I arrived on U.S. soil (after not having been back for two years) about three weeks ago. I'll be back in Finland by this Sunday morning.
I've experienced reverse culture shock in ways that I never would have anticipated. I thought I might find food-related things surprising - the overflowing supermarket shelves, the enormous portion sizes, tipping culture - and of those things, it was really only the last that gave me pause (the other two delighted me, actually).
The real shock, though, was the idea that I can't simply go anywhere I'd like, within reason. Since taking up running, I've become kind of outdoorsy, and I love exploring any road, street or path that looks as if it will lead somewhere interesting. There is absolutely no lack of natural (or even industrial) beauty around here, but much of it is off-limits to me or to anyone.
I've experienced reverse culture shock in ways that I never would have anticipated. I thought I might find food-related things surprising - the overflowing supermarket shelves, the enormous portion sizes, tipping culture - and of those things, it was really only the last that gave me pause (the other two delighted me, actually).
The real shock, though, was the idea that I can't simply go anywhere I'd like, within reason. Since taking up running, I've become kind of outdoorsy, and I love exploring any road, street or path that looks as if it will lead somewhere interesting. There is absolutely no lack of natural (or even industrial) beauty around here, but much of it is off-limits to me or to anyone.
This is Collinsville, an industrial village that once housed an ax factory. In the last 20 years or so, it's gone from a decaying northeastern town to a genuinely nice place to explore and spend time. Some of it, though, is still very much in decay (see above). When I stole this picture, I was technically trespassing; as the sign indicates, people certainly aren't allowed to traipse through these old buildings, but even setting foot on the property is something I ought not be doing.
Fortunately, no one seems to give a shit, and the illegality of my being there is about as serious as jaywalking (jaywalking in the U.S., that is).
However, there are vast and wild forests everywhere, full of crude paths, overlooks and stunning vistas. Some parts are state-owned and accessible to everyone. Others (some near my childhood home, in fact) are owned by people who feel very much violated by hikers and explorers.
In Finland, we're protected by the concept of "freedom to roam", or jokamiehenoikeus. From the Finnish Wikipedia entry:
"Jokamiehenoikeuksilla tarkoitetaan jokaisen oikeutta nauttia luonnosta ja hyödyntää sitä riippumatta alueen omistussuhteista."
which basically means that everyone has the right to enjoy and make use of (I assume this means to pick berries, collect mushrooms, etc.) nature regardless of who owns the land. As I understand it, this has some very reasonable limitations, like picnicking in someone's yard or "enjoying" nature through the act of destroying it.
As I was trespassing in the woods the other day, I thought about how, in Finland, there'd have been other people there, too, enjoying the wilderness and experiencing no hesitation in doing so. On one hand, I wished more people were able to make use of those woods. On the other hand, I was glad that I didn't have to share the space with anyone else.
Now, when I think about the fact that I'm not allowed to enter privately owned forests in which no one ever steps foot, I feel sense of indignation. I don't know that I thought much about it before moving to Finland, other than to knowingly engage in some good old trespassing every now and again. Now that it's a part of me, I'm fairly sure that every man's right is a thing I'll never renounce,
