A full Finnish day

It's bloody light, bloody bright but I am so so sleepy with jet lag and lag lag and sickness lag and I can ignore it.

In Finland now I rely on the kindness of strangers. An Irishman I have never met sends instructions on how to get to a doctor.

Outside it is so green I can't believe it's real. Someone has placed artificial leaves on every tree surely. I have not seen a spring like this.

The terveasema (translates as hello station?) won't let me see a doctor. I look well, they say. I look foreign, I think. I am dark skinned and mention Turkey and don't have a permanent social security number. Bad strategies. I am too tired and sick to argue and vow to go private. It knocks the wind out of me. I really want to cry.

The post man has left hundreds of presents, junk mail, cards, care parcels, news from home. All treasured.

I sleep in the afternoon for five hours. And at night I sleep a full night's sleep. My muscles are sore from lack of use. I feel two dimensional and it's hard to move the parts of my body together to make one movement. But I am well enough to not need a doctor.

Later, I meet the Irishman, who buys me ice cream on the harbour while boats pass and tourists pass along the locals, excited in the sun.

I message Turkey a hundred times and we all wish I was there, wish you were here. The cats miss me, I miss the rocks, we miss, and kiss and promise it won't be another year. And this time we know it won't. This time it's too hard to let go.

I message everyone I know in Finland to remind them who I am. Don't forget me before I go.