Hyvää itsenäisyyspäivää, Suomi! (myöhästynyt)

This blog's title is brought to you courtesy of Google Translate, because I don't actually speak Finnish. It means, "Happy Independence Day, Finland! (Belated)"

Seriously, though, how many "a"s with umlauts/diaereses does one word need?

So, December 6th is Finnish Independence Day (a.k.a. the July 4th of Finland.) I had no idea. 

Reader, you may or may not be aware that the "TK" in "ATK" is short for "Tikkanen," a nice Finnish name (it means woodpecker). That's right, my people (at least some of my people) came to America from Finland. And though I don't speak Finnish or know much about Finnish history and culture (except what I've seen on a 60 Minutes piece about how Finns love to do the tango)  I couldn't pass up the chance to attend the National Day celebration at the Finnish embassy on December 6. 

Finns tangoing in the snow

                                         

I was very excited to attend Finnish National Day. Even though I suppose I really shouldn't claim to be Finnish (for all the reasons stated above), I do anyways--always proudly proclaiming to anyone who asks that I am half Finnish! (And a quarter Croatian! Got to give a shout out to the Croats.)  However, at an event hosted by Finnish diplomats with real live Finnish-speaking Finnish people, a fourth generation half Finnish, non-Finnish speaking American who knows nothing about the country is not particularly impressive to anyone. Especially since among the people I went with were a real live Finnish person and his American wife.

Still the people were very gracious and humored me. My friend's husband (the actual Finnish guy) explained the story of Finnish independence. (Take that Bolsheviks!)  He would also point out all the Finnish people in attendance when I wondered how many of the people at the party were actual Finns. Like some folks have gay-dar, he has a solid Finn-dar and could point at random people engaged in conversation and say, "She's a Finn. The other person is not." That's without hearing their conversation. I asked how he knew and he said, "You can just tell. They look Finnish." I should probably note that all the people he pointed to were about 6 feet tall with blond hair and blue eyes. Still, I'm not sure how he knew they were Finnish and not Norwegian or something.

Lastly, some lady teased me about how Americans can't say Finnish words or names correctly. I managed not to point out that the vowel to consonant ratio in their words is bananas. (I kid. She was super sweet).

So, to make a long story short, Happy Birthday, Finland! 95 years young as of December 6, 2012.

Going, Going, GOA!

(Do you get it? It's a play on the phrase "going, going, GONE!" often used in baseball games when someone hits a home run. But instead of the "gone" I used "Goa" because that is the place Mr. ATK and I went a couple weeks ago. So I said, "going, going, GOA!" It's funny because it's a pun. Puns are the highest form of humor.)

So, Mr. ATK and I went to Goa over the holiday weekend--the holidays in question being Veteran's Day and Diwali, conveniently falling on November 12 and 13 this year.  Goa, for those of you who are unaware, is a state in South India that is renown for not only its beaches, but also for the cows that reside on said beaches.

I don't have a whole lot to say about the trip because it was awesome and fun and relaxing. If I have to list the things I liked the most they would be as follows:

• Clean air. The air quality was infinitely better down south. Seriously, the air quality in Delhi recently has been horrible. Like in the hazardous "don't let young children, old people, or asthmatics outside" hazardous. While I'm sure the air in Goa is not pristine, the sky was blue and we were not constantly engulfed in some sort of toxic fog.
• Cows! Being from Wisconsin, cows should not be quite as fascinating to me as they are. And normally I wouldn't be taking 80 pictures of cows. But cows on a beach, well, that's a whole 'nother story.  Mr. ATK pointed out several times how I took more pictures of cows than anything else. He said, "All we are going to have are pictures of cows!" To which I replied, "But the cows are on the beach! Cows don't belong on a beach. Or in a restaurant.  That's why the pictures must be taken! If this cow were standing in a pasture in front of a red barn, I would not be taking its picture."

Hey, Mr. Cow! Hope this beach is big enough for the two of us!

• Seafood! While we could not enjoy thick juicy steaks despite the abundance of cows, we were able to enjoy all the delicacies the sea had to offer. Fishermen go out every morning and whatever they catch for the day become the nightly dinner specials. The tandoori red snapper was delicious. Also, baby shark was on sale everywhere. I never ordered any because I'm not sure heavy fishing of baby shark is sustainable. 
• Dolphins. We rode on a boat and saw dolphins. Every time I saw one come up, I thought of this scene in Finding Nemo.

                                      

Other interesting observations:

• Lots of Russians come to Goa. So much so that many of the restaurants on the beaches write signs in Cyrillic. Not sure why they choose Goa. I don't really have any witty comments to make about Russians in Goa. I was trying to think of a joke about Rocky IV but couldn't come up with anything. 
• It doesn't seem like many Americans visit Goa. I assume this because every shopkeeper, taxi driver, and tout that came up to us to make small talk before trying to sell us something they always asked if we were from 1) England, 2) Sweden(!), 3) Germany. Not one guessed USA.  Maybe we didn't look very American. Mr. ATK is sporting a creepy mustache at the moment. Maybe that makes us look European.  

This was a terrible idea...

How was your Columbus Day?

Mine was spent with Mr. ATK in the holy city of Rishikesh. Well, not really in the city, but outside the city camping on a beautiful white sand beach along the Ganges. We went whitewater rafting, kayaking, played badminton, you know, all the things you do in idyllic places like that. But that's not the terrible idea I am talking about. I did get an ayurvedic massage while on the trip which uses a lot of oil and includes a head massage so my hair ended up really greasy. Also the fine white sand sticks to everything so the massage had an exfoliating element to it. So, in retrospect, I consider that a questionable decision, but not a terrible idea.

No, Dear Reader, the terrible idea I am talking about was my volunteering to foster three 50 day old Indian street dogs so they wouldn't be put back out on street. So within the space of 8 months, I have gone from having no dogs to having four. And little fifty day old puppies are not house trained. Of course, neither is Aloo so I guess they have some common ground.*

But anyways, much to Mr. ATK's chagrin, we agreed to take in the puppies. I really wanted to do it, he was less than enthusiastic but when  asked him if he was okay with it, he did one of those passive-aggressive "If that's what you really want" things, so now we have extra puppies. 

Here they are:

               

Nimbu

Russell

Norman

Three extra puppies is a lot of work. Shocking insight, I know. Did I think it would be work? Yes. Did I think it would be this much work? Eh... probably not. I figured we could use Aloo's old wire crate to keep the puppies in the apartment and during the day they could stay in the servant's quarters on the roof. They are too small for walks, so that's less work right there. Right? Right?! 

Wrong. 

Puppies pee. A lot. Seriously, it's amazing how much they pee. Always peeing. And it's hard to move three puppies at a time. So when we were keeping them in the house, every hour I had to take them one at a time up the stairs to the roof. I tried carrying two under my arms and putting one in a bag,** but the one in the bag didn't enjoy that experience. It was hard to get him in the bag and then pick up two other puppies before puppy number 1 scrambled out of the bag.  Then we trying carrying the together in a laundry basket, but they kept trying to climb out while in transit. And, of course, they have sharp little teeth and claws so arms and legs are quickly filled with scratches.  And then there's the fact that old dogs don't seem to like new dogs invading their territory. 

Yes, for some crazy reason, I pictured Aloo taking on a motherly/big sister role and caring lovingly for the puppies. It would be like Diff'rent Strokes. Aloo would be Kimberley, the puppies would be Arnold and Willis, I would be Mr. Drummond, and Mr. ATK would be Ms. Garrett the housekeeper (who would eventually become the dorm mother at Langley boarding school in her own spin off, The Facts of Life.) Unfortunately, unlike the Upper East Side of Manhattan, bringing home extra puppies has not resulted in increased conspiratorial shenanigans between Aloo and her new brothers and sister. Actually, quite the opposite has happened. We learned Aloo does not like to share. Aloo spent most of the first evening growling at the puppies, who we kept in a wire crate in a separate room. After taking the puppies upstairs to the roof to do their business, I was bringing the last one in and we ran into Aloo who Mr. ATK was bringing up for her nightly ablutions. Aloo did not take kindly to this other pup in my arms and started jumping on me and snapping at the little guy. Fortunately, for little Fido (they didn't have names yet and I don't remember which it was), she did not get him. Unfortunately for me, she did get a nice chunk of my elbow. (Don't worry she didn't draw blood or anything.) 

The next day (that would be Day 2, not even a full 24 hours with the puppies yet) we had all the dogs on the roof playing together. It was a real kum bah ya moment. I thought Aloo had gotten over her jealously and all and life would be good once again in the Drummond, er, ATK household. (I don't think you realize how exhausting it is to have 4 dogs and to always keep one physically separated from the others.) I started to think, Maybe this wasn't such a terrible idea. Look at all the cuteness! They are so cute!!!

But then...Food Bowl Gate struck. 

We were herding all the dogs down from the roof with the intention of giving them baths (the puppies were infested with ticks).  Nimbu managed to wander over to Aloo's food dish while we were trying to get everyone into the bathroom and took a bite of food, prompting Aloo to absolutely lose her shit. I think she tried to eat that little puppy. Lots of snarling, growling, biting, barking, and screeching ensued from all dogs. It was awful. The puppies now have PTSD and we are back to square one with keeping the dogs separated. 

PTSD puppies... sounds like it could be a very special episode of Diff'rent Strokes. 

*Kidding Aloo is house trained. For the most part. She still has accidents, though, but we suspect she is just being petulant. 

** Just to clarify, I didn't try to carry the puppies in a plastic bag or anything. It was a tote bag.