NetDynam 2.0

And then there is the lack of internet connectivity…

At home we are wirelessly connected to the ADSL modem at seamless high speed. We also have a USB broadband mobile internet device for being away from home. Here, E uses only a USB mobile broadband device which works with E’s laptop, but not with my Mac.  Some research reveals that hers is an old connector, and the newer version comes with its own software. I could buy a newer version and simply remove her sim card and insert it into the new modem—after learning that, as a non-resident, I am unable to set up an internet account of my own. I call in the helpers at the university and they take me hither and yon on a search for the means for setting up an internet connection at home.



The second day I am here I buy a USB modem, and duly transfer E’s sim card into it. However, while I know the password, I do not know the telephone number or account name, and I am stuck. Of course I can get online and check my email using a browser and web interface on E’s windows computer with little messages popping up all the time in Finnish, but apart from the very slow and laborious means of doing this checking using the web, I cannot easily download and upload either files or copies of my own emails on someone else’s computer. For a start I am not so familiar with the windows operating system, and whenever I must interact with one, I read the menus and use logic to determine where files are kept and how to access storage devices. With this computer I cannot do this since every label and button is labelled in Finnish, a non-romance language to boot, making it impossible to guess which might be the correct button to push.  I must wait until Monday and take my laptop into the university there to hope that I can connect again, and once more try to find a means of setting up an account I can use at home. It doesn’t appear to be easy—and even when I contact E, I have the feeling she will not know her account name or password either…

Meanwhile, I have made a reconnaissance excursion to the university, since I must appear on Monday to teach a class. I do not know where the university is, and so manage to get into the city by bus, then find a tourist information spot. I am directed via a map to a likely building—luckily I had first called a student with whom I will share an office, and asked how to get there. Without the information as to the name of the building it would have been impossible to find—since E did not tell me.

I entered a building that might have been my target, but it did not look likely although it was obviously a university building. There I saw an office cubicle, and asked to be directed to the ‘Metadulla’ building. Of course, that is not how it is spelt in Finnish, but that is how it sounded to me over the telephone. When I say this word, the interlocutor looks puzzled, and eventually repeats, “Oh you mean the Metadulla building?”. And, yes, when I get there I see the name written over the door and it is nowhere near that spelling, but I do not remember the correct spelling even now. I begin to trek up the hill and down again, seeing frozen water protruding from a large downpipe. It is only 0 degrees C that day, and I feel quite warm in my coat and hat. I reach the building and ask for the English Philology Department. It is on the 6th floor. And I manage to find people, get shown rooms and convince the two office workers to accompany me on my quest to be connected at home.

By this means, we enter the Friday afternoon shopping melee in downtown Helsinki. It is busy. The main department store, Stockman, is full of people and looks like any other department store in any country I have visited. But I buy some coffee and some croissants and some local savoury cake with salad for tea. I check out the bookstore, visit the downstairs supermarket and use my newly purchased shopping trolley to ferry my goods back home on the tram. It is dark when I get back and I am surprised to see that it is not even 5.30pm. I have forgotten that I have just come from daylight saving where it only gets dark at 9pm.

I spend another night of fitful sleep waking several times with a dry throat and feeling hot. The central heating is a little too efficient for my liking, and it seems I am slightly dehydrated. I look out the window and onto the roof of the storage shed outside. It is covered in an unblemished blanket of snow apart from one set of tiny footmarks which meander across its width. In the sky I notice for the first time a moving plume of white smoke emerging from a nearby tall smokestack. I am noticing it because the sky is dark, and indeed I can make out a couple of stars—the clouds have gone, and I know this may mean a frost or snap freeze where I come from, but surely not here. In the morning, the sun shines a yellow light into the room and I wonder whether the snow will melt. Later I am warned by the neighbour upstairs to be careful going out today—she shows me E’s special temperature gauge which displays outside as well as inside temperatures. Outside this morning it is minus 14 degrees centigrade, so I doubt there’ll be any melting going on. I rug up warmly for my excursion…

…. Several days later I am still no closer to setting up an internet connection on my own laptop here at home. I have managed to get assigned a username and password to log on to the university system when I am there, but I observed that the wireless signal in E’s office was prone to extremes of fluctuation, and so, even if I were willing to lug my laptop to the university in order to get online, it might not be worth the effort. I attempted to get information which would allow my laptop to access the internet through the Ethernet cable hanging invitingly over E’s desk, but was given several stories, eventually one which opined that only registered computers could be connected to the Ethernet, and only computers belonging to the university could be registered…. I began to think I was actually travelling in Nihilon.

I had been informed that if I had proof that I were a registered resident I might be able to set up my own internet account, and so I began to ask what this might entail. I received several stories on that score—one was that I could register at the police station, another that there was an office where I could get a social security number. I decide that I will eventually get registered at all places and thereby be able to produce any number of identity cards and numbers. Never before have I been so keen to be officially identified. Meanwhile, I manage to open a bank account with an ease I never expected. Apparently, opening a bank account is one of the few things you can do in Finland that is easier to accomplish than in many other countries. It was not even necessary to deposit any money with them to open an account. Who has heard of opening a bank account with no money at all?