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Daily Mirror
5 hours ago
- Daily Mirror
'I visited some naked Europeans to find out why they're so much happier than us'
The temperature inside the sauna, somewhere in a dark Finnish forest a few miles north of the city of Oulu, was already a just about bearable 80C when another scoop of water was flicked on to the coals, landing with a prolonged hiss. The Brits among us, easily spotted by our red faces and embarrassing swimwear, had been chatting with our naked Finnish hosts about what made their country so happy. Finland takes first place in the UN's Happiness Report, while the UK can only muster 19th. 'Where are we going wrong?' I asked. It is all to do with the sauna, said local social democrat councillor Tanja. Stripped of clothes and pretensions, all are equal, she said. Oulu 2026 design curator Päaivi Tahkokallio added an extra twist. 'In Finland, people spend 20% of their time talking, 80% listening. In the sauna, in the taxi, in the cafe, there is little by way of chit-chat. Words are not wasted, so important words are heard.' I wanted to listen to more pearls of wisdom, but could sense my blood pressure rising and my eyeballs sweating from the heat. It was time for a breather. Giggling outwardly, but feeling very exposed, I opened the door from the sauna to an icy blast, stepping into snow to cool down the Oulu way. I looked up and that's when it happened. I'd stumbled across the northern lights. A dazzling show of green with a hint of pink was flashing through the dark outlines of the snowy forest canopy. With typical Finnish understatement, this bucket-list moment was deemed merely 'a nice end to the evening' by our lovely hosts. While other countries make a meal of seeing the aurora borealis, it's just one of the many natural wonders that make this a place worth your consideration when you're drawing up your holiday wish list for 2026. Oulu is a city 60 miles inside the Arctic Circle, home to 200,000 people, and next year it's been given the prestige of being the European Capital of Culture. It's a city that could likely be summed up in a single cheesy slogan: 'You don't have to be mad to come here, but it helps!' This place is quirky, a bit weird, and definitely memorable. Where else in the world could you hear a symphony created out of space noise generated billions of years ago, or watch would-be entrepreneurs shivering in icy water trying to persuade rich onlookers to invest in them? Interested in watching actual grown-ups pretend to play non-existent guitars in front of an excitable crowd of rock lovers? Oulu has your back. Where else could you enjoy an opera in the traditional Sami language confronting the abhorrent forced assimilation that happened to youngsters of the native culture, and also enjoy a flamenco performance against the backdrop of Oulu's Screaming Men's Choir, whose performances are as you'd imagine. Visitors also come in their droves to venture out on an icebreaker ship into the frozen Baltic Sea in winter for the chance to stick on sumo suits and float about among mini icebergs. The local tipple is tar schnapps (a taste I failed to acquire) and its most famous statue is of a plump policeman. It's not just crazy folk seeking oddities and arty wonders that would love this place, though. It's a mecca for food-lovers, its reputation enhanced by the Arctic Food Lab project that encourages the use of local fish, meat and vegetables with an emphasis on seasonality and foraging. Rustic reindeer meat with mash and the most perfect salmon stews were a staple of my visit, but chefs here know how to maximise their homegrown produce to create wonderful dishes. Still memorable are the Arctic char fish presented sashimi style with horseradish, pickled vegetables and oumu spicy broth that I devoured at Alfred's Kitchen and Bar ( and the pan-fried squid and slow braised pork belly with crispy rice noodles, sauerkraut and pickled leek from the brilliant Restaurant Puistola. The city is also a handy base for other activities, with forests and an ocean on the doorstep. One memorable day started with a couple of hours cruising on the Icebreaker Arktis out into the Baltic Sea before the captain parked up, letting us walk on to an unbroken frozen section in front of the ship and, for the bravest among us, to don a waterproof buoyancy suit and float about among the icebergs behind it. It was all very surreal. Back on solid ground, a short drive to Farm Arkadia provided our first reindeer encounter of the trip – a pair of them kindly towed us around on sledges through the snow. Another place worth venturing out of the city for is Koiteli where visitors can indulge in snow walks or summer hikes in glorious scenery. It was also here where local kantele players joined us to teach us how to collectively 'meditate' while playing this brilliant little wooden instrument. As with all things Oulu, there was nothing ordinary about it. There was only one letdown – the much anticipated Frozen People Festival turned out to be more soggy than icy. This relatively new digital and electronic music event is held in early spring and billed as Finland's 'cold' answer to the US Burning Man. But this year, instead of taking place on the frozen sea as planned, the warming temperatures forced it to be relocated on to the shore. Performers and DJs still banged out rave tunes into the early hours, local food and beer went down nicely, and there were unique art installations and lights all around, but it had lost its unique feel. Fingers crossed for a colder 2026. Oulu is also cycling friendly, with 620 miles of tracks around and about the region that are kept clear through snow and ice. A third of Oulu's kids cycle to school all year round too, even in the day-round winter darkness and in -20C conditions. It is also super safe and closer to home than you'd think – three hours by plane to Helsinki, followed by a short hour transfer north. So what are you waiting for? Reasons to go to Finland in 2026 The Finnish city of Oulu is 2026's European Capital of Culture. But temperatures here are rising, so it's a good job next year's culture programme has been drawn together under a relevant collective theme – the climate emergency. The precariousness of the city's landscape and the lifestyle and lives it sustains is a running theme – Oulu is warming four times faster than the global average. Cultural highlights of the programme will include: A Sami opera will premiere in January, telling the story of a Sami boy separated from his family and robbed of his identity in boarding school, based on the true stories of indigenous people who had to endure forced assimilation. Polar Bear Pitching in February – a unique experience for start-up entrepreneurs who get to pitch to would-be investors while stood in an ice pool up to their chests. It's more fun to watch than it sounds! The Climate Clock is a permanent public art trail launching next June through Oulu and surrounding forests, rivers and seashores, featuring world-renowned artists who have worked with local communities, including The Most Valuable Clock in the World artwork. The Arctic Food Lab project will extend in 2026 with pop-ups across the city and region. 100% Oulu will involve 100 locals representing the entire population of the city, by age, ethnicity and other characteristics 'as if the whole city were on stage in miniature'. World photography exhibition all year on the climate change theme. Layers in the Peace Machine art installation on the theme of peace at Oulu City Hall is three floors high, and open all year. The World Air Guitar Championships in August 2025/26, which celebrates alternative music. The Oulu Music Video Festival also in August 2025/26. The midsummer Solstice Festival May-August 2026. The Lumo Art and Tech Festival is at the end of November 2026, when there are only five hours of daylight a day. Its 10 days of art and technology include arts based on light and sound. Book the holiday
Daily Mirror
3 days ago
- Daily Mirror
Beautiful city with stunning architecture is Europe's 'best-kept secret'
The beautiful European destination is Slovakia's second largest city, yet it is often overlooked by tourists. Kosice serves as the economic and cultural hub of Slovakia 's eastern region. Yet, despite its importance, tourists frequently bypass it. The city ranks as the second-largest in this eastern European nation, housing approximately 230,000 residents alongside the Slovak Constitutional Court, three universities, museums and numerous theatres. Among its most striking characteristics is the architecture, which blends contemporary and historical styles to form a distinctive cityscape. One of Europe's most remarkable examples of Gothic cathedrals, St Elizabeth, stands here, close to the Neo-baroque State Theater and the municipal hall. These magnificent attractions can all be appreciated whilst strolling along Kosice's cobblestone promenade, reports the Express. Discussing this peaceful walk, one visitor commented on the tourism board website Tripadvisor: "Walking around the promenade is different every day. Each time you can find here new surprising details. "So it is better to take a local guide and reserve enough time to enjoy this place. There are a lot of cafes and restaurants on the perimeter to take a rest." Designated European Capital of Culture in 2013, Kosice also boasts a flourishing arts scene, with murals adorning the city's walls and galleries in abundance. Visitors keen to discover more about Slovakian culture also have the opportunity to attend one of the numerous festivals occurring throughout the year, including the Music Spring Festival, the Summer in the Park, and Kosice Beer Fest. Ryanair has spotlighted Kosice as a hidden gem, dubbing it "Europe's best-kept secret". Many holidaymakers who have visited the city agree that Kosice is an underrated treasure. One traveller took to Tripadvisor to share their surprise at the city's charm: "After visiting beautiful Budapest, Pecs and Eger in Hungary, our expectations for Kosice centre were not high but what a great surprise. "The centre of the old town is pedestrianised which makes walking around a delight. There are some lovely buildings, beautiful fountains especially near the Cathedral and in the city park, there are plenty of bars and restaurants to pass the time." Another tourist confessed they had low expectations before arriving in Kosice, but were pleasantly surprised: "We had lower expectations about visiting Kosice than some of the bigger cities we were visiting on this trip, but we were pleasantly surprised. The historic centre is charming, and its very long, narrow public 'square' was unique."
The 42
18-07-2025
- Sport
- The 42
'Honour dwindles away': Cork and Tipp have gained something more valuable than a trophy in 2025
A FIRST CORK-Tipperary All-Ireland final and it's possible to overstate the gravity. You could fall into the trap of thinking whoever wins this will enjoy semi-permanent bragging rights, even in lean times. Yet the game probably will be subsumed into history fast enough. Only when it has passed the realm of recent memory will we be able to judge its weight. Cork could win on Sunday, only for Tipp to recover and win two in a row. Tipp could win and disappear. Cork might get over the line and have enough power and momentum to win three of the next five. Or both might not be seen at this stage of competition for years to come. We just don't know. Sometimes we think we do. We apply as much logic as we can to the facts at hand and look ahead, but the view is never clear. There are too many small and freakish events to come which will shape the future. Who in 2005 could have imagined Cork still waiting for another All-Ireland? They'd just won back-to-back titles and the celebration was muted compared to 2004. This was a team which looked set to stick around at that level for another three to four years. Seán Óg Ó hAilpín lifts the Liam MacCarthy in 2005. INPHO INPHO Did anybody think in 2015 Kilkenny would be about to set out on their longest ever drought, having won 11 All-Irelands in the century to that point? Or one that comes to mind is Meath's destruction of Kerry in the football semi-final of 2001, a 15-point rout. Kerry then won five All-Irelands that decade. Meath lost the final and have not been back in one since. So we can never really tell, but we do have a better idea of what a lack of success does to people and places. The last time Cork won the Liam MacCarthy Cup they were the designated European Capital of Culture. Ask most Cork now what they remember about the various artistic projects and performances of the time, and it's a fair bet many would think of Seán Óg Ó hAilpín driving a burning sliotar into the Lee. Hurling is a sport, and in Cork, like in some other places, it's an expression of place and form of art. Success brings validation and happiness for a while. Absence of success becomes a collective yearning that is shared among the populace. The majority of Cork's panel will have no memory of Cork last winning the All-Ireland in '05. Whole cycles of school kids have gone from junior infants to sixth class without the cup coming to their school. The thousands of teenagers following Cork all over the land have never seen Liam MacCarthy shining from an open top bus, crossing St Patrick's Bridge to wind its way to the Grand Parade. And not to be morbid ahead of what is a happy occasion, but a lot of Cork supporters who celebrated in '05 are not around now. Should Cork win on Sunday then a lot of those in red will be thinking about them. The cup will do an extensive tour of schools and clubhouses when Cork end the wait, be that this year or another. But there will be another tour, a silent one, of the county's graveyards. Many of those fortunate enough to get access to the trophy for an hour will want to share it for a small moment with Cork supporters close to them who have passed on. All of this adds to the collective longing and can contribute to the pressure on players to deliver. Though at least in the case of young athletes, most of them aren't acutely aware of mortality and the passage of time, which is as it should be and helps them to be in a suitable frame of mind for the task ahead. Yet there is still considerable pressure, for Tipperary who know that the route back to this point is promised to nobody, and has been far more fraught than they would have imagined in 2019. And for Cork's players, who must decide whether to embrace or insulate themselves from the psychic energy of around half a million souls around them willing Liam MacCarthy back across the county border through their deeds. Perhaps one way to diminish the pressure for supporters and especially players is to listen to Scottie Scheffler, who gave a fairly moving examination of the meaning of sport at the highest level this week. You'll have all heard what he said by now. Perhaps the most arresting line was in how achieving victory and attaining mastery of a sport 'is not fulfilling from a sense of the deepest places of your heart'. Scheffler went on: 'There's a lot of people that make it to what they thought was going to fulfill them in life, and you get there, you get to No 1 in the world, and they're like what's the point?' Advertisement Scottie Scheffler: 'What's the point?' Alamy Stock Photo Alamy Stock Photo Most of us cannot relate to getting to No 1 and finding it an anticlimax, but we've probably all had the experience of victory and know that nothing changes substantially. We, the suffering Tottenham fans, had a trophy win last season. The wait for Spurs supporters was not quite as long as Cork's pause for Liam MacCarthy, but there is a vital difference. In Cork there is a general feeling, based on fair evidence, that the wait will end at some point. There was no such assurance for Spurs fans. I've rarely experienced anything like the sporting joy of that hour or so after the whistle in May; so delighted for my son who has never seen this, for my dad who has followed the club devoutly since the 1950s, for all the friends I've gained through Spurs who have held the line. And, if I'm honest, in that moment I was mainly ecstatic for little old me. The elation carries into the next day but it subsides quickly enough. Life, as Scottie says, goes on. The good things in your life are still good and the troubles remain. Had Spurs lost the final to Man United, I'd still be a fan, still get frustrated by the way the club is run, but still be grateful to belong to this team which goes back through the generations in my family. And a trophy? What really is it anyway? Probably something that's great to win if it comes as a result of you going about your business in a passionate, conscientious manner. But it can't be what it's all about. Earlier in the week, before Scheffler climbed onto the mount, I'd been grappling with the idea that maybe Sunday's final doesn't matter as much as I thought. In middle age, I've taken to leafing through Lau Tzu's Tao Te Ching at bedtime. It beats scrolling on Instagram and being told for how long you must intermittently fast to alter the midriff. Now, I'm not nearly spiritually evolved enough to understand the text fully. Most of the lines I read a second and third time and still it doesn't compute. The bits that land do so in a sporting context, which I'm not sure was the intended meaning all of those thousands of years ago. But you can only approach things from where you're at. 'Honour,' says Lao Tzu, 'is a contagion deep as fear'. Why? 'Honour always dwindles away, So earning it fills us with fear And losing it fills us with fear.' The primary feeling for most of the winners on Sunday will be relief. The aftermath will soon turn to good teams winning one, and great teams winning two. Or three. As Scottie put it, 'You won two majors this year; how important is it for you to win the FedEx Cup play-offs?'. Your glory will never be enough. On the face of it that can be quite a nihilistic message. In reality it is anything but. Let's continue our journey through the Tao Te Ching with Ireland's least suitable guide. 'When all beneath heaven is your self in renown You trust yourself to all beneath heaven, And when all beneath heaven is your self in love You dwell throughout all beneath heaven.' There is a reason the hurling teams of Cork, for the past couple of years, and Tipp, more recently, have connected with their people. Yes, the good results help: who doesn't like winning? Far more important is the way they have played the game, the way they have made supporters feel. Cork have embodied the best parts of their heritage and added to it. They are modern and finely conditioned but have played with scintillating ambition and verve, taken risks, moved the ball forward swiftly and attacked the goal. In their good moments, which have far outnumbered the bad, they play with a lack of fear; with a desire to channel the energy of themselves and their huge support into a show of fast, menacing hurling. They also showed grit and a relentless capacity to give their all to every play during the Munster final against Limerick. People talk about Cork having to win this one. Well, the game is more popular than ever on Leeside if you go by the sheer amount of kids playing the game and following the county side. The way this team and their great manager have carried themselves has a lot to do with that. Cork and Tipp players scramble for the ball during the Munster round robin game in April. James Crombie / INPHO James Crombie / INPHO / INPHO From the first month of the year to now, Tipperary have approached the game with integrity. The way they went to the well against Clare and Kilkenny and eked out results which seemed to be slipping away was impressive and a reflection of the honesty of effort that characterised their year. Even in the few low moments they persevered. They could have checked out against Cork in the second half of the league final, or when down to 14 in the Munster round robin but they kept playing. This attitude, allied to the stellar array of talent they possess, especially in attack, makes them the team they are now: industrious, inventive, resolute, brilliantly intuitive in front of goal. On a fundamental level, both teams seem decent people who know what it's all about. Before the league game between the pair in February, we ambled out of the Supermacs on Liberty Square just as the Tipperary bus rolled past. You could see the game faces go by, but the boys with us were too young to understand that and waved, enthusiastic and earnest, to the players. They nearly all gave a wave or a nod back, and after the game the players were patient and good natured with hundreds of young fans looking for pictures and autographs. Sports science must have a lot to do with how Patrick Horgan can perform at the level he does at 37. Best practice definitely isn't to stand still on a freezing pitch for ages on a winter's night. The scrum around him, as ever, was colossal but he stood there, cooling rapidly after a loss, and signed hurley after sliotar. Pretty much all players in all teams are generous this way, even if few are as in demand as Horgan. They know not long ago they were that kid. In the shortest time they'll be back in the stand while the next generation takes their place. As Gary Barlow and the boys came to accept, someday soon this will all be someone else's dream. If Sunday is truly important it is as the latest piece in the mosaic of Cork v Tipp games that goes back almost 140 years. This is the thing which endures, which lasts beyond any title or trinket. Tim Gallwey wrote in the Inner Game of Tennis, perhaps the best of all sports psychology books, that 'true competition is identical with true cooperation'. Cork and Tipperary as hurling counties have reached the levels they have because they have drawn it out of each other, asked questions, posed physical challenges, bettered each other with stunning feats of skill and nerve under pressure. Each is richer for the other's presence. It could well be a close contest on Sunday and in that event it may pivot on a refereeing decision or a mistake from a player at the wrong moment. Hopefully it's not that, and both sides reach the necessary level of relaxed concentration to perform to their true level. If that happens the game will be full of wonder – heartbreaking for a time for the team that loses but in the end something real and beautiful for the masses. Victory's honour will surely dwindle away but the game will stick around. That's where love dwells. The arc, strike and flight towards some kind of fulfilling life.
Time Out
08-07-2025
- Entertainment
- Time Out
The cheapest cities to visit in Europe on a budget in 2025
Kaunas was a European Capital of Culture for 2022, and an incredible 1,000 events took place to celebrate it. But otherwise, for those of us who weren't there are plenty of seriously impressive exhibition spaces open all year round, like the Mykolas Žilinskas Art Gallery. And if you want something a bit weirder, head to the seriously strange Devil's Museum.
Euronews
28-06-2025
- Euronews
The quiet coastline where Italians in-the-know holiday
At the railway station in Salerno, the city known as the eastern gateway to the Amalfi Coast, a crush of floppy-hatted tourists crowds the platform where the train to Naples will arrive. On the opposite platform, only an elderly lady and a family with two small children wait with me for the train heading in the other direction. We board the nearly empty regionale service, which winds down the Tyrrhenian coastline, arriving in Maratea after just under two hours. It's a grab-a-window-seat kind of journey, travelling through valleys flanked by thickly forested angular hills on one side and the glittering sea on the other. There are plenty of tempting seaside stops en route, but I'm headed to the short strip of coastline of the Basilicata region that is squeezed between Campania and Calabria. Italy's 'forgotten' southern region Basilicata is one of Italy's 'forgotten' regions, historically a poor area with an economy that revolves around agriculture. It remains predominantly underdeveloped in terms of tourism - many would say thankfully so. Most international visitors only recently became aware of its existence thanks to the awarding of its eastern city of Matera as European Capital of Culture in 2019. This troglodyte warren of caves now receives many tourists, but mostly those hopping over the border from the more established destination of Puglia. Over on the western side, the (confusingly similarly named) town of Maratea is a breathtakingly beautiful yet remarkably peaceful spot where Italians in-the-know have holidayed for decades. Although neither upper Maratea nor the waterside Porto di Maratea can claim the precipitous drama of Amalfi Coast towns like Positano, the coastline stretching out on either side is, for me, superior in terms of its natural landscape. Plus, even in the height of summer peak season, it is a dreamy oasis of tranquillity and slow living, devoid of crowds. Quiet luxury at a historic hotel For many Italian holidaymakers, Hotel Santavenere is synonymous with Maratea. The property, the only five-star on the coastline, opened in 1953, and has had a major influence on the kind of tourism the area promotes and attracts. It was practising quiet luxury long before it became a buzzword on social media. From the electric golf buggies that pick guests up at the station a few minutes away to the natural pebble beach, it reassures guests it hasn't changed its approach. Hotel Santavenere feels like the kind of discreetly glamorous accommodation many tourists want to find along the Amalfi Coast, only to find few can offer that sense of space, solitude and serenity without a hefty price tag. In fact, Santavenere's surrounding parkland that slopes steeply to the sea is something the Amalfi Coast's clifftop properties cannot offer. In the early morning, I wander down the snaking trail through the maritime pine-shaded garden to the shore, preceded by darting rustles of iridescent green lizards dashing into the undergrowth. At the water's edge, sun loungers are laid out in little natural terraces amongst the rocks, and a ladder gives access to the dark blue sea. A little way along is the natural pebble beach with shallow water to paddle in. The hillside rises steeply above, tangled in trees and crowned by an ancient watchtower. A pretty port and a hillside hike Halfway back up the lung-busting ascent through the gardens of the hotel, there is a gate opening out to a curving road. This winds down to Porto di Maratea, a clutch of houses gathered around a little marina. Lining the road that curves around the port are little stores like a pottery workshop and a boat supplier. The town also has a surprising number of excellent restaurants, including the Laterna Rossa, which serves refined dishes like a cannolo with raw prawns, ricotta mousse and gazpacho or pasta stuffed with catch of the day, local provola cheese and lemon. High up on the hillside above is upper Maratea, a town of narrow, sloping streets, ice-cream coloured houses and an impressive 44 churches, hugged by rugged mountains. I sit in the square with a summery-looking spritz on a maiolica table, preparing myself for the afternoon hike up to Maratea's most iconic monument. A little over an hour's climb up from the town is a 21-metre-high white statue of Christ the Redeemer, his arms outstretched. It's hard to say whether Rio's version or Maratea's has a better view - from the top, I take in a panorama of the coves and juts of the coastline, the forested mountains, and the Tyrrhenian Sea stretching to the horizon. Discovering Basilicata's 'cucina povera' My favourite view of Maratea's coastline, however, is from the terraces of Hotel Santavenere. An abundance of bold purple bougainvillaea means every vista is framed by flowers, including the al fresco dining area. As the light fades, I take a culinary journey through Basilicata with chef Giovanni Fiorellino's new menu. I begin with the raw amberjack with Lucanian (the ancient name for the Basilicata region) black pig guanciale, and 'formaggio dei poveri' - fried and seasoned breadcrumbs known in Basilicata as the cheese of the poor. I follow it with the palette-awakening beetroot risotto with mussels, buffalo blue cheese and coffee powder, and then Lucanian pork shoulder with a reduction of the local Amaro Lucano liqueur. On my post-dinner walk down to Porto di Maratea, all I can hear are the chirping cicadas and the waves below - a far cry from the honking of buses and crowded pavements of the Amalfi Coast.
