The boat ride from the center of the city of Helsinki on the island of Pihlajasaari only lasts 10 minutes and deposits visitors to a playground from beaches, trails and rocky flocks extremely sunbathing. But I had a different mission: to talk to a tree.
This was intended to be a therapeutic exercise, defended by the Finnish biologist Adela Pajunen. Finns, he told me, sometimes sharing their concerns loudly on trees or birds. Occasionally, they can even sing to them.
On the coast, I followed a trail of gravel in search of the perfect tree. I looked at a lot of pines before finding a short black deer. I thought on a rock and started telling my alder suffering: I was romantically involved with someone who just told me he wasn’t ready for a relationship. Still, I said to Alder, I was optimistic that things could still work. We had kept in touch, sending voice messages back and forth. The leaves of Alder rust in response, a sign that interpreted as sympathy.
I had come to Finland to see if I could bring happiness back to America with me. Finland has surpassed the world’s happiness report over the last eight years, a value that has been largely attributed to the Scandinavian welfare state, confidence in government and public policies such as free education and universal health care. According to these criteria, living in the United States (No 24 in the list) is practically a recipe for misery. But the Finns also find satisfaction in more feasible ways, such as their close relationship with nature (74 % of the country is covered by the forest) and visit the daily sauna (there are three million saunas for a population of 5.5 million).
Visit Finland, the country’s tourist agency, uses the ranking of happiness to attract travelers. And it seems to work. Tourism is nearly five million visitors in 2024 out of about two million in 2022. Last June, hosted the second “Find your inner Finn” Master Class, award -winning winners who chose from a social media challenge a free trip to Helsinki to learn from Helsinki.
I didn’t get into the competition, but I liked the idea. Like many other Americans, I have struggled with misery from the pandemic blow, sometimes experiencing restless dreams, feelings of fear and overwhelming loneliness. So, I asked for some tips from Hackers Happiness and designed a trip to Helsinki last June to try them.
The hackers were armed with various solutions, both for the trip and to use my return to the United States. Luka Balac, co -owner of Nolla’s Zero Waste Restaurant, gave me a list of local dishes (including ice cream licorice and salty caramel Karelian) that will connect me back to nature. Lena Salmi, a 71 -year -old living skateboards and swimming, talked about her intense focus on the Board of Directors. And Tero Kuitunen, a ceramist, suggested to do something, anythingBy hand – read, select berries, fish, tied. And many told me to visit the saunas.
These activities contained similar goals: they remain present and fight for a communal, minimalist life -based lifestyle. Frank Martela, an expert in Happiness and Assistant Professor at Aalto University, just outside Helsinki, explained that Finns often boast when their summer cabins are not equipped with dishwashers or even running water.
“This will be considered almost cheating,” he said.
A Scandinavian education
Shortly after landing in Helsinki, I threw my bags at the Fabian Hotel and headed to the sauna and the restaurant (which means “steam”). I would expect the place to be quiet and calm with music. Instead, I came to a strong group of Finnish men who drank beer in their swimming trunks.
As is custom, I alternate between the short layers in the sauna with wood and the Baltic waters, cold and even in June, arrived via the staircase from the deck of the sun. Research has shown that cold embryos have natural benefits, but the Finns also see the activity as a mental exercise – a way of staying present. I set a 30 -second goal. Water was so bite that all I could think of was that it counts in 30. Does this count that it remains present? I got against the chopped, trying not to drown.
When I came out, a rush of completion overcame me. I repeated the circuit twice and once I left, I felt a sense of ecstasy as my skin seemed to shine and my mind was disappointed.
Happiness came to waves and cavities in the coming days, though. I got an endorphins hit in a different and quieter sauna, lonna, and unfolds while eating salmon soup recommended by Mr Balac. Then I found myself crying in the hotel room after destroying my shoes in the rain, shocked by the vague promise of happiness in this distant country where I didn’t know anyone. I had been victimized in a marketing?
In my last morning, I took 20 minutes with the ferry on the rough island of Vallisaari, which intends to take a last relaxing forest on foot along a 1.8 -mile path. But as the boat fell away, I began to have a panic attack. “Today is the perfect day to be happy,” a painted wooden sign was read, but loneliness and isolation had followed me halfway around the world.
That night I had planned to hit a karaoke bar to try one of the DJ Orkidea-Communal Dancing hacks-after dinner at the Sustainable Michelin Grron Restaurant. But I slipped to bed instead. As I wrote in my magazine, “sometimes happiness is a bathrobe of the hotel and snuggling under the covers.”
Still, I was optimistic that I could recreate the happiest moments of this trip back home to New York, even if I had to be creative – say, a forest in Central Park.
How difficult could it be, really?
The American reality
As it turns out, happiness is a luxury in America – a privilege, even. I was frustrated to find that most sauna passes in New York cost over $ 60. As an independent journalist, I couldn’t stand the steam like the Finns – many of whom have access to saunas in their homes or apartment buildings.
But eventually I found a place in Brooklyn that offered a rational deal and on Friday nights began to visit the barrel barrel, soaking and the cold dip of a person. It was not Helsinki, but the space was full enough to give an aura of peace.
Because I wasn’t ready to make my own food like the Finnish, I tried the next best thing: shopping in the farmers market. I also bought a pot containing basil, thyme, chive and sage plants to become a gardener. Anna Nyman, a forger who lives about 30 minutes from the center of the city of Helsinki, told me that she once grew up the products and herbs on her balcony and therefore other residents of the city could also. “I even had a watermelon to grow up,” he said.
My kitchen doesn’t get too much sunlight, so every morning I brought my little garden to the roof. A few nights I went out I drink and forgot about it. Summer thunderstorms soak the ground. One night I cut the royal executive very low and stayed with a barren nub. Everything finally died and someone threw the container.
Overall, however, things went pretty well. I even had an important discovery one afternoon as I rushed through Central Park after an emotional treatment and noticed a cluster of people looking at the ground. I pulled my eyes to the asphalt. A cardinal! I stopped admiring the red plumage of the bird before it was over. This was a victory, I decided to stay present.
A ‘simple’ discovery
Then, at the end of July, the man I had dealt with in my text to say that he had begun to see someone. I soon learned that he had been married.
I tried to channel Sisu, a Finnish word that means perseverance, but my mood was for weeks. Sometimes the only thing he needed was a lively nature for dopamine to kick. Sometimes I ate very little or I cried by accident once while cutting a tomato I had bought for the purposes of this experiment. Soon, even the sauna no longer lifted my spirits.
I sat on the beach one afternoon, I wonder why nature didn’t make me feel better when the answer hit me: I was trying very hard to live just like the Finns. I was so confused by trying to find the time and money for the signs of happiness I had lost the point of what all hackers say: quietly the mind and find pleasure in small deeds and observations – such as a cardinal who took flight or talk to trees. “Simple things,” said Ms. Pajunen. “This is at the core of what the Finns have to offer to the rest of the world.”
One Saturday, I had to dress up and walk my dog ​​at Central Park. I said hello to European Lindens and Northern Red Oaks as we walked near the zoo. Immediately I felt better. But before we went, I made a small but comforting ritual I had developed. I thanked the trees for the hearing.
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