We deplane through the deserted Terminal 1 in the middle of the night, despite the clock barely hitting 15:10pm. A rather dramatic reminder of the Fenno-Scandinavian winter that surrounds us.

Snow covers the landscape ,although streets are perfectly shovelled. The bitterly cold air cuts through my airways as I breath in and walk around frozen pathways to the bus stop just behind a woman covered in thick coats and dragging a heavy suitcase over the ice.

The bus fills up with fellow travellers and we shortly seem to glide through a modern motorway into the city.
Somehow the wide streets of Helsinki look a bit dark and gloomy, framed by a mix of Soviet-like buildings which compose the outskirts of the city.

We pull out by the main train station, which dominates the street with its aggressive Constructivist-style tower which, along with the Ateneum and the high-end Keskuskatu compose the core of the city centre.
I walk to my hostel which is located in a charming area of the city, only a few steps away from Boulevardi, a street in which trams are seen cruising along the wet cobblestone streets almost in perfect sync and pedestrians dodge piles of shovelled white snow under Christmas lights placed along the neighbourhood.

As the long night drags along and temperatures outside the agressively-heated hostel drop even further, I find comfort in some soup, a sandwich and an old travel guide, placed over the wooden worktop.

Daylight has now become a precious gift and early starts are needed, so I leave the hostel when streets are still dark, despite commuters crowding the streets on their way to work.
I grab one of the first morning ferries to Suommelinna, accompanied by locals who keep the island alive either living or working there.

We sail off with the first rays of light and cross over an icy bay, leaving the lights of Helsinki behind and arriving in the island some 20 minutes later.
With the chilly North Sea winds blowing at a somehow painful rate, I rush through the streets of Suommelinna, which was built as a fortress in the 1700s by the Swedish crown in order to defend the city from any Russian expansionism.

A current UNESCO World Heritage site, the complex-fortress has been built over six different islands, linked together by tall stone walls and wooden bridges. A city on its own.
I walk around the empty snowy dirt roads surrounded by tall churches, old cannons, military barracks, thick solid rock walls, frozen ponds and an impressive shipyard.
A place where time seems to have stopped and an excellent getaway for Helsinkians during the summer months (or so I heard, despite nearly succumbing to the freezing wind right now).

I return to the city and climb up a steep hill leading to the Orthodox Red Church, an important landmark in the legacy of Russian occupation in Finland, built with dark red bricks and crowned by golden Orthodox crosses which top onion-shaped green domes.

Next is the White Church, sitting on top of another hill and reachable by a set of marble stairs, similar  setting to that seen in the Rocky movie. Whilst climbing up and inside my head, ‘Eye of a Tiger’ plays loudly.

A Japanese-style tour is to be done for the rest of the day, walking around a parkland full of bare trees to the 1952 Olympics stadium and its simple white architecture and the Olympic swimming pool, which at this time of the year is closed, finally returning to the city centre with a stop at the steel-piped Sibelius monument for interesting pictures.

Back in the hostel and exhausted after having walked for the whole day in negative temperatures, I make conversation with an Australian and an Argentine guy. Consensus is quickly made for the next activity of the day and a must-do in these latitudes: a Finnish sauna.

Guided by the Argentine’s iPhone 6, we walk through the city centre to the closest suburbs to find closed sauna houses (it is Sunday in the end) until we find a shy doorway with a small sign just outside a massive apartment block.
It is 10 Euros per head for the use of the sauna and a couple of towels. Something that must be done naked, in which case the men are separated from the women.
Beers are also offered, as well as herring sandwiches, a Finnish delicacy which I don’t even dare to get close to.

Inside the wooden sauna room, the temperature rises when water is poured over volcanic rocks, task contrasted by wrapping a towel around the waist and stepping outside, where a little wooden deck lit with candles is the hangout spot at almost -2 degrees Celsius. The temperature shock is supposed to be the main benefit of the experience.
It can be felt on the skin, the lungs and the head, although the temperature shock is mild compared to the one felt when locals step into the sauna room, pouring copious amounts of water onto the volcanic rocks, raising the temperatures even further and making us look like weak foreigners.

Once many sessions of scalding sauna room/freezing outside deck are done,  we take a tram back into the city, where I meet my Finnish friend for dinner, enjoying small yet delicious dishes of organic food in a rather hipster joint.
Interestingly enough , the bill has conveniently been divided before we even started ordering, which makes paying even easier. A truly Finnish custom, as my friend explains.

A few hours later in the early morning darkness, I face the strong winds and horizontal drizzle when walking to the port. I embark a busy Eckero Lines ferry which departs only minutes later.
The massive ferry leaves the quiet bay of Helsinki, whilst I enjoy a croissant and a coffee at the main restaurant.
Minutes later, the rough North Sea plays its part, rocking the boat side-to-side for over two hours.

I try to find comfort in sleeping and fail miserably, trying to distract myself from the sickness. Wherever I go, there are people drinking/laughing out loud, lousy singers playing bad covers or even some sort of captain playing bingo with a few customers. Boats were never my cup of tea anyway.

A snowy shoreline is finally seen and the ferry rapidly docks. Motion sickness apart, I feel relieved of having made it to firm land again. I am now in Tallinn, the capital of Estonia.