Everyday Life in the North in Inari and Karigasniemi: The Salt and Sugar of Everyday Life
I wrote a column for Inarilainen that’s perfect for this Sunday. Summer is starting to give way to fall. My vacation in my home region in the archipelago is now just a memory. The birds have flown from the nest and return during the holiday season. And so, the house of my childhood was once again filled with life: my siblings, their families, dish-washing duties, and coffee brewing nonstop.
Everyday life as a vacationer was a luxury. There was always a warm embrace for the baby when my spouse and I wanted to go to the sauna alone—or when I just wanted to close the bathroom door for a moment by myself.
After the vacation, everyday life settles back into its routine. Even when I go to the bathroom, my zero-year-old and two-year-old tag along. I wondered if I’d been short on helping hands even before the vacation, when my spouse was out running errands or at work.
Many families with children who have moved here from elsewhere build their support networks from scratch, relying on friends or neighbors. Long distances and busy daily schedules can leave people confined within their own four walls. As a rule, you only visit someone’s home if you’re invited. I’m not really used to that, and fortunately, I haven’t had to get used to it in Inari either.
Then my phone buzzed. I didn’t have time to answer it before the front door opened. My husband’s great aunt burst in. She said she’d already eaten and had coffee, but she wanted to show me some fabrics and ask how I was doing. A warm feeling washed over me and put me at ease.
I realized that I didn’t actually miss any kind of structured “support.” What I missed were my loved ones and the sense of ease that comes from having even the youngest children be part of the everyday community.
We decided to visit my husband’s relatives in Karigasniemi. First, we went to the village hall. I asked a man sipping coffee at the next table what was worth checking out here. His reply was, “Look in the mirror if you want to meet people.”
That’s exactly right. The village isn’t some open-air museum or tourist attraction—it’s the people who live there, interacting with one another. We sent a message to our relatives: we’d be at their door soon, having already eaten and had coffee. We caught up on each other’s news, and it was lovely.
The drop-ins—both those on our own porch and those we visit ourselves—make everyday life happy. I want to cherish this simple and warm village culture myself.
