Finland & Baltic

Solidarity & Safety: Final Thoughts on Flags, Fobs, Fear, & Freedom

As we reflect on this magical trip, so many meaningful and pleasant associations linger. Yet, perhaps two of the most compelling are the “S”s of Solidarity and Safety. In all our travels, we’re reminded that we are a global community, not separate entities.

This connectivity was exemplified on this trip by the ubiquitous presence of the Ukraine flag. In every country, when we saw the native flag, the Ukraine flag would usually be alongside it. The sense of solidarity was palpable. In observations and conversations, this solidarity was reinforced. For instance, Dom—the young Lithuanian staff at a coffee shop—emphasized that his elder family members vividly tell him about the horrific history of Russian occupation they lived. He explained, “It’s not just about Ukraine, alone; we know we could be next.” He expounded, “But, it’s a global crisis. Everyone in the world needs to stand with Ukraine.”

When we travel, people often tell us, “Be safe.” This admonition is ironic, because we frequently feel safer in other countries. The feeling of safety on this trip was both comforting and poignant. We became acutely aware of the contrast between our sense of safety in this unfamiliar part of the world, as contrasted with our homeland where gun violence is a daily (hourly) occurrence. This unfettered violence is an existential crisis and is abject failure of our country’s willingness to address it. In the U.S., the statistical probability of being shot in a school, mall, place of worship, grocery store, or even our own homes is growing.

A culture of fear permeates in the U.S. Parents are afraid to let their children be unaccompanied—as contrasted with what we viewed in our travels of unaccompanied children being commonplace. This fear culture is a marketing heyday; home security systems and other “safety” measures are big business. We are afraid to be in public and, yet, also afraid someone will break into our homes. How is that freedom?

The contrast between this “fear culture” and “safety culture” is remarkably illustrated in a common object: our rental car’s key fob. We noticed a peculiar difference. Unlike key fobs in the U.S., this fob did not have a panic button. As we had many days of driving on this trip, we began to ponder the subtle, yet significant, meaning of this difference. In the U.S., we are constantly being told that we must be afraid—the “panic buttons” are “necessary.” But, Ya’ll, we do NOT have to live like this; there is a better way.

On this trip, we felt remarkable safety, rather than vigilant fear. We had a sense of ease, rather than an undercurrent of anxiety. We love our home and are grateful for many aspects of our life in the U.S. And, we love our travels and the opportunities to know that true freedom and contentment are not found in feeding violence and fear. Instead, they are fostered by safety and solidarity with and for all.

Last-but-not-Least Lithuania: Serenity & Seek and Find

Leaving lovely Latvia, we headed to Lithuania. After a relatively long day on the road, we happily arrived in Klaipėda where we’d booked a wonderful apartment on the 28th floor of a high-rise, overlooking the city and seaport—the country’s major working port. Wanting a quick, light dinner, Larry went nearby for one of our favorite cross-cultural experiences: grocery-shopping. Collecting items, Larry attempted to purchase a ½ bottle of wine, which caused quite a kerfuffle. The obviously exasperated cashier wrested the bottle from him and, using very effective non-verbal communication, conveyed that he’d committed an international faux pas! We googled to learn it’s illegal in Lithuania to purchase alcohol after 8 p.m. After narrowly escaping the Klaipėda Kops, we fixed a celebratory charcuterie board with Larry’s hard-earned harvest. And, our host had left a bottle of grape juice as a welcoming gift. So, we poured it in champagne glasses to toast Last-but-not-least-Lithuania with not-wine-but-just-fine.

After all that excitement (Ha!), we enjoyed a slow Sunday morning—feasting on the yogurt, fruit, and coffee gathered from Larry’s brave shopping expedition—before venturing out midday to take the ferry to the Curonian Spit National Park. (An actual ferry, not like the fancy ship we took from Finland.) Oh, my! What a wonder-full day. Exiting the ferry, which took about 20 minutes, we drove the 30 miles or so through the four villages, stopping along the way and ending in Nida, the largest village.

The short, scenic drive was immersive: Sun-dappled, deep forest. Winking glimpses of waterways with bevies of swans gliding on the surface. Wild flowers, contemplative quiet, such simple serenity. We stopped in each village for food and local sites: Witches Hill—ambled on a long walk in the forest with coven of wooden sculptures that convey ancient stories; Panides Dune—marveled at the mighty and fragile dunes, with an overlook of Russia; Nida Village Park—strolled the waterway promenade along the park, stopping for the requisite photo and song with (the statue of) Vytautas Kernagis, singer-songwriter considered the pioneer of Lithuanian sung poetry. After a serene, satisfying day, we savored the scenic drive back to the ferry, which took us back to town. Then, we drove the short distance to our apartment for a late repast and restful evening, whilst watching the sun slowly sink into the sea.

The next day, we drove to the capital, Vilnius. On the way, we stopped for a coffee and traditional pastries at a roadside café. Then, we stopped in Kaunas for a tasty lunch and a stroll around town as several groups of traditional folk singers and dancers regaled us. Then, we drove to the Old Town section of Kaunas where a local festival with music was happening. We stopped for an espresso and pastry at a small art gallery/café. There, we had a wonderful conversation with Dom, a local staff, who’d done a gap year as an au pair for a family in Georgetown, KY. Serendipity makes it a small world.

After our espresso, pastry, and Dom boost, we continued on to arrive in Vilnius early evening. Our new home involved parking our car using a car elevator! Eek! New experience. We parked the car, entered our centrally located apartment and didn’t use our car again until we left. We enjoyed another quiet evening and slow Sunday morning.

Then, we ventured out over the next few days to explore the compact, interesting Old Town of Vilnius. Cobblestone streets, ancient castles, grand cathedrals: We meandered, imagined the history, and, were drawn into shops where we, of course, became convinced of the power of AMBER: the ubiquitous souvenir throughout the Baltic, but especially in Lithuania.

Our days in Vilnius were easy, enjoyable, and edifying. In our exploring, perhaps our favorite moment was the discovery of the Seek-and-Find stone tile bearing the word stebulkas (magic). This small tile in the expansive Cathedral Square commemorates the ending spot of the human chain—linked in 1989 between Tallinn (Estonia), and Vilnius by two million Latvians, Estonians, and Lithuanians—to protest Soviet occupation. The tradition is to make a wish by doing a clockwise 360-degree turn on the tile. Superstition forbids revealing the exact location. So, like much of the magic in travel-life, you must seek-and-find and enjoy the magic of the journey.

Lovely Latvia: Seas-the-Day, Honor History, & Learn from the Past

Leaving Pärnu, we drove from Estonia on well-maintained highways to Latvia. We meandered through an ode to unspoiled nature: Forests, farmland, parks—blue skies with puffy clouds; green landscapes with occasional pops of fields of yellow canola. And, always beckoning was the lovely, accessible beaches, waving at travelers to stop and enjoy the view. They served as a reminder to Seas-the-Day and make the best of the sands of time.

Our Lonely Planet guidebook said Latvians love arts, festivals, and have “a merry, devil-may-care-attitude—well, a subdued Nordic version of it.” It described Latvia as a small country with enormous personal space. Indeed, Latvia felt like a place to find both connection and solitude. We fantasized about buying a camper to join the ranks of the festive-nature-loving-Latvians. Then, we remembered WINTER and that Latvia is known as the birthplace of the Christmas tree for a reason. B-r-r-r! Ne Paldies!

We arrived late on a Monday afternoon in Riga, Latvia’s capitol and only major city. Immediately, we noticed that LOTS of people were milling about and the vast majority of them were donned in attire and/or waving flags that proclaimed LATVIA! Initially, we thought, “Wow! These people are very excited about their country!” We soon learned that the previous Sunday evening, Latvia’s team BEAT the U.S. team to gain the Bronze in the Ice Hockey World Championship. Since Riga dubs itself, the CITY OF HOCKEY, this win was a BIG DEAL. The National Government leaders called an emergency meeting Sunday evening to declare Monday a National Holiday. It was quite fun to be amidst the festivities: On that day, We were Latvians!

For a couple days—from our comfortable, centrally located apartment—we ambled through Riga. We walked alongside the beautiful river Daugava, which flows through the city’s parks with meaningful statues, gorgeous blooms, and locals enjoying the long days of sunshine. Then a maze of cobblestone streets winds through interesting architecture, fun markets, myriad restaurants, and historic sites. Notably, the black cat is a popular symbol of Riga; it has an infamous (and fictional) “Cat House” revenge story. As the story goes: In early 1900s, a guy was upset that the local (prestigious) Guild turned down his membership request. So, he bought a building nearby and had a black cat with its butt pointed toward the Guild building put on the roof—as an insult. The Guild sued him and the settlement was that he got to keep the cat, but must turn it away from the direction of the Guild. Talk about “catty.”

Leaving Riga, we drove toward Ventspils, stopping for a wonderful forest-bathing in Kemeri Park. We spent one night in Ventspils, where we had a subpar AirB&B, delicious local meal, and a meditative beach walk. Then, with a fairly long day of driving, we headed to Klaipėda via Liepāja, where we visited the Craftsman House—which ironically was all women artisans—and bought one of our few souvenirs, Antrai Kalejai’s wood and willow creations. After cruising through the local, huge outdoor market and having a yummy lunch of the local specials at a restaurant in a former post office, we got back on the road.

Throughout this trip—amidst the splendor and serenity of nature, as well as, the ease and vibrancy of these countries—we saw the oppressive remnants of Soviet invasions and Nazi Holocaust. A history of hostile occupations, forced deportations, and incredible decimation lingers. We visited historical sites and were both informed and moved by them—particularly those that authentically reflected on the atrocities of war.

In particular, we were compelled to go to the Skede Dunes Holocaust Memorial, which our guidebook described as “off the beaten path.” Ten kilometers north of Liepāja off a long dirt coastal road, it certainly was hard to find and we were the only visitors. It seems like a local place of remembrance, rather than a tourist site. As the guidebook stated, “The beauty obscures the horror.” Amidst a sandy, serene beach and dunes with wind-song evergreens, the local community built a large contemplative area that includes marker stones dedicated to the 3000+ local Jews killed by the Nazis—along with an area honoring those allies who tried to aid their Jewish neighbors. In this isolated memorial, it was deeply moving to contemplate how this horror (and courage) occurred in recent history amidst “ordinary” lives and even such extraordinary beauty.

Easy Estonia (Eesti!): Saunas, Spuds, & Suds

From Finland, we took a two-hour ferry from Helsinki to Tallinn. The term “ferry” is a bit misleading. This comfortable transport was a cruise-size SHIP. The nine decks comprised lots of indoor and outdoor seating/sea-viewing areas, restaurants/bars, entertainment (video games, TVs), shopping. 

We arrived in Tallinn for a few days to explore this wonderful walled medieval city. Meandering through historical sites and beautiful green spaces, we thoroughly enjoyed the ambiance. Estonians love books and music! We traversed across town to be the (obviously) only non-locals at a small community’s folk festival, with traditional music/dance, local crafts, and food trucks. Also, serendipitously, we happened upon a gorgeous organ and vocal rehearsal at St. Nicholas third century church-turned art museum and concert venue. Notably, whilst having many churches, Estonia is the least religious country in the world. Hmmm…

Happily, we participated in the annual “Head Read Book Festival,” with authors being interviewed at a nearby bookstore. Estonians read more than any other European country. A large statue of beloved Estonian writer, Jaan Kross, was prominent in the old town area, a few steps from our apartment. Arrested by Germans, then Soviets, Kross spent 8 years in Gulag in Siberia. He continued to write poetry during his imprisonment and he memorized the poetry of many others who died in captivity so their poetry would survive.

We have so many meaningful associations with Estonia! But, mainly, when we think of Estonia, our first association will be: Saunas! We began our sauna-savoring in Helsinki—enjoying a public sauna whilst there. But, in Estonia, we became convinced that saunas were a life necessity. Our first apartment in the center of beautiful, historic Tallinn had a sauna, which we religiously used each evening. Then, after a few days in Tallinn, we picked up our rental car and drove to the Estonia Resort and Spa in Pärnu. Oh, my! Several saunas, swimming pool, float tank, massages, delicious food, lovely town, with relaxing parks and beaches nearby, and at very economical prices! We liked this place so much we made it our stopover on our return trip.

One does not live on music, books and saunas, alone. An important aspect of travel—and life—is the food. We had lotsa Suds and Spuds: The food is hearty—spuds at every turn; and suds, the local beers, taste fresh and delicious. Lots of grains: Rye bread, porridge. Yum. We began to hanker for vegetables and came to enjoy root vegetables (beets!) with new fervor. To be fare (wink!), we had ample fish entrees and varied meals; but, definitely, in the Eastern European diet, Carbs Rule!

Happy Finland: Sisu, Satisfaction, & Social Policies

First, flying FinnAir was routine, hassle-free flights—rare these days when air travel seems predictably unpredictable and stressful. Arriving in Helsinki, the first impression was crystallized by the fact that birdsong was piped into the airport restrooms! Our overall impression is further captured by the sentiment of Silas, our Uber driver from the airport in Helsinki. Silas immigrated to Finland from Kenya. When we asked him what he liked about Helsinki, he replied, “It’s quiet and safe.” On the surface, these characteristics can seem dull. But, they are the core of contentment.

We stayed in a wonderful apartment in Helsinki’s Design District; it was notably quiet, birds tweeted outside our open windows. Many streets are torn up, as the city is upgrading its infrastructure. Yet, as we walked around this exceedingly walkable city, we rarely heard car horns. And drivers actually STOP for pedestrians. Most remarkably, unaccompanied children are not uncommon.

Green space is (intentionally and inextricably) woven into the city; even with all the construction, it’s impossible to walk far without encountering open, nature spaces. The ubiquitous dandelions exuberantly blooming throughout came to represent Finland for us. A weed battled in the U.S. with toxic chemicals to kill it, the dandelion is embraced as a natural and necessary bloom in Finland. After all, it fulfills a crucial, natural function and beauty is in the eye of the pragmatic Finn. Like the dandelion carpet and birdsong soundtrack, Helsinki has a feel of beautiful practicality and permeating peace. 

Both personally (as global citizens) and professionally (as social workers), we’ve been intrigued with Finland for many years—as it’s consistently number one in the World Happiness Index. From our studying it, we’ve come to understand that Finns’ happiness largely stems from their sense of satisfaction (enoughness), sisu, and social policies! We happily recommend reading Katja Pantzar’s The Finnish Way: Finding Courage, Wellness, and Happiness through the Power of Sisu. Pantzar explains that sisu (translated as grit, determination, resilience, fortitude) is embedded in Finnish culture. This sisu promotes a sense of efficacy and efficiency, personally and collectively. As we experienced in our brief visit, Finns focus on the enoughness of a “simple and sensible lifestyle.” This happy lifestyle prioritizes life balance—work, play, rest, movement, nutrition, nature, connection, solitude, and such basics. Or, maybe, it’s just the coffee. Finns drink more coffee per capita than any country.

And, all of this (micro) happiness is inextricably tied to (macro) social policies! We highly recommend Anu Partanen’s well-researched and engrossingly readable, The Nordic Theory of Everything: In Search of a Better Life. Partanen, a Finnish woman, marries a man from the U.S. and moves here. Wow! Is she in for a culture shock! In her book, Partanen brilliantly develops her primary thesis that if people in the U.S. really understood how absolutely awful our social policies were—in terms of tearing apart our social fabric, devastating families and community life, and generally contributing to declining health and well-being—we would be protesting in the streets (and, voting)!

From child-care, health care, elder care, parental leave, education, gender equity—really, every aspect of life—Partanen expertly and empathically delineates the dire consequences of U.S. social policies’ abject failure to function effectively in a contemporary society. She observes how “Americans tend to see their government and the services it provides as something separate from them, and often opposed to them. Nordic people see the government and its services as their own creation. The well-being state is from each of us, to each of us, and by each of us” (p. 236). Partanen doesn’t just critique the U.S. system, she offers pragmatic hope and models for the country she has come to love.

Seriously, just read the book!

Finland & the Baltic Countries

In mid-May to mid-June 2023, we traveled for three weeks to Finland and the Baltic countries of Estonia, Latvia, and Lithuania. If you get a chance to visit these countries, we highly recommend you say, yeS! Below, we try to capture a glimmer of the “S” factors that make travel in these areas of the world such a delight! With shared GO Global enthusiasm, we hope you GO to this part of the Globe and let us know what YOU think!

We drove from our Louisville home to stay overnight with travel pals in Chicago, in order to have direct flights to and from Helsinki (8 hours). We arrived in Helsinki where we stayed several days, then went to Tallinn for a few days. There, we rented a car to meander for a couple of weeks down through Latvia and Lithuania. After our visit in Lithuania, we drove back (in one day) to Pärnu, Estonia for an overnight. Then, the next day we drove to Tallinn to return the car and take the ferry to Finland. We stayed overnight in Helsinki, and flew back to Chicago. Of course, we had some minor travel blips; but, overall, this trip was remarkably easy and enjoyable.


Happy Finland

Sisu, Satisfaction, & Social Policies


Easy Estonia (Eesti!)

Saunas, Spuds, & Suds


Lovely Latvia

Seas-the-Day, Honor History, & Learn from the Past


Last-But-Not-Least Lithuania

Serenity, Seek, & Find


Solidarity & Safety

Final Thoughts on Flags, Fobs, Fear, & Freedom