Lake Inari is presented to us as a fable, with golden woods, their story cottages and old legends of cooling water sprites and elves. We were north of any South, beyond the Arctic Circle. In the confines of Finland just the echo of that European culture that strives to accelerate the pace, in tracing calm avenues and banish. Not, Here smite you the sense of peace, if it is possible such a paradox.
We settled, in the hostel Inari, in the village of Inari, the shores of Lake Inari and it was clear from the start that its inhabitants do not go crazy looking for names.
The fall was about to run away and leaves shaking trees and a bright yellow, mourning the imminent arrival of winter. We came from Spain with the intention of finding the trail of the Saami, but in Lapland, Indian tradition is not following the tam tam drums. Here we must follow the trail of museums, where you can learn this culture so it was, since the essence of some people is best understood with black and white photos.
Lake Inari is presented to us as a fable, with golden woods, their story cottages and old legends of cooling water sprites and elves.
The museum Siida represents the legacy of the Saami, traditional costumes in their windows, painted skin drums and old sleds. It is like a safe to the memory of the Saami, because beyond the museum's walls, is reduced to folklore gift shops or tourism hutches. And not a criticism.
Indigenous peoples of the world adapt to change, sacrifice and preserve primitive romanticism as can the legacy of their ancestors. One Saami family met us at a traditional store. They offered reindeer meat by a fire and gave us some songs in their language. It was a pleasant illusion but reality clashed with his two-story house a few yards away, with expensive cars and malls for the weekend.
We visited shortly after President of the Saami Parliament, Pekka Akio, a friendly guy we talked to the policy discourse itself, of the rights of his people, of their future plans and their political stuff.
Like I could not give up his manhood forest walked a moment to eat wild berries, stripping branches while watching the sun's position
We talked to a trader Saami reindeer skins, with Italian anthropologist and different locals, in search of a story that portrays, today, the culture of this people. And the truth is that everyone agreed on a name: Jouni.
They say it is the first across the lake when it freezes and the last to go fishing before winter. They say they know until the last bend in the forest, who likes to disappear from time to time and has even had to deal with a bear. They say it is perhaps the last Saami of Lapland.
Jouni we received smoking, with the eyes of a lonely sailor, hard, sturdy yet easy laughter had, a combination that gave me confidence. He spoke no English and his wife had to interpreter, although I had the feeling that either spoke in Finnish than necessary. We crossed the lake in a boat that matched aged fame of its owner veteran fisherman.
We landed in a place that seemed to have never been trodden by a human. A pristine island, without the murmur of other boats, trackless where directed. There, Jouni lit a fire and like I could not give up his manhood forest walked away for a moment to eat wild berries, stripping branches while watching the sun's position. Then he lay down to watch the lake. I do not know sat, in, lay with the ease of someone who fits in the home.
He told us the day that a bear attacked him. Today is just a memory in the form of scar, "Blows of life" seemed to think.
Shortly after, I asked him if he was the last Saami of Lapland. He shrugged with a laugh, but his eyes tired from winter reflected nostalgia, remembering the old days. He told us how he was born in a cabin, how he learned to catch reindeer and how they spent the winter, unheated. He also told us the day that a bear attacked him. Today is just a memory in the form of scar, "Blows of life" seemed to think. There was not a hint of arrogance in his deeds and not lamented in his solitude of Saami.
When I asked if he was happy laughed again, long clean. Then he said "yes".
As he had no more to say we went to fish. The water was freezing, but he calmly withdrew networks, even with affection. He lit a cigarette as he turned off the sun and then continued with their networks. If it was not because I had to restore to port, I'm sure I would have continued to fish, all afternoon, overnight, life in peace with its forests, without thinking that no one enters and in forests, or along the lake in October. Without thinking that maybe it is the last of all.
