Lavonardo

Was crowded, as expected. Was loud, but not as loud as last year. Was complimentary (and I hope they’d hidden all the good stuff).

’s over now. Time to sleep tight and be prepped for the trip to Montral tomorrow.

Multiple live music experiences last night.

Caiprinha at whatever lies between Gaselli and Michelle were very latino in their sound. Not knowing enough about the subject, not going to guesstimate the genre. Played well, but the place was very much on the crowded side. So, decided to leave after four songs or so.

Ended up at Molly’s, where an unknown band (at least to yours truly & Jytky) was playing. Bod (no definite article in their name). More than decent collection of covers (from the expected [U2] to the eclectic [Abba!, Blink 182!!, Buggles!!!]), though some of the unrecognized songs might have been their own. Nicely redundant crew, all members appeared to be able to play all instruments and they swapped roles a few times.

It also appears from the list of this summer’s bands that my very favorite quasi-irish band won’t be appearing in Finland this summer. Bugger. Was looking forward to catching up on at least a couple of gigs.

Bah. As noted by Aaro, missed tonight’s gig by Alamaailman Vasarat & Tuomari Nurmio at Tavastia. Forgot to pay a visit to Tiketti yesterday, and this was the result. Bugger.

Dropped by Vltava on the way home, and was left in an ambivalent mood - the selection is wide, but it still seems more than a wee bit clinical and sterile. Time will heal that wound, that’s for sure.

Yah, after a quiet hour or two at the hotel, it was time to venture out and see what the famed St. Patrick’s Day really holds.

The T is surprisingly quiet - quite unlike Mayday back home, though a lot of the people are wearing green.

Upon reaching downtown the party has certainly started. The homeboys near the station are wearing ethnically appropriate, but still green clothing: Celtics jerseys or shirts by fubu and the like. However, moving towards the Quincy Market, the true partiers become visible. Pretty much everybody has decked on more and more green. Shirts, hats, jackets, whatever. Some adventurous individuals are wearing kilts, which is probably not a good idea when the temperature has decreased from the no-so-balmy heights of the noon. And especially since the lines in front of any quasi-irish bar are huge. Roisin Dubh, McNally’s sport lines that curve around corners and seem not to be moving at all.

Cruising around the area, I settle down in front of Ned Devine’s. Where the line is a little bit shorter. But slow. Very slow. During the twenty-odd minutes of waiting something like ten people get in, and the line moves less than twenty feet. No good. I retreat to Cheers, already visited during the day, where a semblance of an irish celebration is ongoing.

But not a very good semblance. They run out of Guinness immediately. Everything is sold in plastic cups. And music is loud, very loud. And very non-irish. Unless Peppers and Snoop Dogg have lately been granted citizenship without me noticing. Clearly I’m not the only one with culture shock, in a neighboring table a midwestern couple wipes barbecue sauce off chicken fingers with napkins before devouring them. NCAA basketball, ubiquitous during the whole week keeps playing on all screens in the bar. Looks and feels chaotic, but really isn’t, the lines work and people remain reasonably polite well into the night. Me? Cut my losses before midnight and hopped on a red train back towards Harvard Square.

Quick clue: What not to wear on St. Patrick’s Day:

• Anything orange (irish-irish rivalry).
• Anything with Yankees insignia (boston-new york rivalry).

Nope. Wore neither, and only a very few brave individuals wore the latter, none the former. Had a green t-shirt (with spindly yellow Dali-elephants on it).

Woke up at an unfashionable 4:40 o’clock, took a cab to the airport and boarded a plane to Frankfurt. Extremely tired, of course, but the curse of not being able to sleep in planes held. Thankfully, Lufthansa had today’s Helsingin Sanomat to provide some amusement for the ride.

Frankfurt airport hadn’t really changed. But for the first time in ages, the moving walkways between terminals A and B actually worked. In both directions. Which is unheard of, lately.

Security measures had been tightened once again, had no issues there, but spent a lot of time in queue. Bags were scanned as usual, but the spinaltapian cucumber-detection device was applied prodigiously to every traveller. All this meant that the generous 90 minute layover was barely sufficient.

Plane was an old 747-400, without personal screens. Which meant that everybody shared the same movie. Well, took a brief look at the Bridget Jones sequel, and resumed reading the newest Dortmunder caper by the ever-trusted Donald E. Westlake (trust me, the E. is significant - it’s the difference between sparkly comic crime and bog-standard hard-boiled novel).

Food was decent, even good. Savory chicken in tomato sauce. I’m sure the karma balance of the universe will be restored with something utterly unpalatable on the return leg. Had an aisle seat (traveler profile works wonders with most airlines), with a very silent neighbor, very much retreated into his own earphones. Noted too late that ipod was buried somewhere in the overhead compartment, and made do with the unusually good muzak provided by the airline.

Arrival was painless. This was the first time in states for a goog long while, and thus the first time through the new immigration formalities. Yes, had my picture taken, and my fingerprints are now available for the Secret Services of the western world.

Formidable rain, which started turning into sleet during the ride to the hotel located in Cambridge. Settled in, took a quick shower and went to meet colleagues who took a different flight in.

Before going for dinner took a look at neighboring shops. Tower Records is always a good neighbor (it’s becoming a habit - but refrained from spending as much as in San Francisco last fall), and the Harvard Bookstore still ranks among the mandatory sights in the city. Discovered that sometimes hardbacks are cheaper than newly minted paperbacks. Decided that a second visit into both is in order, after having scoped what the average prices in other shops are.

Had an excellent dinner with Serpe and Matti at the McCormick & Schmick’s Seafood Restaurant at the Faneuil Hall. Had to cab in, since Seppo’s shoes were no match for the four+ inches of slush on the sidewalks. Food was nothing less than divine - seafood of the very best kind. Had halibut for the main course, and opted for apple tart instead of the classic key lime pie for dessert. Capped the night with a brief visit to Boston Beer Works on Canal Street. Excellent microbrewery, with too much variety after a very long day, and funky T-shirts with label designs to boot. Retired after a metro ride to the hotel. This is definitely one of the american cities that have really functional municipal traffic system.

Busy week at work and otherwise. That’s only to be expected after having missed the previous due to flu.

Anyway, here’s a slice of this week:

• Lemmy has bought a third pinball machine. Indiana Jones. Tough shots, but good fun. I still suck at it, less than 200M after a score or so games.
• No NHL despite a new round of negotiations.
• Missed NBA allstar game, and the collateral games.
• Finally wireless at Lavonardo HQ. A spare SMC box on loan provides immorally convenient web access from sofa.
• Haven’t seen too many movies on the Metacritic’s worst movies page. And some do not belong here… Like 8 mm, way better than what the score indicates. Most of the others probably deserve what they get.
• Kipinä seems to be quaintly Kaurismäkiän in its interior decoration.
• Lewis Trondheim’s Jussi
  Jänis is the best new comic since… since… dunno, Fables?
• Saved the city of Bögenhafen.
• Teräsbetoni shows that you can take it one step further from Manowar. The first single’s A-side is decent in a slightly cringe-inducing way, B-side not so very good at all.
• Eatz’s kaiten serves a decent miso, but hides utterly inappropriate chunks of red bell pepper in some makis. There ought to be a law. Or at least a “creativity”-warning sign.
• Carcassonne got a surprising positive review in a column in Taloussanomat. The publisher, lautapelit.fi hit the resurrection of boardgames perfectly. Apart from their shortage of the basic game. To be complemented by the first expansion’s translation next week.
• Both Kaisla and Teerenpeli sell very good wintry stouts. This is not the season of lager and hefeweizen.
• Excel’s conditional formatting continues to suck in ways not imaginable. But contrary to initial beliefs, you can do multi-cell references.

Indeed. No details, but it was considerably tough week at the office. No politics, just traditional hard work.

Went for a quiet piece of toast and a pint of a decent stout at Teerenpeli with Jytky to cap off the week.

Figured that it’d be stupid to turn in too fast, went to see if there was anything going on in neighboring irish classic. Sure was, Cousin Bill was playing. Probably from Ireland (vocalist has an appropriate accent at least). Hung out for three sets, of pretty uniformly high quality. Nothing but cover songs. And the selection ranged from the blatantly predictable (U2’s With or Without You) to highly unexpected sources (4 Non Blondes, Green Day, Metallica).

Good fun, not exactly the caliber of Stamp ‘n Go Shanty, but then again, very few bands are.

Off to the annual Helsinki Travel
Fair now to scope out some action for winter vacation.

Mr. Jetlag has not raised his head. Been able to get things done without the usual post-travel wooziness-quota being filled.

But still, cutting home early on friday night probably turns out to be a wise move… The O’Malley’s has had a shocking renovation, the classic Guinness-marinated tables have been replaced by ones carved from lighter wood - there’s actually some well-lit spots in the establishments, surely the authenticity experts will have a hissy fit about this one.

Went to Kari’s (my cousin) and Merja’s wedding in Nivala, about 500 klicks north of Helsinki.

Uneventful train ride, which began way too early.

First wedding outside of Helsinki metroplex in pretty much two decades. And only very dim recollections of the previous: dismantling a gingerbread house and seeing the aurora borealis for the first time.

Anyway, the ceremony was mercifully short, and completely painless. Having been exposed to church-related events in the town previously, I had bad feelings which quickly dissipated.

Reception was long, and no-one left hungry. No placing in the tables, so sat where it was convenient (apart from relatives, knew less than ten people in the place).

The nachspiel was in the (I guess only) nightclub in the town: hotel Puustelli’s bar. Which was quite convenient, since was staying at the very hotel and got in for free. My first ever VIP card that weighed more than 100 grams (the keychain was hefty, indeed). Place was on the entertaining side. Age limit 18. No knife fights, but a couple of decent shoving contests nonetheless. Saw Jore Marjaranta play, for the 45 seconds that I spent in the same room. Was much more sensible to have meaningful discussions with relatives seen too rarely.