I belong to Pakistan. In Pakistan, silence usually means something is wrong! Our streets are a symphony of rickshaw horns, street vendors calling out, and neighbors chatting over fences. We are a “loud and proud” social culture.
In Finland, I learned that silence is a form of respect. The Observation: On the buses in Tampere, you can hear a pin drop. At first, I felt lonely, thinking people were cold. Then I realized Finn’s value “peace.” They aren’t ignoring you; they are giving you space. I’ve grown to love the quiet walks through the woods where the only sound is the crunch of snow under my boots.
Back home, we have distinct seasons, but “cold” usually just means wearing a light sweater. Finland introduced me to a level of frost I didn’t know existed.
“There is no such thing as bad weather, only bad clothing.” — A Finnish proverb.
Living through a Finnish winter taught me Sisu—that unique Finnish concept of grit and resilience. Digging my bike out of a snowbank at -20°C wasn’t just a chore; it was a rite of passage. It made me realize that Finnishness is deeply tied to the land. The harsh climate creates people who are tough, punctual, and incredibly honest.
In Pakistan, you meet someone once and you’re practically family. In Finland, friendship is an investment. It takes time to break the ice (literally and figuratively!), but once you are in, you are in for life.
These were the experiences that I had, but seems like by spending more time in Finland I will get know more about the culture and integrate more in the essence of Finnishness.
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