Ice-fishing

When I moved to Finland, at 18 years old, I didn´t know much about anything. Not only because I was so young, but also because I had never traveled anywhere, nor had I ever had to care for myself all on my own.

I quickly had to adapt to a completely different culture, learn a new (and terribly difficult) language, and get used to some extreme weather conditions.

But eventually, I embraced it all and got used to it. Humans have a great capacity to get used to almost any situation.

I had never experienced such cold weather in my life, and I was fascinated by it. When I found out that in the country of the thousand lakes, they all freeze in winter, and not only do people walk on them, but entire road paths are shaped for cars to go through them, I was flabbergasted.

And then I found out about ice fishing.

“What a terrible idea!” was my initial thought.

WHo on earth would want to go to the middle of a frozen lake in subzero temperatures, drill a hole in it, stick a fishing rod, and spend the next few hours freezing while sitting and drilling more holes until you caught enough fish to get back home?

Well, that was until I tried it…

…and I became an ice fishing enthusiast.

There´s something about sitting in total silence and isolation in the middle of nature, with only faint lights coming from the moon and starry sky… magical doesn´t quite describe it. A couple of times I was super extra lucky, and I wondered at a couple of beautiful green Aurora Borealis. How extraordinary.

In subzero temperatures, one of the ways to stay warm outside is with a good thermos with strong, black coffee. Whenever I poured a bit into my cup, I had to sip it right away—any delay would make frost appear on its surface, and you would have ice coffee instead.

My breath would make frost appear on my eyebrows and eyelids, I had to keep removing it.

There was frost everywhere. It was a world of frost.

Kuura is a little piece I wrote inspired by the Finnish winter. It is a Finnish word that literally means “Frost”.

Its melancholy mood is a representation of what the heart of a Finn might be made of—a spoonful of joy mixed with a dash of sadness.

Perhaps that´s why Finns are among the most hospitable and empathic people I´ve ever met anywhere.

You can listen to Kuura by clicking here. I hope that for a brief moment, you´re transported into the magical world of Finnish winter.

Have a nice day,

Claudio.