Westworld Saskatchewan

10 W E S T W O R L D | S P R I N G 2 0 1 5 istock W henever I'm at home, I see a hid- eous witch with wings and talons attacking a sword-wielding wizard in a boat. No, I don't suffer from Dungeons & Drag- ons-related hallucinations. But I do have a reproduction of Finnish artist Akseli Gallen- Kallela's 1896 painting The Defense of the Sampo on my wall. It depicts an episode from the Kalevala, Finland's national myth. I'm half- Finnish, and growing up, I used to visit my grandmother every summer in this Nordic nation of 5.4 million. Returning to Helsinki recently as a tourist, I decided to visit Gallen-Kallela's custom-built house, Tarvaspää, which celebrated its 100th anniversary in 2013. is would kick off a tour of the Finnish capital where I'd live like an epic hero (kinda) by exploring Kalevala-themed culture and cuisine. I take a tram from downtown Helsinki to the nearby city of Espoo and walk north along the lapping waters of Laajalahti Bay, ponder- ing the Kalevala's enduring appeal. It's a mas- sive compilation of traditional Finnish poems and songs that Elias Lönnrot, a physician and linguist, published in 1835. Although it's sometimes bloody or bawdy, what stands out is the uncompromising passion and creativity of its characters, whose well-crafted songs can literally build a boat or drown an enemy. At last, my path winds upwards through birch trees and Tarvaspää looms into view. e architecture hints at Gallen-Kallela's role in Finland's National Romantic move- ment, which highlighted the country's unique identity and spurred it toward independence from Russia in 1917. e towered house – a museum since 1961 – resembles both a Finn- ish church and Central European castle. I tour the spacious rooms, admiring an early wood- cut version of The Defense of the Sampo, and climb the tower's 56 stone steps. Finland's other National Romantic cultural icon, composer Jean Sibelius, invoked the Kal- evala as well in his classical music. Later in my trip, I make a pilgrimage to his home, Ainola, outside Helsinki. At Ainola, surrounded by pastoral gardens and furnished with a fire- place of painted green brick and rag carpets, I see a birch kantele, a Finnish stringed instru- ment reputedly invented by Väinämöinen – the sword-wielding wizard. Sibelius died here in 1957 and is buried outside. Back in Helsinki, strolling along the tree- lined Esplanadi toward the harbour's open-air market, I am surprised to recognize Finnish rocker Michael Monroe on a poster outside a jewellery store called Kalevala Koru. Inside, a salesman tells me the Hanoi Rocks frontman bought his wedding ring here, which led to the endorsement. "Kalevala poetry goes back to the Iron Age, as do many of our motifs," he says. A silver moon goddess necklace and a bronze water monster bracelet are typical offerings from the store, founded in 1935. My cultural appetites satisfied, it's time to feed my body. I sign up for an individual tour with Food Sightseeing Helsinki, requesting a Kalevala focus. Guide Tanja Karonen meets me at the boutique Klaus K Hotel. Its rooms offer a discreet reimagining of Kalevala themes like passion and envy, while the reception desk evokes the bird's nest where the creation of the Nordic world reputedly began. Karonen takes me to the Hietalahti indoor market, first opened in 1904. Enveloped in delicious scents of coffee, meat and cheese, I sample pike at the Marja Nätti fish stall as a Väinämöinen tribute. (In one legend, the wiz- ard slaughters a monstrous pike.) My fish dish is more civilized, incorporating cucumber, rad- ish and truffle oil. Rye grain is big in the old tales, and my grain-centric highlight is quaffing Sahti, a dark, ancient Finnish beer with rye and juniper leaves, at the new Bryggeri Helsinki brewpub near the city's Lutheran cathedral. Finally, I book an appointment at Kotihar- jun Sauna. It's Helsinki's last remaining public wood-burning sauna and was founded in 1928. Kalevala heroes regularly engage in this sweaty ritual. e creator-blacksmith Ilmarinen takes a sauna before wooing his bride. No brides here, though. Elderly, hairy, naked men complain it is too cold at 100 C and crank up the steam. Dripping in the heat, I resolutely hit myself with traditional birch branches to increase my circulation. As the temperature soars to 120 C, I decide: "OK, I'm now officially an epic hero." W Epic Times in Helsinki Returning to his Finnish roots, our hero discovers how ancient myth infuses modern life by Lucas Aykroyd POSTCARDS

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