).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="476" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj064KfotS7KwQc0nGxhO1H47-BRJGiZBK4kVz5xZT5HzeUvo8vyNMDQQaVxhKlUJtp4TAaJdyIiO2plRUos8mowBH7zR9hzIYylzUvLLLOFEPSez3St4mkiC65Ra8EKFs4AOVGSejX9Mmd/s640/_DSC0128+Master_1+(1).jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><div class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Assorted classical monuments found a home at Mon Repos</span></i></div></td></tr>
</tbody></table></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">On a small island Nicolay had built Ludwigshafen, a Gothic mausoleum, where he and other family members are interned. The short bridge across to the island was destroyed, so we could not visit it. However, we could observe the large building from Neptune’s House. It was a favorite site for visitors to stop at and be photographed. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAAr8OneS_yVFCX8Iw-b9yvG4WdJAPI7H3TOqd_6YcOTjkuloQlubGQ5i6cBvoCjUCYf9He7X1_Y7nffqvR4vA6SVfKmmwSYoLqXPYco0iekfAWLLxz2jfPdrTTO7vmqsgR_tAEGlUyW1A/s1600/_DSC0106+Master.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAAr8OneS_yVFCX8Iw-b9yvG4WdJAPI7H3TOqd_6YcOTjkuloQlubGQ5i6cBvoCjUCYf9He7X1_Y7nffqvR4vA6SVfKmmwSYoLqXPYco0iekfAWLLxz2jfPdrTTO7vmqsgR_tAEGlUyW1A/s400/_DSC0106+Master.jpg" width="265" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">A solemn moment in front of Ludwigshafen</span></i> </td></tr>
</tbody></table></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">We encountered only a few visitors on our walks through the well-maintained park. One encounter provided a short spell of romance. A young couple, attended by the bridesmaids, celebrated their marriage by a walk through the gardens of Mon Repos to which they had been chauffaured in the large white limousine we had observed. We wished them luck. They deserved to feel like royalty on their wedding day. Who knew what the future held in store for them?<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzRLOUp6tjA5bqKWoeKUGWa9echdY1r-mISSxTJJ3gl_o8r2nXf3kAaljubkA_44hc5tsIEhTKimUuQDIi9hf4cAJr1g3jcdxb6jMPBKNoe0uNGMOeruKEgo-ZF4RNq9YK4-5FL64Nn1uS/s1600/_DSC0138+Master_1_1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="379" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzRLOUp6tjA5bqKWoeKUGWa9echdY1r-mISSxTJJ3gl_o8r2nXf3kAaljubkA_44hc5tsIEhTKimUuQDIi9hf4cAJr1g3jcdxb6jMPBKNoe0uNGMOeruKEgo-ZF4RNq9YK4-5FL64Nn1uS/s640/_DSC0138+Master_1_1.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">For better or for worse Nunc est bibendum, nunc pede libero …</span></i> </td></tr>
</tbody></table></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">This festive encounter appropriately embellished the surroundings. Coming from the parking lot, we had entered Mon Repos by the back door. In the early 19th century guests would have arrived instead by horse and wagon driven down a long alley of trees at the end of which stood the manor with its impressive pillars. Since then this imposing entrance has been overgrown by the forest and reduced to a narrow pathway. We walked along it noting that it was unchanged since the 1930s, although a bit wilder. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3UswffzAbzSFbakTCsHSFE4htrjcI1TYYNm06oelvXAiO7xx0eWzBBiVOAeV7apnXVFDzfrk8-KrG4aad4xvSukwXEdu-IMcqVguJKXIadsDJhrzwyDqo5aQPICegcjgLGX9rJT9K7QWM/s1600/Monrepos+lindalle_1+(1).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3UswffzAbzSFbakTCsHSFE4htrjcI1TYYNm06oelvXAiO7xx0eWzBBiVOAeV7apnXVFDzfrk8-KrG4aad4xvSukwXEdu-IMcqVguJKXIadsDJhrzwyDqo5aQPICegcjgLGX9rJT9K7QWM/s400/Monrepos+lindalle_1+(1).jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><div class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Once the main entrance to the manor this alley remains unchanged since the <a href="http://books.google.com/books/about/Karelen_landet_som_var.html?id=uFchNQAACAAJ">1930s</a></span></i></div></td></tr>
</tbody></table></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">We had come to Mon Repos to see the manor house unaware of the English Garden. Instead, we had been enchanted by this secret garden where time stood still and spent an afternoon wandering in it. In the distance we could see the white pillars of the manor glistening in the sun. So we finally stopped our dallying and headed determinedly towards the manor. This, we thought, would be the highpoint of our visit. But as we came closer we saw that the windows of the houses were boarded up and that the paint on the walls was peeling. Standing before them we realized that the manor was in a sad state of disrepair. The shinning white pillars were but a Potemkin façade to impress the distant spectator. Closer inspection revealed dilapidated buildings close to their last days. This magnificent enlightenment manor had survived the war but prolonged neglect was leading to its slow destruction. I trust you understand why we do not show a close-up view of the façade.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJMt7BUdSdHDg1TV-aEPlTYWJKr4339r-Aeeeo0G1rtvtQA1VBNF5hXnIU6N33uxP69fgCf2D8dpM828Ay8VFudjo6GtXNwFF-fhambACy2Jd3gKu1x6OL1F_JTnColcqW0hyYY9-MuF5q/s1600/The+Mansion.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="275" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJMt7BUdSdHDg1TV-aEPlTYWJKr4339r-Aeeeo0G1rtvtQA1VBNF5hXnIU6N33uxP69fgCf2D8dpM828Ay8VFudjo6GtXNwFF-fhambACy2Jd3gKu1x6OL1F_JTnColcqW0hyYY9-MuF5q/s400/The+Mansion.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><div class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">An empty manor – haunted by the past</span></i></div></td></tr>
</tbody></table></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">Since the park was so well maintained it was easy with a little imagination to see traces of former beauty in these boarded-up buildings. Behind the closed windows and peeling paint lay a paradise lost and opportunities missed. The manor houses were empty, the Finnish Government having removed the extensive library and furnishings at the outbreak of the war. Now only ghosts lived there. For over 70 years Mon Repos has had a past, but no future. We returned to the parking lot thinking that the best way to dispel the sadness of “Do you remember Mon Repos?” was by not forgetting it. So to listen to Maynie Sirén sing it in Swedish, click <b><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pWSNx_EDJrA">here</a>, </b>and remember Mon Repos. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiW5pF0alGmyhqyTmDelovjHKGNCsQQFpjNIEoqwjaiHvYqf3RH_Dp7mmkZGEamJs-Sa0rhev5vto0oq_L7sZESyvq6jAEuWw0tg314_9seX39h9zCizgM8pCG9weZIvhTIIIgPUeISsin/s1600/Monrepos.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="547" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiW5pF0alGmyhqyTmDelovjHKGNCsQQFpjNIEoqwjaiHvYqf3RH_Dp7mmkZGEamJs-Sa0rhev5vto0oq_L7sZESyvq6jAEuWw0tg314_9seX39h9zCizgM8pCG9weZIvhTIIIgPUeISsin/s640/Monrepos.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 12pt;"><br />
</span></span></div></div></div>Per Magnus Wijkmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14217307266155847493noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7025396287926893893.post-76119166712180467732012-03-09T12:14:00.012+01:002012-03-14T19:04:05.907+01:00VIBORG IN OUR DREAMS<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrsv3zkmXgtrmhFt2ZHyglOZz6gCH8RgI3O3goI825u1LAwd1d9onE1CVkEM8eKAlAXlJ10vpJpT3t70Wo_OyvlJY4ADXflj3V-xqBbl5hwKU1R76uuToGTLLBNEuMt4kzSB8cyxhUXvyT/s1600/_DSC0218+Master.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="416" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrsv3zkmXgtrmhFt2ZHyglOZz6gCH8RgI3O3goI825u1LAwd1d9onE1CVkEM8eKAlAXlJ10vpJpT3t70Wo_OyvlJY4ADXflj3V-xqBbl5hwKU1R76uuToGTLLBNEuMt4kzSB8cyxhUXvyT/s640/_DSC0218+Master.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;">Indestructible Viborg – the past lives on in the mind</span></i></td></tr>
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<div style="text-align: left;"></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">Our journey nears its end. We made Viborg (Viipuri) the last stop on our trip, since we had heard that it was but a shadow of the lively town my mother visited 70 years ago. Before 1992 the rare visitor to Viborg often returned to Finland in tears. For old timers, Viborg is old memories and faded photographs: cultured, cosmopolitan, charming. But above all it is sadness. In their minds’ eyes they see <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mikael_Agricola">Bishop Agricola</a>’s steeple at the top of Vattenportsgatan (Vesiportinkatu, Water Gate Street), or St Olof’s Tower of the <a href="http://kareliadiaries.blogspot.com/2011_05_01_archive.html">Castle</a> or the Round Tower (Pyöreätorni) in the old city. Badly damaged during the last two wars and emptied overnight of its population, Viborg suffered continued destruction during the Soviet era. So we braced ourselves to see the worst. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCHLh28hCXEMuTRV6ThR98VctoJ2fMZ33gQMAkSj5zhJylDoKsS_APnOhnTanuJ2EUOyfcjLg1ycfrhHj8jFzk4KA-A8zuJQcwTCrnhrM6yYAFh43MnroyY7oFkbC7s2_nwsfxpTPVevcY/s1600/_DSC0225a+Master_1+(1).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="298" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCHLh28hCXEMuTRV6ThR98VctoJ2fMZ33gQMAkSj5zhJylDoKsS_APnOhnTanuJ2EUOyfcjLg1ycfrhHj8jFzk4KA-A8zuJQcwTCrnhrM6yYAFh43MnroyY7oFkbC7s2_nwsfxpTPVevcY/s400/_DSC0225a+Master_1+(1).jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">Although many ruins remained, we discovered that some historical buildings had been renovated or rebuilt. The population was young and relatively fashionably dressed, the car park was rather modern, cafés and restaurants were somewhat lively and a modest night life existed. All this imparted a certain touristic charm, which compared favourably with other towns in Karelia. Having entered the town with such low expectations, we were thus pleasantly surprised.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">After the dissolution of the USSR in 1992, the municipal governors started to care more about the town’s past and to plan better for its future. They returned the statue of the town’s founder and defender against Novgorod, Torkel Knutsson, to its square in time to celebrate the town’s 700th<sup> </sup>anniversary in 1993. The USSR had kept the statue in a closet since 1944 so letting it out was a tacit acknowledgment of the city’s non-Russian past. The new government had also restored some architectural treasures, such as the breathtaking Viborg Art Museum and Drawing School designed by Uno Ullberg (1879-1944) and built in 1933. It stands on a lot in the city’s harbour amidst soaring cranes, like a Greek temple viewing the sea and the sky. It is in splendid shape and serves today as a branch of the Art Museum in St Petersburg. We sent an appreciative thought to the authorities for taking good care of this masterpiece.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1PdZ_xNdPcKsuLgdiApqN4NE8YDiy8fgIIuRoLyXP4-MuqW_ttQmwkfU3b4TFsxYt9LJVh8r5HCp_KD0he-5A-hS9fXUYeXk4IzEJTJ0F5uvZvSM8dw4tezpow9Dp1-8Ue_UiWhD81y3m/s1600/Ullberg+old+and+new.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="296" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1PdZ_xNdPcKsuLgdiApqN4NE8YDiy8fgIIuRoLyXP4-MuqW_ttQmwkfU3b4TFsxYt9LJVh8r5HCp_KD0he-5A-hS9fXUYeXk4IzEJTJ0F5uvZvSM8dw4tezpow9Dp1-8Ue_UiWhD81y3m/s640/Ullberg+old+and+new.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;">Ullberg’s Art Museum and Drawing School in the <a href="http://books.google.se/books/about/Karelen_landet_som_var.html?id=uFchNQAACAAJ&redir_esc=y">1930s</a> … … and in 2011 </span></i></td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">Among much else, Ullberg designed a building for the Viborg Provincial Archives (1932-33). It now serves as an archive for the St. Petersburg Oblast. Finland managed to remove some of the historical archives before the end of the war but others were destroyed by the USSR. An unknown amount of Finnish documents remains there. Who knows how many vital statistics gather dust in that archive’s stacks? While the building keeps up appearances, if seen at a distance, a closer look reveals the customary shabbiness of socialist administrative offices. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqrYA3g7geR7JthIXqXmZblJplwuEuu0h-j2iATMBeXq-N-aNYLeLspo7DgngRBHUehAG7IeHK9W0SGvC_QWgRTrs8cwUZ4b7VaJZErNBqkgN9xwsYH6lMio8EykZX0PJys_YPgf4M1UIs/s1600/_DSC0177+Master.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="311" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqrYA3g7geR7JthIXqXmZblJplwuEuu0h-j2iATMBeXq-N-aNYLeLspo7DgngRBHUehAG7IeHK9W0SGvC_QWgRTrs8cwUZ4b7VaJZErNBqkgN9xwsYH6lMio8EykZX0PJys_YPgf4M1UIs/s400/_DSC0177+Master.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;">Ullberg’s Provincial Archives houses shadows of the past</span></i></td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">With the benefit of hindsight, the many functionalist buildings constructed in the early 1930s by the tireless Ullberg can be said to have inaugurated functionalism in Viborg. Only 15 years earlier Ullberg had excelled in a national romantic style similar to that of Eliel Saarinen. With his associate, Klaes Axel Guldén, Ullberg had, in 1909, designed the head office for the town’s legendary company Hackman and Co. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIbkqBG4O8N6t3e7hnz08iTSbhuVC9QCwQ69sMIj5QMVhCrh6xz3fxGu4Igm2AOzE_FJ04Z_YRB3-z5JEpJVh1oF14MOI7jrPDfyYHMDP3UoG1S_dYFlJ1LUkOalJqdUJABbO-fj4hVnnc/s1600/DSC_0285+panorama.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIbkqBG4O8N6t3e7hnz08iTSbhuVC9QCwQ69sMIj5QMVhCrh6xz3fxGu4Igm2AOzE_FJ04Z_YRB3-z5JEpJVh1oF14MOI7jrPDfyYHMDP3UoG1S_dYFlJ1LUkOalJqdUJABbO-fj4hVnnc/s640/DSC_0285+panorama.jpg" width="360" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">The facade of the Hackman building</span></i></td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">Ullberg went on to design the office of the Nordic Union Bank (Nordiska föreningsbanken, Pohjoismaiden Yhdyspankki) 1913 as well as that of the Bank of Finland 1915, both in Sordavala (Sortavala). Nordic national romanticism was somewhat moody and sombre, lacking the artful decorations characteristic of continental European jugend. However, this more playful style could also be found in Viborg.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheRkJ_MBIhHzd24hLOosZBOR1ilc5tiBQNBDZB9n-59QDUirDypI-1juWmFkUpg6pHpFU290LtP8X9DfmtEqcga3ZNuIxViEs_imSSEYYBLs7XguJzAzBnS2UnZ8utbXNrc67tMrXBfgDd/s1600/DSC_0345+Master_1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheRkJ_MBIhHzd24hLOosZBOR1ilc5tiBQNBDZB9n-59QDUirDypI-1juWmFkUpg6pHpFU290LtP8X9DfmtEqcga3ZNuIxViEs_imSSEYYBLs7XguJzAzBnS2UnZ8utbXNrc67tMrXBfgDd/s640/DSC_0345+Master_1.jpg" width="419" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;">A spritely jugend style building in central Viborg</span></i></td></tr>
</tbody></table><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">Functionalism erupted on the Viborg scene around 1930 like a force of nature. With the eastern border closed, foreign influences now came from the West. The Swede Sven Markelius held a lecture in Finland on functionalism in 1928 and Alvar Aalto (1898-1976) presented the thoughts of Le Corbusier in 1929 after a visit to France. Aalto had been awarded first prize in 1927 for his submission in the competition for a municipal library in Viborg. Influenced by Gunnar Asplund’s Municipal Library in Stockholm (completed in 1926), Aalto revised his design several times until his Viborg library stood completed in 1935 as yet another masterpiece of functionalism. Thus, Finnish functionalism was conceived and born in the short period between 1925 and 1935. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaqJpoh9dW7FUslGmNkx021iuSOXVrOOav3egQo5zq3t8a6RG_UEndQZNKC2SYCHkRCjBHPz3gjOKjBxkPqE_eLhNEFeTCjCeeHnl1Kipk_n9OjSPkS0LL5qxGaddRGlCg0U5ifKI9gnwy/s1600/Library+++Elk.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="250" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaqJpoh9dW7FUslGmNkx021iuSOXVrOOav3egQo5zq3t8a6RG_UEndQZNKC2SYCHkRCjBHPz3gjOKjBxkPqE_eLhNEFeTCjCeeHnl1Kipk_n9OjSPkS0LL5qxGaddRGlCg0U5ifKI9gnwy/s640/Library+++Elk.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;">Aalto’s Library in Viborg admired by <a href="http://sv.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jussi_M%C3%A4ntynen">Jussi Mäntynen</a>’s Elk </span></i> </td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">Aalto’s library in Viborg was severely damaged in the wars and was long the prey of the elements. In 1996 the Swedish Alvar Aalto Society was founded and proceeded to renovate the Library at a pace largely determined by voluntary contributions. We walked in the Library and in the park, the two forming a unit, feeling as though we were in a different world. We admired the lecture hall with its famous undulated ceiling, which had been finished the year before, and the clean whiteness of the building’s walls and halls. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhh5BVDPzVerKADXcaNvnfZVzP-PfoI3Ef7An8m3A3B0GXHOoVyrdo5q7UKy3vHa-IyJfKHLtsAqsd8CQH8Oc_UUV6gP7Dl0mekUbsciw7-uMmBsz_818uSi6unfWN0Hsbi2Psr50gJ7zNW/s1600/_DSC0191+Master.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="435" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhh5BVDPzVerKADXcaNvnfZVzP-PfoI3Ef7An8m3A3B0GXHOoVyrdo5q7UKy3vHa-IyJfKHLtsAqsd8CQH8Oc_UUV6gP7Dl0mekUbsciw7-uMmBsz_818uSi6unfWN0Hsbi2Psr50gJ7zNW/s640/_DSC0191+Master.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic; line-height: 115%;">The Library auditorium carries its 75 years like a </span><span lang="EN-GB">feather</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">During our visit the library was virtually empty. Books had been packed and moved to allow the last interior renovations to be completed by 2013. Looking impressively spic and span the building’s clean modernism looked out of place in an otherwise grim urban environment. We hoped that the surroundings would gradually adapt to the Library rather than vice versa. However, the building, soon fully restored to its state as of 1935, still looked at least 25 years ahead of the society now surrounding it. Closing this time gap would be difficult.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHfo92pNi0pVPnDPH9br8TIJTPWOVE8kMbWAqSWs7OuZ93yCHsydYIQFBns5X93GjlMZhrJ3B8oa5WJDjp9XseH1pWbYVjyhYW-fr_iBf0_RwSFZNHVGQlgi0MUsaJd96F5zqA-8PmeNj9/s1600/_DSC0192+Master.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHfo92pNi0pVPnDPH9br8TIJTPWOVE8kMbWAqSWs7OuZ93yCHsydYIQFBns5X93GjlMZhrJ3B8oa5WJDjp9XseH1pWbYVjyhYW-fr_iBf0_RwSFZNHVGQlgi0MUsaJd96F5zqA-8PmeNj9/s400/_DSC0192+Master.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;">Books being stored during renovation of the Library</span></i></td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">Caught in a time warp, we wandered back towards the old town. Many of the older buildings there had been destroyed during the war but those that remained had not changed since then, except for the worse. Buildings were poorly maintained and some were abandoned. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZaogh0nxhAYacTDOyZqW3Xv-rkn6EwbyUMokaNNn5nDkaAO7egoqiMZE-VFAPtvG8vpfbL5GjlAbWdZZalp900IpFZLUg5tD967M47aSlk3_hGjb8_9kQZIiaVyoW6ZTy16OmCCE1kMal/s1600/_DSC0240+Panorama.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZaogh0nxhAYacTDOyZqW3Xv-rkn6EwbyUMokaNNn5nDkaAO7egoqiMZE-VFAPtvG8vpfbL5GjlAbWdZZalp900IpFZLUg5tD967M47aSlk3_hGjb8_9kQZIiaVyoW6ZTy16OmCCE1kMal/s400/_DSC0240+Panorama.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;">Viborg - 70 years after the war!</span></i></td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">Some war ruins still stand as they stood when the war ended 70 years ago. Many medieval houses that had survived the wars were unchanged since then except for wear and tear. So the past was always present. Thus, we were not surprised to see a medieval damsel appear on a narrow street and head towards the Castle. We asked her for directions to the famous Vattenportsgatan (Vesiportankatu, Water Gate Street), which once had the reputation of being Finland’s most beautiful street. She pointed us to it.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoqaRR4_ReAOQjiQ7ac898Ao9KXcdJKsdQfA0AwZqotNFPY3ez-nhQC3HU0yKaaxKA6pkuJmXOOinjfP9iUkpSP7CyZymTGPgtwPYxwr-td78hyDBIGKfyy6DiDTD_2dzn9Z1sp0mkhEoR/s1600/_DSC0215Master+copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="187" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoqaRR4_ReAOQjiQ7ac898Ao9KXcdJKsdQfA0AwZqotNFPY3ez-nhQC3HU0yKaaxKA6pkuJmXOOinjfP9iUkpSP7CyZymTGPgtwPYxwr-td78hyDBIGKfyy6DiDTD_2dzn9Z1sp0mkhEoR/s400/_DSC0215Master+copy.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">Few people were out walking and we felt as though we were in a deserted city. But in this small town it was impossible to get lost. Even a stranger felt at home here. We soon arrived at Water Gate Street, leading from Bishop Agricola’s steeple in the heart of the old town down to the harbour gate. The street had not changed since the last years of the 1930s. The buildings were a bit the worse for wear but in reasonably good shape compared to other parts of the old town.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhd45_e2pIN_W39vH25s7AnF2p2vr42HYj04L-ObTjfbecTCDyTRKATtKAhhJbI_ei-xLR9s227fyE-nmdr6Z6V327r5A0Pkq6PDkAHWnHZjuZ1UPDjVEDhu0qwTn24YAtiqv2bkKS9cAqR/s1600/Gamla+och+nya+vattentornet.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="490" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhd45_e2pIN_W39vH25s7AnF2p2vr42HYj04L-ObTjfbecTCDyTRKATtKAhhJbI_ei-xLR9s227fyE-nmdr6Z6V327r5A0Pkq6PDkAHWnHZjuZ1UPDjVEDhu0qwTn24YAtiqv2bkKS9cAqR/s640/Gamla+och+nya+vattentornet.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;">Water Gate Street with Agricola’s steeple in the <a href="http://books.google.se/books/about/Karelen_landet_som_var.html?id=uFchNQAACAAJ&redir_esc=y">1930s</a> and in 2011.<br />
Find the differences between then and now!</span></i></td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">We sauntered on in good spirits to see another of Viborg’s many landmarks: the Round Tower (Pyöreätorni) in the old city, which King Gustav Vasa ordered constructed in 1550. The omnipresent Uno Ullberg renovated this Tower in 1923, converting it rather surprisingly into a restaurant and café. These now conduct a brisk business. We enjoyed a good lunch, surrounded by murals depicting scenes from the town’s long history. At our table we admired the mural depicting King <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Charles_VIII_of_Sweden">Karl Knutsson (Bonde)</a> (1409-1470), who was the powerful military governor (hövitsman, valtionhoitaja) of Viborg 1442-1448. Those with good eyesight and knowledge of Swedish can read the text on the wall. The murals appeared to have been there for 500 years but were in fact added by Ullberg. Sitting in these pleasant, medieval surroundings we felt transported back to the days of the Common Realm. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPZ-iQVd1PA4IwI4c6E0Z0H6MXGkc0NoEfrHQtC1Opeb7ZiIjsaikvnLEestpmz2-DWoO__SM_cTy8oJ-UjqUfM2l-CxxSJb6g9gOyQSjfQB6SQjTWFhXkBddX3xXPtlNP_I3w4FY-rTEy/s1600/Knutssontornet.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="216" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPZ-iQVd1PA4IwI4c6E0Z0H6MXGkc0NoEfrHQtC1Opeb7ZiIjsaikvnLEestpmz2-DWoO__SM_cTy8oJ-UjqUfM2l-CxxSJb6g9gOyQSjfQB6SQjTWFhXkBddX3xXPtlNP_I3w4FY-rTEy/s640/Knutssontornet.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;">The medieval Round Tower in Viborg’s centre provides food – also for thought</span></i> </td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">Viborg’s prime landmark is the <a href="http://kareliadiaries.blogspot.com/2011_05_01_archive.html">Castle</a>, once one of the three most important fortifications in the Realm. Built in the 1290s and successively fortified against recurrent sieges for four centuries, it guarded the eastern border. During the Great Northern War (1700-1721), Peter the Great occupied it in 1710 while Charles XII was occupied in ‘non-core business’ in Southern Russia. We climbed up the stairs of St Olof’s tower to get a bird’s eye view of the town and its surroundings. It was a faire sight. All the town’s blemishes faded when viewed at this distance on a summer day. Viborg was a virtual town. One saw always the past beyond the present. How could anyone fail to fall in love with Viborg, in spite of everything? <o:p></o:p></span></span></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUtGT1qZzVWlVdj7y0QEqTPHksw1j_52EORHTEM7H0tgEGzLRnuiwVJqhlxhK4edF8SnzD1eC7kfW_dQEdzYAs4m0DCy1qnUgbC1aU6lxRDcdQqLSK1BxA2BozOEPRReuTQoLnS0plF1YN/s1600/DSC_0319+Panorama+Master+(1).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="304" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUtGT1qZzVWlVdj7y0QEqTPHksw1j_52EORHTEM7H0tgEGzLRnuiwVJqhlxhK4edF8SnzD1eC7kfW_dQEdzYAs4m0DCy1qnUgbC1aU6lxRDcdQqLSK1BxA2BozOEPRReuTQoLnS0plF1YN/s640/DSC_0319+Panorama+Master+(1).jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;">The old town of Viborg – alive in our dreams</span></i></td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">We left town thinking what a waste of rich natural resources and strategic location the current political and economic system imposed! “Waste not, want not!” as Mother used to say. Here was a harbour located at an historical cross-road of trade with a hinterland rich in natural resources. Yet the farms lay vacant, the forests were underutilized, the water polluted, the towns impoverished and most houses uninhabitable. Can Viborg regain its former prosperity? Twenty years ago I visited a desperately run-down Tallinn one month after Estonia’s re-emergence as an independent state. I have since returned at roughly five year intervals and observed how quickly and dramatically a democratically elected government, a determinedly implemented market economy and a deep economic integration with the EU have restored the run-down town centre and raised the inhabitants’ low living standards. It is now difficult by casual empiricism alone to see a difference between Tallinn and other Hanseatic towns. In similar circumstances Viborg – and Karelia – could rapidly restore its former prosperity. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>Per Magnus Wijkmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14217307266155847493noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7025396287926893893.post-48315498454294903902012-02-28T19:01:00.050+01:002012-02-28T22:58:10.079+01:00IN SEARCH OF SAARINEN'S LEGACY<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPymhzmnCYgAb7G5JdKglDWZ5UeYSXvi79k1-xW_i5n0yAvKetJEizO5bsBIuEWbX1mcuP3eOI1a_KLCNVTpsrpDAHIGjFAdUXHBXgLO7H73OUHrLfau3_ijF_x2tcGeZWoamIv4DDbsGe/s1600/Suur-Merijoki-surroundings.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="450" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPymhzmnCYgAb7G5JdKglDWZ5UeYSXvi79k1-xW_i5n0yAvKetJEizO5bsBIuEWbX1mcuP3eOI1a_KLCNVTpsrpDAHIGjFAdUXHBXgLO7H73OUHrLfau3_ijF_x2tcGeZWoamIv4DDbsGe/s640/Suur-Merijoki-surroundings.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Suur-Merijoki - an architectural master piece<br />
Photo: Neuscheller; © <a href="http://www.nba.fi/en/index">Museiverket</a></span></i></td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">During mother’s visit to Karelia in 1937 she was fortunate to see two jewels of Finnish architecture. The Viborg railway station and the manor house Suur-Merijoki outside the city were prime examples of national romanticism (Jugend, Art Nouveau Nordic style) as developed by three pioneering Finnish </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large; line-height: 18px;">architects.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">In 1896 three students at the Technical Institute of Helsingfors (Helsinki) formed the architectural firm GLS: Herman Gesellius (1874-1916), Armas Lindgren (1874-1929) and Eliel Saarinen (1873-1950). Together with their families they formed a professional cluster. Saarinen’s second wife was Gesellius’ sister Louise, who later worked with Eliel as a professional colleague. Their two children, Eero and Eva-Lisa, were to be their ‘apprentices’. Saarinen’s first wife remarried Herman Gesellius. This remarkable cluster of architects was embedded in an international network formed by proximity to St Petersburg and a common language with Sweden. Already by the mid-1930ies their buildings in distant Karelia had achieved international fame and attracted many visitors.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Driving eastward from Helsingfors, one of Mother’s first stops was no doubt Suur-Merijoki, located about 10 km west of Viborg. The St Petersburg businessman Maximilian Othmar Neuscheller had commissioned GLS to design a summer home for him and all three architects worked on the house 1901-1903. Neuscheller was an avid photographer and took pictures of the house upon completion. It was as though he immediately realised that GLS had created a masterpiece for him.</span><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhf6Dt0SEZuKukyx8jW9j_iZGbhcmMhkmt64RUNyrjB-B7Fs8WrkdUzcbdXmlPIDms31F7c6G46_s0M82bSIuNQxWWTj0Pg2qzayZLorDZIj7VPDSpBhTn4IKmZf5pEtLRamqbF4avRDTE5/s1600/Suur-Merijoki-surroundings-1910+Master.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="460" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhf6Dt0SEZuKukyx8jW9j_iZGbhcmMhkmt64RUNyrjB-B7Fs8WrkdUzcbdXmlPIDms31F7c6G46_s0M82bSIuNQxWWTj0Pg2qzayZLorDZIj7VPDSpBhTn4IKmZf5pEtLRamqbF4avRDTE5/s640/Suur-Merijoki-surroundings-1910+Master.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Suur-Merijoki in color<br />
Photo: Neuscheller (about 1905), using first colour camera in Finland; © <a href="http://www.nba.fi/en/index">Museiverket</a></span></i> </td></tr>
</tbody></table></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Suur-Merijoki was a ”total art work” (Gesamtkunstwerk), meaning that the architects designed not only the house but also its interior decoration and furnishings. Each of the firm’s three architects designed a number of rooms. Here are two.</span><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg56tgqeULKTTvtG-y9YHsWNwChQeuK9K5bxEWDd4dZj50Mze5AioQGIUEuKqX0JuMBWRyrEruyuBVS_6AHROeQ7AegGFzaCglCMzDJQJ5PfHwUl7jYEOKm66yjNrfI4-WvlQyLKO_SnEMy/s1600/Suur-Merijoki+Interior.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="316" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg56tgqeULKTTvtG-y9YHsWNwChQeuK9K5bxEWDd4dZj50Mze5AioQGIUEuKqX0JuMBWRyrEruyuBVS_6AHROeQ7AegGFzaCglCMzDJQJ5PfHwUl7jYEOKm66yjNrfI4-WvlQyLKO_SnEMy/s640/Suur-Merijoki+Interior.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Plan for the hall (Eliel Saarinen, 1902);</span></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"> Plan for the bedroom (</span></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Herman Gesellius, 1903)</span></i><b><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><o:p></o:p></span></b></div><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Source: <a href="http://www.nba.fi/en/museums/hvittr%C3%A4sk/archive">Museiverket</a> (We are obliged to Pepita Ehrnrooth-Jokinen for expert guidance)</span><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;"> </span></i></td></tr>
</tbody></table></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Having heard enthusiastic reports from old timers who had visited this house in the 1930ies, we set off to find it. Guided by a pre-war road map, we kept branching off onto smaller and smaller country roads. The car tracks grew fainter and fainter and finally disappeared and the forest closed in around us. No cars had been driven here for years. We gave up our search and stopped the car to get out and stretch our legs before turning back. We had stopped close to a pile of granite stones. Upon closer inspection, we realized to our dismay that this pile of rubble was all that remained of Suur-Merijoki. The Soviet Air Force had bombed the house during the Winter War, completely destroying it. All that remained standing was a stone archway and some cellar fundaments.</span><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-Rpm0v_DG7EWZ1LFXpJMV-sgXvKbPM0WfPsS6-iQRD0HWLG62Xd5vPdHXeLTPwmHP9YxgYVpDH1kX2JICVAPAHxy_NV0_JKCZc0n77ifFRlfqXNIHEpVdbJKpeOvMOYi9WCah6qr-zjnY/s1600/Suur-Merijoki-entrances.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="294" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-Rpm0v_DG7EWZ1LFXpJMV-sgXvKbPM0WfPsS6-iQRD0HWLG62Xd5vPdHXeLTPwmHP9YxgYVpDH1kX2JICVAPAHxy_NV0_JKCZc0n77ifFRlfqXNIHEpVdbJKpeOvMOYi9WCah6qr-zjnY/s640/Suur-Merijoki-entrances.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Before the war … … and after </span></i><br />
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Photo on the Left: Neuscheller, © <a href="http://www.nba.fi/en/index">Museiverket</a> </span></i></td></tr>
</tbody></table></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">The bombing may have aimed at Satakunda Airport which the Finnish State built on the land after having purchased the manor in the 1930ies. Transportable rubble had been removed and recycled by the Soviets after the Continuation War. Abandoned by man, nature took over. Now silence and solitude prevailed in the forest.</span><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhANwVn36PeNePANXUWSZDTp-ZurYors9r-D2tylkYz4Gf6EyI1Qh0WzGcK3ACRdmSohuByfZKW4Gq0Ugr89wjQ5VrC-yLUdJwfmUJXVLg3HjY7Yaj-lcPc7ij7KhYs8LbvB42qKkWeVpsg/s1600/DSC_0012+Master.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="310" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhANwVn36PeNePANXUWSZDTp-ZurYors9r-D2tylkYz4Gf6EyI1Qh0WzGcK3ACRdmSohuByfZKW4Gq0Ugr89wjQ5VrC-yLUdJwfmUJXVLg3HjY7Yaj-lcPc7ij7KhYs8LbvB42qKkWeVpsg/s320/DSC_0012+Master.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Exploring what remains of Suur-Merijoki</span></i></td></tr>
</tbody></table></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large; line-height: 115%;">Fortunately, S</span><span lang="EN-GB" style="line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">uur-Merijoki has a well-known companion building, Hvitträsk, just outside Helsingfors which allows us to imagine what this destroyed past might have looked like. GLS built it 1902-1904 as private residences for the three partners and their families. Lindgren withdrew from the partnership in 1905 to become head of the School of Architecture at the Technical Institute of Helsingfors and Gesellius died in 1916 after several years of illness. Saarinen sold Hvitträsk in 1949 to private owners. The Finnish State bought it in 1981 and since 2000 a foundation under Museiverket manages it. </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="line-height: 115%;"><br />
</span></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Despondent, we drove back to Viborg to see what remains of the train station there. Saarinen and Gesellius had together designed and built it in 1910-13. A companion building is the train station in Helsingfors designed by Saarinen in 1907 and opened (after much redesigning) in 1919. Both stations are in a characteristic national romantic style. The designs initiated a professional debate that contributed to the subsequent breakthrough of functionalism in Finland in the late 1920s. </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh50zOgVMp6uGQATXlsSozxlzMF5PloKaG2tqz_6V9ET-8E9pLR6Xa8NkaNBfSOhpARXtWgV258laLwXSA4nmPJXoF4XfuDhh-7SFSYzdUcI0OU8BYBdt0OM-ipDJGJZapG1O4L0yaCKAQk/s1600/Railway+Stations.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="224" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh50zOgVMp6uGQATXlsSozxlzMF5PloKaG2tqz_6V9ET-8E9pLR6Xa8NkaNBfSOhpARXtWgV258laLwXSA4nmPJXoF4XfuDhh-7SFSYzdUcI0OU8BYBdt0OM-ipDJGJZapG1O4L0yaCKAQk/s640/Railway+Stations.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Gesellius-Saarinen’s Train Station in <a href="http://www.talaakso.fi/suomi/harrastukset/historiakuvat/viipuri_vanha.php">Viborg</a></span></i><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"> Saarinen’s </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Counterpart in <a href="http://www.raitio.org/news/uutis11/uutis112.htm">Helsingfors</a></span></i></td></tr>
</tbody></table></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Before Soviet troops withdrew from Viborg in the Continuation War in 1941 they blew up the train station. After the war the USSR replaced it by a station built in the neo-classical style favoured by Stalin. However, one part of the Gesellius-Saarinen station, in red granite, remains standing at the far end of that building.</span><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkHbd1_NlGPOT_mWosWJhZIUC7mmdwHCcyZoZWFTP1PExEuwhjb93mIZCrWLPpfSKTCW1U0svQrRGUkJXCgR7BsPDwjRxlAmCuSIyZ5E00PHcYFw92W-LsdrraWuYlwdJZRjC7TCTe18FD/s1600/_DSC0055end+of+the+(rail)road+Vyborg.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkHbd1_NlGPOT_mWosWJhZIUC7mmdwHCcyZoZWFTP1PExEuwhjb93mIZCrWLPpfSKTCW1U0svQrRGUkJXCgR7BsPDwjRxlAmCuSIyZ5E00PHcYFw92W-LsdrraWuYlwdJZRjC7TCTe18FD/s640/_DSC0055end+of+the+(rail)road+Vyborg.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">All that remains today of Gesellius-Saarinen’s Viborg Train Station</span></i> </td></tr>
</tbody></table></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Around the corner from the Viborg railroad station we saw a bus station that looked like an early example of Finnish functionalism. The bus station had been redesigned by the Viborg architect Uno Ullberg in 1937. We had lunch at the restaurant there, which we recommend to any retro-traveller who wishes to experience a Soviet worker’s lunch. The experience could also cure him of nostalgia for the workers’ paradise</span>. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">The destruction of Suur-Merijoki and the Viborg train station was a heavy blow for Eliel Saarinen. Some of his best works do not exist <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">in situ</i>, either because his designs were not constructed (like the Smithsonian Art Center) or because, once built, they were destroyed in the wars. Fortunately, some of Saarinen’s houses in Karelia survived leaving a treasured legacy there. Dr J. J. Winter, whose home we had seen in Sordavala (Sortavala), had commissioned Eliel Saarinen to design a summer home for him on the shore of Lake Ladoga about 8 kilometers outside Sordavala.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">We set off in search of doctor Winter’s summer house, called Tarunniemi, only to be stopped upon arrival by a guard at a vast gated community. Upon hearing our wish to see the house designed by Saarinen, he allowed us to enter. We made discrete inquiries and were given to understand that a Russian businessman had bought the land with Winter’s house in 2000 and was now converting it into a summer holiday resort. A few vacation homes had already been built and were available to rent. A condition for purchase of the land had been that the buyer must renovate the house designed by Saarinen. The exterior appeared in good shape but since the house was not open we were unable to see the inside. A look through the windows suggested that it was not furnished. No <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Gesamtwerkkunst</i> here! Maybe this was just as well, since the house seemed destined to serve vacationers mainly as an assembly point for evening cocktails. Although it was already June, we saw no summer guests. The house appeared lonely and we suspected it missed more convivial times in the past. </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjD7lKdzMHODeGPlasuWhMUTEeuqWHjd0eqEfpCZQQ8AnSKFQIUSXnRapbkMmz7f07YqzAfESE3YVYgObgjNmMgDIHOofNE3id-yWL_JjGZMYNUX-mWonulBvrM20Yqps0glRxCVFBQ5rNe/s1600/_DSC0066Master.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="482" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjD7lKdzMHODeGPlasuWhMUTEeuqWHjd0eqEfpCZQQ8AnSKFQIUSXnRapbkMmz7f07YqzAfESE3YVYgObgjNmMgDIHOofNE3id-yWL_JjGZMYNUX-mWonulBvrM20Yqps0glRxCVFBQ5rNe/s640/_DSC0066Master.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Dr. Winter’s summerhouse outside Sordavala </span></i></td></tr>
</tbody></table></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Saarinen’s national romantic style made us feel at home abroad. It was strikingly similar to houses in an affluent suburb outside Stockholm built about the same time and in a similar national romantic style. We went down the steps of Tarunniemi to the waterfront and admired the view of Lake Ladoga. Sitting on the bench in the stillness of a summer evening we realized that this was the house we had seen from the ferry on our way to Valamo. No wonder we had experienced a sense of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">déjà vu</i> although we had never seen the house before. </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcaqRJJdolhrkSRuQotOZhLryPLAVEEdxnsxTbOA4PSG0iupe04p1z4AXUpqiGFZl-CERZvNNJ4ctcigIQ5s5vDMBoB4s0alAxOYQaOG6Il_ei8TzM62Mqb7IrCN6BT0wZ_Eq22E1st9E6/s1600/_DSC0079+Duet+Master_1_1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="224" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcaqRJJdolhrkSRuQotOZhLryPLAVEEdxnsxTbOA4PSG0iupe04p1z4AXUpqiGFZl-CERZvNNJ4ctcigIQ5s5vDMBoB4s0alAxOYQaOG6Il_ei8TzM62Mqb7IrCN6BT0wZ_Eq22E1st9E6/s640/_DSC0079+Duet+Master_1_1.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">A relaxing view of Lake Ladoga</span></i></td></tr>
</tbody></table></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Albeit amateurs, we recognized that the unknown owner had taken care to restore Saarinen’s house and hoped that he would continue to treat it with the respect it deserved. Upon our return we found a rumour in a Finnish newspaper that the owner was a relative of a V. Putin. We were hardly surprised.</span><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Saarinen left Finland in 1923 with his family to serve as guest lecturer at the University of Michigan after winning second prize in the competition for the Chicago Tribune building. There, George Booth commissioned him in 1925 to design the Cranbrook campus in Bloomfield Hills, near Detroit. He became President of the Cranbrook Academy of Art and was its principle architect. Here Saarinen created a physical and intellectual environment that is recognized as the birthplace of American modernism. At about the same time in Germany, Hitler destroyed the Bauhaus School and many of its pioneers found refuge in the United States. The Swedish sculptor Carl Milles arrived in 1931 as resident artist and Head of Sculpturing. He lived next door to the Saarinens. Saarinen also designed the Cranbrook School for boys and the Kingswood School for girls in Bloomfield Hills.</span><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Given his location in the American Midwest, it is not surprising that Saarinen in 1947-1950 also designed the Art Center and prepared an expansion plan for Drake University, both in Des Moines, Iowa. His son Eero completed the Residence Halls at Drake after his father’s death in 1950. Eero was to become one of the foremost modernist architects in the USA with works such as Dulles International Airport outside Washington, D.C., the TWA Flight Center at J.F. Kennedy Airport, New York, and the Gateway Arch in Saint Louis, Missouri, on the Mississippi River.</span><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0eFm6RCOXKM9Qm2-yAJwhHat2P4ODcOxX2HAbFD9rV-IcscoB2_oMOhRAF_Ql7JOVxpADkdlVtpMTp3YF50VgkY8GaIrCUxkKJXWwH5xF1S7vrsr-E3MOOMeHMdRdpM2UOgYsVIGnd5Md/s1600/Saarinen+des+moins.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="276" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0eFm6RCOXKM9Qm2-yAJwhHat2P4ODcOxX2HAbFD9rV-IcscoB2_oMOhRAF_Ql7JOVxpADkdlVtpMTp3YF50VgkY8GaIrCUxkKJXWwH5xF1S7vrsr-E3MOOMeHMdRdpM2UOgYsVIGnd5Md/s640/Saarinen+des+moins.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">The <a href="http://www.desmoinesartcenter.org/">Art Center in Des Moines, Iowa</a>, designed by Eliel Saarinen and completed 1950</span></i></td></tr>
</tbody></table></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Saarinen’s years in America and my mother’s years in Finland created intersecting circles of personal history. Mother was born in Des Moines and she died there 100 years later. She was very proud of the Art Center and supported it actively in various ways throughout her life. When doing so she recalled the many buildings by Saarinen that she had seen in Finland. She no doubt spoke enthusiastically of Saarinen to her friends on the board of the Art Center. Nor was it a coincidence that one of Mother’s daughters attended Kingswood School in Cranbrook, where she sculptured. She created objects there and at the Des Moines Art Center that later in life would turn her home and garden into a Gesamtkunstwerk. I digress, but only in a superficial sense. </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">On the way back from looking for Saarinen’s works in war-ravished Karelia we drove through Kurkijoki. This was the only county in rural Karelia which was Swedish speaking, having once been populated by immigrants fleeing a famine in Sweden. We passed a small jugend house in Hiitola parish which caught our eye. In striking contrast to the surrounding dwellings the house was in excellent shape, having been restored recently.</span><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixcbkrJoH6RTxP3Cfe4E6x8IyJeFRa3Eae-DwVqqeC2PfSuuUnHFLq_M3NR1N15lVp-9myR3CiTsJsJTBbrJ4D4y10KUNKMu1GNTK21a9V4yJE1OaDrWhlKesP2NSirI4919DdwtHYgka0/s1600/_DSC0207+Master.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="258" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixcbkrJoH6RTxP3Cfe4E6x8IyJeFRa3Eae-DwVqqeC2PfSuuUnHFLq_M3NR1N15lVp-9myR3CiTsJsJTBbrJ4D4y10KUNKMu1GNTK21a9V4yJE1OaDrWhlKesP2NSirI4919DdwtHYgka0/s400/_DSC0207+Master.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">A house in Kurkijoki county designed by a Master in 1915</span></i></td></tr>
</tbody></table></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Even our untrained eyes could see that this modest house was the work of a master. We stopped to look more closely at this remarkable house, which appeared “out of this world”. </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">W<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">hen we got back to our computers we discovered that the house was designed in 1915 by Lars Sonck (1870-1956) for his brother Karl Joel Sonck. Together with Eliel Saarinen he was the leading national romantic architect at the time, active mainly in the Åbo (Turku) region. He designed Ainola, the home of Aino and Jean Sibelius, completed in 1904, and Villa Guldstrand, Nådendal, (Villa Kultaranta, Nantali), in 1916, which is now the official summer residence of the President of the Republic. We thanked the unknown present owner for having spotted this gem in the wilderness and restored it. </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilTdoM_ziDJ_cwnyUqdIrY5p6L1eG9iVg-7y1sNKPPdIg4i-23kEzKy7nA1YN2k-jEt93xFSH2yyuc0VDTkMxrg4GpHsSXLsys4cbIe3kyg93NAC6wL-rT_eQqmVKaPixm_ETuk_mENCtE/s1600/_DSC0208a+Master.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="498" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilTdoM_ziDJ_cwnyUqdIrY5p6L1eG9iVg-7y1sNKPPdIg4i-23kEzKy7nA1YN2k-jEt93xFSH2yyuc0VDTkMxrg4GpHsSXLsys4cbIe3kyg93NAC6wL-rT_eQqmVKaPixm_ETuk_mENCtE/s640/_DSC0208a+Master.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Architect Lars Sonck from Western Finland designed this house for his brother</span></i></td></tr>
</tbody></table></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">We drove off to see the once-famous but now-deserted sandy beaches in Kurkijoki. Alone on the beach balancing between sea and sky, we reflected upon the many sad memories of a destroyed legacy that we had seen in Karelia. Creative spirits had produced rare works of art and culture here. War had destroyed them and expelled the population leaving behind a wasteland. After Europe’s many wars the European Union has done much to reconcile former enemies. But Karelia remains an open sore. How much sand must run through the hourglass before it heals? </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div></div>Per Magnus Wijkmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14217307266155847493noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7025396287926893893.post-68888622780092141102012-02-08T17:06:00.009+01:002012-02-10T00:02:59.865+01:00SAILING TO A CELESTIAL ISLE<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi54SEHfodf2j8UtDgp7G_PvR5QfIQbJ_7oyX7rhKc6Tk1IwlG8jKrjw7Gx7bmYQsx9wEtU_ZqE1olALCZptGm2D6MkzvS5yLwMNINR4P6CFjmnmgrQZnWF-z3odooiLjuQezt9rHxhtQUk/s1600/Valamo+Ikon.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi54SEHfodf2j8UtDgp7G_PvR5QfIQbJ_7oyX7rhKc6Tk1IwlG8jKrjw7Gx7bmYQsx9wEtU_ZqE1olALCZptGm2D6MkzvS5yLwMNINR4P6CFjmnmgrQZnWF-z3odooiLjuQezt9rHxhtQUk/s640/Valamo+Ikon.jpg" width="540" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;"><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Icon_valaam_monastery_19th_century.PNG">19th century Ikon</a>; Valamo Monastery in the background</span></i><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;"> </span> </td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">As Mother travelled east with me in this Nordic country in 1937 she noticed an increasingly exotic flavour. She passed more and more churches with the characteristic Greek Orthodox cross on their steeple. A significant Greek Orthodox population lived in Karelia and contributed to its special character. Upon Finland’s independence in 1917, the Orthodox churches in Finland had become an autonomous entity directly under the Greek Orthodox patriarch in Constantinople and with a Orthodox Seminary and Patriarch in Karelia’s second largest city Sordavala (Sortavala), close to where most of the Greek Orthodox in Finland then lived. <o:p></o:p></span></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSpY-bWy5pt5RFCmG6K_UcepYtcjK5WIyTJYcfUZlXmhenOEJiivOvzymrxttEwsl515h7hFJ4rqRSerZGE9Sam9SQQ5B6Q_aXwSp1hrRSM6uG_jhswl4kt8zAnLeAbJEilm5XSXc8MlxV/s1600/_DSC0117+Master.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSpY-bWy5pt5RFCmG6K_UcepYtcjK5WIyTJYcfUZlXmhenOEJiivOvzymrxttEwsl515h7hFJ4rqRSerZGE9Sam9SQQ5B6Q_aXwSp1hrRSM6uG_jhswl4kt8zAnLeAbJEilm5XSXc8MlxV/s640/_DSC0117+Master.jpg" width="352" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><div class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">The Seminary and headquarters of the Greek Orthodox church in Sordavala </span></i></div></td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">This made Karelia different. No wonder Mother’s acquaintances in the diplomatic community in Helsingfors (Helsinki)<span style="color: red;"> </span>urged her to visit the famous Greek Orthodox monastery on the island of Valamo (Valaam) in Lake Ladoga. So Mother took the ferry from Sordavala to Valamo, where her vessel docked below the Monastery. Upon stepping ashore she entered a different world – a world of contemplation, community and communion with God. <o:p></o:p></span></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiduCItWILy0Ohk-Ws0rZokqGfsdgz0hEjzqxIIBFdaPY-vgo9Q_IyLg7OW3LFrDEyVRNAMjMjinOTRon_PAWL8FtgbfCPs8k1pQ2n2AT_ueVlY2pphq7ch_BFpKC0AgxaLxHZ1gknYT6M7/s1600/Valamo+Overview.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="472" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiduCItWILy0Ohk-Ws0rZokqGfsdgz0hEjzqxIIBFdaPY-vgo9Q_IyLg7OW3LFrDEyVRNAMjMjinOTRon_PAWL8FtgbfCPs8k1pQ2n2AT_ueVlY2pphq7ch_BFpKC0AgxaLxHZ1gknYT6M7/s640/Valamo+Overview.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;"><a href="http://valaam.ru/en/photos/oldvalaam/1590/">Valamo in the late 1930s</a></span></i></td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">About 150 monks lived on this distant island so as to be free from the distractions of the material world. Most lived in the large central monastery, while some chose to live as hermits in small cabins (sketes) scattered throughout the islands. They praised god not only in the Cathedral but also in their daily life, which was self-sufficient, simple and ascetic. <o:p></o:p></span></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxKKTTMK1d5WvUl7CSGtroPMSgj-hUxLAwiL-n5wGLUyZfu77sNbjhLt0-iOE2JiJz-9j9vih1uXoicpamclMzyQoD2JQqrmr9AVy76f8UlFBBCZOJsbCItNPl_KZRMil4LizTtmIn7al8/s1600/Monks+icebathing.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="303" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxKKTTMK1d5WvUl7CSGtroPMSgj-hUxLAwiL-n5wGLUyZfu77sNbjhLt0-iOE2JiJz-9j9vih1uXoicpamclMzyQoD2JQqrmr9AVy76f8UlFBBCZOJsbCItNPl_KZRMil4LizTtmIn7al8/s400/Monks+icebathing.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;">The Monks’ traditional winter bath at Epiphany<br />
<u> Photographer</u>: <a href="http://valaam.ru/en/photos/kompaniychenko/1939/">Sergey Kompaniychenko</a></span></i></td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">But no man is an island and the bell soon tolled for this special community. Two years after Mother’s visit the monks were no more on this celestial isle. History had repeated itself. Today the Karelian homeland is gone, its population is scattered and its identity is diluted. The relatively few Greek Orthodox adherents dispersed in today’s Finland are mostly descendants of those who fled from Karelia in 1941 and 1944. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 12pt;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">Founded as the most northerly Greek Orthodox monastery around 1000, give or take a century, Valamo was ideally located for a community that wished to avoid the temptations of the world. However, located on the border between East and West, it was repeatedly visited by bloody conflicts. Here, both spiritual and temporal realms clashed. Swedish forces burnt the buildings and killed the monks in 1576 during one of the many wars with Russia. Valamo fell to Finland-Sweden in the Stolbova Peace Treaty of 1617. The Swedish kings, which the Constitution required to be Lutheran, let the monastery stand empty for over 100 years. Freedom of religion did not characterize the times; on the contrary. Many Orthodox believers fled to Russia fearing prosecution by the king’s Lutheran Church. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 12pt;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">When this area reverted to Russia in 1721, the Orthodox Church initiated a major reconstruction programme, which laid the ground for the buildings that we see today. But during the Winter War the USSR bombed the monastery (which at the time was in Finland). <o:p></o:p></span></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvpKAX1-2ie7oDKQFFsVGQ4fQeKe9anDKVkis_D-QRqEk5Ml2jxW40I7Gv7df5kDdZnbX09g5_XTzqpU-pmzoFaR0w7Sc70FpCdNB1YMKCStvnB4Ro5ihqx-y2bI80xbNm38gwhcVF4Gzn/s1600/Valamo+Havoc.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="283" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvpKAX1-2ie7oDKQFFsVGQ4fQeKe9anDKVkis_D-QRqEk5Ml2jxW40I7Gv7df5kDdZnbX09g5_XTzqpU-pmzoFaR0w7Sc70FpCdNB1YMKCStvnB4Ro5ihqx-y2bI80xbNm38gwhcVF4Gzn/s400/Valamo+Havoc.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;"><a href="http://valaam.ru/en/photos/oldvalaam/1667/">Havoc after Winter War</a></span></i></td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">Finland evacuated about 150 monks to Heinävesi, where they founded New Valamo. After 1944 when Ladoga Karelia was ceded to the Soviet Union, Valamo monastery and other Greek Orthodox establishments in Finnish Karelia were again placed under the patriarch in Moscow. They eked out a meagre existence for a few years under an atheistic regime. Soon that regime closed the monastery and used the buildings for secular purposes, during which period they deteriorated. The monastery was not returned to the Orthodox Church until 1989. Would it be in bad shape? Would we see memories of the past haunting the present? We decided to find out and, following in Mother’s footsteps, we boarded the passenger ferry in Sordavala.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 12pt;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">The sea journey takes about 2 hours and is pleasant when the sea is not rough. The fare was exorbitant but when we saw that most of the passengers were Finnish we understood that we were paying ‘tourist prices’ for the ferry, as we had for coffee at the empty new cafeteria by the small dock. Most Russian visitors took the overnight boat from St Petersburg to Valamo. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 12pt;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">The ferry left the small pier in Sordavala and for about thirty minutes steered through a cluster of islands reminiscent of the Stockholm archipelago. Early June was exceptionally warm, so we basked on deck in the sun while the cries of the seagulls broke the silence and the ferry’s prow parted the waves and sprayed us with foam. Transposed to this distant country we felt transported back to those carefree summer vacations of early childhood. In this festive mood the few farms and cottages on the receding coastline took on a familiar look. Especially one large house on the waterfront inspired a strange feeling of <i>déjà vu</i>. Where had we seen this familiar house before? The political borders on our map told us we were in Russia. But the borders of our mental maps told us we were at home. We searched our memories but in vain. This puzzle followed us unsolved for several days.<o:p></o:p></span></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifDBzWXB0bAwLaTidSaF4JALT1vHWTVKKFt1g9itGvi_VclI5m2Uzk5uQjMIzKN69FFHNcErvOa7IrYFW7CH5BFTyQz3dIq0rJ31za4-eZpxFz-xwN-sgeuGPfh7-EMe5vsBmg3uHXhj62/s1600/_DSC0059+Master.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="335" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifDBzWXB0bAwLaTidSaF4JALT1vHWTVKKFt1g9itGvi_VclI5m2Uzk5uQjMIzKN69FFHNcErvOa7IrYFW7CH5BFTyQz3dIq0rJ31za4-eZpxFz-xwN-sgeuGPfh7-EMe5vsBmg3uHXhj62/s400/_DSC0059+Master.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;">Leaving Sordavala, our ferry passed a hauntingly familiar house on the shore of Lake Ladoga</span></i></td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">After a while we lost sight of the land behind us and the vast expanse of water that opened up ahead reminded us that we were on Europe’s largest lake. We relaxed until we saw in the distance the monastery’s spires and domes floating on the water. The ferry passed through a narrow straight guarded by a freshly painted chapel. <o:p></o:p></span></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiL3UeDdwmc4_YTD8pwT9NUd4TmNdxaN_VA-sywR7Pa3IXv6BnbSKOaLJcpZkN03XN7ne0dL69n_-yjIbmmvl55hVuLvNyxyA1QbpdS2xK97t7Z0nYs6Zc1iNtvxVuPhiO1TsK9SD0EHaF8/s1600/_DSC0066+Master.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiL3UeDdwmc4_YTD8pwT9NUd4TmNdxaN_VA-sywR7Pa3IXv6BnbSKOaLJcpZkN03XN7ne0dL69n_-yjIbmmvl55hVuLvNyxyA1QbpdS2xK97t7Z0nYs6Zc1iNtvxVuPhiO1TsK9SD0EHaF8/s400/_DSC0066+Master.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;">A chapel welcomes pilgrims to a sheltered cove on Valamo</span></i></td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">We glided silently into the sheltered harbour where the ferry docked. We had reached a safe haven. On the hill-top, the monastery glowed in the noonday sun. The buildings were far from being run down. We gazed in surprised amazement as they glistened in the sunshine. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 12pt;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">The harbour was a hive of activity. Construction workers were hard at work expanding the docks to receive more vessels and building new facilities to entertain more tourists. We descended the gangplank and were engulfed by stalls catering to tourists. <o:p></o:p></span></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIC4NS5vmxqJKUBeW9VJpA6j9UsqeZAe4xaFPsEzAyY0NuWHMrvrdqYqqKUhNGYE-m1wMArrvfGD499wfZ8qUEHc-6y-PY3h1rQUkjuQvI0ffRBLR164hqboSpTvUJlobPmRZjIiVw8cQl/s1600/_DSC0077+Master.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="476" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIC4NS5vmxqJKUBeW9VJpA6j9UsqeZAe4xaFPsEzAyY0NuWHMrvrdqYqqKUhNGYE-m1wMArrvfGD499wfZ8qUEHc-6y-PY3h1rQUkjuQvI0ffRBLR164hqboSpTvUJlobPmRZjIiVw8cQl/s640/_DSC0077+Master.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;">The harbor today with the Valamo Monastery on top of the hill</span></i></td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><span lang="EN-GB">We squeezed our way through the crowds and past the vendors and ascended the hill to the monastery, only a few hundred meters away. Bulbs had sprouted in the lawns and flowers in bloom cast a cascade of colors.</span><span lang="EN-GB"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLKNbiE7XOTnY9RKzetrzahC-HSdp63_OkwnOcNf4-jWAuGiwIbThWvvdGwIANV_DhI1maRxz83w1moiKpqWy5FE58WraXsgtkTxt6GINNOmYP_Yv5rDcpjubdX3jd1qzAZA2QUBQQYtLc/s1600/_DSC0080+Master_1_1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="290" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLKNbiE7XOTnY9RKzetrzahC-HSdp63_OkwnOcNf4-jWAuGiwIbThWvvdGwIANV_DhI1maRxz83w1moiKpqWy5FE58WraXsgtkTxt6GINNOmYP_Yv5rDcpjubdX3jd1qzAZA2QUBQQYtLc/s640/_DSC0080+Master_1_1.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;">On the hill to the Monastery a Madonna with child welcomed us amidst blossoming June flowers</span></i></i></div></td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">At the top of the hill, we approached the entrance to the Monastery and passed through the Holy Gates into a large open square. <o:p></o:p></span></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjThxOhMqmcy4gl_E5BAe8DhiJNetq16M7QEeDj9Lr44kjPtIES1C9Vvfz-cwFl3pK1zbcaYlMw2a1rCNt4r9BQQHruBkXPKuC7eQelu0BYG860Mz73b6ZFc1d4c_8ENpOtWBeAGvAZwhG5/s1600/_DSC0085+Master1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="261" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjThxOhMqmcy4gl_E5BAe8DhiJNetq16M7QEeDj9Lr44kjPtIES1C9Vvfz-cwFl3pK1zbcaYlMw2a1rCNt4r9BQQHruBkXPKuC7eQelu0BYG860Mz73b6ZFc1d4c_8ENpOtWBeAGvAZwhG5/s400/_DSC0085+Master1.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;">The Holy Gates – the entrance to the Monastery</span></i></td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><span lang="EN-GB">We stood in the square in front of the breathtaking sight of the Cathedral of the Transfiguration of the Saviour. Pilgrims and tourists alike stood silent in awe of its beauty. The gold leaf on the crosses of the Cathedral and its turquoise roofs contrasted with the white buildings and the green leaves of the trees. Monks in long black habits hastened back and forth tending to the grounds and the buildings. The recent renovations gave the monastery a sparkling appearance. This was a far different sight than what had greeted Mother seventy years ago. T</span><span lang="EN-GB">he throngs of </span><span lang="EN-GB">people diluted somewhat the feeling of a sacred place. Were there more tourists than pilgrims there? To get a glimpse of earlier monastic life click on the word "<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yOn27K4fHKw"><b>Video</b></a>".<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLeR1tY1Wc_Yt4SeTcsaJyWqKXXjVX4Km6g_yJMvuI98IbLTdFzQSN-D7WjYZEuubpy7yVjLBWNdJZIe69JJpNP0l0TPrggLOnb8AFSAYelovqXHiw4TPMU23tqCnZQkfeqSqyxIobjvkE/s1600/_DSC0089+Duet+Master.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLeR1tY1Wc_Yt4SeTcsaJyWqKXXjVX4Km6g_yJMvuI98IbLTdFzQSN-D7WjYZEuubpy7yVjLBWNdJZIe69JJpNP0l0TPrggLOnb8AFSAYelovqXHiw4TPMU23tqCnZQkfeqSqyxIobjvkE/s640/_DSC0089+Duet+Master.jpg" width="594" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;">Cathedral of the Transfiguration of the Saviour in refurbished splendor</span></i></td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><span lang="EN-GB">We entered the Cathedral, which was crowded with worshipers celebrating a holy day. Invisible behind a screen some monks chanted while others walked among the celebrants swinging holders of burning incense. Young and old attended the service. We were witnessing a timeless ceremony. The apparent confusion could not conceal a sense of deep emotion.</span><span lang="EN-GB"> </span><span lang="EN-GB">The ceremony was the same today as 100 or 1000 years ago; the same in this renovated dome as in a hermit’s hut.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 12pt;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">Restoration of the monastery had started in 2002 and made rapid progress. The grounds and the many buildings were in good condition. The costly renovation was largely funded by the State but we understood that the choir of the Monastery had also contributed funds raised by world-wide singing tours. State support for the Monastery reflected the Government’s promotion of the Orthodox Church as a symbol of Russian nationalism.<o:p></o:p></span></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQm9Wq-yjKAJpjPNgjDRYMaEHVGJQ6YzV2aEVAMj8g_sx4udhH8_D6t1gamf7rzMrf1k2P_1iBsUWfbhG-Les_ZeflbCcxYr_TP2mGcHTMobhTIvagOL4xxSQlvD3cZk_pTVUq6dbX85Wn/s1600/_DSC0093+Master+%25281%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="460" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQm9Wq-yjKAJpjPNgjDRYMaEHVGJQ6YzV2aEVAMj8g_sx4udhH8_D6t1gamf7rzMrf1k2P_1iBsUWfbhG-Les_ZeflbCcxYr_TP2mGcHTMobhTIvagOL4xxSQlvD3cZk_pTVUq6dbX85Wn/s640/_DSC0093+Master+%25281%2529.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;">Monks singing in the Cathedral – above them the golden splendor of the dome<br />
<u>Photographers</u>: Emil Ems (left) and <a href="http://valaam.ru/en/photos/savvaty/1720/">Hieromonk Savvaty</a> (right)</span><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;"> </span></i> </span></td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">The sums spent restoring Valamo had led to impressive results. However, viewed over the centuries this latest reconstruction seemed to be only one swing in history’s pendulum between destruction and renewal that haunted the Monastery. What Caesar could give, he could also take away. A next generation to visit here might well find the buildings in disarray again. For us, the restored elegance of the Cathedral did not project a sense of “power and glory” but was a reminder of the impermanence of matter, of vanity. So like the monks, we contemplated the transitory nature of our existence and, taking the long view, tried to find meaning in the greater scheme of things: <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 12pt;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 12pt;">Time present and time past<br />
Are both perhaps present in time future,<br />
And time future contained in time past.<a href="http://valaam.ru/en/photos/oldvalaam/1667/">http://valaam.ru/en/photos/oldvalaam/1667/</a></span><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>Per Magnus Wijkmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14217307266155847493noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7025396287926893893.post-19259076465489522172012-01-24T12:44:00.036+01:002012-01-24T16:29:49.393+01:00VANISHING MANORS<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: left;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6yLdgJORQqcG-5d8r-x79qWp717qvXrCnW99vAidA1H5xS-Bg7x1cvHf7-ISX2quIazv5RAvOWLSa2H9Ei4vmxu7YnIls3wVBX8wE0-Qc-twmDLj8ug8PrTSyW1F4Fd0PTjZ1IzRT82ER/s1600/Serfdom+Monument1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="486" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6yLdgJORQqcG-5d8r-x79qWp717qvXrCnW99vAidA1H5xS-Bg7x1cvHf7-ISX2quIazv5RAvOWLSa2H9Ei4vmxu7YnIls3wVBX8wE0-Qc-twmDLj8ug8PrTSyW1F4Fd0PTjZ1IzRT82ER/s640/Serfdom+Monument1.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><a href="http://books.google.se/books/about/Karelen_landet_som_var.html?id=uFchNQAACAAJ&redir_esc=y">Monument in Pyhäjärvi (in the late thirties)</a> celebrating the abolition of serfdom </span></i> </td></tr>
</tbody></table></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">Passing Pyhäjärvi, we saw a lone monument standing in a field. We stopped the car, jumped out and approached it on foot to satisfy our curiosity. The monument’s plaque indicated that it was erected in 1936 (design by Aarno Karimo) to celebrate the centennial of the abolition of serfdom in this formerly Russian – but then Finnish – part of Karelia. It looked rather forlorn. Having recently lost its ‘crown’, it had a slightly decapitated appearance and, over the years, grass had crept up its once impressive steps.</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6bvqUUwNpJnvOGzGwQwWFWOpVhd_yc-wMM0c4Hm7GzudFrQm0ZvYkKKSz_3gqEXpor-rPf4fyJ9GJ6KM-XAJ2LKSHXSX02G4bbYDOF8ZdOWIXRSxPLNQAEcn1JMYgqjNdLTtXtkHAJ6Q5/s1600/serfdom+monument+now+and+then.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="262" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6bvqUUwNpJnvOGzGwQwWFWOpVhd_yc-wMM0c4Hm7GzudFrQm0ZvYkKKSz_3gqEXpor-rPf4fyJ9GJ6KM-XAJ2LKSHXSX02G4bbYDOF8ZdOWIXRSxPLNQAEcn1JMYgqjNdLTtXtkHAJ6Q5/s400/serfdom+monument+now+and+then.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><a href="http://books.google.se/books/about/Karelen_landet_som_var.html?id=uFchNQAACAAJ&redir_esc=y">The monument before the war</a> ... ... and nowadays<o:p></o:p></span></i></div></td></tr>
</tbody></table><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">Why was there serfdom in Karelia when it did not exist in the Finnish-Swedish Realm? Russia introduced serfdom in Estonia, Livonia, Ingria and East Karelia (Kexholm/Käkisalmi county) when it took these Baltic provinces in 1721. But already as Swedish possessions they were not fully integrated into the Common Realm. They were not represented in the Realm’s Parliament, nor subject to all its laws. Farmers in the Common Realm owned land, were free citizens and were represented in a fourth estate of Parliament. In the ‘provinces’ society was more feudal and the German-Baltic nobility had large landholdings. To increase his control, the Czar awarded the serf-owning Russian nobility landholdings (so-called donation manors) in his new possessions. When Kexholm county reverted (with the rest of ‘Old Finland’) to the Grand Duchy of Finland in 1812, serfdom continued there. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 12pt;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">Why did it take until 1836 for the autonomous Finnish Government to abolish serfdom? The donation manors were dependent on cheap labour provided by serfs. The owners of the manors demanded, and received, compensation from the Grand Duchy for the ‘economic losses’ due to abolition. Sweden had a similar problem. It abolished trade in slaves on its Caribbean island of Saint Barthélemy in 1813 but abolished slavery there only in 1847 after negotiations to determine compensation for slave owners. Not until 1861 did Alexander II abolish serfdom in Russia.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">The memory of serfdom, as well as Karelia’s proximity to the cradle of the Russian Revolution in St Petersburg, made the civil war (leading to Finland’s independence) especially fierce in Karelia in 1918. About five hundred meters from the monument in Pyhäjärvi celebrating the abolition of serfdom lies a cemetery where the victorious white side raised a monument in 1919 to the unknown soldier of the civil war, a war characterized by summary executions of prisoners and by internment camps. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOrRdWMavKMWD_LgiYJQ847wJtH7aqiiJzVz5VStC2KRsT_GlQ98xBIhSVvYjowRSyg857IhNowP_2mmN2WGQ4hgM6oSOcZi2l7Z40jOhily_uwGPm3wdqR6EpVTZz5kxJDI6EbsY-tqeC/s1600/_DSC0239+1918+unknown+soldier+monument+Pyha%25CC%2588ja%25CC%2588rvi+graveyard.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOrRdWMavKMWD_LgiYJQ847wJtH7aqiiJzVz5VStC2KRsT_GlQ98xBIhSVvYjowRSyg857IhNowP_2mmN2WGQ4hgM6oSOcZi2l7Z40jOhily_uwGPm3wdqR6EpVTZz5kxJDI6EbsY-tqeC/s400/_DSC0239+1918+unknown+soldier+monument+Pyha%25CC%2588ja%25CC%2588rvi+graveyard.jpg" width="265" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Unknown Soldier Monument at entrance to Pyhäjärvi Cemetery</span></i></div></td></tr>
</tbody></table></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">Our curiosity aroused by these two related monuments in Pyhäjärvi, we set out to find donation manors on the Karelian Isthmus. While the institution of serfdom was long gone, manors could still exist. What shape would they be in now? Would anyone live there? <o:p></o:p></span><br />
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</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">This search would eventually bring us back to Pyhäjärvi. But we headed first for the Stubb manor located outside Viborg (Viipuri), which, as rumor had it, was once the ancestral home of Finland’s current Minister for European Affairs, Alexander Stubb. The house was in relatively good shape since it had served as a camp for Young Pioneers until the dissolution of the USSR in 1991. Although currently empty, it had recently harboured a tenant. The large green-painted manor house was surrounded by an untended garden and numerous outhouses. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOMUE8J0vPsLGYzuoXbyt2J-q1FqBJysp95Pg7Bu7AceGVzoYdtRzB0GMQGqUAT9mOhkFFW0xZ1sZs5LCNEo4_ESCcJW54hYx7aXyapELRIh19BRMVy5qrpeeP2yb7hATuBKGbBMrBIman/s1600/Stubb+Manor.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="310" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOMUE8J0vPsLGYzuoXbyt2J-q1FqBJysp95Pg7Bu7AceGVzoYdtRzB0GMQGqUAT9mOhkFFW0xZ1sZs5LCNEo4_ESCcJW54hYx7aXyapELRIh19BRMVy5qrpeeP2yb7hATuBKGbBMrBIman/s640/Stubb+Manor.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><div class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">The presumed Stubb Family Manor<o:p></o:p></span></i></div></td></tr>
</tbody></table><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: inherit;">Statues of young pioneers, one with his broken arm raised in an incomplete salute, graced the park in front of the manor - a disheveled Sleeping Beauty awaiting an awakening kiss. No prince was in sight. </span>Though its run-down condition was sad to observe, we were to discover that the Stubb manor was exceptional among the donation manors in that it was still standing. In failed empires the large manors and estates of the governing classes tend to stand empty until either the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">nouveaux riches</i> move in or the buildings are destroyed. Karelia was no exception.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 12pt;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">On our way to the next manor, Niemelänhovi, we approached a village that a road sign (in Cyrillic letters) identified as <i>Mejeri</i>. This was an unlikely place-name since “mejeri” is the Swedish word for dairy. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi41X2WuV8zMrZFi4TkTzBnorSi-lIleWweqKEvzuWdK14XvWXERisei00LLAsTzQ1GeLj8oIekwNiLSKee1v-e6iCQeS69A0w4OUUivEGQJc4WIRqiOpW7VQYU-0iRbz0slPqQwhH5PVmn/s1600/Mejeri+sign+and+building.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="192" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi41X2WuV8zMrZFi4TkTzBnorSi-lIleWweqKEvzuWdK14XvWXERisei00LLAsTzQ1GeLj8oIekwNiLSKee1v-e6iCQeS69A0w4OUUivEGQJc4WIRqiOpW7VQYU-0iRbz0slPqQwhH5PVmn/s400/Mejeri+sign+and+building.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt;">A village called Dairy (Mejeri) ... due to many dairy buildings</span></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></i></div></td></tr>
</tbody></table></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><span lang="EN-GB">The explanation for this place name became apparent as soon as we arrived at the manor house Niemelänhovi</span><span lang="EN-GB">. </span><span lang="EN-GB">It had once included several barns and other outhouses. During the interwar period, the Finnish government had taken over the manor and converted it into a regional dairy school. As a large institution in a small community the dairy had given its name to the village. <o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhIC-Tx3DUByueOf79Py6Gvja-Vfvg9c-WqjsfkNhRQojgjrJQsa_V3dD7vQg2uLmjx-Qhf00vbl7s73ESEAvl4BEIqlOxrrlaMtpejMrisdVLNfNuA7UHGGTadQmbuuUHoh3f1irKXz3v/s1600/Niemela%25CC%2588nhovi+Manor.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="314" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhIC-Tx3DUByueOf79Py6Gvja-Vfvg9c-WqjsfkNhRQojgjrJQsa_V3dD7vQg2uLmjx-Qhf00vbl7s73ESEAvl4BEIqlOxrrlaMtpejMrisdVLNfNuA7UHGGTadQmbuuUHoh3f1irKXz3v/s640/Niemela%25CC%2588nhovi+Manor.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><div class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">In the nick of time Niemelänhovi manor house is being transformed - into a luxurious vacation resort?<o:p></o:p></span></i></div></td></tr>
</tbody></table></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">Niemelänhovi was empty and in bad shape. However, it stood on a small height commanding a fine view of the adjacent lake, giving the manor commercial potential. The unknown owner aimed to realise this potential by renovating the manor and adding on a semi-circle of modern villas. Behind a tall fence to keep out trespassers, construction workers were starting to transform it into what we guessed would be an exclusive resort. We were kindly allowed to take a look around. Such a commercial venture requires considerable financial backing. Prospects for success struck us as uncertain given the distance to St Petersburg. Maybe the owner hoped to attract tourists also from across the nearby Finnish border. Was this creation of luxury in the midst of poverty an old Russian tradition? <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 12pt;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">We headed next for Herttuala Manor outside Viborg, a graceful building with a lakefront view, once the home of Captain E. von Hertzen. We imagined that in this pastoral and idyllic environment a von Hertzen, perhaps the one mentioned by Runeberg in his patriotic poems of the war of 1808/1809, had once enjoyed brandy and good conversation on the veranda overlooking the lake. The graceful manor deserved no less! <o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxWvnqOm3sf1C6Ff4UK2B0nxKkUXE7qyGy4unwg1phpDsAJbU_d91DEIy7f7AeKVC_nB7yuQUsCaB9NktIrzlV9bv5497cDFS-2EDRzUrfcRKPe6bDJfq1wyu6fbwb9qWq-JHKIb-YVY7H/s1600/Herttuala+Mansion.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="286" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxWvnqOm3sf1C6Ff4UK2B0nxKkUXE7qyGy4unwg1phpDsAJbU_d91DEIy7f7AeKVC_nB7yuQUsCaB9NktIrzlV9bv5497cDFS-2EDRzUrfcRKPe6bDJfq1wyu6fbwb9qWq-JHKIb-YVY7H/s400/Herttuala+Mansion.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><a href="http://books.google.se/books/about/Karelen_landet_som_var.html?id=uFchNQAACAAJ&redir_esc=y">Herttuala Manor in 1938</a> <o:p></o:p></span></i></div></td></tr>
</tbody></table></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">However, our search for the manor appeared to be in vain. We were about to turn back when, driving down a desolate country road, we saw a cluster of trees in the middle of an abandoned field. Having come this far, we decided to take a closer look. We found no manor behind the trees, but we discovered foundation stones and metal works concealed in the midst of them by the underbrush. With so little remaining of the manor, our dream of enjoying a brandy on the veranda came to naught!</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiU28nJl1p_7XF5U6Pma4Gicuz4HXKOa7k932HROU-T0lhOcTpte_R-XCkn4fLBg-7sCU1rzaVulhvl1lcq5W5EmOg-_vf4Ruk4gI8lJxbO-_ooF3FZBo5bEsyZbTyahyphenhyphenmCDVMFsAdOirIX/s1600/DSC_0002+Herttuala+Ruin.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="318" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiU28nJl1p_7XF5U6Pma4Gicuz4HXKOa7k932HROU-T0lhOcTpte_R-XCkn4fLBg-7sCU1rzaVulhvl1lcq5W5EmOg-_vf4Ruk4gI8lJxbO-_ooF3FZBo5bEsyZbTyahyphenhyphenmCDVMFsAdOirIX/s640/DSC_0002+Herttuala+Ruin.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">This is what remains of Herttuala Manor today<o:p></o:p></span></i></div></td></tr>
</tbody></table><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">Driving a few hundred meters further on we turned a corner on this lonely country road and were surprised to discover a row of dachas under construction. Each dacha, the one more ostentatious than the other, had a waterfront view and an impenetrable fence around it. Here was a gated community in an abandoned landscape. This incongruous collection of different types of houses, each competing to be larger than its neighbour, was hardly the commercial venture of a well-heeled oligarch. It was more likely to be the result of individual speculation in real estate by those rich, clever and lucky enough to have obtained title to a lot here. We saw no signs of life. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 12pt;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">We fled this conspicuous investment in the former Socialist paradise and set off to Kuusaa on the Isthmus to find the manor of the parents of Alexandra Kollontay (1872-1952). As Soviet ambassador in Stockholm 1930-1945, Madame Kollontay helped bring about the peace negotiations between Finland and the USSR that ended the Winter War. She had a personal interest in the Karelian Isthmus, having spent her summer vacations as a child in Kuusaa, then part of Finland but very close to St Petersburg. When she retired she planned to return to Kuusaa, then part of the USSR. She spent the last years of a remarkable life writing her memoirs in 10 volumes. An individualist, a radical feminist, an advocate of free thinking and free love and a compassionate soul, Mme Kollontay was not exactly Stalin’s type of girl. She would hardly have survived his purges had she remained in the USSR. She could not publish her memoirs at the time and deposited the ten volumes in a vault. They are now said to be in the closed archives of the Communist Party in Moscow. They are likely to be a treasure-trove of information about the period. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbTFjFvMYpIu3HNBmx1hEUvlPZk7cJO_3Ze30iU8ilrGr1ZZo-ku6VNSAcsgpw53KFnUy6tXWT234QlI2ygjtk6TLZ-QBGlr2oxdotQFMs49xT3ArcQMz8AuTaDOa-kJ_G0qeJZ0D9RNe5/s1600/Kuusaa+Manor+2000-2002.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="428" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbTFjFvMYpIu3HNBmx1hEUvlPZk7cJO_3Ze30iU8ilrGr1ZZo-ku6VNSAcsgpw53KFnUy6tXWT234QlI2ygjtk6TLZ-QBGlr2oxdotQFMs49xT3ArcQMz8AuTaDOa-kJ_G0qeJZ0D9RNe5/s640/Kuusaa+Manor+2000-2002.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Looting accelerating at Kollontay Manor in Kuusaa; year 2000 (top), 2001 (left) and 2002 (right)<o:p></o:p></span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Source: <a href="http://prokarelia.net/fi/?x=artikkeli&article_id=265&author=3">Markus Lehtipuu </a> <o:p></o:p></span></i></div></td></tr>
</tbody></table></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">After the war, the manor was converted into a Pioneer Camp and new Soviet-style buildings were constructed around it. When the Soviet Union collapsed in 1992, twenty years after her death, the houses stood empty. The manor burned down in May 2005 for unknown reasons. Today only the foundation remains. The buildings built during the soviet era were looted for their roofs and windows. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_Wu_5QK57G8_jq6TMZXuQeOTKqIpb02Jpe-8AxzHe2tCIhsFa1hEVN94TXKhmOp9kukdYW9oQMY5Y_Tkq1OHY2ZWOI8RpXy9eKQoO-pAON-uFDYriTuQ5vQxtfWPXjk9wSwaIas5nQtEp/s1600/_DSC0318+Kollontaj+Kuusaa+Ruin.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="228" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_Wu_5QK57G8_jq6TMZXuQeOTKqIpb02Jpe-8AxzHe2tCIhsFa1hEVN94TXKhmOp9kukdYW9oQMY5Y_Tkq1OHY2ZWOI8RpXy9eKQoO-pAON-uFDYriTuQ5vQxtfWPXjk9wSwaIas5nQtEp/s640/_DSC0318+Kollontaj+Kuusaa+Ruin.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Kollontay Manor in Kuusaa; year 2011</span></i> </td></tr>
</tbody></table><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">We returned to Pyhäjärvi to close the circle. Anyone whose palate has relished the sweets served in the Fazer konditori on Glogatan (Klokatu) in Helsingfors (Helsinki) - or elsewhere - cannot resist the temptation to visit Taubila manor at Pyhäjärvi, last owned by Kommerserådet (Kauppaneuvos) Berta Fazer. (The translation ‘Commercial Councilor’ is but a pale shadow of this ancient and honorific title.) This was perhaps the most elegant of the donation manors built during the Russian period. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYEdrZtnQLlY6-DKvNJ8NI9IfchgogB4-mofOERM3h3RcOiKqK_iLZkKdtNwanNFMUc_b3MZJ9ucTUuiULuQyi5XC3B4P-popDhNTX40gsmDqba59vnwGKCszizV3MMPn87FTxN_rWcWLx/s1600/Fazer+Mansion.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYEdrZtnQLlY6-DKvNJ8NI9IfchgogB4-mofOERM3h3RcOiKqK_iLZkKdtNwanNFMUc_b3MZJ9ucTUuiULuQyi5XC3B4P-popDhNTX40gsmDqba59vnwGKCszizV3MMPn87FTxN_rWcWLx/s640/Fazer+Mansion.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><a href="http://books.google.se/books/about/Karelen_landet_som_var.html?id=uFchNQAACAAJ&redir_esc=y">The Fazers’ Manor Taubila in Pyhäjärvi </a><o:p></o:p></span></i></div></td></tr>
</tbody></table></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">Taubila was previously also an example of the evils of serfdom, notorious for its “whipping pines” where corporal punishment of serfs was meted out. It was perhaps not a coincidence that the monument celebrating the abolition of serfdom was raised here in Pyhäjärvi. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoHUU-koajI2pccjiXgj-6OWZRMUncNmXtsA_IPGLpwrQi2SW-m7kc-QCa5sUuJTIl6ecx4VMc4ExsfIGwd2jVNl5OH2A-SSRs1Y-GPELGnD5y9QABMYegGn1DBs7vFA5S7atYS3yOxw6t/s1600/_DSC0300+Taubila+ruin.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoHUU-koajI2pccjiXgj-6OWZRMUncNmXtsA_IPGLpwrQi2SW-m7kc-QCa5sUuJTIl6ecx4VMc4ExsfIGwd2jVNl5OH2A-SSRs1Y-GPELGnD5y9QABMYegGn1DBs7vFA5S7atYS3yOxw6t/s400/_DSC0300+Taubila+ruin.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><div class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Taubila Manor; year 2011 – Sic transit gloria mundi!<o:p></o:p></span></i></div></td></tr>
</tbody></table></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">The Finnish civil war occurred only two generations after the abolition of serfdom and its evils were still remembered. It is fitting that the last monument to show on this post was one raised during Soviet times to honour the dead on the red side in the civil war.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4Ckww92UUPPvl78-gTkXY8gc8OTXRibuClNX1ULP3sCl7Y_8HX_PwQYE8MkXJNXkZNypYNm8VaoHIE9F05_Mu0lz1EfxTgWyZq3myexrCT4IH9KNWL_mUukTa3HG1JloqpX5ur_O1-qNi/s1600/DSC_0259+Soviet+1918+Memorial.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="494" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4Ckww92UUPPvl78-gTkXY8gc8OTXRibuClNX1ULP3sCl7Y_8HX_PwQYE8MkXJNXkZNypYNm8VaoHIE9F05_Mu0lz1EfxTgWyZq3myexrCT4IH9KNWL_mUukTa3HG1JloqpX5ur_O1-qNi/s640/DSC_0259+Soviet+1918+Memorial.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Soviet Monument outside Viborg honouring the red fighters in the Finnish Civil War</span></i></div></td></tr>
</tbody></table></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">The Manor houses in Old Finland were architectural pearls and their destruction a cultural loss. But they represented a social system, which cast a long shadow in Finland, both as an autonomous and as a sovereign state. Serfdom aroused strong feelings. Serfdom and civil war was a bitter legacy that Russia left behind in Finland. Was it the only legacy? Destruction of these magnificent manors on the Isthmus continues to this day. Soon they will be no more. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>Per Magnus Wijkmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14217307266155847493noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7025396287926893893.post-53023196370088469062012-01-18T12:21:00.031+01:002012-01-18T14:08:38.997+01:00… A WASTELAND THEY CALL PEACE<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjC_a0yZQA8XvCWtdYcR0xGE853-CFBgiKKRhC8gygnnYwEXaPSqivWYJk4vMHGHFhOGEd_t0BDb7K4F1NqFO7TFyHXroUzDc3KrQPW-8pHGmgQKITbwxrckPjYq3a0Owz9G_bfPNuAQzFE/s1600/_DSC0315+Master.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjC_a0yZQA8XvCWtdYcR0xGE853-CFBgiKKRhC8gygnnYwEXaPSqivWYJk4vMHGHFhOGEd_t0BDb7K4F1NqFO7TFyHXroUzDc3KrQPW-8pHGmgQKITbwxrckPjYq3a0Owz9G_bfPNuAQzFE/s640/_DSC0315+Master.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">The “Cross of Sorrow” at Koirinoja</span></i></td></tr>
</tbody></table><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">Only a few memorials remind the traveler that Karelia’s silent green landscape is one huge war cemetery. About 83,000 Finns and 333,000 Russians (including civilians) died in the Winter War and the War of Continuation alone. About twice those numbers were wounded. In both wars Karelia was a battlefield where the dug-in Finnish army faced massive onslaughts. The largest pitched battle in the Nordic theatre took place in the Continuation War at Tali Ihantala (June-July 1944), just north of Viborg after its fall, and was decisive for Finland’s survival as a sovereign state. Only a laconic inscription, in Finnish and Russian, on a simple stone overlooks a strategic part of the vast battlefield. Finnish volunteers still search there for traces of the missing dead. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiV48gIWdE7vpfalkCZp6fJuPO0A0VM7VvlfJvkO20j4uXPFr7ExDsirO4QzoEF3JUvaQ1s5XWsm10NgeSt-gs_zRR_e86VBs_q6UZp2yTAVfBghtvreFyA0-jEsg8Dtxr4zcNS1fjl6nI1/s1600/DSC_0036+Master_1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="246" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiV48gIWdE7vpfalkCZp6fJuPO0A0VM7VvlfJvkO20j4uXPFr7ExDsirO4QzoEF3JUvaQ1s5XWsm10NgeSt-gs_zRR_e86VBs_q6UZp2yTAVfBghtvreFyA0-jEsg8Dtxr4zcNS1fjl6nI1/s640/DSC_0036+Master_1.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: time; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Memorial Stone at Tali Ihantala overlooking part of the battlefield</span></i></td></tr>
</tbody></table></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">A more notable and impressive memorial is the Cross of Sorrow in Koirinoja (title picture), just north of Pitkäranta on the east coast of Lake Ladoga, commemorating one of the bloodiest battles of the Winter War. About 6,000 Finnish and 36,000 Russian soldiers were killed there in January-February 1940 as several Russian armored divisions headed towards Sordavala (Sortavala) from Petrozavodsk. Using their famous ‘motti’ tactic, the outnumbered Finns destroyed the Russian divisions by allowing them to advance along forest roads well into Finnish held territory before breaking the long columns into small, immobilized segments by simultaneous attacks from the side. (Motti is a Finnish word used for chopped fire wood.)<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyKPoQstkFaDhnIxOMC7-7m_KITyHyj1aONUG3osBhFPOf6DZRXITrW5QMuhwqpAHsw3xD-riOFk4tjpD3tRUEewlkuwBoLnZh-mOqyYbZCibUm9LNZ6OhyphenhyphenXUM5EfsVnHFIkd-KYuJdtua/s1600/Remains+from+Motti_1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyKPoQstkFaDhnIxOMC7-7m_KITyHyj1aONUG3osBhFPOf6DZRXITrW5QMuhwqpAHsw3xD-riOFk4tjpD3tRUEewlkuwBoLnZh-mOqyYbZCibUm9LNZ6OhyphenhyphenXUM5EfsVnHFIkd-KYuJdtua/s640/Remains+from+Motti_1.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">A “<a href="http://books.google.com.au/books/about/The_Winter_War.html?id=JW_oPzpq3TQC">motti</a>” attack left miles and miles of wreckage</span></i></td></tr>
</tbody></table></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">After the fall of the USSR, the Russian and Finnish governments agreed in 1992 to honour the dead of both countries on both sides of the new border. Leo Lankinen, of Petrozavodsk, won the competition for the Koirinoja memorial which was raised among the trenches of the war. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqNhYiRGOPBtoSCwGxPufnKQoWkv6f6D7eNNHL2LEAwv60mU3rvzAJcPl1L8X7Jri9zFVVx72Ws_JaR19e2Kj7cvfn1WNqgRg4GIs8NH-wIFmtBEFranqb0VdaGLMr_V76becneCmlHDNC/s1600/_DSC0321+Master.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="262" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqNhYiRGOPBtoSCwGxPufnKQoWkv6f6D7eNNHL2LEAwv60mU3rvzAJcPl1L8X7Jri9zFVVx72Ws_JaR19e2Kj7cvfn1WNqgRg4GIs8NH-wIFmtBEFranqb0VdaGLMr_V76becneCmlHDNC/s400/_DSC0321+Master.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Calibri;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 17px;"><i> <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Remains of war trenches at Koirinoja</span></i> </i></span></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">Both sides agreed on the memorial’s form and text and funded its construction. Raised in 2002, it is still in good shape, which is more than can be said about the surrounding infrastructure. The near-by washroom facility did not survive the first winter. When spring came, local interests had removed the door and the sanitary equipment. A decade later the facility is still not restored and garbage accumulates in a large pile outside – an indication of the local authority’s priorities. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiC91FA-oMrVJwCM-_44Cwr58B8uO2gxkGYU9V0Na8192S8oKtWY-VgxIgXHvnj4Z_-_OpudpX6ISKiQWif270BZ3022exaYtcWEEzh-dj_RdcWMVxOZDiKWIEaNz-gxLddW6ozan3Dz6oD/s1600/_DSC0308+Master.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="303" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiC91FA-oMrVJwCM-_44Cwr58B8uO2gxkGYU9V0Na8192S8oKtWY-VgxIgXHvnj4Z_-_OpudpX6ISKiQWif270BZ3022exaYtcWEEzh-dj_RdcWMVxOZDiKWIEaNz-gxLddW6ozan3Dz6oD/s400/_DSC0308+Master.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Modern conveniences are much sought after</span></i></td></tr>
</tbody></table></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">More Finnish than Russian visitors appear to stop at the memorial. At our visit, a boisterous group of Russian school children played on the grounds, while their portable radio, placed on the memorial’s base, blared western music. We took the liberty to turn it off. Thereafter, we joined a group of Finnish visitors attentively listening to its guide’s lecture about the bloody battles on these fields.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3CuZnxtGoPa0v1A40VOalVTpiAR9edgTTOOY_hoDMaEmBHP642fIkKGaSeQF2kTa_MyvKirPMPTjZcMnpGBFbpZVjM2VsC39Cql6Rm7gE7f-fdk6n3KYu9GISdaEqnTAh088S9INarBs3/s1600/_DSC0311+Master.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="476" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3CuZnxtGoPa0v1A40VOalVTpiAR9edgTTOOY_hoDMaEmBHP642fIkKGaSeQF2kTa_MyvKirPMPTjZcMnpGBFbpZVjM2VsC39Cql6Rm7gE7f-fdk6n3KYu9GISdaEqnTAh088S9INarBs3/s640/_DSC0311+Master.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">The Finnish guide explains the battle of Koirinoja</span></i></td></tr>
</tbody></table></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">Most of the members of the group were too young to have participated in these battles. We guessed that their parents had participated or were refugees from the area. They kindly offered us a cup of coffee from their portable canteen and cheered us on our way by singing the <i>Marching Song </i>(Marssilaulu) written during the Winter War by the Nobel Laureate in literature of 1939 Frans Eemil Sillanpää (1888-1964) and set to music by Aimo Mustonen. Click on the word “<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dGWLtkAbPNY">VIDEO</a>" to see and hear them sing the song.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnctOrg04nGotI_3Q-TboCywWdTZHya5LQ30sF39k_6lzQNZpVRBDAPpKqrQjPTo54mdXTxy9k_Ed3EhVLeTWLczepT3Y84dYC-27YpaxDYNSHxGHxo_5AWB_v22d1xvSUmh7LkJhrUFXl/s1600/_DSC0325+Master.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="457" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnctOrg04nGotI_3Q-TboCywWdTZHya5LQ30sF39k_6lzQNZpVRBDAPpKqrQjPTo54mdXTxy9k_Ed3EhVLeTWLczepT3Y84dYC-27YpaxDYNSHxGHxo_5AWB_v22d1xvSUmh7LkJhrUFXl/s640/_DSC0325+Master.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Nordic bonding at the Cross of Sorrow</span></i></td></tr>
</tbody></table></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">We saw few memorials of the battles in the Winter War and the War of Continuation. However, we kept stumbling across reminders of the many battles in previous centuries. This was not surprising since today’s border is close to the border that prevailed between 1721 and 1812. Consider but two monuments that we saw!<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">The first commemorates the battle at Ruskeala on 17 May 1789. Presumably the monument was raised only after 1812 when Finland was an autonomous Grand Duchy (although war memorials still had to be approved by the Czar). It was destroyed by the USSR after 1944, perhaps because it stood in the playground of the village’s nursery school and could have disturbed the minds of young children.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQaBarxy9MACfRGdCdmNuWK3x9eajzryxBkLJ3onaX2s60ES_F0gIvdKKfp320twfQQ48XXuQGAo6cVMmivJ9wNFo2FbfsGdlDUYmjGUbIvLGgz6Tqw4llnSfx7elRJ2gmyUrVmgtb5eTD/s1600/1789+Memorial+and+fundament.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="414" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQaBarxy9MACfRGdCdmNuWK3x9eajzryxBkLJ3onaX2s60ES_F0gIvdKKfp320twfQQ48XXuQGAo6cVMmivJ9wNFo2FbfsGdlDUYmjGUbIvLGgz6Tqw4llnSfx7elRJ2gmyUrVmgtb5eTD/s640/1789+Memorial+and+fundament.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">The <a href="http://books.google.se/books/about/Karelen_landet_som_var.html?id=uFchNQAACAAJ&redir_esc=y">Ruskeala Memorial in the thirties</a> (possibly at the 150th anniversary) … and today</span></i></td></tr>
</tbody></table></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">Seizing the opportunity given by the outbreak of war between Russia and Turkey in 1787, Gustav III attacked Russia in 1788 in the hope of recovering territorial losses of 1721. Incompetently prepared and unconstitutionally declared, the king’s war was doomed when his navy failed to gain mastery of the Bay of Finland at the outset. On land, Russian troops quickly dispersed an army led by an officer corps that was ill-trained and ill-motivated and unable to stop the Russians. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">Openly opposed by the army’s Finnish officers in Finland, always the theater of wars with Russia, the war proved a series of disasters. Saved at last by a naval victory at the second battle of Svensksund (Ruotsinsalmi), Gustav III accepted an outcome of <i>status quo ante bellum.</i> Circles in the nobility, which formed the officers’ corps, exacted revenge by assassinating the king in 1792. The assassination provided the original plot for Verdi’s opera <i>The Masked Ball</i>. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">The second memorial at near-by Pälkijärvi honoured heroes of the Finnish wars of 1789 and 1808-09. Among those involved was Fredric Vilhelm Malm (1772-1826), of Kuopio, who participated in both wars as an officer in the famous Savolax Brigade. In the first, he was promoted for bravery in battle. The second war started when Alexander I attacked Sweden, a year after meeting Napoleon at Tilsit in 1807, to force it to join the Continental Blockade against the United Kingdom.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSA_njWNXwXtF5_jLo-frY68YXe0P8HT_hyphenhyphenhV2SdcUbbdkJXL3MLxYBBVKWbesBbizdEdKBzKlW4RyozFZGMfDoLD9zjIXszGUXibSXEWv1Y4MMJa_6bTDUDDK4BdL93nhctBo6TZZzX7F/s1600/_DSC0049+Master.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="474" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSA_njWNXwXtF5_jLo-frY68YXe0P8HT_hyphenhyphenhV2SdcUbbdkJXL3MLxYBBVKWbesBbizdEdKBzKlW4RyozFZGMfDoLD9zjIXszGUXibSXEWv1Y4MMJa_6bTDUDDK4BdL93nhctBo6TZZzX7F/s640/_DSC0049+Master.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Pälkijärvi Memorial</span></i></td></tr>
</tbody></table></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">Who was Captain Malm, honoured by this lonely memorial at the intersection of two country roads in a desolate country? We turned to Johan Ludvig Runeberg (1804-1877), Finland’s poet laureate of the Finnish war of 1808-1809, to find out. Runeberg mentions Malm in the very first poem of his war epic <i>Fänriks Ståls sägner (The Tales of Ensign Stål, Vänrikki Stoolin Tarinat)</i>, published in 1848 and 1860, where an inquisitive school boy asks a wizened veteran to tell him about the war. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt;">Jag satte mig på sängens halm, I took my seat upon his cot,<br />
Han började berätta charmed by the tales he told<br />
Om Dunkers eld, om Kapten Malm, of Dunkers’ fire and Captain Malm<br />
Om mången bragd för detta; and many a hero bold;<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">On 9-10 August 1808 Captain Malm had chosen to attack rather than to retreat. With a small band of soldiers and armed peasants, he pursued and routed a twice as large Russian troop at Pälkijärvi on the Finnish side of the border. Thereafter he crossed the border to occupy temporarily the village of Pirttipoja - the only Russian territory taken in that war. Dunker, a legendary figure himself, promoted Malm to Major. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">Malm’s exploit had greater impact on morale than on the outcome of the war. This war was lost by incompetence and treason at higher levels. Gustav IV’s strategy was to fall back in the face of advancing Russian troops, converting all Finland, and ultimately Sweden proper, into battlefields. Runeberg captures popular dissatisfaction with the military leadership in his denunciation of the incompetent commander-in-chief, Gustaf Mauritz Klingspor (1744-1814). <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; tab-stops: 70.9pt;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt;">”Den som sagt att Klingspor stannat, “You say that Klingspor dares to face<br />
Han har talt förbannat galet. The enemy? You’r sore mistaken!<br />
Adlercruetz det var och Hertzen, Adlercreutz it was and Hertzen<br />
Som slog knut uppå vår nesa.” Who put an end to our disgrace.”<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; tab-stops: 70.9pt;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">Wherever we went, we were reminded that Karelia had been a battlefield between East and West for over one thousand years. From the Vikings to the crusaders, from the centuries’ long struggle with Russia for mastery of the coasts of the Baltic Sea to the expansion of Stalin’s USSR, Karelia was always the first battlefield. Now a wasteland, it is an example of a policy characterised already two thousand years ago by Tacitus: </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">ubi solitudinem faciunt, pacem appellant. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></i></span></div>Per Magnus Wijkmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14217307266155847493noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7025396287926893893.post-68773440591880062122012-01-06T18:26:00.050+01:002012-01-08T21:45:31.643+01:00TOMBSTONES THAT SPEAK ...<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_PCyQyvEyKLFRXcMsTlcKIsKMDC_ydRSNs1tM-rWaFEo49wO2LcDZjAX5YW7xTgfA8gxPJDweEs0ge7OD8-MStL6YPQ9li9NoKQMpaovBbPs13T6NDs3mwSRP5AE70mxoTR8TstMPWTsK/s1600/_DSC0242+Alopaeus+stone+overgiven+churchyard+Sortavaa.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="434" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_PCyQyvEyKLFRXcMsTlcKIsKMDC_ydRSNs1tM-rWaFEo49wO2LcDZjAX5YW7xTgfA8gxPJDweEs0ge7OD8-MStL6YPQ9li9NoKQMpaovBbPs13T6NDs3mwSRP5AE70mxoTR8TstMPWTsK/s640/_DSC0242+Alopaeus+stone+overgiven+churchyard+Sortavaa.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">An Alopaeus family tombstone in the Lutheran Cemetery in Sordavala</span></span></i></td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large; line-height: 115%;">Cemeteries harbor many memories. A tombstone can summon up memories of a person, a family, a community and sometimes even of an historical era. In the Lutheran Cemetery in Sordavala (Sortavala), the name Alopaeus stands on the foundation of what was once an impressive tombstone. It tells the curious passerby a story. <o:p></o:p></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">The known founder of the Alopaeus family was Tomas Kettunen, a farmer in Savolax (A region in what is now called Eastern Finland) in the 16th century. His descendants, having received an education and learnt Latin, enjoyed the social mobility characteristic of the times. They served the church, as priests and bishops, and also three regents, of Sweden, Russia and Finland, without having to move between these countries. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">As was the custom, the family Latinized its name to Kettunius and eventually, since kettu means fox in Finnish, Hellenized it to Alopaeus (fox is alopex in Greek). Some members of this Viborg-based family wound up on the Russian side of the border when it was redrawn in 1721. Two brothers, Magnus (1748-1821) and Frans David (1769-1831), served the Russian Czar as diplomats. Frans’ life tells a story of duty and diversity. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">As a Swedish-speaking Russian diplomat from Old Finland, Frans David Alopaeus served in the Russian Embassy in Stockholm from 1796 to 1809. He supplied the Czar with information on Sweden’s military capacity, which proved useful when Russia attacked Sweden in 1808 during the Napoleonic wars. The next year Alopaeus was a signatory of the peace treaty in Fredrikshamn (Hamina) which transformed Finland from forming a Realm with Sweden to being a Grand Duchy under the Russian Czar. In 1812 Russia’s border moved east and the Grand Duchy now included Frans’ hometown. By a stroke of the pen, Frans resided in Finland instead of Russia. 132 years later the border moved west again and the Alopaeus tombstone now stands in Russia, in a silent wilderness. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">Many of the fallen and broken tombstones here could tell similar stories. What is the story of, for instance, merchant Petter Berg and his wife Aleksandra, born Invenius? </span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0ZutTcQbSifNh4smuk7CI_uOpio1XddX93PxQuyF5LoR3_gXmtys1QCnehiM-jIXblPpZKM8wIgXJzHzQqSmQBcPdB6NdMcoFMdJi5dcSNJfU5m0GEpw_mBowGQMFFePmWp0nrBKP31Bm/s1600/_DSC0244++Fallen+grave+stone+overgiven+churchyard+Sortavala.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0ZutTcQbSifNh4smuk7CI_uOpio1XddX93PxQuyF5LoR3_gXmtys1QCnehiM-jIXblPpZKM8wIgXJzHzQqSmQBcPdB6NdMcoFMdJi5dcSNJfU5m0GEpw_mBowGQMFFePmWp0nrBKP31Bm/s400/_DSC0244++Fallen+grave+stone+overgiven+churchyard+Sortavala.jpg" width="265" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"> A fallen tombstone in Sordavala’s Lutheran Cemetery</span></i> </td></tr>
</tbody></table></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><span style="line-height: 115%;">In a land of ever-shifting borders, the terms East and West lose their meaning. For centuries Finland was the easternmost part of Western Europe but in 1809 it became the westernmost part of an Asian Empire. In borderland Karelia the diversity of languages, religions and nationalities created a rich culture, which flowered until 1939. The expulsion of those who embodied this meeting of east and west created more than 400,000 personal tragedies. In addition, it destroyed a culture.</span><span style="line-height: 115%;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">When the living left, their dead stayed behind. Who cares for the dead? Slowly but surely nature is taking over the abandoned cemeteries and graves. Trees – mostly coniferous – grow among the graves and cast ever longer shadows. Weeds fill the free spaces. Moss slowly covers the toppled tombstones.</span></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhu3SeAIQzXQPJspakdZoqqQ-uvQ9XINrc2zpgKQGGUQkamEawRxu665ht-H2PAr7xccq2NFsX07IjWrc3_0LW4M81sO4dOqdA6FRWqIgCZcIp85IQ9f_WK2vdhAYndRdC8c4TQ9zJDZL4o/s1600/_DSC0349+Two+decading+gravestones.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="476" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhu3SeAIQzXQPJspakdZoqqQ-uvQ9XINrc2zpgKQGGUQkamEawRxu665ht-H2PAr7xccq2NFsX07IjWrc3_0LW4M81sO4dOqdA6FRWqIgCZcIp85IQ9f_WK2vdhAYndRdC8c4TQ9zJDZL4o/s640/_DSC0349+Two+decading+gravestones.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: 'Times roman'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Tombstones fading slowly into oblivion </span></i></td></tr>
</tbody></table><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">We wandered through rows of orphaned tombstones. The Lutheran stones had stood in straight lines and preached salvation by doing good deeds in a short life rather than by faith alone. The Orthodox graveyards had hosted meetings of the quick and the dead to celebrate the joy and eternity of the good life. Now the tombstones in the former lie broken and the plastic flowers of the latter fade in the silence of the cemeteries. Both share with the Jewish Cemetery in Prague the despair of abandonment.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">The Russian government allows occasional bus loads of volunteers from Finland to tend to some Finnish cemeteries. Practical considerations limit their stay to a few days allowing them only to restore the most damaged graves and to remove the worst underbrush.<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large; line-height: 18px;">After fifty five years of official atheism, the Russian government now allows the Greek Orthodox parts of the cemeteries to maintain graves and new names to be inscribed on tombstones. Here and there, old people tend to graves and “bear bread to the dead”. In Karelia it is customary for the living to sit at a small table by the tombstone and eat with the dead as though visiting in a small garden plot. Once again, it is possible for the living to converse with the dead in the graveyards.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFmby_YPZE0YR0hazjCNScEMN0ruPd6fJtwgP-wHxV4eh8T3QiqAODKg1QKTR96Hy7_9gNem4eAWpSCl37iImYMjChKW9TWD0JDJyLp_qsHXzulyJjXA7q6TWHoUk9ghcCXv5bKSw8OzGG/s1600/_DSC0356+Orthodox+grave+Tulema.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="438" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFmby_YPZE0YR0hazjCNScEMN0ruPd6fJtwgP-wHxV4eh8T3QiqAODKg1QKTR96Hy7_9gNem4eAWpSCl37iImYMjChKW9TWD0JDJyLp_qsHXzulyJjXA7q6TWHoUk9ghcCXv5bKSw8OzGG/s640/_DSC0356+Orthodox+grave+Tulema.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">An Orthodox graveyard in Tulema visited by the living</span></i></td></tr>
</tbody></table></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><span style="line-height: 115%;">The overgrown cemetery in Tulema outside Salmi, not far from the border established in 1617, contains the graves of about twenty of the 400 who died in the</span><span lang="EN-GB" style="line-height: 115%;"> Aunus</span><span style="line-height: 115%;"> voluntary expedition in 1919. Today the memorial commemorating their failed expedition stands forsaken in the wilderness.</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><br />
</span></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large; line-height: 18px;">These Finnish volunteers set out in 1919 to assist the white guards in Olonets Karelia to fight the red guards, some of them Finns who, defeated in the Finnish civil war, had fled independent Finland. The main objective of the expedition was to make the river Svir (Syväri in Finnish) between lakes Ladoga and Onega the new State’s border, thus incorporating Aunus Karalja (Olonets Karelia in Finnish) in Finland. This would be easier to defend than the 1617 border and would, incidentally, also incorporate a significant Finnish speaking population into Finland even though Olonets Karelia had never been part of Finland.</span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgODIu_FtdOF64fLlh7dVw5n4ZP5BVIPKd8v76G4uFZjOPpmOB0hNpGeNkgjA3q8eTPfWdMy8XA6Bo_b_I1d8iKMve4oS6XiILXbqSwcnNFr3XPfvWbKpsvEG8Soxj8OU0Xz9EU3enAawU6/s1600/Old+and+new+Anus+stones.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="254" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgODIu_FtdOF64fLlh7dVw5n4ZP5BVIPKd8v76G4uFZjOPpmOB0hNpGeNkgjA3q8eTPfWdMy8XA6Bo_b_I1d8iKMve4oS6XiILXbqSwcnNFr3XPfvWbKpsvEG8Soxj8OU0Xz9EU3enAawU6/s640/Old+and+new+Anus+stones.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;">The Aunus Memorial Stone in <a href="http://books.google.se/books/about/Karelen_landet_som_var.html?id=uFchNQAACAAJ&redir_esc=y">1938</a> and 2011 </span></i></td></tr>
</tbody></table><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">The Finnish expeditionary force of 2000 volunteers set out in April 1919 from the border town of Salmi, venturing further east than Gustavus Adolphus had ever dared send his troops. One branch led by Paavo Talvela attempted unsuccessfully to take Petrozavodsk, the capital of the region. Another led by Gunnar Emil von Hertzen soon reached the city of Aunus and the river Svir (Syväri). However, the red forces outflanked Paavo Talvela by a surprise landing behind Finnish lines at Vitele on the coast of Lake Ladoga and the Finnish expeditionary force withdrew to Salmi. About 15,000 Karelians from Russian Karelia followed them to Finland. This ended the expedition but not the dream in Finland of annexing Aunus Karjala.</span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFLRm3U6dP8JSV_7rARyOJcxb4o2PIZXLofORLXp8zUqO8VUNsSUXQoh0s_k5fuJ0dp_jXN4VrCiDLGSMzm7EjgXadde20MSRLzWu2s3903QGZVutuU2N61mupcSmSmA7-7LKtdGZ1S_89/s1600/Map+of+Aunus+Expedition.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="404" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFLRm3U6dP8JSV_7rARyOJcxb4o2PIZXLofORLXp8zUqO8VUNsSUXQoh0s_k5fuJ0dp_jXN4VrCiDLGSMzm7EjgXadde20MSRLzWu2s3903QGZVutuU2N61mupcSmSmA7-7LKtdGZ1S_89/s640/Map+of+Aunus+Expedition.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: 'Times new roman'; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;">Map of <a href="http://www.uppslagsverket.fi/bin/view/Uppslagsverket/Aunusexpeditionen?template=highlightsearch&search=aunus%20expeditionen">Aunus Expedition</a>. The dashed black line shows the 1617 border. The magenta lines show the two expedition branches’ advances in April-June 1919</span></i></td></tr>
</tbody></table><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"> </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large; line-height: 18px;">During the War of Continuation (1941-1944) Finland retook Finnish Karelia and occupied all of Olonets Karelia, this time staying there for three years. Paavo Talvela was back, only to be outflanked once again by the Red Army landing at Vitele. And a younger von Hertzen was killed at the Svir (Syväri). Once again Olonets Karelia was lost, along with Finnish Karelia. Today few Karelians live there, too few to keep the dream of Aunus Karalja alive.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGVd9CY-aR4BjNRD9kr-e_HcnuDZHlmWkD9-UHGcOBCnqTSDOrbnPnnSAOLrDcEzEh3kWZP7J9GMhiKHvvkY5Mdbb46q8iZ1ZU_llIFcDjWuvvDWw31YjY_Yt17Rup6w6wXV5ZLDRxRp7Z/s1600/_DSC0351+Aunus+inscription+Tulema+graveyard.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGVd9CY-aR4BjNRD9kr-e_HcnuDZHlmWkD9-UHGcOBCnqTSDOrbnPnnSAOLrDcEzEh3kWZP7J9GMhiKHvvkY5Mdbb46q8iZ1ZU_llIFcDjWuvvDWw31YjY_Yt17Rup6w6wXV5ZLDRxRp7Z/s400/_DSC0351+Aunus+inscription+Tulema+graveyard.jpg" width="260" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;">Aunus Stone. Inscription and coat of arms of Russian Karelia</span></i> </td></tr>
</tbody></table></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><div style="text-align: justify;"></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">Those who lived in Karelia experienced how the border changed every other generation or so. Many rose to high positions and served their new masters faithfully and honourably. Their tragedy was that in this greater game they and their peers became the pawns of history, their heads and their hearts being on different sides of the border.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div>Per Magnus Wijkmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14217307266155847493noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7025396287926893893.post-76292077790149684152011-10-25T11:47:00.016+02:002012-01-08T17:27:39.596+01:00CLUSTERS AND NETWORKS<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJjiVshtVkMAIYNA5Mrc7immnmrCaSRNu6AKTdfSz-EL3EagUG-ULCAi_w9yByMaUbr_Yznw-oMbP6j0S4V5L5s2WVDpI9zu_CcHm8eB-o5E-JTwCSA8aoJ3ivvx_xrBxJ607y-mLuPZbP/s1600/_DSC0209+Former+Town+Hall+Vyborg.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="448" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJjiVshtVkMAIYNA5Mrc7immnmrCaSRNu6AKTdfSz-EL3EagUG-ULCAi_w9yByMaUbr_Yznw-oMbP6j0S4V5L5s2WVDpI9zu_CcHm8eB-o5E-JTwCSA8aoJ3ivvx_xrBxJ607y-mLuPZbP/s640/_DSC0209+Former+Town+Hall+Vyborg.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><div class="MsoNormal"><i><span lang="EN-GB" style="line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">The Town Hall in Viborg (Viipuri), the multilingual city</span></span></span></i></div></td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Viborg (Viipuri) was a multilingual city almost from the start. Germans in Viborg used to say “Ein echter Wiburger geht auf allen Vieren” (a true Viborg-resident walks on all fours), i.e. speaks four languages. German was the language of commerce in this town embedded for centuries in the wide network of Hansa; Russian was the language of the Czar’s military after 1721; and Swedish the sole language of the administration until 1863 when Finnish was given equal status in the Grand Duchy. Finnish was always the spoken language of most of the town’s population.</span><br />
<div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">In 1870 51 % of the city’s population spoke Finnish, 16 % spoke Swedish, 24 % spoke Russian (mostly Russian military) and 5 % German (Kaj Wahlbeck, Karelen - med kärlek, p. 102). People married over language lines resulting in homes where children spoke German with some aunts and uncles and Russian with others, Finnish with friends, Swedish at school or any other of the many combinations thereof.</span></span></div></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLtpuH2fRuj-cM0USqwDJVKghdpxAwXmdBLInSv4BR9y8qtRE2hJMiJJcbA9TxjNXKaDOp4aGLhljmqSPBCiaCVXtms7_rqryloDXGA9kn8Z1_bPIBAJortLyoYP2GfvpCU0Gpu5MJZsEn/s1600/DSC_Statues+of+Commerce+a+Industry+Vyborg.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="416" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLtpuH2fRuj-cM0USqwDJVKghdpxAwXmdBLInSv4BR9y8qtRE2hJMiJJcbA9TxjNXKaDOp4aGLhljmqSPBCiaCVXtms7_rqryloDXGA9kn8Z1_bPIBAJortLyoYP2GfvpCU0Gpu5MJZsEn/s640/DSC_Statues+of+Commerce+a+Industry+Vyborg.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><div class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Commerce and Industry converse in Viborg<o:p></o:p></span></i></div></td></tr>
</tbody></table><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Each summer affluent families from Viborg and St Petersburg moved to their summerhouses on the Isthmus, often around the sea-side resort town of Terijoki (Russian: Zelanogorsk). Two buildings there are symbols of linguistic and cultural integration: Villa Golicke and Villa Penaty. A third building – the Officers’ Casino – symbolizes the opposite: the threat of monolithic dictatorship. </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">We set off in search of these houses. </span></span><br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Villa Golicke was the summer residence of the Colliander family of St Petersburg. The poet Tito Colliander (1904 -1989) was born in St Petersburg, probably considered Swedish his mother tongue and was of the Greek-Orthodox faith. Like many other Finns, he left St Petersburg with his family during the Russian revolution, returning with a cosmopolitan outlook to the Isthmus, which was now part of independent Finland.</span><br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">At Villa Golicke, he entertained Finnish poets who wrote in Swedish such as Gunnar Björling, Elmer Diktonius, Rabbe Enkell, Hagar Olsson, the Parland brothers and Edith Södergran. Villa Golicke was a “linguistic cluster” of the relatively few Swedish speaking literati on the Isthmus. There they met not only each other but formed a network with Finnish-language colleagues as well as one with prominent poets from Sweden such as Johannes Edfelt, Gunnar Ekelöf, the 1964 Nobel Laureate Eyvind Johnson and Erik Lindegren. As a multi-lingual and multi-cultural meeting place for artists and writers in the inter-war period, Villa Golicke became the cradle of literary modernism in both Finland and Sweden.</span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzwReMHizi6kY5MdZxruoaMaTzgMSB5nOGFzp0TnSUuiuO-nCZioemTgTniaDgFyzusr-RY7I1faS3Ve416584IgkGxYnwW044nGGmJ1bwE5cpm3JtfUUi1Dh_cujL7_GnIqbI7sfbkFpm/s1600/_DSC0008+Villa+Golicke+Terijoki.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"><img border="0" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzwReMHizi6kY5MdZxruoaMaTzgMSB5nOGFzp0TnSUuiuO-nCZioemTgTniaDgFyzusr-RY7I1faS3Ve416584IgkGxYnwW044nGGmJ1bwE5cpm3JtfUUi1Dh_cujL7_GnIqbI7sfbkFpm/s640/_DSC0008+Villa+Golicke+Terijoki.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><div class="MsoNormal"><i><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small; line-height: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Can this be Villa Golicke?</span></span></span></i></div></td></tr>
</tbody></table><div style="text-align: auto;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">In awe of Villa Golicke’s role in history, we headed towards Kuokkala, on the Baltic seaside just east of Terijoki, expecting to find there a Pantheon of poets. We entered an overgrown and unattended garden where we discerned a small shack behind wild-grown shrubbery. Had we come to the right place? </span></span></div><div style="text-align: auto;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: auto;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Clearly not, we thought. It was far too small and lacked the glass veranda, famous for its many festive parties. So we admired instead Terijoki’s legendary 35-kilometer long sand beach to which the shack had direct access through a small gate.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: auto;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKzbFuJvBagLhblK_-TMH7WqtMS1UaDlmUM6KwWpFx5sFs9YvtATdWznUnVNAPys1fGCbzmby4opX6ehcY5ByRJ9SUIk14LYIVYX4V25x68PtXLKiaAC7hdxaApjCxUEAX1IJuO_oorHPo/s1600/_DSC0005+Terijoki+Beach.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="356" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKzbFuJvBagLhblK_-TMH7WqtMS1UaDlmUM6KwWpFx5sFs9YvtATdWznUnVNAPys1fGCbzmby4opX6ehcY5ByRJ9SUIk14LYIVYX4V25x68PtXLKiaAC7hdxaApjCxUEAX1IJuO_oorHPo/s640/_DSC0005+Terijoki+Beach.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><div class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Sand as far as the eye can see<o:p></o:p></span></i></div></td></tr>
</tbody></table><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Soon an elderly gentleman shuffled towards us from the neighbouring house. He confirmed that this shack was indeed Villa Golicke, of which he was the caretaker. He kindly fetched the keys to the house and allowed us to enter – a bedroom, a living room and a make-shift kitchen downstairs, all small. A bedroom upstairs, really a simple loft, contained a desk with an inspiring view of the beach and bay.</span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfXfv10x1G73y_t-ANAQgTBV_bY_zm6ioYHDX63yMGz4NlFZG7QSGiVW8l16SEzjR29LTIIKvRe1oV3aRjy0NNLWWbcfGgQotZcJY_oiS-kbnuH0l8ohBwc4CEkM9hyphenhyphenh3xvVVufgTgRg6K/s1600/_DSC0010+Attic+Villa+Golicke+Terijoki.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="267" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfXfv10x1G73y_t-ANAQgTBV_bY_zm6ioYHDX63yMGz4NlFZG7QSGiVW8l16SEzjR29LTIIKvRe1oV3aRjy0NNLWWbcfGgQotZcJY_oiS-kbnuH0l8ohBwc4CEkM9hyphenhyphenh3xvVVufgTgRg6K/s400/_DSC0010+Attic+Villa+Golicke+Terijoki.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><div class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">How many wind-sailors can this house sleep?<o:p></o:p></span></i></div></td></tr>
</tbody></table><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">It was difficult to imagine that this run-down hovel had once been a literary Parnassus. Its pitiful state suggested imminent demolishment and replacement by a luxury waterfront villa. Location is all, as the realtors say. The current owners have saved the house from this fate so far, but not because of its cultural significance. The caretaker informed us that tourists, keen on windsailing in the bay 20 meters away, provide a rental income of 5000 Rubles (some 170 dollars) per night. This is a large amount to pay for the Villa’s low standard, but ridiculously cheap compared with the modern luxury hotels built recently further along the beach.</span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCwLYDcFdpjoZ3Nb47yJ7s40GasnhNNM70K0-zWL0HGGE0itt4y2Qb9FdLZCV4OcbCENGZFWUVBrenMfNjZLrDH7qbNZUVIbzsmA70E6CcKjQWUwfQNZKBvtIsz1Mlblh-hb2onQbQlHkR/s1600/_DSC0007+New+Hotel+Terijoki+Beach.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="268" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCwLYDcFdpjoZ3Nb47yJ7s40GasnhNNM70K0-zWL0HGGE0itt4y2Qb9FdLZCV4OcbCENGZFWUVBrenMfNjZLrDH7qbNZUVIbzsmA70E6CcKjQWUwfQNZKBvtIsz1Mlblh-hb2onQbQlHkR/s400/_DSC0007+New+Hotel+Terijoki+Beach.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><div class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">A more expensive alternative for spending the night <o:p></o:p></span></i></div></td></tr>
</tbody></table><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">The poets Elmer Diktonius and Gunnar Ekelöf spent the late summer of 1938 at Villa Golicke. On the train back to Helsingfors (Helsinki) they got o</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">ff in Raivola to visit the 87 year old mother of Edith Södergran. Edith’s poetry had been a source of inspiration for both these major poets. Ekelöf noted his surprise to find that culture could flourish in the solitude of nature’s wilderness – a solitude that has increased significantly since then.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4qxDXiB51Mu_1CUSvpHURm8AICifZfwfPGZrtIvWxI0xXiad73-3ljhXewJwNQ6jEP6RB2eaopJfsz0YxDYHFoHyiv67o3dYtWRe9NJ1uONpu4iSLr6aN8o-L7mt5no4lgfyeZlGiz9Iw/s1600/So%25CC%2588dergran+House.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="402" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4qxDXiB51Mu_1CUSvpHURm8AICifZfwfPGZrtIvWxI0xXiad73-3ljhXewJwNQ6jEP6RB2eaopJfsz0YxDYHFoHyiv67o3dYtWRe9NJ1uONpu4iSLr6aN8o-L7mt5no4lgfyeZlGiz9Iw/s640/So%25CC%2588dergran+House.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><div class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">The poets Elmer Diktonius and Gunnar Ekelöf (middle) with Edith’s mother in front of the Södergran house one year before it was destroyed. <b>Photo</b>: Berndt Flygare, Nordiska Museet<o:p></o:p></span></i></div></td></tr>
</tbody></table><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">The era of linguistic diversity before the Russian revolution, which Villa Golicke once symbolized, was formed by three attitudes. Tolerance allowed each minority group to maintain its own language - the individual’s personal choice of language was respected. Each language group was a minority somewhere. As Henry Parland put</span> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">it: “Wherever I go I am a foreigner”. When many feel this same way, mutual tolerance is natural. Necessity required minorities to know the dominant language, and different languages were dominant in different functions. Thus, many had an interest in knowing more than one language. The owners of the many manor houses scattered throughout Karelia were often bi- or tri-lingual. Swedish or German may have been spoken in the drawing rooms but outside them knowledge of Finnish was indispensable. Knowledge of Swedish was necessary for those involved in administrative functions of government and of Russian for army officers. Finally, uncertainty as to what the dominant language would be in the future encouraged inhabitants to hedge their bets and know several. The dominance of Swedish, Russian and Finnish shifted over the centuries with the fortunes of war.</span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6UYmwvI_ko_Dnt1pTDWgLC9ravktepD6W6nBeO58YnYWSliybftOF5ZXc2gG4chXniQK-YoGg6sisXw7PhtIET86_U0r2Vwq5R1BzW4_NWF7SD7-bnblX2hyFLWJua8Otf2Siem34Outl/s1600/_DSC0015+Villa+Penaty+Kuokkala+Terijoki.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6UYmwvI_ko_Dnt1pTDWgLC9ravktepD6W6nBeO58YnYWSliybftOF5ZXc2gG4chXniQK-YoGg6sisXw7PhtIET86_U0r2Vwq5R1BzW4_NWF7SD7-bnblX2hyFLWJua8Otf2Siem34Outl/s640/_DSC0015+Villa+Penaty+Kuokkala+Terijoki.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><div class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">The rebuilt Villa Penaty - once a home now a museum for Ilja Repin<o:p></o:p></span></i></div></td></tr>
</tbody></table><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">A kilometer further down the road in Kuokkala was Villa Penaty, home of the famous Russian painter Ilja Repin </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">(1844-1930)</span></span><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">. He lived there with Natalia Nordmann, who donated the house on her death in 1914 to the Russian Academy of Art on condition that it would be Ilja Repin’s residence and atelier for life. Nordmann had close ties to Swedish-speaking families in Finland, including the Collianders. Repin stayed on in Terijoki when it became part of independent Finland, continuing the tradition of networked linguistic clusters. This earned him some opprobrium in the USSR. The border to the USSR was now closed breaking an important link in the cultural network and isolating Repin from his Russian connections and roots.</span></span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzXRF28zo5HYNL1tHHke_qQaOt_x3THcfLuuSbL3Q7LOfsATo72mREQxpjYZhLYBm2OIVT8Um1pzA-qmj-QWgWC3sqoGICHY5PpODEz68owgTNM5blLQzoMd6kgY1nfHhmlZ9zU5oTC4Yx/s1600/_DSC0017+Study+Villa+Penaty+Kuokkala+Terijoki.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="283" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzXRF28zo5HYNL1tHHke_qQaOt_x3THcfLuuSbL3Q7LOfsATo72mREQxpjYZhLYBm2OIVT8Um1pzA-qmj-QWgWC3sqoGICHY5PpODEz68owgTNM5blLQzoMd6kgY1nfHhmlZ9zU5oTC4Yx/s400/_DSC0017+Study+Villa+Penaty+Kuokkala+Terijoki.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><div class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">The artist’s study in Villa Penaty<o:p></o:p></span></i></div></td></tr>
</tbody></table><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Villa Penaty was destroyed during the wars. However, after 1991 it was rebuilt and Repin was now considered a Russian hero, fit to provide a new name for Kuokkala (Repino).</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">It is a model museum with a good exhibition of his art and supplied with modern museum equipment (ear phones with recorded foreign language tours). Its current demonstrative elegance contrasts with the shabbiness of Villa Golicke. </span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">From Kuokkala we drove northwest along the sandy coast, feeling as though we were on the Riviera. We entered the town of Terijoki proper and saw to our surprise a well-kept Lutheran Church, right in the middle of it. It was built in 1909 in Jugend Style with Josef Stenbäck as the architect. We felt right at home.</span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_eMCtIJbYMdvgAKBL2phifAHm8lw3iBMU09RT29sjTsYXnVcOrilog19NfjmcT1opxj3bPB88u3hWBk4AllgQ4Jd0CrawVv94pVEJSI8jwm2YwskwTO_kWpdQkG3rYw6S0Ks3E2WZbwlc/s1600/_DSC0346+Lutheran+Church+Terijoki.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="452" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_eMCtIJbYMdvgAKBL2phifAHm8lw3iBMU09RT29sjTsYXnVcOrilog19NfjmcT1opxj3bPB88u3hWBk4AllgQ4Jd0CrawVv94pVEJSI8jwm2YwskwTO_kWpdQkG3rYw6S0Ks3E2WZbwlc/s640/_DSC0346+Lutheran+Church+Terijoki.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><i>The exceptionally well-kept Lutheran Church in Terijoki</i></span></span></div></td></tr>
</tbody></table><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">The town was clean and casually elegant. The population was well-dressed. The leisurely spirit contrasted with the grim poverty of Pitkäranta and Sordavala (Sortavala) further north. Obliged to visit the Apothecary on the main street, we were impressed by its clean interior and professional staff.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQY8w4nW607z-yj90NYxr390CAZdOa4M2Sy5_-M0rQH00ay4vVxf3rDWb4_y4d3Q3i7irYxtrrt8ANlEnEKgPolon8BCbGSqvr5tZFFq4Pe-j2RZtUZwB9-IINzSNpDYJoyiBZ970TC7p2/s1600/_DSC0345+Pharmacy+Terijoki.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="290" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQY8w4nW607z-yj90NYxr390CAZdOa4M2Sy5_-M0rQH00ay4vVxf3rDWb4_y4d3Q3i7irYxtrrt8ANlEnEKgPolon8BCbGSqvr5tZFFq4Pe-j2RZtUZwB9-IINzSNpDYJoyiBZ970TC7p2/s400/_DSC0345+Pharmacy+Terijoki.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><div class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">A life-saving pharmacy in Terijoki<o:p></o:p></span></i></div></td></tr>
</tbody></table><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Terijoki is located near St. Petersburg, which explains the tidy upkeep of the town. The long sandy beach, running for miles on either side of town, brings in well-to-do-tourists and contributes to a relative affluence. Buildings from the Stalin era are unusually well kept, as seen below, and cater to the conspicuous consumption of the visitors from St Petersburg.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Large and brackish summerhouses owned by affluent St Petersburgers sprout like mushrooms in the forests and meadows of the Isthmus. You will find no pictures of these in this blog. The closer we came to St Petersburg, the more security cars and gated communities we observed. These pretentious buildings appeared to be grafted on to a foreign body.</span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijvcrWTGNPBUahRalygClxb65qeSlj0eD6HziE6Glw6SzFIR7N802Nurj-ec6Fw4PBSWXFN1-rXnNZgS3DPfPfHxiryJuoEWnRS7iAZ9m87RhSReT4UL_u_IecgbfoxxOX1tWM2OnN6owD/s1600/_DSC0013+Stalin+Mansion+Kuokkala+Terijoki.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="442" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijvcrWTGNPBUahRalygClxb65qeSlj0eD6HziE6Glw6SzFIR7N802Nurj-ec6Fw4PBSWXFN1-rXnNZgS3DPfPfHxiryJuoEWnRS7iAZ9m87RhSReT4UL_u_IecgbfoxxOX1tWM2OnN6owD/s640/_DSC0013+Stalin+Mansion+Kuokkala+Terijoki.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><div class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Neo-Stalinist architecture is well-preserved<o:p></o:p></span></i></div></td></tr>
</tbody></table><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">The gravitational pull of St Petersburg on Terijoki was strong already a hundred years ago. Petrus Nordmann, a cousin of Natalie, wrote after travelling to the Repins from Helsingfors (Helsinki) in 1909: “… we travelled through this former Finnish farmers’ village, which during the last twenty years has been transformed into a genuine Russian resort community with many shops, wooden sidewalks, muschikar [Roma street musicians] and ample, pearl-bedecked wet-nurse s.” (Kaj Wahlbeck, Karelen - med kärlek, 1994, s. 76.)</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Already in the 1890s, Russia proposed incorporating the increasingly Russian speaking suburbs of Terijoki and Kivinebb (Kivennapa) into St Petersburg’s municipality, but without success. The numerous attempts then to Russify the Grand Duchy, met with strong opposition, including the assassination of the Russian Governor General Nikolaj Bobrikoff in 1904 by Eugen Schaumann. Today, the whole of the Isthmus is incorporated in St Petersburg Oblast. The economic pull from St Petersburg will inevitably incorporate the southern Isthmus even more into Russia, eliminating the last traces of cultural diversity that once characterised it. That era was ended in two steps. First, the Soviet Union closed the border in 1918. Second, it moved the border north in 1944 to include the whole Isthmus in the Soviet. Thereby, it became the dead-end and the provincial backwater that it is today.</span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXk6akMjX9ZYlYp49-0DrFxKBAvQgmJFSjdIPQj0Bf0gXG-oCqRPI2uuBPH5WrnuNoots8M9sBGYF3BnOoBnHe5lJN5QaO1vgvKawBl_qSVtk10EBjeMyDWLfSbXIvPstcVGLGyeVRaGlO/s1600/_DSC0350+Garden+Officers%2527+Casino+Terijoki.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="420" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXk6akMjX9ZYlYp49-0DrFxKBAvQgmJFSjdIPQj0Bf0gXG-oCqRPI2uuBPH5WrnuNoots8M9sBGYF3BnOoBnHe5lJN5QaO1vgvKawBl_qSVtk10EBjeMyDWLfSbXIvPstcVGLGyeVRaGlO/s640/_DSC0350+Garden+Officers%2527+Casino+Terijoki.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><div class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">The Officers’ Casino in Terijoki – a haunted house <o:p></o:p></span></i></div></td></tr>
</tbody></table><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">The third building we visited in Terijoki, the Officers’ Casino, provides a grim reminder of what could have happened to all of Finland. Here Stalin gambled - and lost. During the Winter War he set up Otto Ville Kuusinen (a leader of the Finnish Reds in the civil war of 1917-1918) as head of a puppet government for all of Finland and housed it in the Casino. </span></span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrvdITvUZW13qv2sxEAf6k9lsxppGTkGIvZdX39a80UgzybJGQy8pftC8GNCxpJ_D-rMkgi2nwPxKVMgF3Kh8cMbzmNtv_24LnQED0dhw98_eqvDZsWkQqzDoZADvH4uTiWqIMIRkW-_UN/s1600/Kusinen+signing+State+Act.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="262" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrvdITvUZW13qv2sxEAf6k9lsxppGTkGIvZdX39a80UgzybJGQy8pftC8GNCxpJ_D-rMkgi2nwPxKVMgF3Kh8cMbzmNtv_24LnQED0dhw98_eqvDZsWkQqzDoZADvH4uTiWqIMIRkW-_UN/s400/Kusinen+signing+State+Act.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i><a href="http://books.google.com.au/books/about/The_Winter_War.html?id=JW_oPzpq3TQC">Otto Kuusinen signing the pact establishing the "People's Democratic Government of Finland"</a></i></td></tr>
</tbody></table><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Kuusinen failed to move his puppet government to Helsingfors and spent the rest of his life in central positions in the Soviet system. This once magnificent building is now abandoned and rapidly deteriorating. Let us hope that it still has a future, although not as a memorial to Otto Ville Kuusinen, wh</span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">o now like Bertrans de Born portrayed by Pound in Near Perigord, wanders headless in purgatory for stirring up strife</span></span><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">!</span></span></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbiRy8buCEnes7zCz38xHluUdrfGMMzhSjmCllEe-tfNqlrlPXDXvzHbaVXc7ctLJgDoL94xrA-_B0poiHeilsOvQDKgmakulK5d3Su8zoqG5XFtv24Lkj9t1tvmuJoDzA0yPcLgFAqZpK/s1600/_DSC0352+Officers%2527+Casino+Terijoki.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="408" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbiRy8buCEnes7zCz38xHluUdrfGMMzhSjmCllEe-tfNqlrlPXDXvzHbaVXc7ctLJgDoL94xrA-_B0poiHeilsOvQDKgmakulK5d3Su8zoqG5XFtv24Lkj9t1tvmuJoDzA0yPcLgFAqZpK/s640/_DSC0352+Officers%2527+Casino+Terijoki.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><div class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">The Casino – utopia restored?<o:p></o:p></span></i></div></td></tr>
</tbody></table><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Ralf Parland (1914-1995), yet another Parland brother, said in 1958:</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"> </span></span><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">“The Isthmus was a bridge between different cultures and world views. Therefore, it appealed to us cultural vagrants, who felt ill at ease in those days of nationalistic slogans and closed borders. The Isthmus was our utopia.” (Olof Ruin, Dagbok (2008) s 90). Is it possible to restore some of that utopia of cosmopolitan culture and open borders? Villa Penaty now honours Ilja Repin as a Russian nationalist and is an attraction for Russian tourists. Villa Golicke, once a Parnassus for Finnish and Swedish poets, is a forgotten and run-down hovel, which the odd Swede or Finn enters with high hopes and leaves disappointed (unless a sun-tanned windsailing youngster). Could not the Swedish Academy and the two Literary Societies in Finland purchase Villa Golicke and the Officers’ Casino and renovate them tenderly as sanctuaries for poets and other artists? Poetry and art are windsailing for the soul. And in these days of global extremism and intolerance the soul sorely needs some succour. </span></span></span></div></div>Per Magnus Wijkmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14217307266155847493noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7025396287926893893.post-57439145846423593702011-10-17T10:39:00.004+02:002011-10-18T23:27:56.209+02:00END FACT, TRY FICTION!<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhR6BZ7ioZ84pOqQ7jE3kracpIXVjtawR1B7onTZbMWE7bCGqU8wIaBNBNrGgw3zGAdX_EPJ93joD9aZnfBUnwkyjULXM944mVMJFHa9uS38LtB9rkCuyPQ0hEfFKs0Jl9XnAIvYtSJxWB4/s1600/_DSC0237+Trompe+l%2527oeuil+Vyborg.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" height="440" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhR6BZ7ioZ84pOqQ7jE3kracpIXVjtawR1B7onTZbMWE7bCGqU8wIaBNBNrGgw3zGAdX_EPJ93joD9aZnfBUnwkyjULXM944mVMJFHa9uS38LtB9rkCuyPQ0hEfFKs0Jl9XnAIvYtSJxWB4/s640/_DSC0237+Trompe+l%2527oeuil+Vyborg.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><i><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Fact fades into fiction (Mural in the heart of Viborg)</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div></td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Between 1914 and 1941 a remarkable literary flowering occurred on the Karelian Isthmus: modernism erupted in both Finnish and Swedish literature. Architecture underwent a similar rebirth, as we were to discover in our travels. How could this occur in a provincial dead-end, an isolated outpost facing a closed border? One answer is that these authors were formed in their youth by the cosmopolitan environment that multilingual communities and open borders created on the Isthmus. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span><br />
<span lang="EN-GB"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span> </span></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">This was a very different Karelia than the vast green forests further east where one hundred years earlier Carl Axel (Kaarle Aksel) Gottlund (1796-1875) and Elias Lönnrot (1802-1884) wandered and wrote down the epic songs that the local population passed orally from generation to generation. Gottlund published his Finnish folk epics in 1818 as a student in Uppsala where a Union of Finnish Students was active. Lönnrot published his first edition of </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Kalevala</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"> in 1835. Inspired by Johann Gottfried Herder (1744-1803) to see folk-poetry as expressions of the </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Volksseele,</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"> they opened the era of national romanticism. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span><br />
<span lang="EN-GB"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span> </span></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">The Karelian Isthmus was different. For almost 200 years before 1917 it lay in a magnetic field between two cultural capitals. Established on occupied territory of the Common Realm in 1703, St Petersburg, the political and cultural capital of Russia, exerted a strong attraction and influence on the Isthmus. So did Viborg (Viipuri), the cultural capital of Karelia as part of Russia (1721-1809) and of the autonomous Grand Duchy of Finland (1809-1917), to which it was joined. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQE1v-2ANqTIZF7fv-MaymaJGGFx_lTmmRDF_XCiQ4uw37UJQAgbHRIJt2vaSUMDlkMekJ0Za0hNfib4w4CyBXGnG414bHF3qSva-JXdtnApxEBlw4Bm4p2aZb9HnDCm3FL5fpIdTot9_d/s1600/_DSC0064+Master.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" height="518" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQE1v-2ANqTIZF7fv-MaymaJGGFx_lTmmRDF_XCiQ4uw37UJQAgbHRIJt2vaSUMDlkMekJ0Za0hNfib4w4CyBXGnG414bHF3qSva-JXdtnApxEBlw4Bm4p2aZb9HnDCm3FL5fpIdTot9_d/s640/_DSC0064+Master.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><div class="MsoNormal"><i><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Cosmopolitan influences complement ancient myths</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div></td></tr>
</tbody></table><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">The distance between these two capitals was only 130 km and travel time was dramatically shortened after 1870 when the Viborg-St Petersburg railway was built. This allowed Russian speakers in St Petersburg to ‘commute’ further north on the Isthmus and Finnish and Swedish speakers in the Viborg area to ‘commute’ further south. Merchants in Viborg and St Petersburg as well as the Baltic-German nobility residing in manors on the Isthmus spoke German.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span> </div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Viborg prospered after the opening of the Saima canal (Saimaa Kanava) in 1856 connecting it with the lake district in the interior. The canal was designed by Nils Ericson (1802-1870), a Swedish entrepreneur known for finishing projects below cost and ahead of schedule – a model for today. After finishing the Saima canal he was knighted and made responsible for building the Swedish railway system. (Our American readers will recall his brother John Ericsson (1803-1889) who designed the propeller allowing the steamship </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Princeton</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"> to outperform the steam wheeler </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Great Western</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"> in 1843 and constructed the </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">USS Monitor</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"> in 1861 for the Union in the US civil war.) <o:p></o:p></span></span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihNutb4CE8d_EDaQlJAO4qQxLdQ3glnrRmVS6pFLnTirlWDSInaV2BDGdPN-NZc21eOkBBLVWWAnrTrmXlMUmJR-YdMHFAfu3YiLZlT5YCMALgdYIIJUR4jB9MAdYd_fmqDiCHXwA5AKiJ/s1600/_DSC0055end+of+the+%2528rail%2529road+Vyborg.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihNutb4CE8d_EDaQlJAO4qQxLdQ3glnrRmVS6pFLnTirlWDSInaV2BDGdPN-NZc21eOkBBLVWWAnrTrmXlMUmJR-YdMHFAfu3YiLZlT5YCMALgdYIIJUR4jB9MAdYd_fmqDiCHXwA5AKiJ/s640/_DSC0055end+of+the+%2528rail%2529road+Vyborg.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The site of Eliel Saarinen's</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">railway station in Viborg built in 1913. Destroyed by retreating Soviet troups, the red granite facade may be part of the original building</span></span></i></td></tr>
</tbody></table><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">With borders gone and transportation improved, the Isthmus became an integrated economic region characterized by a rich cultural diversity. So many languages and cultures on such a small area made the Isthmus a remarkable hothouse of ideas, cultures and fashions. So we set off to see what remained of this cosmopolitan legacy. Would the homes of authors such as Tito Colliander, Willy Kyrklund, Hagar Olsson, the brothers Oscar and Henry Parland, Edith Södergran and Emil Zilliacus reveal some of their secrets for us? Largely unknown in the Anglo-Saxon world, they might still be remembered in their birthplace. If not, at least we travellers from afar could pay homage to them.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span> </div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Our first stop was the small town of Raivola, where Edith Södergran (1892-1923), the catalyst of modernism, lived until tuberculosis ended her life at the age of 29. Her father had died in 1907 of the same disease. She was born in St Petersburg and attended </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Die Deutsche Hauptschule zu S:t Petri</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"> there. She wrote her first poems in German, even if the bulk of her production was in Swedish. After the Russian revolution and Finland’s independence, she returned to the family home in Raivola 30 kilometres away. Except for spells at sanatoriums in Finland and Switzerland, she lived there with her mother until her death. The Södergran house and its neighbour, the Orthodox Church, were destroyed during the Wars. The church was rebuilt recently and now shines in blue and gold. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrXoISY9yCVhDTvDtJIJNUmHbMXdZhDy0s6KCa8SZrz5GC-RY6iyOKzAUim9sY6CYsrJABwR9LrxU_IVlXbqKoMjWTu4nJHL7drxBjivZmmiyIolD0-FgDCccwkdYWQe2FzrEjfsJ9RJwa/s1600/_DSC0038+Orthodox+Church+Raivola.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrXoISY9yCVhDTvDtJIJNUmHbMXdZhDy0s6KCa8SZrz5GC-RY6iyOKzAUim9sY6CYsrJABwR9LrxU_IVlXbqKoMjWTu4nJHL7drxBjivZmmiyIolD0-FgDCccwkdYWQe2FzrEjfsJ9RJwa/s400/_DSC0038+Orthodox+Church+Raivola.jpg" width="272" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><div class="MsoNormal"><i><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The restored Orthodox church in Raivola</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div></td></tr>
</tbody></table><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">In contrast, the Södergran house has not been restored. Only a few of its foundation stones and its view overlooking the Onkamojoki (Rozlivo) river remain. 0n the site where it once stood, </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">The Swedish Language Authors Society in Finland</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"> raised a stone monument in 1960. A photograph of Edith on it has disappeared since then but a quotation (in Swedish with Russian translation) from one of her poems remains, hewn in stone as it is.</span></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span> </span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Se här är Here you face<o:p></o:p></span></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">evighetens strand, eternity’s coast,<o:p></o:p></span></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">här brusar strömmen förbi, here rapids rush by roaring<o:p></o:p></span></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">och döden while death lurks<o:p></o:p></span></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">spelar i buskarna in the bushes playing<o:p></o:p></span></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">sin samma his same old<o:p></o:p></span></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">entoniga melodi. monotonous melody.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span> </span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLK2Zo90UYH6Xo_9-dgXq341VGMJnCCPkOMJ4SMy3h3HtWHrt9cL5fsPVBL3e64kRnZsvAwY4R5XxE9LKyi2m_mi8wAsCxZUrBbW9Z8ctxqKZ80hpxq4q1Wv8weRE_erFV40MO2ufcSTnX/s1600/_DSC0035+river+Raivola.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLK2Zo90UYH6Xo_9-dgXq341VGMJnCCPkOMJ4SMy3h3HtWHrt9cL5fsPVBL3e64kRnZsvAwY4R5XxE9LKyi2m_mi8wAsCxZUrBbW9Z8ctxqKZ80hpxq4q1Wv8weRE_erFV40MO2ufcSTnX/s640/_DSC0035+river+Raivola.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><div class="MsoNormal"><i><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The view of eternity from Edith's home</span></span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"> </span></span></div></td></tr>
</tbody></table></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Empty vodka bottles and beer cans were strewn around the memorial suggesting that this was now a gathering place for the unemployed and unfortunate. Recognizing that ours was a labour of Sisyphus, we nevertheless removed this litter as a matter of principle. At least for a few hours we, and perhaps also Edith, might have a clearer view of eternity. By nightfall, the seminar of unfortunates would reconvene and confusion would reign once again.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span><br />
<span lang="EN-GB"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span> </span></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Few traces remain of Edith Södergran’s “personal universe” in Raivola. Her nearby grave with the above inscription was destroyed in the wars. Olof Ruin tells in his book of 2009 </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Hans Ruin – en gränsöverskridare </span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">(Hans Ruin – a border-crosser) how his father and Elmer Diktonius attempted to locate her grave after the war. The current memorial is largely due to their efforts. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNRU2rKQ27jLTky9cmMVIuXJW7rgPF-hsXvg-KfBSCToEf2P8yvQX-ieCUMhxQvRqoZ-ATiyTQKlcFckFEv7VHux6ZGFqA_g9fzr9sA2IHvgJmVni7JNBfNKTkQSFJwJt78IL_vtj0umFi/s1600/_DSC0034+Edith+So%25CC%2588dergran+Monuments.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" height="584" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNRU2rKQ27jLTky9cmMVIuXJW7rgPF-hsXvg-KfBSCToEf2P8yvQX-ieCUMhxQvRqoZ-ATiyTQKlcFckFEv7VHux6ZGFqA_g9fzr9sA2IHvgJmVni7JNBfNKTkQSFJwJt78IL_vtj0umFi/s640/_DSC0034+Edith+So%25CC%2588dergran+Monuments.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Honouring Edith Södergran ... and her cat!</span></span></i></td></tr>
</tbody></table><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">A Finnish group raised a statue in 1992 honouring her cat Tottie, which her neighbour the businessman Kommerserådet Ilja Galkin had shot, thereby earning everlasting notoriety in the literary world. These memorials somewhat pathetically evoke a past long since destroyed and now forgotten by most inhabitants in Raivola. The name of the town has been changed to Rosjtsjino and it is rapidly filling up with expensive dachas for the newly rich from nearby St Petersburg. The village receives a large influx of summer residents, tripling its permanent population, which in the early 1990s was about 9,000 people.</span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span> </span></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">The southernmost county, Kivenebb (Kivennapa), was one of the most heavily destroyed during the wars. But already in 1938 a contemporary writer regretted the passing of the cosmopolitan Isthmus. The war and the Russian revolution had impoverished the well-to-do who owned the summer villas on the Isthmus and then closed the border. Their villas were abandoned or moved. The writer mourned: “But that time has come and gone. The Russian revolution put an end to this glorious idyll. Now all we have is memories. We tell stories of the past and watch how time levels to the ground the ruins of our manors and summer villas.” (Kaj Wahlbeck, </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Karelen - med Kärlek</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"> (1994), s. 39). Little did the writer realize that worse was to come.</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span> </span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Despondently, we consoled ourselves that Södergran’s poems are a monument stronger than copper. Youngsters in each generation still quote from memory the concluding lines of one of her most famous poems </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">The Day Cools to Night</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"> (</span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Dagen svalnar mot natt</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">):</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span> </span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Du sökte en blomma You sought a flower</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">och fann en frukt. and found a fruit.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Du sökte en källa You sought a source</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">och fann ett hav. and found a sea.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">du sökte en kvinna You sought a woman</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">och fann en själ - and found a soul -</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">du är besviken. you're disappointed.</span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span> </span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">We set off on our next task: to find the vicar’s house in Räisälä where Hagar Olsson (1893- 1978), a friend of Edith Södergran, grew up. Her father was the Lutheran priest in Räisälä, where the church designed by Josef Stenbäck and built in 1911-1912 remains in good condition since it was used as an assembly hall for civic events throughout the Soviet era. Little has changed. A pity that other churches have not been looked after equally well!<o:p></o:p></span></span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4h7k8hDdeEiQkMKJHd0JBItkNgk60xrkz68bHZ1QnsDVCPcxfE0KSU1ol9a5DipCs43BeDr3oCKLLIbi1f9uE4_gLb4t3Ex7IPyUveVEOc7ql0UDw4YBtNLB1vGcw_tSh2qNp5Imcqgnc/s1600/_DSC0274+2+Churches+Ra%25CC%2588isa%25CC%2588la%25CC%2588.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" height="262" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4h7k8hDdeEiQkMKJHd0JBItkNgk60xrkz68bHZ1QnsDVCPcxfE0KSU1ol9a5DipCs43BeDr3oCKLLIbi1f9uE4_gLb4t3Ex7IPyUveVEOc7ql0UDw4YBtNLB1vGcw_tSh2qNp5Imcqgnc/s640/_DSC0274+2+Churches+Ra%25CC%2588isa%25CC%2588la%25CC%2588.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><div class="MsoNormal"><i><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Räisälä church, 2011 and 1939</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span></span></span></span></i><br />
<i><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"></span></span></span></span></i><span style="line-height: 115%;"><b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Source</span></span></i></b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">: Emil Ems and “Karelen – Landet som var” (1941)</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"> <o:p></o:p></span></span></div></td></tr>
</tbody></table><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Hagar attended the Swedish-language school in Viborg. She was the theoretician and advocate of the modernist school of which Edith was the foremost practitioner. As an author, she is remembered best today for her novel published in 1940, </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Träsnidaren och döden</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"> (The Wood Carver and Death), a terse story of faith, art and work in Karelia.</span></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></span></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Finding the vicarage in this small town proved an unexpected challenge. Russian names of villages have replaced Finnish names on current maps; new roads have replaced old ones and suburbs have replaced the small rural communities of yore. Much that was on the old maps has disappeared. This world has been changed! Where the vicarage was supposed to be we found a well-kept house resembling a private club equipped with an outdoor bar. It was closed, in spite of the pleasant summer weather. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEise_z7tSrxLTbBBuBfNGul6xWV7-GB3bHdFdL93ugU8DD3jPbk0YtMqP3vhNATiwkbVAjmcfhvGy1ZLh3HX3O8ns7J-MkyUPs3na7NbRc3uAaBAzE7XfrdgoL5Iq499saIJs4ihA7XnM7W/s1600/_DSC0271+Presbytery+Ra%25CC%2588isa%25CC%2588la%25CC%2588.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" height="438" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEise_z7tSrxLTbBBuBfNGul6xWV7-GB3bHdFdL93ugU8DD3jPbk0YtMqP3vhNATiwkbVAjmcfhvGy1ZLh3HX3O8ns7J-MkyUPs3na7NbRc3uAaBAzE7XfrdgoL5Iq499saIJs4ihA7XnM7W/s640/_DSC0271+Presbytery+Ra%25CC%2588isa%25CC%2588la%25CC%2588.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><div class="MsoNormal"><i><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The rediscovered vicarage in Räisälä</span></span></span></i><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div></td></tr>
</tbody></table><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">The house differed strikingly from the photograph of the vicarage in our guidebook </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Karelen: Landet som var</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"> (1941), bearing instead an uncanny resemblance to the photo of the municipal retirement home in that book. After initial confusion, we concluded that the captions on the two photos in our guidebook had been reversed. A visit to the municipal retirement home confirmed this printing error.</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Elated by having solved this mystery, we believed for a fleeting instance that we were the first to have discovered this mistake. Many before us must have made the same discovery but kept it a secret for the initiated few. We realized then that this was a semi-clandestine world, where for decades people spoke of core Karelia in whispers on one side of the border so as not to annoy those on the other side, where no one spoke of it at all so that they could sleep better at night. After all, we were looking at the result of an ethnic expulsion that occurred 70 years ago. Karelia is one of the few regions that is perhaps more closed and less developed today than it was 100 years ago. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span><br />
<span lang="EN-GB"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></span></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">When built in 1932, the municipal retirement home was a nice example of Finnish modernism. The building was now so run down that we would have concluded that it was abandoned, had we not learnt earlier that anything with a roof still on it houses make-shift living quarters. Soon an elderly gentleman emerged briskly from the building and offered or requested services of an unclear nature. </span><o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhz4D257WlLKdiDiyMHroyOzRqj8CMoEez7wvqIidYi4hhrgfMLvVENWltE9D-kIrL7DAVCVmbtx0-NPZMn9baz56l6NcUrlHEiliFiyWR_7zxuq2ifjfPdoRNC3-8Yrid7h4FPSICZMQ3A/s1600/_DSC0288+Retirement+home+Duplet+Ra%25CC%2588isa%25CC%2588la%25CC%2588.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="448" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhz4D257WlLKdiDiyMHroyOzRqj8CMoEez7wvqIidYi4hhrgfMLvVENWltE9D-kIrL7DAVCVmbtx0-NPZMn9baz56l6NcUrlHEiliFiyWR_7zxuq2ifjfPdoRNC3-8Yrid7h4FPSICZMQ3A/s640/_DSC0288+Retirement+home+Duplet+Ra%25CC%2588isa%25CC%2588la%25CC%2588.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><div class="MsoNormal"><i><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The communal retirement home built in 1932</span></span><o:p></o:p></span></i></div></td></tr>
</tbody></table><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Thanking the gentleman for his offer or rebuffing his request as the case may be, we returned to the vicarage gratified that we had clarified the mystery of Hagar Olsson’s childhood home but disappointed that we could see no trace of her association with it. We rang the church bell at the vicarage to remind those in the vicinity, if any, of the house’s original purpose. While nice to see the vicarage so well maintained, it was sad that it could not be put to more appropriate use. After all, there is something to be said for not suppressing knowledge of the past. Sooner or later truth will out.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLSBWsC5RPqQOLTVxMyXxa5FHUlIbwt9AOWRXx4_w83PHa2MY-5iKBe9-NOxI5-tzoJb-eDcxvEYIPR_kfPhUlDAIGLJQuAPa2AMNQSDxgi0B6Yrk3J_c579dKmCp-wbR1IQT3Ga6lDsqk/s1600/_DSC0266+Clock+staple+Pryory+Ra%25CC%2588isa%25CC%2588la%25CC%2588.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLSBWsC5RPqQOLTVxMyXxa5FHUlIbwt9AOWRXx4_w83PHa2MY-5iKBe9-NOxI5-tzoJb-eDcxvEYIPR_kfPhUlDAIGLJQuAPa2AMNQSDxgi0B6Yrk3J_c579dKmCp-wbR1IQT3Ga6lDsqk/s400/_DSC0266+Clock+staple+Pryory+Ra%25CC%2588isa%25CC%2588la%25CC%2588.jpg" width="286" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The church bell now calls to evening drinks instead of to divine service</span></span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Two authors’ homes remained for us to see. The Parland family manor Tikila lies in Teerilä about ten kilometres east of Viborg. Oscar Parland describes his childhood there in three magical books, successfully recreated by Finnish Television. (</span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Förvandlingar </span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">(1945)</span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">,</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"> </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Metamorfosis</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">, </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Den förtrollade vägen (</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">1953)</span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">, The Enchanted Road, Tjurens år </span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">(1962), </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Year of the Bull</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">). Oscar and his brother Henry, descendants of early Scottish immigrants McFarland, started school in St Petersburg, continued in a German School in Viborg and transferred to the Swedish language school there. Rumour had it that the manor house in Teerilä, where the family settled after the Russian revolution, was destroyed during the wars.</span> </span><br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Nevertheless, we drove past Teerilä and parked the car on a high spot to view the valley and the lake. We rested and from a distance a lost world rose in our imagination. Elderly couples strolled with parasols in the large park. The ladies wore long gowns and the men bore elegant military uniforms. A black bull stomped threateningly and paced back and forth in the meadow. Several boisterous youngsters rowed a boat across the lake to make social calls on neighbours. A parrot sat in the bow, swearing in Russian. Rejuvenated by this vision, we drove off just as an elegant peacock strutted by our car and nodded as if to bid us farewell.</span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdBE1wLQfyqUcGbQ8OkpMQUUShfypdukYY7pvPjC7jPlWcr4jQlvRr7p7GMgJsScfQN55AgzfPBm_hs2qRPPU9CYMcKXPQPdAkXm2cgwBf5ZOvD7zEg4Oa7b70mvuhCF68Da-i86frqXK_/s1600/_DSC0156+Monrepos+Manor+mirrored.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="546" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdBE1wLQfyqUcGbQ8OkpMQUUShfypdukYY7pvPjC7jPlWcr4jQlvRr7p7GMgJsScfQN55AgzfPBm_hs2qRPPU9CYMcKXPQPdAkXm2cgwBf5ZOvD7zEg4Oa7b70mvuhCF68Da-i86frqXK_/s640/_DSC0156+Monrepos+Manor+mirrored.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><div class="MsoNormal"><i><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The magic lake in Terrilä?</span></span><o:p></o:p></span></i></div></td></tr>
</tbody></table><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">The second house was the Zilliacus family home on the island Hapenensaari outside Viborg in a border zone we could not enter. It is legendary in Finland for its country house and unique apple orchard. Heavy fighting during the Wars destroyed both. The poet Emil Zilliacus (1878-1961) translated the Latin and Greek classics into Swedish here. He was part of the strong classical tradition in Finland, which incidentally gave rise to today’s weekly emissions in Latin on Finland’s Radio. His son Benedict Zilliacus (1921-) has written movingly about the family home in </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Båten i vassen </span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">(1990)</span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">,</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"> </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">The Boat in the Rushes</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">. As a child he would hide in his boat in the rushes during warm summer days. During the war, a wounded Russian soldier survived for fifty days with two dead comrades in a boat hidden in the same rushes while fierce fighting raged on the island in which Benedict was also engaged.</span></span><br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Hapenensaari was the fixed point in Emil Zilliacus life and he lived to see its destruction. He could not have foreseen this in the poem he wrote in 1925. Fifteen years later, the fixed point was no more</span>.</div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Då borras klacken djupt i strandens jord. I dig my heel deep in the coastal earth.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Min fot får fäste. Känslan finner ord: My foot rests firm. A feeling soon takes form.<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span lang="EN-GB"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Välsignad torvan som ger foten stöd This blessed turf, which lends my foot support</span><br />
-mitt hem, mitt hägn, min egen värld i världen- - my home, my fort, my own world in this world -</div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">som skänker källklar dryck och frukt och bröd, a source of sparkling water, fruit and bread <o:p></o:p></span></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">och kärnfriskt virke till min eld på härden. and hardwood for the fire in my hearth.</span></span><br />
<span lang="EN-GB"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Det är min fasta grund. Här höll mitt ankar. It is my solid ground, my anchor firm.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Kom an novemberstorm, november tankar! So come November thoughts, November storms!</span><o:p></o:p></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></div></div><br />
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</div>Per Magnus Wijkmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14217307266155847493noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7025396287926893893.post-38850723026962669542011-10-05T00:05:00.007+02:002011-10-05T01:27:33.462+02:00A GODLESS COUNTRY?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpWNEsOeA840am7DGkgQIBMpifcZFhOKPfKBlT5KhCwgADGZrr2miG7lGKxtnug_Z5TF9kvo-SUTJmVPQGBM5qn0h7ko8bdQTADdWQ9tpvphSKV1QOEW9JHRJNvLvaAYN0v4gkyBOdAHvP/s1600/_DSC0019+Master.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="355" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpWNEsOeA840am7DGkgQIBMpifcZFhOKPfKBlT5KhCwgADGZrr2miG7lGKxtnug_Z5TF9kvo-SUTJmVPQGBM5qn0h7ko8bdQTADdWQ9tpvphSKV1QOEW9JHRJNvLvaAYN0v4gkyBOdAHvP/s640/_DSC0019+Master.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Though a godless society, the USSR had its own deities: the troika of Marx, Lenin and Stalin. When Lenin returned to Russia in August 1917 he found refuge from the Czar’s police in a small farmhouse in Jalkala owned by the brothers Ivan and Peter Parvianen of St Petersburg. Thereafter, this simple house has been a shrine, protected from the natural if not from the spiritual elements by a disproportionately large roof. A statue of a pensive Lenin guards the path to his shrine, reminding the mighty to look on his works and then despair. Round his former empire’s colossal wreck, boundless and bare the lone and level forests stretch far away. <o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKgh0takIsddHNGKYkxVZknESlvwGV8s-p1Zi7vVsUYT9G9oVa2VcA8GRTy_ybJFQigE8VnyCxMexS5eHGZJkft87DcsZWr9vPAIKJBOAwR8elJhr47WWISlm1Wz8R-y_jjhIZQpyKMvWt/s1600/_DSC0332+Composite+Master_1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="330" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKgh0takIsddHNGKYkxVZknESlvwGV8s-p1Zi7vVsUYT9G9oVa2VcA8GRTy_ybJFQigE8VnyCxMexS5eHGZJkft87DcsZWr9vPAIKJBOAwR8elJhr47WWISlm1Wz8R-y_jjhIZQpyKMvWt/s640/_DSC0332+Composite+Master_1.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><div class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">A pensive Lenin reflects in Jalkala on the vanity of power – too late<o:p></o:p></i></div></td></tr>
</tbody></table><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 16px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">When in power, the Communist Party advocated atheism and persecuted religious believers. Lutheran and Orthodox churches in Karelia that survived the wars were either destroyed or abandoned after 1944. Like the ruins of Armenian churches in Turkey, they stand as silent witness of-religious intolerance. When the USSR collapsed, the faith of orthodox believers reemerged in spite of several generations of atheistic indoctrination. We saw </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">en route</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"> several renovated Orthodox churches or newly-built ones, such as the island monastery just off the main road close to Vasilevo.</span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRKv1uXE9yGw2BcwNOJrx0Odh0kej22DWhX8FePwyFNeytYbH1Tpx9rKAr46rAm6qp-iVmVUX_X4bOp3ll6KOYcqjjey7d4eTyRk1Q6S34vm-wy8ImIuHyNTjvrU_O5aNWTqNSMNIbaJ3G/s1600/_DSC0298+Master_1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRKv1uXE9yGw2BcwNOJrx0Odh0kej22DWhX8FePwyFNeytYbH1Tpx9rKAr46rAm6qp-iVmVUX_X4bOp3ll6KOYcqjjey7d4eTyRk1Q6S34vm-wy8ImIuHyNTjvrU_O5aNWTqNSMNIbaJ3G/s320/_DSC0298+Master_1.jpg" width="262" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><div class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Once underground, the church resurfaces<o:p></o:p></i></div></td></tr>
</tbody></table><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">In sharp contrast, the Orthodox Church St. Nicolai in Salmi stood in ruins. Built in 1824, this church was damaged heavily in the Wars. Standing on high ground, it </span></span><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">commands a magnificent view of the surroundings. Its deterioration has gone so far that it is soon beyond repair.</span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1xddxpAwDrgVrRWa-ErGNdU1JHhBUcvoHKVrJzsONmBe52C9i1RrmN05kaH-1It3TiuxNOWyva7IVU5J3D6G1tkgR9B8SeCM88HlQiMX14yvBjfy1qx2oIcB0qWnERA0m9qNW3Dj-76bI/s1600/_DSC0011+Composite+Master.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="390" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1xddxpAwDrgVrRWa-ErGNdU1JHhBUcvoHKVrJzsONmBe52C9i1RrmN05kaH-1It3TiuxNOWyva7IVU5J3D6G1tkgR9B8SeCM88HlQiMX14yvBjfy1qx2oIcB0qWnERA0m9qNW3Dj-76bI/s640/_DSC0011+Composite+Master.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><div class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The remains of the orthodox church of St. Nicolai outside Salmi<o:p></o:p></i></div></td></tr>
</tbody></table><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 16px;">All Lutheran churches damaged in the war still stand in ruins since 1944 when the Lutheran population left. We had barely crossed the border before we saw the first ruin: that of Pälkjärvi church. Destroyed by Soviet forces during the winter war, only the entrance steps to the church remained in a terrain now reclaimed by the forest.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsKS5mBb7K4rZFE9Kq8vohga-dMQq8WLb_Bc83Vilug-rU6jLdVbxMRmRfJugMGpecbifNnSMAX8t0hAZgawUDztO5l1waie3S5q6CTUwnsKFoE1guaPL4AwSEA2qfnJV8-JM92Qy9who-/s1600/_DSC0047+Master.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="312" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsKS5mBb7K4rZFE9Kq8vohga-dMQq8WLb_Bc83Vilug-rU6jLdVbxMRmRfJugMGpecbifNnSMAX8t0hAZgawUDztO5l1waie3S5q6CTUwnsKFoE1guaPL4AwSEA2qfnJV8-JM92Qy9who-/s400/_DSC0047+Master.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><div class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Only the entrance steps remain of the Lutheran church in Pälkjärvi<o:p></o:p></i></div></td></tr>
</tbody></table><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 16px;">On our journey we saw one church ruin after another. But we also discovered a truly exceptional event: a new Lutheran church was under construction in Ruskeala. This was a work of faith. Pastor Kalevi Keinonen returned late in life from Finland to the vicarage where his Father had lived and served before 1944. Kalevi was now building a new Lutheran church to replace the one, destroyed during the wars, where his father once had officiated.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUfFTwA2qzXzqk0_5r87XxFB1Av7gPCtLVOQs_iL0iaDFxle2vMvVKLU2ZaxhinhK8b6578J9f4BV2cqMqM0teGxLwccCE9EqATnABab-VTX4J-tmozql0RJkyKLsSdXame77iUvjKCwzu/s1600/_DSC0288+Master_1+%25281%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUfFTwA2qzXzqk0_5r87XxFB1Av7gPCtLVOQs_iL0iaDFxle2vMvVKLU2ZaxhinhK8b6578J9f4BV2cqMqM0teGxLwccCE9EqATnABab-VTX4J-tmozql0RJkyKLsSdXame77iUvjKCwzu/s640/_DSC0288+Master_1+%25281%2529.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><div class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">A work of faith: A new church rises in Ruskeala <o:p></o:p></i></div></td></tr>
</tbody></table><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 16px;">Ruskeala is a cheerless village. Its inhabitants commute from worn-down dwellings to distant jobs. Proximity to the border zone contributes to a sense of . isolation. Although there is a school and a kindergarten in the village, we seldom saw anyone on Main Street. Destitute desolation reigns in the side streets and behind the few brick buildings, as in most country settlements in Karelia.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhewe2fxRAHVeAE33iRy5rYE7NsgRdmwE8hrin8gLJhdYRcFY8bY5il66cc-SAj9oyaw7MIsT5XjhrFn24LB9FKuqSsUVFxcGZXRzE32TROvQjsjOFAT6jSu7H7f-SqUbO3vL588O2Uq1_0/s1600/_DSC0280+Duplet+Master.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="428" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhewe2fxRAHVeAE33iRy5rYE7NsgRdmwE8hrin8gLJhdYRcFY8bY5il66cc-SAj9oyaw7MIsT5XjhrFn24LB9FKuqSsUVFxcGZXRzE32TROvQjsjOFAT6jSu7H7f-SqUbO3vL588O2Uq1_0/s640/_DSC0280+Duplet+Master.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><div class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Desolation reigns in Ruskeala<o:p></o:p></i></div></td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 16px;">The few tourists who pass through tend to stay at the new church’s hostel, located on its ground floor. Local youngsters greeted us with the Finnish salutation “Terve!” (Hi!), assuming that all tourists were from across the nearby border. We, too, stayed several nights in that hostel, restoring body and soul in the hospitable company of the Keinonen family. Behind the new church being constructed, we found the few foundation stones that remained of its predecessor, bombed by the Soviets in the war.</span></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKPHQe5Cwb6G6e5jSUMEdEYqSFakd8Mr2g9w3Dn_wCEuLGT99LBFj9WA2Fdii5ZXI4-KnJhG7DXgAahBLwaOzgIGvWPqHTvcsvAIxULeCkwEh8xuTRj4noGdLRYN-RDX-2x465T3eM_s1z/s1600/_DSC0043+Master.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="267" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKPHQe5Cwb6G6e5jSUMEdEYqSFakd8Mr2g9w3Dn_wCEuLGT99LBFj9WA2Fdii5ZXI4-KnJhG7DXgAahBLwaOzgIGvWPqHTvcsvAIxULeCkwEh8xuTRj4noGdLRYN-RDX-2x465T3eM_s1z/s400/_DSC0043+Master.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><div class="MsoNormal"><i>Only the foundation remains of the old church.…</i><o:p></o:p></div></td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 16px;">The destroyed church was not just any church but one built in the 1830s by Carl Ludvig Engel (1778-1840). A German architect who had moved to St Petersburg in 1814, Engel designed many buildings there. In 1816 Czar Alexander I charged him with the task of redesigning Helsingfors (Helsinki), ravished by a fire in 1806, which he had made the capital of his new Grand Duchy. Engel designed among much else the magnificent Senate Square there and its buildings. In 1824 he was appointed chief superintendent for public buildings in Finland. His imprint can be found throughout the country – not least in Karelia.</span></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtDi1AmcbnaguOKHyj4zxJQlpM-dx0-iI4gUqnV1RF3ImfEcxRyvVR2Io_4XYLsqPH-TH9BZHJb0WQ0fMGeY2a0ofeao-bar8X7TdUEyl0selGiCaknWCXLeFaJp97cx3MpcMiXMUbmRO9/s1600/IMG_0004.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="276" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtDi1AmcbnaguOKHyj4zxJQlpM-dx0-iI4gUqnV1RF3ImfEcxRyvVR2Io_4XYLsqPH-TH9BZHJb0WQ0fMGeY2a0ofeao-bar8X7TdUEyl0selGiCaknWCXLeFaJp97cx3MpcMiXMUbmRO9/s400/IMG_0004.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><div class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">….in Ruskeala built in the 1830s by Engel<o:p></o:p></i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><i> <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;">Source: <a href="http://books.google.com/books/about/Karelen_landet_som_var.html?id=uFchNQAACAAJ">Karelen: Landet som var</a></span></i><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;">, 1941 </span> </i></div></td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 16px;">But why such an impressive church in this now desolate spot? Ruskeala was an affluent community in the 19th century due to rich agricultural land, valuable timber and marble resources and proximity to the thriving cities of Viborg (Viipuri) and St Petersburg. It could afford a church by the country’s leading architect. The church by Engel was one that any town would be proud of. That it today would appear out of place in this run-down community, had it survived the war, is a sign of the sad changes that have occurred here in the last 70 years.</span></div></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Near Ruskeala we found a quarry, which had opened in 1768 and supplied marble for buildings both in St Petersburg (The Winter Palace) and in Helsingfors. The quarry was now water-filled and an attraction for paying tourists to paddle around in. <o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrb-b6jITmGbpKYvnsDTLOrIyIrcW3y2QR0Y_LenlF4LNoZMY1Uzx8c259wU5iPQXp_93HzHjYTOnhyNPgQBhja8NZNHb-5KZMjMN6r_-28Th5-dGuMBhPOOO-LgatIiEDDjSpBcLVjGYF/s1600/_DSC0054+Master.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrb-b6jITmGbpKYvnsDTLOrIyIrcW3y2QR0Y_LenlF4LNoZMY1Uzx8c259wU5iPQXp_93HzHjYTOnhyNPgQBhja8NZNHb-5KZMjMN6r_-28Th5-dGuMBhPOOO-LgatIiEDDjSpBcLVjGYF/s640/_DSC0054+Master.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><div class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The flooded quarry in Ruskeala attracts some tourists<o:p></o:p></i></div></td></tr>
</tbody></table><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 16px;">We drove from Sordavala (Sortavala) down the Northeastern coast of Lake Ladoga. Passing through small communities, we saw few signs of life and a poverty reminiscent of that in the Nordic countries perhaps three generations ago. Seen against the familiar backdrop of Nordic scenery this poverty struck us as anachronistic. Few cars were on the road. This was fortunate since the many potholes encouraged drivers in both directions to drive in the middle of the road. Poor visibility and high speed turned driving into a chicken-race. Who would yield first? (We did.)</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 16px;"><br />
</span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Arriving at the coastal village of Lahdenpohja we stopped at the ruin of a brick church on the high ground. From it we admired the view of Lake Ladoga and the surrounding country side. What a peaceful and harmonious community this ghost-town must have been 100 years ago! Here was another church designed by Engel and finished in 1851. <o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4NV77TA_wpX9Mu93aCkDU9RASgeN5oFNHfFv5ZdYnd6_6Xo_MWimEBmguPG3LqY_i2aQfX-S7qQ1fUXWwieu-ga4sgA74hwrrTScdKAsV9cdKH58IGrNTj01CJ6-LLNUBJ309i6owAEgJ/s1600/_DSC0129a+Master.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="434" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4NV77TA_wpX9Mu93aCkDU9RASgeN5oFNHfFv5ZdYnd6_6Xo_MWimEBmguPG3LqY_i2aQfX-S7qQ1fUXWwieu-ga4sgA74hwrrTScdKAsV9cdKH58IGrNTj01CJ6-LLNUBJ309i6owAEgJ/s640/_DSC0129a+Master.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><div class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Little remains of Engel’s masterpieces in Karelia <o:p></o:p></i></div></td></tr>
</tbody></table><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"> </span></span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">This church had survived the wars and was used as a storage facility by the Soviet government after 1944. In the 1970s it burnt down, perhaps by accident, perhaps by arson. Either way, the government saved on maintenance costs. Only the red brick walls remain standing, silently mourning a more peaceful time. Although the ruin has been without a roof for 30-40 years, large trees have not yet grown inside the church nor rooted themselves in its walls. Is this a sign that God wants his church restored?</span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-0uN1urnRviB-qoLrRMNGB4ioRSrVIeIP56NXpGCZTa9yhVDCbME4Npa5f_erK_Zw7IPY4zH2o4nu7QWwbs4_sNeCj72wlqsgbYVNqn2rRFlJBht0AApf4G_uOfoHlA23qhQc2XQxE4DB/s1600/_DSC0131+Composite+Master_1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="472" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-0uN1urnRviB-qoLrRMNGB4ioRSrVIeIP56NXpGCZTa9yhVDCbME4Npa5f_erK_Zw7IPY4zH2o4nu7QWwbs4_sNeCj72wlqsgbYVNqn2rRFlJBht0AApf4G_uOfoHlA23qhQc2XQxE4DB/s640/_DSC0131+Composite+Master_1.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><div class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">What would Engel say?<o:p></o:p></i></div></td></tr>
</tbody></table><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 16px;">In the small village of Lumivaara we passed a second church, which from a distance still looked intact since it had a tower and a roof. The small cemetery was well kept by an association in Finland of its former inhabitants. We stopped in the hope that the church was still in use.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjivoufYWc6rdDTgecWb-95D1RYjZRERxPuFGNB2fOGl7-rc4rf9msk0GJi31COxb4vk8ZEwBu-vh_q5g5OFy1hgUndGQrPvABikA60iCBXlsonBevSMoJVitat1Jx4tpxCidtVVqQJWtK_/s1600/_DSC0162+Master.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjivoufYWc6rdDTgecWb-95D1RYjZRERxPuFGNB2fOGl7-rc4rf9msk0GJi31COxb4vk8ZEwBu-vh_q5g5OFy1hgUndGQrPvABikA60iCBXlsonBevSMoJVitat1Jx4tpxCidtVVqQJWtK_/s400/_DSC0162+Master.jpg" width="265" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><div class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The church in Lumivaara looked in good shape and invited us to enter</i>…<o:p></o:p></div></td></tr>
</tbody></table><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 16px;">Our hopes rose when we saw that the doors to the church were open. However, we were soon to learn that here an open door was a sure sign that a building was abandoned. The walls were filled with graffiti. The murals were faded. The wooden floor had missing support beams and had risen about one meter in one corner of the Church. It proved hazardous to advance to the altar. Nonetheless, here was a church that still could be restored. Its relatively good shape was due in part to its recent construction in 1935. Designed by Ilmari Launis, it had a short life-span.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiy9lzcqNOPp26n3xziSnMaObdkbaTtB9M2jW_bJVd3zctBLiRI7IfVgTeUL_MDMIE3Cl2rWB9dUSE-6GtYgfKMlG07o1CBk82RdnYLEemztvUXHDDIx0ZrZP8ehkz7XJRNmuaaG8qdW4R6/s1600/_DSC0165+Master_1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="396" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiy9lzcqNOPp26n3xziSnMaObdkbaTtB9M2jW_bJVd3zctBLiRI7IfVgTeUL_MDMIE3Cl2rWB9dUSE-6GtYgfKMlG07o1CBk82RdnYLEemztvUXHDDIx0ZrZP8ehkz7XJRNmuaaG8qdW4R6/s640/_DSC0165+Master_1.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><div class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">….but inside decay was rapidly progressing<o:p></o:p></i></div></td></tr>
</tbody></table><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 16px;">We climbed the tower and viewed the countryside in silence – a magnificent but sad view. We pulled the rope in the belfry and heard the church bells peal dirge-like over the town. But no one came to the funeral and we remained alone.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 16px;"><br />
</span></div></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Communism may have thought that it had evicted God from his dwelling. But if God dwells anywhere, it is in the minds of men, not in temples. So the Communist regime had only succeeded in destroying the material, not the immaterial. That was in itself a significant loss in this small corner of the world. Worse was that the Soviet Government expelled about 400 000 people from this area, people who could trace their family roots in this region back seven generations</span></span></div>Per Magnus Wijkmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14217307266155847493noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7025396287926893893.post-90787581031445234942011-09-27T17:55:00.022+02:002011-09-30T15:37:47.198+02:00BORDERLAND AND BORDER STONES<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9InFjJZUjnodIzHSK4-klN4BcvGCSgHIBgTLsrmK5dHfEaqi-r0fPF-_MB5yUlxzMHaVg1s4FGO4wK5d1XrLNhWNymVBFeOMs0x0SQ4gA7P9pn8cvRzp-d3LLfKN2bWnXkTli7rE5klVe/s1600/_DSC0249+Master.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9InFjJZUjnodIzHSK4-klN4BcvGCSgHIBgTLsrmK5dHfEaqi-r0fPF-_MB5yUlxzMHaVg1s4FGO4wK5d1XrLNhWNymVBFeOMs0x0SQ4gA7P9pn8cvRzp-d3LLfKN2bWnXkTli7rE5klVe/s640/_DSC0249+Master.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="FI" style="font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><i>Kexholm (Käkisalmi) fort stands guard on the Vuoksen (Vuoksi) River</i> <o:p></o:p></span></div></td></tr>
</tbody></table><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 16px;">We drove from a borderless European Union through a time-consuming and meticulous Russian border control into a region criss-crossed by multiple layers of historical borders. For almost a millennium, Karelia has been a borderland and a battleground between East and West, as evidenced by its coat of arms. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmp2hrs_MiHYl0qqbllx-mb8iWgCjjbE04_ZuBfkEVn4_ZwX0pI4MjjVnBLLcrSETc8JxUxjXWtROYRoDRA7PXDtobVz_ftgzpbgOuSMybDATQe1l3UB9XMDnO5LwbEsFdkYVEbaSahIv_/s1600/Karelia+Arms1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="378" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmp2hrs_MiHYl0qqbllx-mb8iWgCjjbE04_ZuBfkEVn4_ZwX0pI4MjjVnBLLcrSETc8JxUxjXWtROYRoDRA7PXDtobVz_ftgzpbgOuSMybDATQe1l3UB9XMDnO5LwbEsFdkYVEbaSahIv_/s400/Karelia+Arms1.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Source: </i><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Karelia"><i>Wikipedia</i></a></td></tr>
</tbody></table><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 16px;">Karelia consists, somewhat simplified, of three parts. Since about 1200 one part has always belonged to Finland-Sweden or to Finland (North Karelia and South Karelia) and another part to Russia/USSR (White Karelia and Olonets Karelia). The core third part, the Isthmus and Ladoga Karelia, has been disputed since then, belonging alternately to its Western or to its Eastern neighbour. Core Karelia has long stood guard at Western Europe’s Northeastern border; and for centuries Russia has claimed core Karelia to gain access to the Baltic Sea and thereafter to guard its Northwestern border.</span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"> </span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinkRPDznSNh_UQJSKljK9LBpvWm3m6FgWWVFRy3p4_pO-tcyarh_jYOna4rkOG4V0vpeflieHN5KQtGoriMn44aRN8bEhTYOU9YbojbDvvYs6zvKULSKbo7r5z7JRjKmFk5_ontRdZLJ3P/s1600/Karelia+Map.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinkRPDznSNh_UQJSKljK9LBpvWm3m6FgWWVFRy3p4_pO-tcyarh_jYOna4rkOG4V0vpeflieHN5KQtGoriMn44aRN8bEhTYOU9YbojbDvvYs6zvKULSKbo7r5z7JRjKmFk5_ontRdZLJ3P/s400/Karelia+Map.jpg" width="230" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Source: </i><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Karelia"><i>Wikipedia</i></a></td></tr>
</tbody></table><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">The dispute over core Karelia started over trade, continued over religion and most recently concerned military security. The Isthmus is rife with rivers that provide outlets both to the <a href="http://www.karjalankartat.fi/">Baltic Sea and to Lake Ladoga</a>.</span></span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Vikings entered Lake Ladoga through the Neva River (passing through what a millennium later was to become St Petersburg). From Ladoga they followed Russian rivers leading to Novgorod, to the Black Sea and to the Caspian Sea. The River</span></span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"> </span><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Vuoksen</span></span></span><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"> </span></span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">(Vuoksi) led North via land bridges to the Saima (Saimaa) Lake district in Finland’s interior and to Lake Ladoga. Karelian seafarers sailed out from the Isthmus to the Baltic Sea’s coasts and Viking expeditions entered it from the Baltic. Already by the end of the year 1000, the Isthmus was filled with trading stations and reloading posts for pelts, grain, wood and tar going west. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizUesWsrVk2dDpYDNZt03nPB21v_8VAAGbE5l2zduPW7P1CEdc5-WMM7Qi81l8OpmmkU2toXijnzHtxREM5POeGR9Jprx-lXSZpTM8MCyoUOj9RDjjDg7T10vx3yPz9Ypy-lcoSTInzRkY/s1600/_DSC0106+Master.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="350" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizUesWsrVk2dDpYDNZt03nPB21v_8VAAGbE5l2zduPW7P1CEdc5-WMM7Qi81l8OpmmkU2toXijnzHtxREM5POeGR9Jprx-lXSZpTM8MCyoUOj9RDjjDg7T10vx3yPz9Ypy-lcoSTInzRkY/s400/_DSC0106+Master.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><i>Wood carving by Kronid Gogolev (1926-), Sordavala (Sortavala)</i> </span></td></tr>
</tbody></table><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 16px;">When the Vikings were baptized the traders became crusaders. Around 1150 Swedish kings, at the request of Rome, started to send missions and armies east to convert ‘pagans’ to Catholicism. At the same time Byzantium started sending its priests west from the Bishopric in Olonets (Aunus). Many were to die as the Roman Catholic and the Greek Orthodox churches fought for the salvation of souls, each eventually claiming about half of the surviving population. This was one of the last regions of Europe to be Christianized.</span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">In 1293 Marshal Torkel Knutsson, responding to a Novgorod attack, founded a fortress where a branch of the Vuoksen entered the Bay of Finland. This was to become the trading city of Viborg (Viipuri), a close partner to, but never a member of, the Hanseatic League. In 1295 Novgorod countered and founded a fortress on an island where Vuoksen entered Lake Ladoga. This was to become Kexholm (Käkisalmi), a major fortification. Today part of this fort houses a small museum illustrating the long history of conflict over the region. The other part is being turned into a private restaurant to celebrate special occasions such as weddings and graduations. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEht-dytQh_1cAZPXUgS_HwwOygVpRZPdjAvZcGrnOGBckY2JtxyEaTGmrDZdDZgZlp9jmgbA-b9H_7-M-0EUkyGqfVMAMatJiYQ7nQa-9dUhAZX17H7PuAaXziUyfuY84XxQljzqMzxYkNA/s1600/_DSC0256+Master.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="456" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEht-dytQh_1cAZPXUgS_HwwOygVpRZPdjAvZcGrnOGBckY2JtxyEaTGmrDZdDZgZlp9jmgbA-b9H_7-M-0EUkyGqfVMAMatJiYQ7nQa-9dUhAZX17H7PuAaXziUyfuY84XxQljzqMzxYkNA/s640/_DSC0256+Master.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><i>The well-fortified entrance to Kexholm fort</i><o:p></o:p></span></div></td></tr>
</tbody></table><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 16px;">Oddly, privatization is now a common means on the Isthmus to preserve historic buildings. Perhaps the public purse is empty or interest in the region’s history is limited. Kexholm proved to be a small town with a pleasant resort atmosphere. A statue of Lenin still graced the main square. Buildings are relatively well maintained. The population, 9 000 in 1939, is now about 21 000.</span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">A long war between the Common Realm and Novgorod concluded in 1323 with a peace treaty in Nöteborg (Päkinäsaari, in German Schlüsselburg), a small fortification guarding entrance to the Neva on the shore of Lake Ladoga. The border between the two countries now split the Karelian Isthmus in half vertically, with Viborg lying on one side of the border and Kexholm on the other. The Isthmus served as a two-lane highway on which Novgorod sent raiding expeditions north to Finland and the Common Realm sent troops south to exclude Novgorod from the Baltic. Thus, the peace treaty of Nöteborg ordered the traffic but did not put an end to the conflict. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">We had heard that the border agreed at Nöteborg was marked at the time by border stones. So we set off in search of one. Without road signs pointing to sites of “historic interest”, this was no easy task. By chance we stumbled upon an obscure footpath leading off the road between Lintula and Lampaala into the forest and through a swamp. We followed it. Negotiating this path required a good sense of balance, which we did not always maintain. Somewhat wet, we arrived at the border stones (gränssten, rajakivi) of 1323, known as Ristikivi (Cross Stone), which awaited us in the forest at the end of the path as a reward for our efforts. The first stone was a substantial boulder that nature rather than man had placed in the terrain a long time ago. In front of it, the inscription on a smaller stone announced to the haphazard passer-by that this was the 1323 border. The text was in Finnish and Russian and probably installed in the last few decades to complement older stones with illegible inscriptions. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj46flHqC8E0Z7cXWgoKs9eTPT3Kjva-YvXnwtVFDSmGx_BhsaWKZ1J1TUoeVSImU7_nwnExeVceNmA30tKQ_ArI2xVQpWr35iOVR195TwASdnZJkB__QQQZjFwOAFDqBfropQHq57D5WnQ/s1600/_DSC0026+Composite+Master.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="292" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj46flHqC8E0Z7cXWgoKs9eTPT3Kjva-YvXnwtVFDSmGx_BhsaWKZ1J1TUoeVSImU7_nwnExeVceNmA30tKQ_ArI2xVQpWr35iOVR195TwASdnZJkB__QQQZjFwOAFDqBfropQHq57D5WnQ/s640/_DSC0026+Composite+Master.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><i> The border stone of 1323 </i><o:p></o:p></span></div></td></tr>
</tbody></table><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 16px;">The battle for mastery of the Isthmus continued. Viborg castle became the lynchpin for the Common Realm to rule the region, protect trade routes and the surrounding Roman Catholic communities from Russian attacks, in particular in the turbulent second half of the 15th century. A Russian siege of Viborg ended on 30 November 1495 when Marshal Knut Jönsson Posse is said to have exploded a warehouse with gunpowder in the midst of the attacking Russians. This event lacks support in contemporary records but has become legendary as the ‘big bang of Viborg’ (Viborgska smällen, Viipurin räjähdys) and attributed diabolic powers to the Marshal of Viborg. Yet another war with Russia, concluded after twenty five years with the peace treaty in Teusina (Täyssinä) 1595, expanded the border of the Common Realm further eastward.</span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0ksovIETRiDIlme7gAJLZkclQH7cBksdpgsqGPbS9LXDUD0Ml4_NW0d6l2X7i3YKcQ9iYznCabjoH4lnYTzUkmA5x8JYIjrE1M6yEb6j3oIQRl643bm5oltqL8k_ZKZPSwNVOm8hsQ2dF/s1600/DSC_0289+Master.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0ksovIETRiDIlme7gAJLZkclQH7cBksdpgsqGPbS9LXDUD0Ml4_NW0d6l2X7i3YKcQ9iYznCabjoH4lnYTzUkmA5x8JYIjrE1M6yEb6j3oIQRl643bm5oltqL8k_ZKZPSwNVOm8hsQ2dF/s400/DSC_0289+Master.jpg" width="265" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><i>The statue of Marshal Torkel Knutsson was raised in 1908 in Viborg but placed in a closet in 1944. He came out in 1993 to celebrate the 700th anniversary of his founding of Viborg.</i></span> </td></tr>
</tbody></table><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 16px;">After the Reformation, the Kings of the Common Realm were protestant and the religious conflict now was between Lutheranism and Orthodoxy, with many Orthodox fleeing to the Russian side of the border due to severe religious intolerance in Sweden. Thanks to his commander, Jakob De la Gardie, King Gustav II Adolf could after 15 years of war redraw the border on the Isthmus in the Peace Treaty with Russia signed in Stolbova 1617. This extended Sweden’s border to include all of the Isthmus and Ingria (Ingermanland, Inkari) to its South, which connected with Estonia, a Swedish province since 1561. Russia had lost its opening to the Baltic.</span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">A new peace called for new border stones. As a school boy I had read in my history books that a stone near Salmi, on the Eastern shore of Lake Ladoga, bore the inscription “Huc Regni posuit fines, Gustavus Adolphus, Rex Svecorum; fausto numine duret opus.” (Here Gustavus Adolphus, King of Sweden, marked the outermost border of his Kingdom. May God’s benevolence preserve his work.) So when in Salmi we set off in search of this stone (see on the <a href="http://www.karjalankartat.fi/?language=en&E=4519402.082857554&N=6825078.887053661&scale=749999.9999999999&base=OpenLayers.Layer.Image_12">map</a>, where the former Russian border cuts into the northeastern Ladoga shore</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">). The pursuit was no easy task. We drove along a narrow country road and arrived at the shore of Lake Ladoga. The numerous discarded bottles of hard liquor indicated that locals used the small beach for an assortment of summer activities. In stormy weather we could far off glimpse the border stone called Crow’s Stone (Kråksten, Visikivi) close to the shore.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsTXhacSDzc64BoQ4QCc-QkdwE5oufYS_gMAju82bc_ULIbrxUaB_vnnc2ImMTei9gN2hZjEW5CvvgzywdIFXchGpta7RD4bQ88b9BPOn7aCJw0Jhhpv3jJt3dN4xot1F4yje22NjOWnI1/s1600/_DSC0001+Master1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsTXhacSDzc64BoQ4QCc-QkdwE5oufYS_gMAju82bc_ULIbrxUaB_vnnc2ImMTei9gN2hZjEW5CvvgzywdIFXchGpta7RD4bQ88b9BPOn7aCJw0Jhhpv3jJt3dN4xot1F4yje22NjOWnI1/s400/_DSC0001+Master1.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><div class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; line-height: 115%;">Viewing the distant Crow’s Stone in stormy weather<o:p></o:p></span></i></div></td></tr>
</tbody></table><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 16px;">We dared not following the coastal road which was narrow, muddy and dirty for fear of getting our car stuck in the wilderness. So we wandered afoot in the rainy weather hoping to meet someone who could point us to the access route. But in this depopulated countryside we were on our own and gave up. Had we had sufficient perseverance to negotiate an additional four or five kilometers on foot we could have seen the huge boulder in Lake Ladoga called the Crow’s Stone at close range. Here it is mounted by an adventurous Finnish soldier in a photo from the 1930s.</span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2S_XQ-GHcaryK8NwvIX0v3Z2TtDuJl_Zj7fQwgOUM-VIzDA2hmK_cEj7t-yRmbslsKkEGwwfPfIw5v_GmoLT36F-vWHnPrP5ZabB9Vuj6mfJIYTHz8SqPeMFDZunIrIi-WKpkUispEUap/s1600/Varasjev+Stone1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="280" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2S_XQ-GHcaryK8NwvIX0v3Z2TtDuJl_Zj7fQwgOUM-VIzDA2hmK_cEj7t-yRmbslsKkEGwwfPfIw5v_GmoLT36F-vWHnPrP5ZabB9Vuj6mfJIYTHz8SqPeMFDZunIrIi-WKpkUispEUap/s400/Varasjev+Stone1.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 14px;"><i>Still on guard on <a href="http://heninen.net/variskivi/english.htm">Crow's Stone (Visikivi)</a>, 325 years after Stolbova</i></span></span></div></td></tr>
</tbody></table><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">I</span></span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">n those days borders were determined by easily visible fixed natural landmarks rather than by a line drawn on a map by negotiators. Rivers – such as Systerbäck (Rajajoki) - were ideal markers making the negotiators’ work easy. But in this difficult terrain man had to lay out smaller stones at convenient intervals between natural landmarks to mark the border. In our walks we kept stumbling over them.</span></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxBT35dyqxZ3wbGt8Xa81MB1EDRhb3J-2PV9t8NGV1TcuUCYnCaIa2T-O6Lu4xguDc25EVQGz5w1n8Z8l0NJys5qjM3i3rZV4asxc3oX9YazuyhDQEKcFbFVKUKK_qkIW6cN4gw1-oZNyP/s1600/_DSC0004+Master_2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="302" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxBT35dyqxZ3wbGt8Xa81MB1EDRhb3J-2PV9t8NGV1TcuUCYnCaIa2T-O6Lu4xguDc25EVQGz5w1n8Z8l0NJys5qjM3i3rZV4asxc3oX9YazuyhDQEKcFbFVKUKK_qkIW6cN4gw1-oZNyP/s640/_DSC0004+Master_2.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><div class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; line-height: 115%;">Two sides of a border stone<o:p></o:p></span></i></div></td></tr>
</tbody></table><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 16px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">But Visikivi was not the inscribed border stone that we were looking for. Thanks to the careful documentation carried out in the Grand Duchy and in independent Finland, these border stones were all numbered. Intensive research on Internet revealed that Gustavus Adolphus’ stone was located in Virtälä, a small village near Salmi. Virtälä proved to be a virtual village; we could find no trace of it either on current maps or </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">in situ</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">. After trekking through fields and following long-forgotten and seldom-tread country roads, we discovered a group of trees in a field that suggested that a village might once have been there. No houses remained, having been either burned or moved to nearby towns where the Russian immigrants in 1944 preferred to live. After much trekking, we gave up our search. But like knights errant of old we determined to continue our quest. Did Gustavus Adolphus’ border stone lie here in the underbrush waiting to be discovered? Had the withdrawing Finnish Army moved it to a museum in Finland? Or had it been destroyed by the invading Russian Army as many other historical monuments were? We trust our readers will let us know.</span></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm8plEVbh8i0lKU7lkbkY4XBbLupK-Li5mOle90YYS2UXH2FaGs30MIytHaPQ0j464P9xzJ4Sy1u2ctwYlg7ODPfDKRiIkdWrST4SEgipZ43w-hrh-BkOj3qczbJiVjr1MaVAmrMp5zdaz/s1600/Virtila%25CC%2588+Stone1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="256" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm8plEVbh8i0lKU7lkbkY4XBbLupK-Li5mOle90YYS2UXH2FaGs30MIytHaPQ0j464P9xzJ4Sy1u2ctwYlg7ODPfDKRiIkdWrST4SEgipZ43w-hrh-BkOj3qczbJiVjr1MaVAmrMp5zdaz/s400/Virtila%25CC%2588+Stone1.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;">The lost <a href="http://heninen.net/variskivi/english.htm">Gustavus Adolphus stone in Virtälä</a></span></i> </td></tr>
</tbody></table><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 16px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">As a result of Charles XII’s disastrous campaigns in the Great Nordic War (1700-1721), core Karelia reverted to Russia (together with Sweden’s Baltic provinces) and Peter the Great established his new capital St Petersburg on the Neva, where the Swedish town of Landskrona once stood. The southern coast of the Bay of Finland was now in Russian hands. Sweden attempted twice (in 1741 and 1788) to retake these territories. The first attempt resulted in the loss of more territory (Fredrikshamn, Hamina) to Russia. In the second attempt, Gustaf III, after first allowing his naval fleet to be trapped in the Bay of Viborg, broke out at great cost in one of the largest naval battles of the time known as the Viborg Gauntlet (Viborgska gatloppet, Viipurin kujanjuoksu). The cousins Gustaf III and Catherine of Russia agreed on peace with </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">status quo ante</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">.</span></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">In 1809, Napoleon meeting Alexander I at Tilsit granted Russia Finland as fair game, the new king Gustav IV being obsessed by hatred of Napoleon. Russia attacked Finland a few months later and after yet another disastrous war for the Common Realm, Finland became a Grand Duchy with Alexander I as Grand Duke and with home rule based on the Swedish constitution of 1772. Core Karelia was reunited with the Grand Duchy of Finland and remained part of Finland upon the country’s declaration of independence in December 1917. However as the clouds of World War II gathered, Ribbentrop and Molotov recalled the meeting at Tilsit. Russia attacked Finland on 30 November 1939 (as it did the Baltic States) claiming the need to secure St Petersburg’s flanks. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Russian invasions of Finland have thus occurred in every century since the 1100s, often with large parts of Finland being occupied and ravished by Russian troops. This on-going battle between east and west is a defining theme in the country’s history. The poet Emil Zilliacus, whose home and heart was in Karelia, captures this in his poem </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Borderland</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">,</span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"> </span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">published in 1943, after the Winter War and before the end of the War of Continuation. A few, freely selected and translated lines brings to an end this sad review.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"> Så har då ånyo den tunga vält So once again war calls us border men.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">... gått dånande over de gårdar och fält ... Our lot it is to live here and defend<o:p></o:p></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="SV"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"> vi fått på vår del att bebo och bevaka. </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">our farms, our fields from what harsh fate may send.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"></span>... Men ömka oss icke, vårt uppdrag är stort: ... So do not pity us, our task is great:</div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="SV"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"> att stå som vaktpost vid rikes port. </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">to stand on guard before our country’s gate.<o:p></o:p></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="SV"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">... Vi kräva ej tack för att åter en gång ... </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">We ask no thanks to carry once again<o:p></o:p></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="SV"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"> vi beseglat vår urgamla gränsmarksära. </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">the guardian’s ancient honour – and his pain.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 16px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Once again Core Karelia was transferred in 1944 to its large Eastern neighbor, which is now busy guarding its new border. We felt this strangely anachronistic. In Europe we live in an increasingly larger Union, borderless and with many historical animosities reconciled. We have learnt that borders provide little security in an age of inter-continental missiles. And that borders in the heart and soul of humankind are a burden. This is not the end of history.</span></span></div></div>Per Magnus Wijkmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14217307266155847493noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7025396287926893893.post-2663178601979308852011-09-20T23:37:00.012+02:002011-09-21T01:14:32.438+02:00URBAN DECAY<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiY4Sk5Xfy-gblZbYsSpCdH25c8Ybc0aHUGvBf9BobHAMlqi9kbWLX01JA_t1hPX3-o5NxRX_p8pLrcFQ_cydhdkWFt9GOJsKQHm_AxAG8OQG6JmmOmc9556b_ic95IOl5AZCrQmwL3IfDU/s1600/_DSC0188+Master_1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="446" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiY4Sk5Xfy-gblZbYsSpCdH25c8Ybc0aHUGvBf9BobHAMlqi9kbWLX01JA_t1hPX3-o5NxRX_p8pLrcFQ_cydhdkWFt9GOJsKQHm_AxAG8OQG6JmmOmc9556b_ic95IOl5AZCrQmwL3IfDU/s640/_DSC0188+Master_1.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></span><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Sordavala (Sortavala) is a run-down industrial town in the northeast of Ladoga Karelia. It is god-forsaken country, forlorn, forgotten and foreboding. Visitors pass through but do not stay. They come here mainly to take the ferry to the famous monastery on the island of Valamo. There is not much to see even though the town’s population of about 21,000 makes it the second largest in Karelia. The railway line west to Viborg (Viipuri) was opened in 1893 and extended east to Joensuu (in Finland) the following year. The railway contributed to rapid </span></span><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">industrialisation</span></span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"> of the town. The train station was built in the mid 1890s close to the harbor, where the ferry departs to Valamo. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: justify;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXVya-XouISTxOhTwHrulHRKEnCPZlgY0qfoDFopzceEBiFn0iGG0ZvyTbR1gLUJsRhfF3JtVFhhkas4HW5RL4k3MQ6i_35t7peUOjBOj77I6_1xkA4MoVpe9_MZdEEKZHu9HinSRjCSAP/s1600/_DSC0211+Master.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="414" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXVya-XouISTxOhTwHrulHRKEnCPZlgY0qfoDFopzceEBiFn0iGG0ZvyTbR1gLUJsRhfF3JtVFhhkas4HW5RL4k3MQ6i_35t7peUOjBOj77I6_1xkA4MoVpe9_MZdEEKZHu9HinSRjCSAP/s640/_DSC0211+Master.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A jewel of a railway station</td></tr>
</tbody></table><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Like the visitor, time too passes this city by. However, in passing it has left behind some architectural pearls, which poverty, poor maintenance and decades of disregard cannot completely hide. So we wandered despondently through this grim town with eyes wide-open. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Little has changed since the 1930s. Some factories still run, others stand idle and we saw few new ones. A new, clean restaurant next to the train station and ferry caters with its relative elegance to the passer-by but was always empty – except for us. The railway station appears abandoned but is not: old trains still run but infrequently. Few people are in the streets. The young leave the periphery to get closer to Russia’s centre. Those who remain are old and often request alms. In a large open-air market place, pensioners conduct a slow commerce in odds and ends. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">The many wooden houses built in the town during the late 18th and the 19th centuries are</span></span><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"> characterised</span></span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"> by simple elegance, an elegance that has fared badly due to poor maintenance. Many houses, once jewels of late nineteenth century architecture, have collapsed. Others appear ready to do so soon if measures are not taken. Cast an eye on the former Teachers’ Seminar on</span></span><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"> Socialistkaya</span></span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"> Street (formerly Seminar Street) in</span></span><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"> Sordavala</span></span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">, built in 1864. It was in use as a high school until about 2006 and then abandoned. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEik59oyV2Y98OebuzFBhoG-zS1f7Ac3k9bkKOtJhgQ4ZBzwm_qklWJsp8dx33npe-LP1nFZteWw8yLXEdeZFDc_d5ECzYYF1h4RszOhkcQLfqJKCtyCrfMF9oe9G1xsaa7uDi7eBViAgn1d/s1600/_DSC0213+Master.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="440" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEik59oyV2Y98OebuzFBhoG-zS1f7Ac3k9bkKOtJhgQ4ZBzwm_qklWJsp8dx33npe-LP1nFZteWw8yLXEdeZFDc_d5ECzYYF1h4RszOhkcQLfqJKCtyCrfMF9oe9G1xsaa7uDi7eBViAgn1d/s640/_DSC0213+Master.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Soon lost forever</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">For about five years now the homeless have found shelter in it from the elements. But the roof is caving in, so even these unfortunates will soon have no use for the building. The inability of Communism to maintain real estate combined with the disregard of militant revolutionaries for cultural values are putting an unmerciful end to the simple elegance of this house. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieZHY_ugUywsExpYJs5PYb96H9P1EWfbB9VJgz5Vv586GiyNZl7ivtttXB1TesdJCisCeXNjkiNSZ0lLemH9R3lXb1nNXSLs-E8vil7M-68kw_ksmcclq0PDooJCEueceNMHjCL7v_CMf-/s1600/_DSC0225+Master.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="416" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieZHY_ugUywsExpYJs5PYb96H9P1EWfbB9VJgz5Vv586GiyNZl7ivtttXB1TesdJCisCeXNjkiNSZ0lLemH9R3lXb1nNXSLs-E8vil7M-68kw_ksmcclq0PDooJCEueceNMHjCL7v_CMf-/s640/_DSC0225+Master.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The homeless now sleep where classes once were held</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">But things can get worse! Consider the wooden building below: it lies in the very centre of Sordavala, apparently not worth either repairing or tearing down. Does the realtors’ slogan that ‘location is all’ apply here? Yes, indeed! The house is in the centre of town, but the town is in the centre of nowhere! <o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXF9wiiB6ICctxYbbtY8YRy4krAM5C4TBIUOTmz4bx76G2_GTEm07M_CVgqRftvLPuDdhyphenhyphencErCo1pSn8byiDInuc97iCU4GXerFoZIOuBkIK5YVm6v-4VS9_9lSsQz2dA2bqC_hlCPlIZp/s1600/_DSC0129+Master.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXF9wiiB6ICctxYbbtY8YRy4krAM5C4TBIUOTmz4bx76G2_GTEm07M_CVgqRftvLPuDdhyphenhyphencErCo1pSn8byiDInuc97iCU4GXerFoZIOuBkIK5YVm6v-4VS9_9lSsQz2dA2bqC_hlCPlIZp/s640/_DSC0129+Master.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A central location in nowhere</td></tr>
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</span></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">The Municipality has kept some wood buildings in use and maintained them reasonably well. An example is the old Town Hall (Stadshuset, Kaupungintalo) in Sordavala. <o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5AVHBrZTIHsRd5BTw-GJXFi5U3q6nfdiXtw_PxedIzPWiyNnuDRzStAMvzuHFf0lcpvHiSPQbQ6J-jEJEHHm4SfiSQjVfgNaH4fYHfx6xx0HarwseVj3X6NuxU1SFahJX9Y-4FbdETY0l/s1600/_DSC0182+Master2_1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="548" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5AVHBrZTIHsRd5BTw-GJXFi5U3q6nfdiXtw_PxedIzPWiyNnuDRzStAMvzuHFf0lcpvHiSPQbQ6J-jEJEHHm4SfiSQjVfgNaH4fYHfx6xx0HarwseVj3X6NuxU1SFahJX9Y-4FbdETY0l/s640/_DSC0182+Master2_1.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Town Hall in Sordavala has kept up appearances</td></tr>
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</span></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Designed by the architect F. A. Sjöström, this graceful house was built in 1885. It serves today as the municipal library and its modern IT room is in sharp contrast to the building’s fading neoclassical elegance. But at least it is still in use (although we were the only ones there checking our e-mail) and has been reasonably well maintained. <o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4rvihFbFq6DXMnJ8IxoTAPQGOjyAh6h2-phhvh8BThyphenhyphenPjlGgoOZOrLTWQl3XWCSCI89MX5PZmIDM4TlrcO1Afn-WhJk5iIqPgkr-Dcqyf6gVFZBvZ09T80nYnwJPtMO_IFrb-a53seuLQ/s1600/_DSC0177Master.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="422" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4rvihFbFq6DXMnJ8IxoTAPQGOjyAh6h2-phhvh8BThyphenhyphenPjlGgoOZOrLTWQl3XWCSCI89MX5PZmIDM4TlrcO1Afn-WhJk5iIqPgkr-Dcqyf6gVFZBvZ09T80nYnwJPtMO_IFrb-a53seuLQ/s640/_DSC0177Master.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">... with a librarian hard at work</td></tr>
</tbody></table><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Another wood building that has survived the Soviet era is the office of the Forestry Services in Sordavala, designed by Alvar Åkerman and built in 1900 as a private home. Eventually it served as a travelers’ hostel (Resandehem Päivölä). For some reason the Forestry Services were able to restore and maintain the house. As Mother would say: Where there is a will, there is always a way! <o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWmzQoUnaXlLPmx5dDZMjvFB9FZ98xnM_1gfNd4D-4JZSOuwosAFVe57VL4NntSvMEwbWEwejv4mLhI4Fz6K-j6hEWclK_LM9zlavjkPGaVDpD-qRGOaleaamuNDKL4vWU6lK_KwM_8_VW/s1600/_DSC0227+Master.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="450" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWmzQoUnaXlLPmx5dDZMjvFB9FZ98xnM_1gfNd4D-4JZSOuwosAFVe57VL4NntSvMEwbWEwejv4mLhI4Fz6K-j6hEWclK_LM9zlavjkPGaVDpD-qRGOaleaamuNDKL4vWU6lK_KwM_8_VW/s640/_DSC0227+Master.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A carpenter's delight saved by the Forestry Services</td></tr>
</tbody></table><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">The municipal authorities are currently renovating the Winter House (Winterin talo) in Sordavala to house a museum for the area. This commendable</span></span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"> </span><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">but modest endeavour</span></span></span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"> is not yet successfully completed. The Town Doctor of Sordavala (stadsläkare, kaupunginlääkari) Gustaf Johannes Winter (1886-1929) lived in this graceful home. The house was designed by the Architect of Viborg County Karl Waldemar Allan Schulman (1863-1937) and built in 1900. Winter was a man of taste and wealth and latter commissioned Eliel Saarinen (1873-1950) to design his summer house on Lake Ladoga some 20 km down the road. We plan to find it, so keep posted!<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7BQWOcodbSEMWAm2BKuBMrs_cNM2EeVL4DH1NinuzsAaqgKfvF9GwTzogaWjZJR7CCE-hU3h8VmZFAAdy6oF9GpCZ84ENICouMAycRuAelgbAAX4B8VV2CK2Hb-jfLhRSU7ryCb6ffzut/s1600/_DSC0233Master.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="378" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7BQWOcodbSEMWAm2BKuBMrs_cNM2EeVL4DH1NinuzsAaqgKfvF9GwTzogaWjZJR7CCE-hU3h8VmZFAAdy6oF9GpCZ84ENICouMAycRuAelgbAAX4B8VV2CK2Hb-jfLhRSU7ryCb6ffzut/s640/_DSC0233Master.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Winter house in summer</td></tr>
</tbody></table><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">The fire station (Paloasema) in Sordavala was built a few years before, in 1888. The building with a characteristic look-out tower was designed by the architect Ivar Aminoff (1843-1926) and was restored to its original use in 1995. This architectural style was characteristic of the last years of the Grand Duchy.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0-JMwEukEXTwNx0Or7D5Ueqs4UJtiyJ0p-4eBZXry0eTGVs1ta56hs8sSsUZoqjSD08ctVhOl9wU-qXHNMMEfCzm9zyFhblXzD3Y4BVh_gyscpFMYNopc5vgxUG69ZmAs0Tb77c-KHeJM/s1600/_DSC0200+Master.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="434" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0-JMwEukEXTwNx0Or7D5Ueqs4UJtiyJ0p-4eBZXry0eTGVs1ta56hs8sSsUZoqjSD08ctVhOl9wU-qXHNMMEfCzm9zyFhblXzD3Y4BVh_gyscpFMYNopc5vgxUG69ZmAs0Tb77c-KHeJM/s640/_DSC0200+Master.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The fire station keeps a look-out</td></tr>
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</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Wandering in the heart of Sordavala we came upon an early example of a completely different style: Finnish Modernism. Built in 1926, the Wegelius House (Wegeliuksen talo) was designed by the architect Kaarlo Borg (1888-1939), the father of the famous opera singer Kim Borg. It now serves as a restaurant where a young cliental clad with incongruous elegance sweeps in and out. <o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigDNYsYW09YtqIk3-UjFoVkvnO-lYuKZtn104TX0HSH7PsMwXc_O_di2tRV4wDFVheD8lBMs-832CaGZjWurFC0kxHTWVbrIHjHES9FA3MPJzdADuuROjTPdjOG-tU0gx_6-nRRQ-6o_2T/s1600/_DSC0208+Master_1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="438" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigDNYsYW09YtqIk3-UjFoVkvnO-lYuKZtn104TX0HSH7PsMwXc_O_di2tRV4wDFVheD8lBMs-832CaGZjWurFC0kxHTWVbrIHjHES9FA3MPJzdADuuROjTPdjOG-tU0gx_6-nRRQ-6o_2T/s640/_DSC0208+Master_1.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Modernism in Sordavala</td></tr>
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</span></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">The stone buildings built during the Finnish era in the centre of Sordavala have fared better than the wooden houses. Consider the building constructed in 1915 for the Bank of Finland. Designed by the Viborg architect Uno Ullberg (1879-1944), its national romanticism recalls Ferdinand Boberg’s (1860-1946) imposing buildings in Stockholm. We felt right at home. Ullberg was later to become, as we shall see, a pioneering modernist. <o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-N3aQ_YyW3-txXJTboDAPmGIKRYrfIEMmbJKRWgfejqUgSMk3dqCg1Q-Pw6VvoNq4ZIE7XgCmSiQimN61ttsxn8JXXAYGGvfS7k0b7yPM801eBf2A-XSBJKAPvdMMcVz5fTbHoPDOYhTR/s1600/_DSC0205+Master.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="420" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-N3aQ_YyW3-txXJTboDAPmGIKRYrfIEMmbJKRWgfejqUgSMk3dqCg1Q-Pw6VvoNq4ZIE7XgCmSiQimN61ttsxn8JXXAYGGvfS7k0b7yPM801eBf2A-XSBJKAPvdMMcVz5fTbHoPDOYhTR/s640/_DSC0205+Master.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Once the Bank of Finland in Sordavala</td></tr>
</tbody></table><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">The Bank of Finland was established five decades before Finland’s independence. The Grand Duchy of Finland had established its own Central Bank and introduced its own currency in the 1860s (having continued to use Swedish currency after the separation in 1809). Note that the initials on each gatepost in front of the building - FB (Finlands Bank) and SP (Suomen Pankki) – represent the Bank’s name in Finland’s two administrative languages at the time. The building now serves as an office for The Russian National Bank (Bank Rossija). </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><o:p></o:p></span></i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Two magnificent schools were built in Sordavala in 1894. Designed by the architect Johan Jacob Ahrenberg (1847-1914), the lyceum for girls remains an impressive institution. That Ahrenberg studied architecture in Stockholm is apparent to any Stockholmer of my generation, who studied in similar structures. Also the lyceum for boys is well maintained and still in use as an educational facility. They reflect the importance that the Finnish authorities attached to education already at that time. </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><o:p></o:p></span></i></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCI_6VijZ1pYcUp0bYRUItZ45rPbYwV_JLtiDqLDXjXw-6WjtEp6olotTsDo2qLZ7u_RFpu1u0GdbrQlyDSwcKQZEfZJb27poHh4Qhei7VFagBjwDKT4odmUBs1_ZCln55V4WCNws8CBqC/s1600/_DSC0150+Master.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="454" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCI_6VijZ1pYcUp0bYRUItZ45rPbYwV_JLtiDqLDXjXw-6WjtEp6olotTsDo2qLZ7u_RFpu1u0GdbrQlyDSwcKQZEfZJb27poHh4Qhei7VFagBjwDKT4odmUBs1_ZCln55V4WCNws8CBqC/s640/_DSC0150+Master.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lyceum for girls in Sordavala - a fountain of learning!</td></tr>
</tbody></table><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Leaving Sordavala we passed through Pitkäranta on our way to Salmi, on the old border to Russia. Pitkäranta was another grim industrial town on the Northeastern coast of Lake Ladoga but one with few hidden pearls. The Public School (Folkskola, Kansakoulu) in Uusikylää, just outside Pitkäranta, was one. It was built in the modernist style of the interwar period. During the Soviet era it was converted into a Camp for Young Pioneers and maintained in reasonably good shape for five decades.<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgL-9DvocxBc-QiJFEYFGrUD_DYAYGDBH4XF6gFf3U665U9MBgwFSYEypXvnbtwYt4bvcUsJpmcOHHQ-6F4Jtn_Fqwo2O-jptQYMC7win5igxw0yk0EvDm4YflrF7_rPkL0mIz40NSUFvh1/s1600/_DSC0329+Master.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgL-9DvocxBc-QiJFEYFGrUD_DYAYGDBH4XF6gFf3U665U9MBgwFSYEypXvnbtwYt4bvcUsJpmcOHHQ-6F4Jtn_Fqwo2O-jptQYMC7win5igxw0yk0EvDm4YflrF7_rPkL0mIz40NSUFvh1/s640/_DSC0329+Master.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Finnish modernism still stands</td></tr>
</tbody></table><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">However, after 1991 the Pioneer Camp was abandoned and the building is now subject to the elements of nature and the vandalism of man. Remains of statues of the communist system’s Young Pioneers lie scattered in the park. <o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjEqyBeTKI-MM6tY2p4gm28SCmFsmM1GU50GAtT0FIa6ewr1KuUu8_ykGCiC8MDKlSUMfYgT-MLSKYcWJOIXKONTJhU8lSdDAZNEntB0EJ3r31Rv6T553LOr2N2xFM00sFOZL081p-CnZR/s1600/_DSC0334+Master.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjEqyBeTKI-MM6tY2p4gm28SCmFsmM1GU50GAtT0FIa6ewr1KuUu8_ykGCiC8MDKlSUMfYgT-MLSKYcWJOIXKONTJhU8lSdDAZNEntB0EJ3r31Rv6T553LOr2N2xFM00sFOZL081p-CnZR/s640/_DSC0334+Master.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fallen idols</td></tr>
</tbody></table><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">It is difficult to have much sympathy for this kitschy art, but nevertheless sad to observe the lack of concern by the general public and by the authorities. The pace of destruction quickens each year. Does no one care about the public space? Do the generations born here have no feeling for what it should consider as its home? Or do they feel alienated even though born here? An elderly gentleman, scavenging wood from the site, explained to us that all the problems started with Perestroika. Such oversimplifications do not help. <o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7vkgt7lJTX6G0XEeVxDWqDv7uDiV_ScaP-4x6whk755a_oSh7JbfUjp8e1wUYW72P1LaB2tsGgrgnBgmLN6yoItrd8goCF9R0i0xYLIXaUB-219SFtQwurRre04ZH3VxW1lmq0vrlyFk_/s1600/_DSC0336+Master.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="444" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7vkgt7lJTX6G0XEeVxDWqDv7uDiV_ScaP-4x6whk755a_oSh7JbfUjp8e1wUYW72P1LaB2tsGgrgnBgmLN6yoItrd8goCF9R0i0xYLIXaUB-219SFtQwurRre04ZH3VxW1lmq0vrlyFk_/s640/_DSC0336+Master.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Can I find something useful here?</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 16px;"><br />
</span></div>While the Finnish era's buildings had stood up well to the test of time, we were stunned to see how rapidly buildings built during the Soviet era had deteriorated. Many industrial buildings in Pitkäranta stand empty. On the outskirts of town, an industrial compound had been built in the 1980s. Among other buildings it contained a chemistry factory finished just in time for the Soviet Union’s collapse. It has stood unused and empty since then. Now, twenty years later, it is rapidly on its way to becoming yet another ruin.</span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTswhzKTKODB3eqfDmwTx1iO7JiZVqwq1wDJBrV22aqtmAXssaMkgwXaxuK-7sI_vSaCPisu-l8sFq8r0oBEaJePIVnTNaVHc3fjVhQOPq627_D9l-3W8FkTKESolIxLh7hAPAfabaDUIy/s1600/_DSC0031a+Master_1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="604" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTswhzKTKODB3eqfDmwTx1iO7JiZVqwq1wDJBrV22aqtmAXssaMkgwXaxuK-7sI_vSaCPisu-l8sFq8r0oBEaJePIVnTNaVHc3fjVhQOPq627_D9l-3W8FkTKESolIxLh7hAPAfabaDUIy/s640/_DSC0031a+Master_1.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">No sooner built, than unused!</td></tr>
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</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">As we paused in Pitkäranta, we reflected over these planning mishaps of the communist system. What a wonderful illustration, we thought, of the importance of institutions! Imagine for an instance that this region were under another institutional regime – say one</span></span><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"> characterised</span></span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"> by a market economy, democratic government and membership in the EU. I wager that this once key-ready building would be a hive of profitable activity in no time!<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Pitkäranta,</span></span><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"> </span></span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">a symbol of the fate of all Finnish Karelia, haunted us. A run-down town where statues of socialism’s heroes standing in front of empty factories, where old men loiter in the streets which the young have abandoned, where residents lack both a past and a future. No wonder that few care that litter is everywhere. The basic principle of waste disposal seems to be: dispose anything, anywhere, anyhow. Beer cans and vodka bottles are strewn about the streets and in the parks. There is no deposit-return system. Man and wind scatter scrap paper everywhere. Though forbidden, livestock and poultry farms outside St. Petersburg dump animal manure and corpses on the Isthmus where they soon leach into the Bay of Finland. Few seem to care about the well-being or appearance of common places. Therefore, the municipal dump outside Pitkäranta amazed but did not surprise us as we drove by.<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWvZch9ZqWehKQuVIzOE2NaAqFWTJePHQwJRrwa4xVrtdxZo0VSaHs9oPedGSI7HBhIsi6yXo9jl1P4ozGRl20v4am6jQRCcTE-GfgAh56LPDp9xQnjPpU9rJiQ82ncQyY838eD-h1FRLk/s1600/_DSC0029+Master.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="270" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWvZch9ZqWehKQuVIzOE2NaAqFWTJePHQwJRrwa4xVrtdxZo0VSaHs9oPedGSI7HBhIsi6yXo9jl1P4ozGRl20v4am6jQRCcTE-GfgAh56LPDp9xQnjPpU9rJiQ82ncQyY838eD-h1FRLk/s640/_DSC0029+Master.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Garbage collection in Pitkäranta</td></tr>
</tbody></table><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Seventy years of Soviet and Russian administration has turned a pastoral paradise into an industrial wasteland: abandoned factories, fallow land and run-down towns. Can a paradise lost be regained? Perhaps, but at a huge cost! Is there an institutional capacity and political will to do this? Not currently. Will the current regime ever change? Next, we turn to history to see if it can help us answer this question. </span><o:p></o:p></span></div></div>Per Magnus Wijkmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14217307266155847493noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7025396287926893893.post-10640832409646352972011-09-13T07:51:00.013+02:002011-09-19T22:09:19.274+02:00THE WASTE LAND<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUHvh2CpfB1vOWTP2T83t2188ui7fS1Zqu8shVvKCzNXu7AqRuIiihT5UA6_60OBemM9EEAy0kQJA_meQtR2DL0fQ8u_OBH8zhj1dNZH0BnVSRVErBoGR4mnAxICflaxnXggsGzsMYSMmy/s1600/_DSC0260+Master.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="420" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUHvh2CpfB1vOWTP2T83t2188ui7fS1Zqu8shVvKCzNXu7AqRuIiihT5UA6_60OBemM9EEAy0kQJA_meQtR2DL0fQ8u_OBH8zhj1dNZH0BnVSRVErBoGR4mnAxICflaxnXggsGzsMYSMmy/s640/_DSC0260+Master.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">June is the coolest month. Cuckoo birds sing in the light nights and blooming lilacs fill the air with their fragrance. Yellow meadows and green forests blend with blue lakes. Enchanted, we drove in silence through magical scenery. Not until we passed an abandoned cottage on Lake Ladoga did we realize that something was wrong: we were alone. <o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3O1ZSLnT1us56Hy0wd52WMrjazjfaCcb5slOPvEz1E1G_UXIJFXy3fLraOQhTY4B4MVe8M6O0xWrvXUXrlF3TfXbRUNJGz_M5BWARqwr-qQIBNekocD3bcLY4kT-cE34UFVZzRbdEeOS6/s1600/_DSC0294+Master.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="432" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3O1ZSLnT1us56Hy0wd52WMrjazjfaCcb5slOPvEz1E1G_UXIJFXy3fLraOQhTY4B4MVe8M6O0xWrvXUXrlF3TfXbRUNJGz_M5BWARqwr-qQIBNekocD3bcLY4kT-cE34UFVZzRbdEeOS6/s640/_DSC0294+Master.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lonely on Lake Ladoga</td></tr>
</tbody></table><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 16px; line-height: 18px;">No other cars were on the road. No farmers were working the fields. No boats were on the lakes. This rural landscape was deserted. We passed through empty villages. We stopped by a meadow, which at a distance had appeared covered by the yellow bloom of rape plants (canola), only to discover that it was a field of dandelions. Their extensive root systems had taken over fields left uncultivated for decades. Never before had we seen such huge dandelions! In a remarkable role reversal, nature was now taming culture. Wherever we looked, wild desolation met the eye.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 16px; line-height: 18px;"> </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrepQ39g2OzAj7sF8q5bcXgE2ASd1ZJCIADTFmiKHH37rMixriaOztR6zRE_VM8-0QEzBzrHVOOerqd4ocAQGH5fUPG8DZEWKjugd8yfSeOxx4KNWI3YBdxLvG_hTKpdf8BKH5eN5xXAI9/s1600/_DSC0098+Master.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrepQ39g2OzAj7sF8q5bcXgE2ASd1ZJCIADTFmiKHH37rMixriaOztR6zRE_VM8-0QEzBzrHVOOerqd4ocAQGH5fUPG8DZEWKjugd8yfSeOxx4KNWI3YBdxLvG_hTKpdf8BKH5eN5xXAI9/s640/_DSC0098+Master.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dandelions take over the fields</td></tr>
</tbody></table><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 16px; line-height: 18px;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 16px; line-height: 18px;">The peace treaty concluded with the Soviet Union after 1944 created a desert. More than 400 000 Finns had been forced by the two wars to leave Karelia. Mostly farmers, they lived in rural areas. Almost as many moved in from the Soviet Union but they settled mainly in the towns, leaving the rural areas empty. Farmers who left for Finland burned their modest farmhouses upon leaving. Some houses remained, slowly ravaged by time, such as this one in Pitkäranta. For a short time it had been used by a collective farm for honey processing but was now abandoned. A lone lady harvested some roadside nettles, perhaps to make soup for that evening.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZHRgrt6QINIbKLFgThL08fCORa1z7dsx4OJ1MHVn5Dyecgm17ypy8IAqhIYV9Sq3njUsxOaF9uXIRDXvVz8ts5PUDbu6C8b1uL0JpjFBGlOm658u50DauqLzBc6ACNQMAxVU4GyOM1vxj/s1600/_DSC0256a+Master.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="418" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZHRgrt6QINIbKLFgThL08fCORa1z7dsx4OJ1MHVn5Dyecgm17ypy8IAqhIYV9Sq3njUsxOaF9uXIRDXvVz8ts5PUDbu6C8b1uL0JpjFBGlOm658u50DauqLzBc6ACNQMAxVU4GyOM1vxj/s640/_DSC0256a+Master.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Waste not, want not! </td></tr>
</tbody></table></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">The Soviets established a few collective farms (Kolkhozes) in the countryside, with characteristic white brick apartment houses and barns for livestock and poultry. These farms were abandoned after the Soviet Union self-destructed in 1991 and most of the buildings are already in ruins.</span></span><br />
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"> <o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxkEzDGQdlhyPc3ESzcDL_7TDNMTRranq8StHw-mYJxZL0wRfO91YuKQ7R3Fz-yNhofL8RDvVGatafW8xXAoZ3rVDEAoQu_QiOEbyyqZa8br9kvv3JezaG0X6TAcsYbGE5rzSwFtLvX-mi/s1600/_DSC0270+Master.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxkEzDGQdlhyPc3ESzcDL_7TDNMTRranq8StHw-mYJxZL0wRfO91YuKQ7R3Fz-yNhofL8RDvVGatafW8xXAoZ3rVDEAoQu_QiOEbyyqZa8br9kvv3JezaG0X6TAcsYbGE5rzSwFtLvX-mi/s640/_DSC0270+Master.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A Kolkhoz self-destructs</td></tr>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 16px; line-height: 18px;">When the USSR annexed this prosperous territory, it introduced centralised planning and re-introduced serfdom. When the Soviet system collapsed people grabbed what they could. Useful building material in the kolkhozes was quickly pilfered by the former farm workers and live cattle slaughtered and consumed.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaYRV9XDF9oDa4s_vuRkIxdviLN5aLWNWVhzfs_5MwFm3wZx4ZO_55TTXpZH_zOp0EQLolztkuMwxRf-0Af38h8FgZC5xwZR6soYzGoEyfCkdt17c-7FsTsz0pH7QLg-1P1CSyJMHdMzOz/s1600/_DSC0273+Master.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="406" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaYRV9XDF9oDa4s_vuRkIxdviLN5aLWNWVhzfs_5MwFm3wZx4ZO_55TTXpZH_zOp0EQLolztkuMwxRf-0Af38h8FgZC5xwZR6soYzGoEyfCkdt17c-7FsTsz0pH7QLg-1P1CSyJMHdMzOz/s640/_DSC0273+Master.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">An empty stable in a once rich farmland</td></tr>
</tbody></table><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">The Government built a number of military bases in Karelia. After the break-up of the USSR many of these bases were abandoned. The local population removed windows and roofs for private use, exposing the buildings to rapid deterioration. We passed one base close to </span></span><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Kurkijoki</span></span><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"> and admired a mural depicting army life, wondering for a moment whether it was graffiti or propaganda. Exposed to the elements, it is unlikely to last long. <o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTQfa9cunAk8de5KMJKowPvBH3o02Rd0tPkQysAuXzUvnK1fx5l0EEh97cmTtuoJSJPl-K35eobNsuhC_f_Y8hEvcnKoyo0DItcanDtafInyWfuDrMuPszyMZysBog0ua_fFhuyoe36Dpd/s1600/_DSC0212+Master.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTQfa9cunAk8de5KMJKowPvBH3o02Rd0tPkQysAuXzUvnK1fx5l0EEh97cmTtuoJSJPl-K35eobNsuhC_f_Y8hEvcnKoyo0DItcanDtafInyWfuDrMuPszyMZysBog0ua_fFhuyoe36Dpd/s640/_DSC0212+Master.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Social realism or graffiti?</td></tr>
</tbody></table><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small; line-height: normal;"></span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">We drove through a maze of abandoned barracks in various stages of disarray. A pile of debris signaled to passers-by that this was a free-for-all where first-come was first-served. If you don’t pilfer it, someone else will. This was the basic rule of Soviet socialism: what’s yours is ours and what is ours is mine.<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnFGiGxcC4SLcaqX5rC2L7Lb2f39X8euifU9sVchNYz5vf8RG3oaEri7qL9ZVMOlU4dFq1VuXIzwahQmNevi846DD0pbciPzqJwhuD9XNIdnQC3hhC77WAbwMQ9_LJNkoulIxsg2Y8SQ_I/s1600/_DSC0054+Master.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnFGiGxcC4SLcaqX5rC2L7Lb2f39X8euifU9sVchNYz5vf8RG3oaEri7qL9ZVMOlU4dFq1VuXIzwahQmNevi846DD0pbciPzqJwhuD9XNIdnQC3hhC77WAbwMQ9_LJNkoulIxsg2Y8SQ_I/s640/_DSC0054+Master.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">End-game for a baracks</td></tr>
</tbody></table><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">In the rural wilderness we stumbled upon a Public School (Folkskola, Kansakoulu) built in 1938 during the Finnish era, a typical example of functionalism in public buildings. It once served a thriving farming community. Now it was the only building standing in a radius of several miles. Although probably empty since 1944, it appeared to be in sufficiently good shape to merit renovation and be put back into use today. But no pupils live in the vicinity any longer. <o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihgBh86sSlm9UDadeMMyuhKmTKMcu2cM8sZoJvXOrnUGRA7dwRdZ_HZSfOqlx2Nrhfm-fs7qV0hoq-HKcftxoPXPjEaLyYSvHM0jykolVX7MlI1RhwKVC10MMD64DJYMzVm4oXJI-Ty7r0/s1600/_DSC0099+Master.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihgBh86sSlm9UDadeMMyuhKmTKMcu2cM8sZoJvXOrnUGRA7dwRdZ_HZSfOqlx2Nrhfm-fs7qV0hoq-HKcftxoPXPjEaLyYSvHM0jykolVX7MlI1RhwKVC10MMD64DJYMzVm4oXJI-Ty7r0/s640/_DSC0099+Master.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Finnish functionalism stands firm</td></tr>
</tbody></table><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"> </span></span><br />
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Only a few buildings from the Finnish era were still in use in rural areas. One of them was a large stone house on the Northeastern shore of Lake Ladoga, built in 1938 by the prominent pharmacist Jääskeläinen. During the Soviet era it was the rest home of the Moscow composers’ union. Thereafter, it was put to other uses. When we passed, it was up for sale and will probably soon be converted into a hotel. Its guest book could probably fetch a higher price than the building itself! <o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMfks3PIXzuwCC5hT6PcupnQYEAaz_TJE2vPGY7C7TetzxPULZZvr6CWvscq47agL9sTj-XpZnmjmhenkHXE0K0YTYwI5CuWF7EmUF9jSyEmqKR0bWPHhT6now1uUlZbfq6zw-C2XpNYkd/s1600/_DSC0299+Master.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="402" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMfks3PIXzuwCC5hT6PcupnQYEAaz_TJE2vPGY7C7TetzxPULZZvr6CWvscq47agL9sTj-XpZnmjmhenkHXE0K0YTYwI5CuWF7EmUF9jSyEmqKR0bWPHhT6now1uUlZbfq6zw-C2XpNYkd/s640/_DSC0299+Master.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A harmonious rest home?</td></tr>
</tbody></table></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 16px; line-height: 18px;">Rural Karelia was not only an occupied country but also an abandoned country. For anyone with some historical knowledge, seeing the current desolation of Karelia is a freightening revelation. An economist can dismally note that the systemic change (from market to planned economy) in 1944 has acted as a time machine, transporting Karelia back about 100 years in time. Living standards today are little better than then, as is industrial capital and technology. The buildings that had survived from Finnish times and were still standing in 1944 had, if cared for, stood up well. While buildings built after 1944 and ‘maintained’ with Soviet technology were often in worse shape.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">The Enlightenment, with its emphasis on rational thinking, gave us the optimistic expectation that human existence gets better with time. A trip to Karelia provides a more pessimistic view, revealing as it does the devastating power of irrational thinking. Here, the golden age lies many decades in the past, indeed before we were born. Everything was better then. Overwhelmed by the nostalgia of old men, mixing memory with desire, we left the countryside behind us and headed for the towns. Would things be any better there?</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>Per Magnus Wijkmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14217307266155847493noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7025396287926893893.post-53222072135732771572011-05-27T21:00:00.025+02:002011-09-12T07:50:40.030+02:00TRAVELLING WITH MOTHER TO KARELIA<div style="text-align: left;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggPK0-k0VeVxAxJU__qJ_vMN5Mg1ZYW0MfUaHW5rpQV8R50ovSEnuQBaTNy9LQTziyvCatIY2OeQOt7pWUvQboqP7b9kDGzvyKrN-jK-6uyIE87b9qfXmhthVTJtXXLf-XYHOTbBJCX4DT/s1600/Vyborg+Castle.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggPK0-k0VeVxAxJU__qJ_vMN5Mg1ZYW0MfUaHW5rpQV8R50ovSEnuQBaTNy9LQTziyvCatIY2OeQOt7pWUvQboqP7b9kDGzvyKrN-jK-6uyIE87b9qfXmhthVTJtXXLf-XYHOTbBJCX4DT/s640/Vyborg+Castle.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Viborg Castle</td></tr>
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<div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #222222;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">In the fall of 1937 my Mother drove with me from</span></span><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #222222;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"> Helsingfors</span></span><span style="color: #222222;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"> (Helsinki) to Finnish Karelia. Do I hear you protest that I am not that old? OK, let’s not quibble about words. Though still unborn, I was conceived so I consider myself a </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">bona fide</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"> passenger on this trip. Mother would talk about special landmarks as we passed by them. I have difficulty recalling exactly what she said, my memory being notoriously bad, but I recall the trip well since she often reminisced about this journey later in life. Oral transmission is important, and nowhere more so than in Karelia – a country in which tales are told and retold through the ages. It now exists mainly in old peoples’ memories, in literature and in Jean Sibelius’ stirring </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Karelia Suite </span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">(1893)</span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">.</span></i></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div></div><div class="MsoNormal"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #222222;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Early in 1937, my parents were stationed in Helsingfors, where Father was paid to serve in the Swedish Legation and Mother was not. The picture shows the view of the Market Square (Salutorget, Kauppatori) from our apartment in the Legation as captured in 1938 by a young artist, Tove Jansson, later known as the originator of Mumin Troll stories and drawings. </span></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #222222;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9JSRclqhlhrKNgD2xB4EjGhy0QA23NKobzC2CGskWQyOCAlb3OnuSt4RqIWDh0vmii7Fo7kcKNUzdY28wylibkxI1c_M2WUyuyJcJXcHlH6AHzAB-TjAy21SgBgdQsqhXkkm5aqDlUPTH/s1600/tove+jansons+helsinki.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="410" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9JSRclqhlhrKNgD2xB4EjGhy0QA23NKobzC2CGskWQyOCAlb3OnuSt4RqIWDh0vmii7Fo7kcKNUzdY28wylibkxI1c_M2WUyuyJcJXcHlH6AHzAB-TjAy21SgBgdQsqhXkkm5aqDlUPTH/s640/tove+jansons+helsinki.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tove Jansson's Helsinki</td></tr>
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</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #222222;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #222222;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Mother’s trip to Karelia was no doubt one of the standard introduction-to-Finland-tours for newly arrived diplomatic families. Viborg (Viipuri) was a natural first stop on such a tour. With a population of 80,000 it was then Finland’s second largest city and its cultural capital. Mother fondly recalled its cosmopolitan atmosphere where hospitable Bergsråd and Kommerseråd received her. Founded in 1293 by the Swedish Regent and Marshal Torkel Knutsson, Viborg was a corner stone of the Finnish-Swedish Realm for four centuries. When Finland became a sovereign state in December 1917, Viborg was the administrative capital of Karelia.</span></span><span style="color: #222222;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #222222;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLWIrO-fiDg-mtqf0XKp90zMBIKb1jnKzdRhlJ010INdEFzAKtsmEu9f2aX6IM2oGQSm4DMoTGNwp7MPRUhscsOGNzyxsB1tLfJzkm70kdNExSLtk-_UjBm8D6HAhLeT7gf822pWqAjXab/s1600/DSC_0289+Master.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLWIrO-fiDg-mtqf0XKp90zMBIKb1jnKzdRhlJ010INdEFzAKtsmEu9f2aX6IM2oGQSm4DMoTGNwp7MPRUhscsOGNzyxsB1tLfJzkm70kdNExSLtk-_UjBm8D6HAhLeT7gf822pWqAjXab/s640/DSC_0289+Master.jpg" width="380" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Torkel Knutsson</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">From Viborg Mother and I travelled on to Sordavala (Sortavala) on the northern coast of Lake Ladoga, the largest Lake in Europe. There we took a boat to visit the renowned Greek Orthodox Monastery on the island of Valamo. We returned via the Karelian Isthmus stopping at many small towns </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">en route</span></i></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"> before arriving at the legendary long sandy beaches in Terijoki, only 30 km from Leningrad. The hot summer that year contributed to rich harvests and crowded beaches. The heat stored in the Bay of Finland on one side of the Isthmus and in Lake Ladoga on the other, made the autumn exceptionally warm. Many visitors and residents remember this Karelian summer and autumn as special.</span></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-autospace: none;"><span style="color: #222222;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Following the Molotov–Ribbentrop pact of August 23 1939, the Soviet Union attacked Finland on November 29 1939 and occupied the three Baltic States. The fiercest fighting of the Winter War (concluded on March 12 1940) and of the Continuation War (1941-44) took place on the Karelian Isthmus. Finland ensured its existence as a sovereign nation but at great cost in blood and treasure. More than 50 000 Finnish soldiers were killed and in the peace treaty the country was forced to cede </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">inter alia</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"> Karelia with Viborg to the USSR. The country lost some of its best farmland and the peace terms compelled about 400 000 people to leave Karelia for Finland. Karelia became a waste land, haunted by bloody battlefields and sorrowful memories.</span></span><span style="color: #222222;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-autospace: none;"><span style="color: #222222;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">The bombs falling on Helsingfors came closer to the Legation, located close to several strategic targets. So my elder sister and I were evacuated to Stockholm, where a photographer from </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Stockholms Tidningen</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"> captured us disembarking with our cousin Inga. Mother and Father stayed on in Helsingfors until the end of the Winter War. Father was then posted to Canada, where he came to protect Finnish interests as a belligerent during the War of Continuation <a href="http://www.chapters.indigo.ca/books/Heroes-Enemies-Finns-Canada-Finns-Varpu-SC-Lindstrom/9780968588130-item.html?cookieCheck=1">(Varpu Lindström (2000)</a></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">. Mother spoke warmly of her years in Finland (Ruth W. Wijkman, “The Story of my Finnish leg”, </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">The Des Moines Register</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">, November 15, 1998). She spoke often and fondly of our pre-war trip to Karelia.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-autospace: none;"><span style="color: #222222;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifamA36-02zQ9-0Gy6nPVBKm-vmwFuTRGyMZaT0ccuqSyNDZXoq6OznQC-Ai0ZpN8QICXtIIf2JToh63mA3PMIgIKscO-XJ4wKjrv2mcIlYzDZLuHB66iZOEsNijuDBFlmb5AhpTOk9m-o/s1600/Bra%25CC%2588nder+o%25CC%2588ver+Helsingfors.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifamA36-02zQ9-0Gy6nPVBKm-vmwFuTRGyMZaT0ccuqSyNDZXoq6OznQC-Ai0ZpN8QICXtIIf2JToh63mA3PMIgIKscO-XJ4wKjrv2mcIlYzDZLuHB66iZOEsNijuDBFlmb5AhpTOk9m-o/s640/Bra%25CC%2588nder+o%25CC%2588ver+Helsingfors.jpg" width="456" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My sister and I arriving in Stockholm</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-autospace: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Two refugees from Finnish Karelia, Anna and Saga, joined us later in Canada. They created a small Karelian atmosphere at home. Anna taught me that the proper way to prepare whitefish (sik) was to place it in the coals of the fireplace wrapped in a damp copy of </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Hufvudstadsbladet,</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"> no other newspaper would do. Saga had a strength that surpassed that of Pippi Långstrump and would raise a chair by clasping her wrist around one of its legs at floor level. Try it! I bet you can’t! She would also drop a pointed knife (the legendary </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">puukko</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">) from one yard’s height onto the veins of her clenched left wrist and catch it on the rebound. Don’t try it! Saga entertained my younger sisters by sewing black thread under her skin and taught me how to swear in Finnish.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-autospace: none;"><span style="color: #222222;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">In addition to Finnish and Swedish, Anna and Saga spoke some Russian. This multilingualism was common in linguistically mixed Karelia. When in a good mood, they would call me Punapää (Finnish for red head). When I annoyed them, they called me Krasnavalojski Tjort (Russian for red-headed devil).<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-autospace: none;"><span style="color: #222222;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">While not wishing to exaggerate this Karelian connection, it disposed me</span></span><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #222222;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"> favourably</span></span><span style="color: #222222;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">. I shared this disposition with my friend and former colleague, the renowned photographer <a href="http://emilems.blogspot.com/2010/07/time-has-come.html">Emil Ems</a>, whose late wife had grown up in </span></span><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #222222;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Lumivaara</span></span><span style="color: #222222;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">, a little village just south of Sordavala. So <a href="http://emilskitchenwindow.blogspot.com/2011/08/climb-every-mountain.html">Emil</a> and I decided to visit Karelia to revive old memories and to see what seventy years of USSR/Russian rule had done. He has graciously allowed me to use his pictures to illustrate the blog (he keeps full ownership rights to these pictures). </span></span><br />
<span style="color: #222222;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
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<span style="color: #222222;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">We packed the car with old maps, old books and Emil’s camera and drove it onto the overnight ferry to Finland</span></span><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #222222;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"> in Stockholm’s harbour</span></span><span style="color: #222222;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">. </span></span><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #222222;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">As it headed east that Nordic summer evening, many questions filled our heads. </span></span><span style="color: #222222;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Had seventy years of communist rule turned Karelia into a waste land? Could we find the stones that once marked the Eastern border of the Finnish-Swedish Realm? Had the Soviet Union erased the place names and buildings that recalled its Finnish past? What traces remained of the cultural explosion in literature and architecture that had occurred in Karelia in the inter-war period? Who cared for the past anyway? <o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-autospace: none;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8jZc-VkCLXx96AsJlCHTsrUNatRdBittM8wuVNX-Iw3WNc8NIcdfNKj1Jvz7ocsOXpLYagJYfkPsZPuTvXMyim6x51kFUQgBRnUkqlzg8BeqVCdGVOR599CrgOBx5szMDlMkF4hwN3DOq/s1600/Leaving+Stockholm+Harbour.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8jZc-VkCLXx96AsJlCHTsrUNatRdBittM8wuVNX-Iw3WNc8NIcdfNKj1Jvz7ocsOXpLYagJYfkPsZPuTvXMyim6x51kFUQgBRnUkqlzg8BeqVCdGVOR599CrgOBx5szMDlMkF4hwN3DOq/s640/Leaving+Stockholm+Harbour.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Leaving Stockholm Harbour</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-autospace: none;"><span style="color: #222222;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-autospace: none;"><span style="color: #222222;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-autospace: none;"><span style="color: #222222;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">We awoke the next morning in Finland. With curiosity and apprehension we headed the car east to the Russian border, following Mother’s itinerary seventy years before. Ahead of us lay a country that was no more but which we were determined to rediscover. </span></span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: Times;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div>Per Magnus Wijkmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14217307266155847493noreply@blogger.com5