stand here upon your ground

On my birthday, I sat sulking in a café in Helsinki. I was alone. On my birthday. 

The hotel breakfast had been worse than average, the coffee undrinkable. The sunny weather had turned into icy winds and a little drizzle. My feet and back ached after too much walking the day before - my body felt old. I am old, I thought bitterly. And I have nothing to show for my life so far, and I'm alone. On my birthday. While people I knew were taking holidays in Tuscany or Cape Town and torturing me with sunny pictures on social media. I had gotten no further than Helsinki - cold and not exactly exotic, only a few hours away from home.

My sister had spent a couple of days with me (but had to go home earlier than me), and my friends were gearing up to celebrate me when I got home. But I was forgetting all about that for the bitterness of being alone, right now, on my birthday.

I had a vague plan to catch the ferry to the little castle islands of Suomenlinna, a wonderful place in the summer. Not so wonderful in April, in icy drizzle and high winds. I didn't really want to go.

I went anyway, thinking I would have a quick look around and catch the next ferry back. The islands were still grey, no spring green yet in sight. Thousands of geese had invaded the place, cackling gleefully when I stepped in the poo they left everywhere. A few tourists wandered around, looking lost. I got lost too - it was off-season and signposts were missing. Incredibly annoying.

Finally I found my goal, the King's Gate which I remembered from previous visits, decades ago. Specifically, an old inscription there had stayed in my mind: "Posterity, stand here upon your ground and never rely on outside help". 

There I stood upon my ground, in a beautiful spot normally crowded with tourists. At the Fortress of Finland. All alone (on my birthday) except for a couple of geese. The sun came out.

I found a deserted beach with an incredible view over the Baltic Sea. Sheltered from the wind, warmed by the sun, it was actually enjoyable. I ate the salad I had brought. I swigged Sangre de Toro directly from a (mini) bottle and got pleasantly tipsy. I talked to the sparrows that looked for crumbs around my feet. A friend called to wish me happy birthday, and sweet messages were pouring in on my phone. I looked out over the sea, sun glittering on waves, and suddenly saw adventures and hope and a long summer ahead.

When I caught the ferry back, hours later when the drizzle returned, I had explored the castle and every exciting little footpath on the islands. I had also sat for ages in the sun, writing my journal and making plans for the future and gotten a tan. I had had the absolute pleasure of being alone, on my birthday, and loving it.