The Finnish Fiasco, Chapter Ten

The naked man covered most of the sofa. At least, Celia thought he was naked, but she couldn’t be certain because his belly hung down over his knees. After the first glance, she made sure not to look below his neck because she was afraid of what she might accidentally see.

“This is my brother,” the Baroness informed Celia. “He wishes to learn English. I do not have the time to teach him, as I am a very busy woman. Therefore, you shall teach him.”

“Me? I don’t think I’m qualified,” Celia said.

“Do not argue with me or I will have you punished!” the Baroness screamed. Celia could see why Paavo was afraid of this woman. It would not surprise her if she whipped off her tiara and struck people who displeased her. Those pointy metal bits and shiny stones would hurt.

“Okay, I’ll try,” Celia said. She wondered why the man was naked.

As if she could hear Celia’s thoughts, the Baroness said, “Sauna is an important part of Finnish culture. Anyone who enters the sauna must remove all clothing.” For those of you unfamiliar with saunas, they are small dark rooms with wooden benches and a wood fire that heats rocks. For reasons not entirely clear to me, people like to sit in them and get extremely hot and sweaty.  

“I see,” Celia said, although she didn’t see, but agreeing with the Baroness seemed the safest course of action.

“You will teach him English until he speaks it as well as you do.”

The man on the sofa remained silent until the Baroness left the room. “She’s a ridiculous woman.”

Celia thought this might be some sort of trick to get her to say something unflattering about the Baroness, so she replied carefully, “Maybe she is just a typical Finnish lady.”  

“My sister is ridiculous in any nationality,” the man said. “If she weren’t my sister I wouldn’t have anything to do with her.”

“Your English sounds perfect. Why do you need lessons?”

“I don’t need lessons, but my sister doesn’t know that. I pretend to only speak Finnish so that I don’t have to participate in family conversations. They prefer to converse in English. I prefer not to converse with anyone in this family.”

“Oh.”

“I’m really not a fan of saunas either, but my private sauna is a good place to escape from everyone.”

“I’ve never been in a sauna,” Celia said. 

“Don’t bother. My name is Arsi, by the way.”

Celia thought she would probably have changed her name if she had been given a name like Arsi. “Nice to meet you,” she said. 

“Have you had lunch? I ate two lunches earlier, but I’m ready for a third. Let’s drive into town with the pony cart and dine at my cafe.” That sounded like fun, so Celia agreed. Besides, if she didn’t go, she’d be stuck scrubbing toilets.

Oliver hitched up two ponies to a cart with a seat that didn’t look big enough for Arsi alone, certainly not for both Celia and Arsi. “Where will I sit?” she asked.

“You’re young, you can just run alongside the cart,” Arsi said. He had draped what looked like a bedspread around his enormous body in a sort of makeshift tunic. It looked rather odd, but Cynthia was relieved that at least he was no longer naked.

“I am afraid that even with her youth, she would not be able to run that far,” said Oliver. “It’s five miles into town.”

“What do you suggest then?” Arsi asked.

“I’ll saddle a pony for her,” Oliver said. “She can ride.” Celia thought that in a barn full of ponies this choice would have been obvious to anyone, even someone who was not terribly bright, as seemed to be the case with Arsi.

“Brilliant,” Arsi said.

While Oliver slipped a bridle over the head of a dark brown pony, he leaned toward Celia and whispered. “I’m sure he’s going to his Monkey Cafe. Be careful, because….”

“Oliver!” Arsi shouted. “Enough with the chit-chat. I need some assistance.”

Oliver assisted by shoving Arsi’s substantial hindquarters from behind, while Arsi attempted to heave his bulk up into the seat. Celia was glad that she knew how to ride. You never know when knowledge will come in handy. She gathered up the reins and swung into the saddle.

“Your pony’s name is Vinya; she’ll take good care of you,” Oliver said. “If you get lost, she knows the way home. Not that you will get lost, the road is very clear. But remember, the monkeys…”

“Celia! Are you coming or not?” The two ponies pulling Arsi were straining in their harnesses, trying to get the cart rolling. Finally, it began to move. Vinya trotted alongside the cart. They traveled through a small forest and past some farms. Celia waved to a girl in a kerchief picking yellow flowers along the roadside. Before long, the rooftops of the village appeared. Arsi drove down a cobbled side street to a stable where a boy with a gold earring came out and took the ponies.

“The usual,” Arsi told the boy. “Hay, water, and a good brushing. We’ll be back in a couple hours. Let’s go, Celia, I’m famished.”  

The cafe was attractive, with red gingham curtains and a plate glass window across which red letters spelled out ‘Apinan Kahvila’, which is ‘Monkey Cafe’ in Finnish. Inside, the tables were covered with long, colorful cloths. Photographs of monkeys engaged in various sorts of amusing monkey activities covered the walls.

“This is nice,” Celia said, surprised. She hadn’t been expecting someone like Arsi to own such a pretty cafe. “You must like monkeys.”

“Of course, it’s nice,” he said. “What were you expecting?”

The cafe was crowded. Arsi made his way to a vacant table by the window. “This is my table,” he said. “No one else is allowed to sit here.” 

A young waitress appeared with a bottle of water and two glasses. “Good afternoon, Mr. Arsi. What can I get for you?” Arsi ordered the house specialty, vispipuuro, which is whipped lingonberry porridge, for himself and Celia. 

“You’ll love it,” he told her, “everybody does.”

At about the same time that Celia noticed the shoes and socks beside every table, she felt hands on her legs. When an unseen hand is felt on one’s leg, it is a natural reaction to jump away, and that is what Celia did, accidentally knocking over the bottle of water. People stopped eating and stared at her.

“What in the world is the matter with you?” Arsi asked as she shoved her chair back from the table. He was trying to mop up the water with his napkin before it flowed off the table and into his lap. “Waitress! Some help over here!”

Celia couldn’t see what was under the table because the tablecloths hung to the floor.  “I felt something grab my leg,” she said.

“Of course, you did. This is the Monkey Cafe.”

A small hairy arm appeared from under the tablecloth. It was holding one of Arsi’s boots. The arm placed the boot carefully next to the table and disappeared, then reappeared holding the other boot.

“It’s called the Monkey Cafe because we employ monkeys here. It was all my idea,” Arsi said.

Celia cautiously lifted the edge of the tablecloth. Two small simian faces peered out. They wore metal collars and were chained to the table leg. One of the monkeys was busy giving Arsi a foot massage. The other one sat motionless, his hands pressed together as if in prayer.

“Best foot rub you’ll ever have,” Arsi said. “For an extra fee, you can get a pedicure. They’re very good because they have such tiny fingers.”

Celia had never heard of such a crazy thing, and she did not want a monkey giving her a foot massage. They must have sharp little teeth, and even though they were cute, the thought of one fiddling with her feet while she ate lunch did not appeal to her. Although, she had to admit, the other people in the cafe looked quite relaxed. Several of them wore an expression similar to the one you will see on the face of a person taking the first bite of a favorite dessert.

Still, Celia decided to keep her feet out from under the table, which she did by sitting sideways. “You’re being foolish,” Arsi said. “You’re missing out on a pleasant experience, and believe me, you’re not likely to have many of those in your current capacity as the new family servant.”

“I am not supposed to be a family servant or any sort of servant.” Celia said. “Paavo agreed to be my guardian because he’s getting paid.”

“What an ungrateful child you are,” Arsi said. “I’m certain that Paavo’s expenditures on your welfare will far exceed any trifling amount of money he may or may not receive.”

“It isn’t a trifling amount! It’s a lot, and he wants to keep it all for himself. I don’t even have a bedroom; I have to sleep in the barn.” Suddenly, Celia was overcome with feeling sorry for herself. The world was not the kindly place it had seemed when her parents were alive. It was full of unkind, dishonest people. People who chained monkeys to tables. She wondered if there was an SPCA in Finland. If so, she intended to report this monkey abuse.

Her mother would have been outraged. Mrs. Piper had been the sort of woman who rescued baby birds and orphaned kittens. Celia felt the hollow space inside her ribcage get bigger. She blinked hard and reminded herself that crying never accomplished anything.

“I’m going back to the stables,” she told Arsi. “I don’t think I’m hungry after all.”

“Suit yourself,” said Arsi, slurping up a spoonful of vispipuuro and dribbling  it down his chin. Even if Celia had been hungry, the sight of Arsi eating was enough to ruin anyone’s appetite.

Back at the stable, the boy was brushing Vinya. Her eyes were half closed and she looked as though she might drift off to sleep at any moment. “Finished lunch already?” the boy asked.

“I wasn’t really hungry.” Celia told him about the monkeys. “They look so sad.” 

“I know,” the boy said. “It doesn’t seem like a nice life for a monkey–or for anyone, for that matter.”

“Is there someone we can call to help them? An SPCA?”

“You can call,” the boy said, “But nobody will do anything. Arsi and his family are very rich. When you are rich, you can get away with lots of things that you couldn’t get away with if you weren’t rich.”

“That’s not fair,” Celia said. 

The boy shrugged. “Lots of things aren’t fair. What’s your name?”

“Celia.”

“I’m Yannick. Want to help brush?” The boy nodded to indicate a box of grooming supplies.

Arsi stayed at the cafe for a long time, so Celia and Yannick had plenty of time to get to know each other. Before the afternoon ended, they were friends and co-conspirators.

That evening, Celia told Oliver about her day. “Yes,” he said, “everyone knows about the Monkey Cafe. I tried to warn you—anyone who cares about animals is disturbed by that place.” 

“Something needs to be done,” Celia said.

“Arsi and his family have a lot of influence in this town. You aren’t going to be able to change anything,” Oliver said.

“I’m going to save them,” Celia said, determinedly.

“Good luck,” Oliver said, with a sad smile. He rubbed his face with the stump of one arm. Celia wished that grownups would not give up so easily. She could tell that Oliver thought it was useless to try to help the monkeys. Until you try, she thought, you have no business thinking something is useless.