A rare feeling washes over us here: that of being at home. In this house under the soft pastel hues of sunrise, in the heart of the small village of Haapajärvi, we rediscover a kind of warmth we had almost forgotten.
For three nights in a row, we were welcomed by different families. Big-hearted Finns, curious and kind, far from the stereotype of Nordic coldness.
Three days earlier, we were at our wits' end. We woke up shivering in -25 degree weather on the benches of an open kiosk because we couldn't pitch our tent after a long day of cycling. The cold froze us during the night, our clothes iced, our bikes covered in frost, the chains jammed, our sleeping bags stiff. That night, our naivety could have killed us.
That's when we understood: it was time to ask for help. And that help came. Spontaneous, generous, and warm. Those few nights spent in the warmth allowed us to hold on until the temperature rose again.
That morning, over a steaming cup of filter coffee, I knew. I was far from home, but here, I was home.
