A photographic journey through the Soviet suburb of Lasnamäe

I'm so happy that I decided to go to Tallinn for a second time so soon, because after the first time I felt there was 'unfinished business'. One of the things I did this time was to go pretty much from one end of the vast Lasnamäe suburb in eastern Tallinn to the other, in three different trips. 

I'm hereby starting my photoraphic journey of the place. This time I uploaded on Facebook, but it should be a public link, accessible without a Facebook account.

LINK: PHOTOGRAPHIC JOURNEY

As of the time of posting this I'm only at the beginning of the journey, yet to have found my way properly into the depths of the concrete jungle. I will keep adding more photos as I get them done, following the route I walked. Probably I can't remember/locate all the streets but I have added a map link where possible. Anyway, if interested, keep checking back to the link.

Lasnamäe is a Soviet suburb, whose building work started in the 70s. The plan was never quite finished, so there's a fair amount of unused land there. The suburb is 30 square kilometers/11.6 square miles in areal and has over 100 000 residents, most of them Russian, Ukrainian etc. The wide Laagna tee runs through the whole area, and with the several bridges crossing it and the concrete blocks spreading on both sides, it is kind of like a river. Also, like rivers, it helps with finding your way: if you just keep in mind where Laagna tee is, you won't get lost. The southern part of the area, around Peeterburi road, is industrial, the northern part residential. Lasnamäe is divided into several sub districts. The photographic journey begins in the oldest part, Sikupilli and Ülemiste (LINK) and ends up almost at the other end of Laagna tee in Mustakivi (LINK). 

I didn't find Lasnamäe particularly ugly - well, there was the blazing sun - but I did find it a peculiar place, in the way the massive concrete blocks - nothing but concrete, only lately enlivened with repainted balconies etc - go on and on mile after mile after mile. Then there's the fact that the Soviet apartment blocks are very similar everywhere, with very slight variations. I could find several identical building types in Lasnamäe and the other two, much smaller contemporary suburbs that I also visited: Mustamäe and Väike-Õismäe. A commie blocks and techno music enthusiast in some skyscraper forum compared the former's relentless monotony to the latter's repetitiveness. I think that's a very apt comparison. It might feel horrific that people live in a place like Lasnamäe. But one has to remember that when the first apartment blocks rose here, many of the people who originally moved in for the first time in their lives had a home with all the modern amenities.

Tallinn, first set of pictures

Well now, I couldn't resist the temptation. I booked another 55 euro ferry + hotel trip for tomorrow. The fact is, a week ago, I only made it to the edge of Lasnamäe, not to the Soviet concrete jungle proper. This time, I'm going to get the Tallinn card and take a bus further into the area. Another area I'm wanting to see is Mustamäe, which is a similar concrete suburb, though mostly Estonian residents whereas the majority of the over 100 000 people who live in Lasnamäe are Russian, Ukrainian etc. I'm going to take my notebook, so I can at least tell myself to do some work on the ferry and in the evening in the hotel room. ;-) Besides, the 55 euro offer is only until the end of June. They're hitching up the prices in July! 

Lähettäjä Tallinn, Estonia 1

On the edge of Lasnamäe, by the Laagna tee road.

CLICK HERE FOR THE PHOTO ALBUM

Here is the first set of pictures from Tallinn. These were taken last tuesday and are from a little round starting from the port, going along Tuukri street, then along the J. Poska street by the Kadrioru park. This street has large wooden villas and houses (I guess in the Soviet time they might also have been multi-apartment housing?), some newly restored, some being restored, and some completely abandoned and boarded up. I was particularly excited about the house with the stone decorations by the front steps. Clearly  it was once a beautiful building. Finally, the round ends to the location in the picture above. All the pictures are Google maps tagged. 

Direct link to slideshow: CLICK.

Midsummer restlessness

Today is the funeral of Neil. I never knew him in real life, but online, since Pete's The Boy Who Heard Music, I knew him as a sweet, kind man who had the ability to make even a stone pillar roll on the floor laughing. The ability and the willingness and desire to bring such joy to others with laughter is, I think, the greatest gift one could have. My thoughts are with Neil and those close to him today. Rest in peace, Neil, and thank you for all the laughter.

***

There are no photos to post of the crime novel story, as the events of the rest of the story take place in the locations I've posted pictures of already. At the top floor of the house described in the previous post, where Vappu lives, lives Kyllikki, a woman in her forties who I think is trying to make ends meet with prostitution, or at least by occasionally acquiring money from the men she makes liaisons with; the drunkards who hang around in the yard from morning till night mock and badmouth her, calling her 'circular saw pussy' and other such names. One evening, Tapani meets her on the street, and they enter in a sort of a relationship. Some days after, things change when Kyllikki's former partner and owner of the apartment, called Snowman (a twist of his name), a man who has had a deeply tragic life and is now an alcoholic, returns, after a long time. The drunkards in the yard tell him that Kyllikki is seeing another man. Snowman, whose mind is deluded, either by alcohol or by the things he has had to endure in his life, has believed that Kyllikki is his first wife, who died tragically. Enraged, he storms up to the apartment, where Tapani is with Kyllikki. The next night, there is a fire in the building. Kyllikki dies in the fire, and Tapani is seriously, almost fatally, injured. The police suspect Snowman and arrest him.

It's a warm but very humid day. The Midsummer's celebration is upon us again - or Juhannus, as it's called here. It's an ancient pagan festival but with Christianity St. John's day was put on it, that's why the name. I'm not doing anything particular to celebrate it; perhaps because I'm a city person through and through, whereas Juhannus is a very anti-city thing. However, if the weather permits, I may go to the city tomorrow to photograph the miracle of Helsinki with nearly empty streets. Why nearly empty streets? Because a large percentage of the population goes out to the country. Why? it's the tradition. Even public transportation is closed for the morning, starting only at 11 am.

I've actually been taken over by a kind of restlessness after my little trip to Tallinn, Estonia on monday and tuesday. I enjoyed it so much, I want go back! Going there was just a whim: one of the ferry companies, Tallink, has these trips + hotel offers, so I called the reservation number on monday and was able to get a room for the next night. I hopped on the 2.30pm ferry was in Tallinn at 4.30pm, got the room at the Tallink Express hotel by the port, and came back on the 9pm ferry the following evening. The hotel was basic but had all the necessities: good bed, bathroom, free wifi and sumptuous breakfast. All this, the trips and the hotel, for just 55 euros put together. It's actually just half an euro more expensive than regular route trips on the same ferry, if you go on the week and take the earliest and latest ferries and get the online reservation -15% reduction.

 The result of my trip was 900+ photos. It's so wonderful that Tallinn is only a couple of hours away from Helsinki, yet the two cities are so distinctly different. The most wonderful thing for me is that you don't have to go far from the Medieval Old Town to find direct remains of the Soviet time (a building with the Soviet star still on top; the concert hall by the port, absurd in its massive dimensions and concrete heaviness, oddly enough with a design that looks a bit like it's trying to imitate ancient temples); streets where you might have newly and beautifully restored, grand houses and beside them similar houses that stand empty and in a state of decay, boards in their windows; industrial and residential buildings, at least on the outside ravaged and with grey walls; 60s and 70s colossi of grey apartment blocks. I truly recommend Tallinn. If the above sights are not quite your thing, there's something else too: the beautiful Old Town with its various restaurants and cafes and several spas around the city.

Perhaps I should contain myself for a while. It's not like I don't have anything to do: research work; about 2000 photos to sort through and edit; Marianne Faithfull's concert on wednesday; and next weekend, or the monday after, I'm off to the countryside up north to visit my parents.

Harjunpää and the pyromaniac, post 4

I've had quite busy time past couple of weeks: babysitting my elder nephew on two days last week; on the weekend my parents arrived, on their way to a trip in Germany; on sunday, most of the day passed in the science park with my brother's family, my sister and my parents; on monday, a highly enjoyable photography trek in the backlands of the city (or what felt like the backlands of the city) and taking my elder nephew to his parkour training in the evening; yesterday babysitting the nephew again. In the meantime watching football World Cup as well. 

Time for another installment of the crime novel photos now, whilst waiting for the laundry. Just one scene now. This takes place soon after the events of the previous post, after an unsuccessful nightly stakeout in the neighbourhood by Harjunpää and another detective of the criminal police. I was going to post about the stakeout as well, but couldn't find Harjunpää's post. If it was there in the late 70s, I'm sure it's been cleared away to make room for new buildings. I have no reason to believe that Joensuu invented the spot, because his books are very every day realistic. He worked in the Helsinki police force for decades until his retirement in 2006, in the arson unit and in violent crimes if I remember correctly, so I'm sure he became very familiar with the unfortunate side of life. Harjunpää's stakeout post is described as a copse of willows, apparently originally intended as a barrier against the din of the nearby Kustaa Vaasa road but ending up as a site of disturbance: full of wrecks of stolen bikes, fridges etc.

Note: the young woman in this scene speaks a regional dialect which I can't possibly replicate in English. A professional translator very familiar with dialects might replace the dialogue with a regional dialect of his/her own country, but as it is, I shall have to just go for generic English. The dialect clearly reveals the young woman to be someone who came to Helsinki to find a better, brighter future, as so many did especially in the 60s and 70s.

 

Harjunpää is waiting by a street corner, near Intiankatu street; hearing footsteps and seeing a shadow approach, he presses himself against the wall, ready for the intruder. It turns out to be a young woman, pregnant and due to give birth soon. She reminds him of her wife Elisa who is also at the last stage of pregnancy.

"'God!', the woman sounded out; she was only six feet away from the corner. She leaned against the wall with her left hand and shielded her belly with the right. The woman had a straw-blond, long hair, and wide face with a small, perk nose. There were wrinkles in the corners of her eyes, as if she'd laughed a lot. Now her expression was frightened, almost panicked. Ashamed, Harjunpää felt it was his fault. 'I'm sorry. And evening,' Harjunpää said, smoothening his hair, trying to be as polite and official as possible to calm her down. Then he realized that to a stranger he had to look like some kind of a guerilla, a burglar at least, with all his gear.

'...ning', the woman swallowed, examining Harjunpää as closely as he did her. Harjunpää began to feel that she was seeing his thoughts as clearly as Elisa but wasn't bothered. Rather, he felt relieved - sensed that he wouldn't need to give more explanations. 'You know, I was thinking I was about to be robbed. Why'd you jump back like that, like you were meaning to spy on me?' 'I didn't mean to. I'm really sorry. I guess I thought that some villain was coming.' 'Me, a villain?' She giggled... ...He noticed he was thinking, too, that if the woman had had braids and a red-chequered scarf on her head, she could've been the young mistress of a farm in some film, calling in her cattle for the evening milking, with a mother-in-law scheming her evil schemes behind her back."      

 

NOTE: The street here, Limingantie, is the right street, and the first of these two pictures shows the right spot: the house where the young woman lives is described as being located at the end of the street. All the houses around there seemed newer, though, so I'm sure the building would have been either thoroughly renovated or razed to the ground and a new one built instead.

Harjunpää agrees to walk the young woman home, discarding his policeman's suspicion that she's a robbers' decoy.

'Where do you live then?' 'Just close by, at the end of Limingantie here. You know the large wood houses? Right there. In the last one. Come along, I want to get to bed.' She slipped her arm around Harjunpää's and practically began to walk him. ... 'I'm Vappu. You can call me that if you like.' 'I'm Timo. But most people call me Timppa.'

'How come you're getting home so late?', Harjunpää asked, chewing a leaf which he'd picked from a rowan tree that arched over the street. 'I was at work.' 'Shouldn't you be on maternity leave?' 'Yeah, I should, but it's not a proper job, just babysitting on Mäkelänkatu.' 'And you walked all the way from there?' 'Right. They did give me money for the bus but I saved it after all.' Vappu whisked her purse. It was made of plastic, simple, the cheapest you could find for sure.

Harjunpää felt sorry for Vappu, for no reason. 'My wife's expecting too. I think due very soon like you. She's... well, she's in a better situation because she has a job and maternity leave.' 'Oh, you want a boy or a girl?' 'Well, it doesn't matter. We already have a girl - she'll be three soon.' 'Well, a boy would be nice then. I'm hoping for a boy. And that's what it'll be. My behind has got wider the way it always does when it's a boy.' 'Oh, I wouldn't have guessed on that basis.' 'Oh, you...' Vappu giggled again. 'You did notice.' Wrinkles appeared in the corners of her eyes, just like Harjunpää had guessed.

Most of the street lamps at the end of Limingantie had been broken. The street narrowed; now it felt like a real country alley. They got to the middle of the street between the parked cars, and Harjunpää no longer needed to shield his head from the branches reaching over the fences.

'Timo, I only got to Helsinki this spring. I haven't had time to get a job. But after I've given birth to Henrik, then - we'll get a proper home. With a balcony and electric stove and everything. And we'll buy a tv too. But first I'll get a job of course. I'm good at sewing', Vappu said, brushing her dress. 'I could go to one of those fashion houses, where fancy ladies shop. That's what I'll do.' 'Alright. Yeah, it's good to have things planned out,' Harjunpää said. He felt a pain go through his mind but tried to sound cheerful. Without asking, he knew that Vappu had become pregnant in Helsinki, and suspected she had no idea who the father was; if she had, the man must have been married, or one of the guys hanging around the railway station who cared about nothing.

'I guess you're not very old', Harjunpää said. 'No. I'm only 21. And that's why I've got a chance. I've plenty of time to try out things.' Harjunpää made an agreeing sound. 'Yep. That's what Oiva says too, that I just need to keep on trying. I live with Oiva. He's not my man. Not a fiancee either. He could be my grandad. But he's good - he took me in to live with him, 'cause I've nowhere else. He's on a pension. And I'm taking care of the household and other people's kids... Here's where we live.'

They stopped on a narrow path. The house stood on a hillside rising towards the woods. It was large and sombre, filled with nothing but dark, like a giant's coffin. Harjunpää breathed out. He should've guessed that Vappu could only live in one of the monstrous three-storey wooden houses.

... At regular intervals the long wall had doors leading into the house. Each had an identical set of wood step, identical rain vizors covered with roofing felt. By the nearest steps stood empty beer bottles and a dented accordion. The furthest doors were indistinct, vanishing into the dark. 'Which one's your door?' 'That second one over there. And second floor too. You know - I've been thinking. Henrik's going to be an economist. Or an athlete. Agrologist would be good too. What do you think?'

'Yeah. Come on.' To his surprise, he didn't want to know what the unborn Henrik would become; the very thought made him strangely anxious. They went up the stairs. The door wasn't locked. It was swollen, hanging from the top hinge, and didn't close properly. There was a smell of molten wall insulation, and a faint tapping came from the top floor, as if someone'd been trying to get in without waking the neighbours. Wappu turned the light switch, to no avail. Harjunpää lit his dynalite. Everything in the hallway was depressingly brown: walls, stairway, railings. 'You ok if I keep the light on for a bit?', Harjunpää whispered as if fearing that the house was listening. 'I can find my way in the dark too. Thank you. And good night.' 'Good night, Vappu. Take care of yourself and Henrik.' 

Vappu climbed the first few steps, then leaned on the railing as if drained of all energy. 'I'm so scared', she suddenly said. 'I don't know what's going to happen. I'm not going to find a job... I've been trying... and I can't really sew either...' 'Come on now.' Harjunpää touched her palm with his fingers. Vappu's eyes seemed smudged in the torch light. 'I'll never make it,' she sniffed. 'I can't bring a baby to a room the size of an outhouse. And I don't dare go home - everybody would laugh and mock me. And Oiva's on heart pills. I've got to call his sister in Lahti when he dies. I'm so alone...' 

...Harjunpää waited. Nearly a minute passed before Vappu's sniffling calmed. 'Everything's going to be alright, believe me,' Harjunpää said. 'The kid is worth struggling for. And kids always bring luck. And besides. You could go to a mother-and-baby home. They help mothers like you there, who don't have... an apartment or a job. You should find out.'

Harjunpää and the pyromaniac, post 3

Annala manor and gardens which feature in this section. They were built in the first half of the 19th century by a local industrialist and man of influence as a summer villa for his family, and named after his wife Anna. The family had it for a 100 years. I believe the gardens were restored to their original form only about 10 years ago or so.

Now, the spot in these excerpts was the most difficult to locate. I found two locations that might be it. Then again, neither might be, and if one or the other is, it may have changed in the past three decades, some rock may have been taken away or something. It IS the right approximate area, though.

The character here, called the Master, is an old man, a homeless alcoholic who used to be a painter master. He has retained his skill in mixing paints, which is why he is sometimes still offered work in construction projects, enough to keep him in booze. This summer, the Master has lived in the shack described in the excerpts.

"In the land of the Annala manor, close to the quiet Old Town road, had for nearly 20 years stood empty a tool shack. In defiance of natural laws the shack was still standing, although its walls were worn and threadbare. The miracle had apparently been caused by the location; the right side of the shack joined a rock that rose up to nearly three meters, whereas on the left side there were wild raspberry bushes the height of a man and apple trees that had grown bush-like with lack of care. The shack was sheltered from both weather and people. The Annala land was excellently located otherwise too; the Master had a short way to go to both Toukola and Kumpula, and he could find plenty of empty bottles on the streets of both districts."

" '... know anything. Guess you didn't... let him on your back... but your kids ok... Master will look after...' Tapani couldn't make just a word here and there. He had to lift his head. The old man was sitting with his back towards Tapani, without company, just droning on to himself. Tapani stretched his neck a little bit more and realized he'd been wrong - there was a pure-white cat between the man's legs. She was stretching her body and reaching with her paw at a piece of meat that the man was dangling in his hand. Kittens were playing in the grass and there were many of them, at least five."

The scene continues: The sight of the old man with the cats fills Tapani's mind with warmth, and he approaches, nervously, wanting to sit and chat. The tramp, however, is suspicious of the trespasser and thinking Tapani is trying to take something. He first shouts at Tapani to beat it, then orders him to look at the master's hands, and descends into a drunken, tearful, shaky droning about the things he achieved as a painter master. Suddenly he is enraged again, flails around swaying, finds a board and throws it at Tapani. The board hits him straight in the groin, making him take flight, crouching and groaning in pain. 

" 'Shitty rat. Throwing a board at someone's balls like that. He should be killed,' he said, but the words were heard only by the apple trees drooping in the heat of the afternoon. The white cat sneaked from behind the corner of the shack. Tapani turned and started limping towards the alder copse. A few meters before his hideout his will failed him and he started crying. He made into the shade of the branches, threw himself down in the ferns and didn't move for a long while.

***

The following day, crime scene:

"The rock's side dropped almost straight down for about three meters. The smell of smoke was now strong. Below there was a blackened area the size of a room. The grass was burned around it. The raspberry branches were grey, like the ash of a cigarette left to burn on its own. The apple trees were peculiarly trunkated; half of them were green, alive, but the branches on the other side reached up to the sky black. Only one end wall was visible of the building. It had fallen away from the flames and now was lying amongst the nettles like an upturned hide. The air was rippling and steam rose from the piles of rubbish in the blackened area."

"' The body, by the way', Kaartinen waved at the cinders a few meters away. 'It's by that intact wall over there. It's badly damaged. Maybe we wouldn't have noticed it immediately if one of the hands wasn't almost intact. I don't know - I'm thinking, maybe the man had stuck it out from some gap between the wall boards. Maybe he'd tried to get away. I may be wrong." 

"Harjunpää crouched down. He covered his mouth and nostrils, making it a little easier to breather. Actually he wanted to get a mask from Suttelin's bag, but didn't feel like doing it because he'd gone to the body on his own. The smell wasn't bad as such. It was like a burned steak, and that association made Harjunpää's empty stomach suddenly feel too full. 

"At first glance, the body was nothing but a formless lump. Harjunpää had to gather his thoughts before he could look at it systematically. The head was visible as a distinct ball, but you could guess where the face had been from four black holes only. The mouth was the largest of the four, gaping open as if still screaming in horrible pain. He couldn't look at it any more although he knew that it would've ended up like that, whether it'd been open or closed at the moment of death. The lower legs weren't there, they had burned entirely. The large knee joints were maybe among the ash and could be found if searched carefully. The left hand was missing but the right one was there. It stuck out from the elbow, slightly bent towards the fallen wall; up to the elbow it was completely burned, but as if by a miracle the palm had stayed. It had got fried but it was still a hand. The fingers were long, somehow similar to Harjunpää's own fingers, but scratched and worn. The hand was convulsed. It had reached desperately for help, Harjunpää thought, though he knew that the convulsion had been caused by the changes brought about by the heat in the tendonss and muscles."

"Holmlund came closer, holding the white cat in his arms. His face was pale and sombre. 'Timo, guess what we found under the body?', he asked. Harjunpää saw his lips twitch. 'There were... There were five dead kittens there. I guess he'd collected them into his shirt.. and ... they'd got crushed under him when he'd fallen. They'd suffocated.' 'Oh...' 'I buried them under an apple tree.' A restless muscle made Holmlund's cheek twitch. Harjunpää had to look down at his shoes. He felt sad too, because he was like everybody else; the shooting of police dog Lex had raised a storm of emotion in the press that lasted for a year. A book was written about him and there was a memorial statue planned, but when burglars in Mikkeli had killed the constable, a family man, who had come to arrest them, the matter was quickly forgotten. 'Yeah, it was good that you buried them,' Harjunpää said. 'The wood crows might have taken them', he added after a moment of thinking, but immediately regretted saying so." 

Harjunpää and the pyromaniac, post 2

A few more pictures now, thought why not since I got some more edited. Here again, there is a clear difference between the descriptions of the story and what the locations look like now. Regarding the first picture: probably the tennis court is not the same but it's to the right direction and there is no other tennis court nearby these days. Maybe it's the same location.

"Tapani lived in Toukola, close to where Koreankatu street departed from Kustaa Vaasa road (map). The easiest route home would have been to turn to Kaironkatu street. But he didn't do so."

"Instead, he sauntered along Hämeentie road towards the city centre, crossed the street by the Arabia factory and then slightly nervously approached the tennis court (map). The court was empty. Tapani was disappointed. Around that time in the afternoon there often were two girls, young women, there, and he liked to hang around to watch them play. He didn't really understand the game much, but he enjoyed the women's graceful movements. Especially he liked the girl whose hair was auburn, almost red."

"Tapani waited for a few minutes, but nobody came. He sighed, stuck his hands into his pockets and, with head sunk in disappointment, started towards Kustaa Vaasa road. This time he didn't even feel like testing how long he could stare at women he passed by. He didn't quite know why the empty court had soured his mood. There was no point to it, really; if the girls had been there, it would've just gone the way it always did. After finishing the game, the auburn-haired girl would have waved at him, smiling; he would've felt like caught doing something bad, would have fled, red spots burning on his cheeks; would have run all the way home. That's what would've happened, and actually it wouldn't have felt any better than the gnawing disappointment. Tapani lifted his head and decided to whistle a cheerful song. Instead, a hymn escaped from his lips. It came out thin and sharp. He didn't know what it was called.

If someone had talked to the people who had passed Tapani then, some might have remembered him. 'Oh, some weird guy?', they would've said. 'Yeah, actually... He had his hands stuck in his pockets and he was whistling some hymn. No, it really was a hymn. Clothes? Not sure... Maybe jeans and some T shirt, maybe green. He was a tallish, gawky sort of a kid, ordinary looking. Had marks on his cheeks, like he'd had a bad acne before. Age? Maybe 20 at most.' That's what people would've said and only because Tapani was whistling while he sauntered slowly towards home."

"It was just over half past four when Tapani came into his home yard. From one hand he was swinging an orange plastic bag, which told that he had gone to a shop. He didn't go straight into the house, badly in need of new paint, but went to the yard and grouched down beside the full rain water barrel. He breathed deep, waited, listened for a moment. A lawnmower was zig-zagging on the other side of the garden fence, the scent of chlorophyll filling the air. Tapani's lips moved. 'Moron. Dimwit moron', he whispered, his words directed at his neighbour who was so obsessive about his lawn and his garden. 

He was sure that the scent of the freshly-cut lawn would get his mother to start again on her never-ending complaints about how their yard was the most squalid in the entire street and how he had to do something about it. It annoyed him; he wasn't lazy, didn't even hate garden work - he simply loved his wild and freely flourishing home yard. After nightfall it was teeming with life: the low croaking of frogs in the mossy ditch; rustling and swarming in the grass when mice and voles went off on their excursions; and now in August, the mesmerising orchestra of bush-crickets played until well after midnight."

***

In the next section, night has fallen, and Tapani is about to go out for his nightly excursions.

 

"For Tapani, Kustaa Vaasa road was a kind of a watershed. On one side of the road was Toukola, his home...

... on the other side Kumpula, an almost identical village of wood houses. This time, Kumpula was drawing him more. There were large, ugly wood buildings there, with suspicious inhabitants: booze sellers, fencers, listless folks lazing in the yards from morning till night, playing cards, with sluggish, loudly laughing women keeping them company.

Tapani was more and more tempted to cross the road, but at the same time some instinct was warning him against it. Just in the past week, he'd had to quickly flee from Kymintie street.  He'd done no harm, just peeked through a hole in the hawthorn fence at a woman hanging up laundry, when a gang of ten gypsy kids had tumbled onto the scene. They had surrounded him, kept jumping around him, and he still shivered, remembering how they had chanted in their shrill, loud voices, 'whitey fat face, whitey fat face...'. Tapani swallowed and decided to wait for a sign to decide which way to go. Almost immediately, a hooded crow croaked hoarsely nearby and another responded. Tapani decided that was enough. He was almost relieved when he turned to go towards Old Town."

To be continued...

Harjunpää and the pyromaniac, post 1

Okay, I'm starting with this crime novel photos experiment. The first book I picked is the second one in the Joensuu's Harjunpää series, called Harjunpää and the Pyromaniac, written in 1978. It is not available in English translation.

The events of the book take place in three northernly districts of Helsinki, Toukola, Kumpula and Arabianranta (map). The former two are fairly similar, now very pleasant areas of beautiful wood houses, divided by a major road (see Gustav Vasas Väg in the map, link above), much favoured for instance by families with young children. Arabianranta is a new district of apartment housing built in the last 10 years. The area got its name from the Arabia porcelain factory, founded in 1873, whose buildings now house a pop-jazz conservatory and the School of Art and Design. The region is historically important, since it was here that Helsinki was first founded in the mid-16th century. The town did not thrive, however, and was relocated south to where the modern city centre is located.

It is August, and a peculiar series of fires in Toukola and Kumpula is causing strain in the police force. Due to shortage of manpower, DC Timo Harjunpää is assigned to the arson unit. We learn early on that the perpetrator is Tapani, a boy of about 17 or 18, 19 at most, who lives in Toukola. His parents are divorced since he was five, and he lives with his mother. Tapani is a lonely, quiet young man, maybe shy too. Next year he is due to perform his military service, something he is anticipating with anxiety. Secretly, partly as a way of rebellion from his mother no doubt, he's trying out things of the adult world, drinking beer, smoking, dreaming of meeting girls and sex. Lighting the fires are for Tapani a way to feel strong, to be noticed, maybe to channel anger and frustration too. Mostly he has set fire to small constructions, cars and such but takes a step to a more serious direction when he is angered by an old alcoholic, who lives in a shack in the neighbourhood: he sets fire to the shack and the man burns with it. The story follows on one hand the police's frustratingly slowly advacing investigations and on the other hand Tapani's  nightly movements in the area, his anxiety and waiting. To this is tied Timo Harjunpää's worry for his wife, who is soon due to give birth to their second child.    

I should say that my motivation with taking the pictures was not so much to find the locations and then imagine the events of the book there but to get to know more of my home city through looking for the locations and to see how much has changed since the late 70s.  

Since I took so many pictures and because it takes such a long time to get them all edited, I decided to go in installments: post pictures of one location and include citations (my very unliterary translations) from the story. I've also included links to Google Maps. The pictures here in the first section are from Arabianranta. In the beginning of the story, Tapani is pictured here, and this is also where the police find the wreck of an old police bus that Tapani scorches. Arabianranta has changed considerably, particularly in the last 10 years. Please go to the end of the post to see how it's described in the story.

"The bank of Arabia had millions of those ceramic chunks, the whole embankment was made of them. With time's passage, wasteload after wasteload had been driven from the factory to the shore, and now discarded pieces of moulds, shattered dishes and parts of wash basins and toilet seats formed a mass that was 800 meters long and in places two meters tall. It had buried the rushes of the Old Town coastline, reaching from the Hanging Rock (map: see the rocks just below the word 'Arabiagatan' - they actually did hang people in the location hundreds of years ago) all the way to the end of Kaanaantie street (map). The bank did not have any humus. Here and there stood some fireweed, thistles, and in indentations some willows and cow parsley as thick as a man's thumb, but mostly the ground was bare, grey and lifeless like a disease-ravaged crown of the head. Alcoholics did not like the bank of Arabia, and not many passed through either. Someone curious might dig up a teapot missing a beak or a deaf coffee cup, but no one would stay for long. Tapani was perhaps the only person who liked that shore of failed objects that were fit only for a landfill. He had frequently come there during the summer. Even so, he, too, sometimes felt - especially when a saucer's half was crunched under his feet into smaller shards - as if he was walking in a cemetery. That's why Tapani did not walk around the shore but always came to the same spot. He would sit in the shade of a wide waste pipe for an hour, hour and a half, even two hours."

"There was haze in the air, as if smoke from a faraway forest fire. Lammassaari island and the bird trushes across the narrow bay were gleaming blue, and beyond the Old Town bay Kivinokka and Kulosaari island seemed almost grey. Tapani turned. The coast of Hermanninranta did not seem much more cheerful; smoky, bitter stench rose from the pipes of the incineration plant, the sea wallowed along the coastline, murky and heavy. His gaze moved to HKR's construction site barracks, stuck side by side; to train cars that seemed small in the distance; briefly fell on the rusty tin roof of a waste paper storage just visible beyond a maple wood copse; withdrew and remained, lost in thought, on an air house that was located in Arabia. It was grey, too, round at the ends, long and plump. It was like a larva lying helpless."

Don't get under a falling tree

This shows why it's not a good idea. I came upon this one day in early May in a park not too far from where I live. The park has these old trees, many of which have rot in the roots. This must have been quite a crash! I actually took a snap of this with my cellphone and sent it to the local daily free paper, Metro. They put it on their website but not in the paper, so they didn't pay me anything.

Ah the joy (etc)

This is one of the city blocks of old apartment buildings in Punavuori, taken in the inner courtyard. Early 20th century I believe. I love these buildings. It's the block you can see in the map link here, the square below the A pin. One archway leads into the courtyard from the Pikku-Roobertinkatu street and another from the other side of the block from the Ullanlinnankatu street. What with Google's street view: just double-click the A pin, click "street view"; then click once at the left-arrow to go one step along the street. If you then turn to view the archway, you can see a glimpse of the courtyard. I know concerns have been raised as to whether Google's thingy violates privacy, but I think it's pretty kewl: you can stay in street level and "walk" along the streets.

I've been rather overjoyed recently because I went ahead and bought a new lens for my camera, a 18-125 mm one by Sigma. I think I mentioned here in the blog that I managed to drop one of my lenses in the water down by the pier some months back. I had been planning to hold it out with the 55-250 mm one that was left, but finally got frustrated because there was so much I couldn't take pictures of: in the city streets you often don't have the space to back down sufficiently to get whatever you want to take a picture of to fit in the frame with a 55-250 mm. Like for example the interior courtyards of city blocks like in the picture above. The new lens is so much better than the one I had and with more range, as that one was 18-55 mm. And what's better is that the new lens was only 65 euros more expensive than the old one.

Other kind of photographs  that I've missed are wide city landscapes. This is a part of the path of cargo train tracks that ran through here not too long ago. The cargo port was moved to eastern Helsinki, so the tracks became unnecessary and were removed. I think they're planning a biking route to replace them. If so, I do hope they'll let the greenery be and flourish!

Hopefully the new lens will also prove advantageous in the photo bureau, as it's good to be able to take quality pictures of a good range of subjects. Now I only need to find the time to sort out the ones to upload! Taking pictures is easy, but what takes an awful lot of time is going through and editing the RAW image files. 

I came up with a new idea for photography: lately I've really been enjoying reading Finnish crime fiction, especially the ones that are set in Helsinki. So far only the Harjunpää books by Matti Yrjänä Joensuu, but I borrowed others at the library. What I'm planning is to take one of the books, go to all the locations mentioned and take pictures. The streets and houses in the stories are real, but since most of them were written in the 1980's, quite a bit is probably changed. Think I'll get to this next weekend, provided the weather is good. It takes a bit of planning, in terms of which book to get and how to get to the locations, some of which are in districts quite a distance from where I live. Should be fun.

Before that, in the next few days, I'm going to be trying to make further progress with the nucleus of a new article text I started yesterday and continued with today by reading some books on marriage, women and family in Athens. It's a prosopographic study on the foreign spouses of mixed marriages - all foreign women married to Athenian men - in Hellenistic Athens. I.e. I'm studying the ethnic appellations (e.g. Aphrodisia Milesia = Aphrodisia from Miletos) of the foreign spouses to find out where they originated from. Quite an interesting theme, and I think significant in terms of the question of social integration between Athenian and immigrant families. Of course, there is the question of whether such marriages indicate that the specific immigrant groups had a closer relationship with the Athenian population, or whether they are evidence of the integration of individual immigrant families with the citizen community. I need to dig and find out whether there's a way to find clues on this.

But now to reading non-research things: I got the book that I mentioned in the previous post, "Rööperi - The Years of Crime 1955-2005".