The Finnish Island Where Time Stops

The Four Percent

HELSINKI, WHERE I’M writing this in my small studio apartment, is cold and dark in November. The world has shrunk, airplanes are grounded and travel plans are canceled. As a travel writer, I’ve spent the past few years journeying far and wide. I’ve retraced the steps of the writer and lady-in-waiting Sei Shonagon in Kyoto, where she lived more than a thousand years ago. On a tent safari through the savannas of Tanzania, I’ve listened to the roaring of lions in the spirit of Karen Blixen. I’ve sought out evidence of Renaissance-era female painters in Italy. This year, however, the longest trip I’ve made was a three-hour…

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