FOOD & TRAVEL
Reindeer are tagged as livestock, but live wild in the woods
rugs, the trainers tell us not to pull the reins, since the reindeer know the way and like to stick together. They set off at a canter with their friends and relations alongside, pulling more sleighs of nervous tourists. After a year of living wild in the woods the deer are timid, but fast on ice. Afterwards, their owners make us Glögi in a wigwam adorned with reindeer horns, the door shut to preserve heat from an open fire that roars in the middle, its smoke swirling upwards to a big black iron flue that draws it out of the tent. Half an hour south of Levi, in Kittilä, we step into a little wooden cave and then descend into Saamen Kammi, a restaurant run by a Sámi family who are keen to show traditional ways of eating and socialising. Another open fire burns in the centre, where sides of salmon on slabs of wood are propped up to smoke. Sautéed, rib-cut and smoked reindeer is served next to tongue and heart. Finnish children queue alongside us for dinner, eager to explain that they’re learning to shoot game and will get their own guns when they’re 15. Reindeer hides decorate the wooden walls alongside Lappish crafts – drums, rugs and art. After dessert, a loud drumbeat rings out through the restaurant and silence descends. The owner Niiles is about to perform. His song is long and haunting; the drumbeats and traditional whoops become part of the sound, as do the cries of animals. ‘The wind blows through my heart’ is a refrain that’s sad and timeless and expressive of the tough life the Sámi people have often endured. Next, a Country and Western-style set, which closes with the soft hooting of an owl, a resident A vision: the Aurorea Borealis of the woods outside for centuries. Stepping into the enchanting darkness, the sky feels somehow distant and overwhelmingly close at the same time. We return to Levi, where a karaoke bar on the high street is steamed up and full of young people crowding around songbooks. Then, just out of the village, we glimpse the green tinge of the Aurorea Borealis and rush to climb the hill in excited expectation – quickly turning to frustration as our boots sink knee-deep into the snow at each step. Reaching the top, we look down onto a lake that reflects the green swirl of the sky above us. The vision moves slowly across the landscape and back again. An hour later we’re still there, transfixed by this painterly spectacle of black, white and green. It seems a deep link to our own long-buried past is not so far away. If we want to explore a spiritual realm obscured by the noise of modern life, a long stint with a fishing rod under a vast primordial dark sky, full of stars, could be a good place to start. n
PHOTOS: COURTESY OF THE ARTISTS AND BATIA SAREM GALLERY; © ROUNRY
WE RIDE OUR SNOWMOBILES BACK THROUGH THE WOODS; INCHING CAREFULLY ALONG A TRACK BETWEEN THE TREES... ILLUMINATED BY A MOON AS BRIGHT AS A STADIUM FLOODLIGHT
Fishing through a hole drilled in the ice
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