In Finland, I discovered blue hour. That time between sunset and darkness, when the sky changes colour; from burning red to apricot, to pink, to lilac, before becoming blue. It turns blue like a robin’s egg, then it becomes deeper, blue like the bottom of a lagoon, and the stars begin to twinkle.
In winter, blue hour is magical. Days are short; every hour of sunlight is treasured – and blue hour, that brief moment that separates day from a deep, never ending night, feels like a window to a parallel world.
My Travel Story of Finnish Myths
It was blue hour when we met Tirja. She came to pick us up at our hotel near lake Saimaa, in the heart of the frozen Finnish lakeland. We had spent three days hiking and snowshoeing, horse-sledding and ice fishing, but the night we were going to spend with Tirja was going to be something different.
She would take us on a journey beyond place and time, a night walk around nature, to get in touch with Finnish myths and the spirits of the forest, to feel the origins of this ancient land.
It was hard to tell how old she was. She could have been 45, or 60. Her face was that of someone who lives outside, during the long summer days and the long summer nights. She wore mismatched clothes. A pink jacket and tartan skirt, with big, chunky boots. Her bright blue eyes were elusive – as if she were trying to be in two places at once.
