I am within the Arctic Circle, the northern most reaches of Finland (Kittila), a region formerly occupied by the Lapp people; though now considered derogatory, I find the term rather sexy. An ice driving program brings me here with a group from Germany and Switzerland, some of whom I know, others not. To be holed up with 20 people, taking every meal and activity together day in and out, is like being in a 1970’s EST-like self-help group. Driving on ice is a whole other phenomenon with absurdist implications beyond an environment snub—but a 6 km track carved into a vast frozen lake resembling a lunar landscape is something sublime, not to mention sliding across it sideways. When the wind blows the snow along the surface of the ice its like moon dust. When you careen off the track and lodge deep in the snow bank, a tractor must tow you out and a badge around your neck gets stigmatized by a hole punched each time, as you get competitively passed by other drivers on the course. There is nothing quite like a little peer pressure, even at our age. I think a glass (or 2) of red wine would actually help in my case. With such a short attention span, after a few hours my mind wanders causing the car to follow suit, so perhaps this may not be the most logical of diversions.
Kenny Schachter