THE FAKE FINN

There is this big annual Ljubljana International Film Festival LIFFe going on right now. So I spend quite a lot of time watching all sorts of movies these days. My escape from the shitty reality? In fact I have managed to pick up some movies that recall my own reality a lot more than I would like.

A cute incident occurred this weekend. Since I like to dramatise small and selfish events, I have to write on this one too. The new Kaurismäki's product Lights at the End of the City (Laitakaupungin valot) is about to be shown soon. I went to the LIFFe information desk, curious if director Aki Kaurismäki himself plans visiting Ljubljana. To tell the audience about his work and other interesting thingies. Like those fancy Marimekko bags.

Behind the desk sat an English speaking lady; obviously a foreign employee. ''Is Kaurismäki coming,'' I ask. ''No... but some of his actors, perhaps. Are you from Finland,'' the lady inquires with slightly strange enthusiasm. Huh, it happens again! In Helsinki I was mistaken for a Finn quite often, thus meaning conversations on the street and in the shops. People were asking me for the road and so on. In Finnish. There was also a guy trying to talk to me while Magyar Posse gig. In Finnish. Well, he was drunk pretty much. And yes, I had lots of fun pretending I really am a native; through the usage of language, of course. Oh, now I miss those streets, I would so travel up to Finland again. But in Helsinki and elsewhere in Finland these mistakes were natural. Can I distinct foreigners while walking around Ljubljana right away? Yet Icelanders seem to have special gifts. In Iceland they immediately knew I am a foreigner. In Finland the story was different.

Back to the info desk now. ''No, I only speak Finnish,'' I answer to the lady. I usually do not feel like boasting around I know some Finnish, but at that time I did utter the fact. To Hell(sinki) with modesty, right? And in this case, the result came out quite useful. The lady was excited, she requested my phone-number. Hei, the festival might need a Finnish-speaking somebody. Just might, but nevertheless.

When it comes to work, would anyone be rather interested in the fact I am also a graduated dramaturg? Being able to speak a bit rare language (at least some basics with occasional and unintended spelling mistakes) proves again to be more useful. It looks like one has to constantly advertise her/his all, but really all capabilities. Even at the most akward moments.