Ecuador vs. Finland Post

I spent the last year traveling with my sister to 15 countries over 3 continents. Some places we stayed at for a week, others for much longer. When people ask us where was most memorable, the answer is easy. There’s a small surf town in Ecuador where we lived for over 2 months, and there’s a small city in Finland that I visited, left, and came back to several times. These are two very different places that, the more I think about them, share a surprising number of similarities.

       Their similarities begin with the fact that I have a good friend living in each location. In Las Tunas, Ecuador, there is Iris, who has lived there every winter for the past four winters of her life as an online French teacher. In Helsinki, there is Alex, who just finished a two year masters program called Changing Education. I met Iris while teaching in Sevilla, and I met Alex while teaching in Kentucky. Both are people I would do almost anything for, and both of them insisted, under no uncertain terms, that my sister and I come visit their new homes while on our journey. They opened up their spaces, their friends, their whole world, so that my sister and I could experience what life was like for them. I think that’s why these two places hold a special place in my heart.    

       On the surface, these two places could not seem more different. Helsinki is far wealthier, colder, both in terms of temperature and in terms of the way people socialize, and is in a part of the world where the sun disappears for half of the year. The town I stayed at in Ecuador had almost no money, there were power outages and issues with running water due to the instability of the government, and it is hot year round, the sun burning your skin in mere minutes. But in both places, I was happy. And I think it’s because in both places, people were generous in their own way.

       What struck me most when I was staying in Ecuador was how much people shared resources. This may have been cultural, or it may have been because the town we were in was so small that many people were related to one another. I guess it makes sense to be generous if the stranger you’re talking to could be your distant cousin. I was nobody’s cousin, but by the time I left, I felt like I was. Whenever someone opened a beer, they would pass it around, each person taking swig until it was empty. There was no worry about sharing germs, and usually after the first beer was finished, someone else would go and buy another. To sit with your own private beer and not share seemed not just rude, but lonely. Once, after we had just played a giant game on the street, with random kids and adults joining, someone mentioned wanting ice cream. Soon, someone was on their motorcycle with a handful of coins, off to get homemade ice cream from a nearby family member. Some of the kids there didn’t have any money on them, so everyone else pitched in a little bit more. There was the feeling, whenever you had something good, that it would be even better if everyone else could experience with you. The beach, which was over 15 miles long, had no areas that were closed off for private use, no fences, no boundaries of any kind. There were huts, cabanas, and hammocks all along the water’s edge that anybody could use. And most nights, if you wander down the beach, you might find a bonfire with people who’d invite you to sit and enjoy the warmth. Sometimes there is music, and once, these two guys had freshly caught fish they had just grilled over the fire, and it was delicious. Another day, I saw a very large group of people together on the beach, crowded around a net. I asked about it, and apparently it’s common for people in the town to get together, share a boat, go fishing, and the split what they find at the end. Las Tunas is a very poor town, but few people had nothing.

       Helsinki, on the other hand, is not a poor town, but it is also a place where people share resources. Instead of sharing a beer, the sharing is done more through social services provided by the government. Rather than pooling money together to get coconut ice cream, the Finns pay high taxes and in return have well run transportation, high safety, and beautiful libraries. I went back to Oodi library at least 4 times, and every time I felt like I had exited reality and entered a utopia. I didn’t talk to many Finnish people, but I got the feeling that there was a high degree of trust in institutions. People sent their children out at ages 4 or 5 to take the train on their own, just like there were children on the beach in Ecuador who I never saw with an adult. Both places have achieved a level of trust that allows people to live more freely, and with access to many of the basic resources it takes to live. And both of places are highly attuned to nature. In both places, I spent quite a lot of time immersed in water. In Las Tunas, I was usually walking next to the ocean, jumping in it, attempting to surf, or just getting pummeled by the waves. In Helsinki, I was in a sauna almost every day. The best was when I had a lake nearby that I could jump into. Both places feel more intimately connected with nature as whole. With its water, and with its trees.

       When it comes to writing about different countries and their cultures, it’s hard to capture what makes a place distinct without reducing it to generalizations. I don’t know how most Ecuadorians or how most Finnish people live their lives, but what I did see struck me as not what I’m used to. The way people shared in Ecuador, and the way people trusted government structures in Finland, are both qualities that I don’t see in the states, and that I envy.