Move any mountain

There's this Irishman, an Australian-Brit-Malay and a Finnish-French-Aussie.. they walk into a bar and... Nah see we don't even make a good start to a joke let alone a good removal company...

Yesterday evening, I moved house. This was challenging for a number of reasons. All my things had to be separated into things I needed and things other people would generously receive or be generously given (depending on how they look at it!) It's quite tricky to get empty boxes from supermarkets here, probably because it's not environmentally friendly and things are delivered straight from market by horse or something. Anyway, it meant my possessions were scattered in an array of black plastic bags and kebab shop boxes. The furniture was somewhat anally labelled with the receipient's name and ready to load into the van that the Irishman had procurred for us. The van came without a back window, a lot of broken glass, a big shovel (I didn't ask if a crime was involved to get this van!) and a ladder that would slide in front of us when accelerating and drop the back door on our heads when unloading.

I had "brief sheets" that listed each person's address, phone number, map reference etc... so it was left to Uma to navigate because she was the only person who could pronounce the street names. We realised quickly that this wasn't appropriate as the Irishman understand why-lion-poosi-katso-poo-hacker better than ylionpuistopuuhääkaäääaa for example. Uma did very well but none of us was actually concentrating so even though she would say Lantene (like Pantene) the van didn't actually obey, and it took quite a few U-eys (Y turns for the Finns!) until we were actually on track. Uma is also the politest navigator - "I think it might be good if you move into the right lane and consider taking the next exit" quickly became "Lan-teeeen, lan-teeen now!"

At this point, things moved from funny to downright scary as the van possessed a mind of its own and sent us helter skelter and helpless beyond the wilds of Keha 3. If we thought the backstreets of Puistola were tricky, it was nothing compared to the eery silence and tree lined, peopleless horizon of beyond the ring roads. It's no exagerration that Uma's breathing become shorter and more shallow with every passing kilometre...

Back in the safety of Maunula and with juniper gin tucked into the front compartment, we headed towards Itis. The Irishman decided to make as many jokes as possible about two ex boyfriends being in the same room, about having things in common and who meant more to me. By the time I got to the shopping centre, I was pretty tense. Uma also had a lot on her mind, the evening would be a signficant one for her and we were both in stomach-flipping anticipation. Triggered by the bright lights, ugly buildings of Itä Keskus, Uma started to have flashbacks of buying an appartment with her ex-husband. Two traumatised women in a car and a bloke fast losing patience with the battle to keep humour makes for a great comedy sketch but not the best removal team. We didn't rebond until we hit the next drop off around the corner, failing to identify the house and Uma and myself running with goods into the snow and long scary-movie like basement corridors lined with old prisoners, and forgotten nuclear disaster refugees. Or so it seemed...

Somehow we made it back to the centre of Helsinki, all still talking to each other and more than ready for a good drink. But that's another post.

Thank you to Uma and the Irishman who stole a van, helped move, put up with crap navigation to Maunula, carried up and down, and got bonked on the head by a ladder. You should go into business - you are the cutest mattress bearers I've seen but I love you both for more than that. Thanks also KebMaf for packing solidly for two days and dividing up light bulbs and rubbish bins...