Drunken Revelries

September 4, 2011, 00:00
Place: 22, Punkkerikatu 7B, Lappeenranta, Finland
Music: It’s so easy to fall in love, Linda Ronstadt
Mood: Peaceful

As sure as the leaves will fall off, the fall opening party is about to hit the town! The fall opening party will take place at nightclub Ilona on Thursday 8th September at 22.00. You can buy your ticket beforehand at 3rd lobby 5th­-7th September at 11-13. Tickets cost 4e bought beforehand and 5e at Ilona. Live music will be performed by Ruhtinaat Co and Alex Kunnari.

It was a dark and stormy night. No, I am kidding. I am not going to start a post that will win the The Bulwer-Lytton Fiction Contest! On the other hand, it was a rather chilly night, and I shivered almost involuntarily as I entered my apartment. Just September and already fairly nippy and cold. Minus 5 degrees is warm temperature, a website introducing Lappeenranta had screamed, and this was about plus 9 degrees perhaps; I reckon I should save my complaints for later! I quickly made myself an experimental cheese-based half fry and then settled in front of the laptop, slurping awesome mansikkajogurtti (strawberry yoghurt, basically strawberry lassi). But whats this? Another party! Yet another party!

In fact, August 25 2011 had begun like most other days, warm and full of promises. But, little did I know that it was to end with an orgy of drunken revelry, and whats more, that every third day at Lappeenranta seemed to herald a new occasion to party, partier, and partiest!

Party (n): a detachment, squad, or detail of troops assigned to perform some particular mission or service.

After an introductory lecture on how to choose courses (with the exception of the major, we could choose our courses in accordance with our interest and study plans; more on this later), we attended the completely boring Rector’s party for all new students; actually, we just hid behind gardenia swilling to our heart’s content on the free meal, even as a squad of dignitaries droned performed their missions in the background; it was a thoroughly disappointing affair and belied all my expectations.

In Finland, it is necessary to register yourself at the maistraatti (register office) to get some identification number, and this was our next destination. Why is it that all government buildings (incredibly) are always uniformly dull and characterless, irrespective of the town? In the midst of different pretty shops, beautifully landscaped gardens, and variety of colors stood a yellow squat building held together by precisely and orderly placed millions of uniform bricks and ultra-tiny windows designed to let in just enough air for decorative plants to grow; you could almost imagine millions of bricks marching in an ordered line and getting on top of each other. “Government” was written all over what was basically a yellow matchbox with tiny holes, the kind that kids in school use to keep bugs. We informed Big Brother that we were very much in Finland and that we could be persecuted at the given address and quickly made our getaway. (I am exaggerating for effect here: despite working in a matchbox from which self-respecting cockroaches would sniff and veer away, everyone was very polite and the entire work took only 10 min; inevitably, much of the time was taken up by filling of forms.)

Where we split: lane leading to Lake Saimaa, Finland's largest lake

We then split up and I went to buy mattresses (80 Euros for 2), duvets and pillows, and their covers (another 80 Euros for two of each). I was staggering under the heavy load toward the bus-stop when I suddenly met a group of Indians and Pakistanis who were only too willing and very sweet to help me. They were led by a tutor A, a shortish balding fellow (wearing a cap to hide it?) with deep-set eyes (as in a skeleton), a constant air of geniality, and endearing helpful bent. Incidentally, they were the first Indians I had met at Lappeenranta; I had not actively sought Indians or looked for them, probably due to a quirk in my mental makeup. Although I think I love being in and am most comfortable in India, or Kerala, Mumbai, or Bangalore, I dislike classifying myself as Mallu or Indian, and I feel strange when people ask me (as is, admittedly, natural) if I have met Indians or Mallus, or when B’loreans contact me just because I am a fellow B’lorean. Maybe I just dont like being bracketed, I guess; birds of a feather or country flock together, but I prefer mixing with everyone without distinction or “pre-formed” affinity. Anyways, here, I was extremely grateful for the help as well as some useful advice from A who, like most students, was, and has since been, heart-warmingly extremely eager to help.

21:15 and the sun drowned itself in Lake Saaima, while I drowned myself in some Indian classical music, just about to fall asleep. Thats when the first of the phone calls came: “Arun, Welcome to Finland Party, yaar…Arent you coming?! Chal, aaja,” exhorted SK. “Nahin yaar, mereko filhaal interest nahi hai…Next time” (“No, yaar, I am not interested right now…Next time”). After some time, M called to ask me if I was going to the party. Another 5 minutes, and Amrita asked me why I was not going to the party. Finally, when A also called to invite me, I was like, what the heck! Lets scout the event!

Party (n): a social gathering, as of invited guests at a private home, for conversation, refreshments, entertainment 

Iltatähti was a crowded room that could be entered only by paying 2 Euros (2 Euros more for jacket, if any; free with an ESN card). Drinks and food also came with a price tag, but luckily, I had eaten already. The air was thick with noisy pop music, an ensemble of Finnish and Shakira and Swedish beats blasted out by a bearded and probably drunk DJ, even as bodies of all shapes, sizes, color, and sexes gyrated away in gay abandon. Everyone seemed to be drinking or dancing, and trying to mouth Finnish songs that had a certain rhythmic thump; all eyes seemed lit and gleaming, probably due to alcohol-induced hysteria, and the general impression was of an all-round noisy, almost inane but exuberant and happy, activity. The revelry was interrupted a few times by oddball games, one of which consisted of asking participants to obtain either a Finnish underwear or bra! Suddenly, A sidled up to me clutching a Long Island, twitching like a spider, and whispered conspiratorially, “Wait till the January parties, people go naked and all,” and with a grin, disappeared with a gulp and rejuvenated flailing arms and twisting legs into the melee of shaking bodies.

All this while, SK was standing with me, too inhibited to dance: he had never danced in his life before. This time round, I was to encourage him by simply pointing out that not one male in sight was doing anything but Swedish exercise routines, and all he had to do was move and flail about a little with a slight mad gleam in the eye. He saw some merit in this and soon disappeared, never to be seen again, till the next day when he revealed that the dance had led to greatest tragedy of his life: he had met a girl who smiled at him, gave him his number, and then revealed that she was engaged!

Suddenly, A reappeared this time accompanied by a lanky dark Indian, AK,  holding a large glass of beer. A long time ago, when I was deciding about doing this course, I had mailed AK some questions, and we struck an instant chord that was intensified when it transpired that we were from the same locality in India. At least I thought it had intensified, when he suddenly turned to me, said, “Excuse me, I will be back, dude, I am hitting on this girl” indicating a blonde plump pretty girl who seemed to be mostly teeth and adipose tissue, and disappeared.

I was alone again, nursing my thoughts rather than a glass of beer, and indulgently watching, like an old uncle, young men and women flail their arms and legs. It was not that I dont like dancing or that I had not danced before. It was not that I was inhibited. Or, that I felt too old to dance or join the fun; heck, I had already been told several times that I look not more than 25 and I definitely did not feel more than 20. I was simply not in the mood, being more of an observer and just checking what happens and how Finnish parties happen, from a distance. So this is what a party is like, eh? Hmmm….ok…Didnt look like it was any different from the usual bass beats and bodymass wiggling routines that I had enthusiastically joined many times previously elsewhere…However, my only movements that night occurred when when my reverie was suddenly interrupted by a Finn asking me to stand on a table while the traditional (university?) song is sung; it is tradition to stand as high as one can at 00:00 while the traditional song is sung, apparently.

Soon back to level ground, I was looking around at the revelry and drinking in the scenery again. Hmmm…The girls are quite pretty, I thought to myself…In such a place, it is so easy to fall in love. Or, at least temporary love…Girls/boys could be milestones here, and a spouse a dead end…And, suddenly, almost irrationally, I had an overwhelming desire for Amrita to be with me.

“Hey man, arent you drinking?” AK was back again.
“No, da, I dont want to.”
“Cm’on man, whats wrong with you? You have to drink. Look at me. I studied my **** out for four years in India, now I am here to enjoy…To have a good time…Tell me, do you have friends here?”
“I have some, yeah, a few.”
“White? Any white friends? You have to make friends, man. Dude, you have to drink and drink and go out there in the middle and dance. Everyone in this room knows me. You know why? Because, last year, I was punch drunk and everyone had fun at my expense. But I have friends because of that. Two years is a long time, buddy, you need friends. Go, go drink!”
“Hmmm…”
“Ok, dont drink, at least go and dance…”
“Yeah, I will, soon…ummm….”
“Dude…dont do this to yourself. I have seen many Indians standing all by themselves in a corner. Its two years and it will be lonely and depressing. Cmon, you got to make friends, enjoy, man, enjoy, drink drink hic drink hic hic”.
“Ummm…Dont worry, I will be fine…I will drink next time, I think”.
“Ok, ok, Btw, you are gonna get screwed in winter. Be ready. Now I must go. Good to know you, man. See you soon. Girls, girls, girls!”

And with a leap, he dived into the sea of waving bodies again. I smiled to myself. Sure, winter was coming, and it was going to be a lonely time. But, if a man has a wife, books, music, and infinite things to do, can he ever be bored? 

But, I was getting bored at the party now. This was not like an aeroplane takeoff or a pretty sunset that one can watch indefinitely; participation was the key. Now, the noise only seemed louder, pretty young girls shaking their legs repetitive, and time emptying itself. It was the right moment to leave.

Next day morning, I told Amrita that I did go to the party after all. “Oh, good!” she said, “Did you have wine and classical music?”