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A Woman's Directory For Travel and Life.
WAVE Journey is your one-stop online resource for women-oriented travel businesses & services
around the world.
WAVE Journey is for every woman to enjoy. If you love to travel, cook, read or revel in outdoor
activities this website is for you. If you are looking to connect with other like-minded women or if you
are interested in finding businesses or services that cater to women, WAVE Journey is your number one
online travel resource.
WAVE Journey is your one-stop online resource for women-oriented travel businesses & services
around the world.
WAVE Journey is for every woman to enjoy. If you love to travel, cook, read or revel in outdoor
activities this website is for you. If you are looking to connect with other like-minded women or if you
are interested in finding businesses or services that cater to women, WAVE Journey is your number one
online travel resource.
Henna and I carefully glided our way to a hut, a tall teepee covered with beige reindeer hides. Thick gray
smoke was billowing from its open top, lingering over the tent like a feathery wreath of clouds. The tiny,
athletic man who came out of the reindeer hut was straight from my fantasies, complete with his chiseled,
ruddy face, blond hair, and high cheek bones. He sported a red woolen shirt underneath an embroidered
blue tunic with reindeer skin knickers and a bouncy skirt trimmed in red, yellow and blue braid. Knee-high fur
boots curled up at the tip of his toes, and on his head sat a floppy, blue cap with four long points and a wide,
scarlet headband. He looked like a cross between an Arctic Keebler Elf and a court jester in winter-wear. I
took a deep gulp of the bone-chilling air at this life-defining moment: my first live encounter with a Sami
reindeer herdsman! Here I was face to face with a man who held down the job I’d envied since grade
school. How could I ever be content back at the office again?
“R-r-r-r-o-o-o-varsen silia sil la la-a-a-a-a,” the Sami called in a deep voice. He motioned for me to come
forward. “What’s he saying?” I whispered to Henna. “I think he wants you to try out his reindeer sled,” she
winked. I popped out of those skis like I had a beehive in my britches and vaulted excitedly onto the sled.
Unfortunately, it was designed for someone about 4 feet 10. I made the best of it, trying to ignore the fact
that my cramped knees came precariously close to a strategic part of the reindeer’s anatomy. Before terror
could take over, I grabbed the reins and yanked sharply.
The critter took off like its tail was on fire. “Noro roto na-a-a-ar-a halia-y-a-a!” bellowed my new Sami friend.
“Halia-y-a-a-a-a!” In an instant, we were racing. I could hear Henna screaming something at me, and my
own voice yelling “S-t-t-o-o-o-o-o-p!” My whole life flashed before me, along with snow and sky.
The joy ride came to a sudden halt when we rammed into a mammoth snowdrift at 30 miles per hour. The
impact of the crash sent me flying smack into a mound of partially-frozen reindeer muffins. Henna and the
Sami cackled hysterically, slapping each other on the back as they doubled over in laughter. “That was
super!” laughed Henna, her face crimson red.
Pride still intact, I calmly brushed off my shoulders and my backside. Though my performance was less than
stellar, I was sure that with a little more practice I’d be a natural behind the reindeer reins. And besides,
what were a few aches and pains to live out a life-long dream! Bidding farewell to the herd and my dear
Sami pal, I blew them a kiss. Then I snapped my skis back on and rejoined Henna on the trails. For a
long stretch, the only sound besides my heavy breathing was the crunch, crunch, crunch of our waxed skis
against the icy snow.
smoke was billowing from its open top, lingering over the tent like a feathery wreath of clouds. The tiny,
athletic man who came out of the reindeer hut was straight from my fantasies, complete with his chiseled,
ruddy face, blond hair, and high cheek bones. He sported a red woolen shirt underneath an embroidered
blue tunic with reindeer skin knickers and a bouncy skirt trimmed in red, yellow and blue braid. Knee-high fur
boots curled up at the tip of his toes, and on his head sat a floppy, blue cap with four long points and a wide,
scarlet headband. He looked like a cross between an Arctic Keebler Elf and a court jester in winter-wear. I
took a deep gulp of the bone-chilling air at this life-defining moment: my first live encounter with a Sami
reindeer herdsman! Here I was face to face with a man who held down the job I’d envied since grade
school. How could I ever be content back at the office again?
“R-r-r-r-o-o-o-varsen silia sil la la-a-a-a-a,” the Sami called in a deep voice. He motioned for me to come
forward. “What’s he saying?” I whispered to Henna. “I think he wants you to try out his reindeer sled,” she
winked. I popped out of those skis like I had a beehive in my britches and vaulted excitedly onto the sled.
Unfortunately, it was designed for someone about 4 feet 10. I made the best of it, trying to ignore the fact
that my cramped knees came precariously close to a strategic part of the reindeer’s anatomy. Before terror
could take over, I grabbed the reins and yanked sharply.
The critter took off like its tail was on fire. “Noro roto na-a-a-ar-a halia-y-a-a!” bellowed my new Sami friend.
“Halia-y-a-a-a-a!” In an instant, we were racing. I could hear Henna screaming something at me, and my
own voice yelling “S-t-t-o-o-o-o-o-p!” My whole life flashed before me, along with snow and sky.
The joy ride came to a sudden halt when we rammed into a mammoth snowdrift at 30 miles per hour. The
impact of the crash sent me flying smack into a mound of partially-frozen reindeer muffins. Henna and the
Sami cackled hysterically, slapping each other on the back as they doubled over in laughter. “That was
super!” laughed Henna, her face crimson red.
Pride still intact, I calmly brushed off my shoulders and my backside. Though my performance was less than
stellar, I was sure that with a little more practice I’d be a natural behind the reindeer reins. And besides,
what were a few aches and pains to live out a life-long dream! Bidding farewell to the herd and my dear
Sami pal, I blew them a kiss. Then I snapped my skis back on and rejoined Henna on the trails. For a
long stretch, the only sound besides my heavy breathing was the crunch, crunch, crunch of our waxed skis
against the icy snow.
Seven hours later, I emerged from the frigid forest, wobbly-kneed and bruised, yet victorious. We trudged
back to the hotel, where we chugged down steaming cups of hot, black coffee. Henna disappeared into the
back office. Minutes later she reappeared with an official-looking “Lapp Reindeer Driving License” she had
whipped up on the computer in my honor.
I thanked her profusely and headed back to the safety of my room. Flinging off my stiff clothing and my ice-
encrusted backpack, I buried myself in my thick, fleece bathrobe. Then I collapsed on the bed for a hard-
earned catnap. Thirty minutes later, I made a shivering beeline for the hotel sauna.
A-a-a-h, the sauna, a quintessential Finnish ritual. I could hardly wait to take in the raw pleasure of it all. I
opened the heavy door and peeked inside the cedar-lined room. Three buxom, blonde beauties were
lounging buck-naked on long wooden benches at the front of the heated chamber. I instantly felt fat and
badly claustrophobic. The air was incredibly thick and hot, and the room quite small and dark. I quickly shut
the door and debated what to do. Sucking in tightly, I stripped in a nano-second and sprinted into the
chamber. Then I slithered to a far corner of the bench so as not to intrude and tried to talk myself out of a
serious panic attack.
A few minutes later, one of the girls jumped up without warning, reached into a bucket and pitched a scoop
of water onto the wood-burning stove, creating a sizzling plume of steam. The scalding steam blasted me
smack in the face. I could contain myself no longer. Afraid I would pass out before I could exit, I shrieked “I’
m trapped!” at the top of my lungs. Within seconds, the trio of slender beauties snatched up their towels
and left in a huff, scowling at me for disturbing their inner peace.
Finally I stopped hyperventilating, and I felt a relaxing calm spread over my limp body. With a new sense of
well-being, I decided there was no way in hell any Finn was going to trick me into rolling in the snow or
plunging into an icy lake to wrap up my “authentic” sauna experience.
While I was daydreaming in the buff about the day’s remarkable conquests, there came a loud rap on the
door of the steamy sauna cubicle. The door creaked open and a beefy, red-faced woman in a white uniform
marched right up to me. I noticed she was carrying a bundle of unusually long twigs. I also observed that
her forearms were bigger than George Foreman's.
"You want I beat you?" she smiled. Surely I had misunderstood. "You want I beat you?" she repeated.
"Finns think very good for circulation." I was certainly not into flagellation at this stage of my life. I was still
recovering from the brutal massage I had endured in Budapest a year ago. Besides, my wiped-out body had
taken enough beating today. "Kiitos, but no thanks," I said in my best broken Finnish. "My blood is circulating
just swell."
That evening after my sauna, I enjoyed a scrumptious meal of savory salmon with arctic cloudberry sauce and
roasted potatoes in the cozy, hotel restaurant. As I gazed out the window at the twinkling polar stars, I
started plotting how to bring my Sami reindeer home to Georgia where he belonged.
Bio
Ann Lombardi is a 24-year veteran travel consultant, born-again “athlete”, and former E.S.L. teacher with a
knack for misadventure. She has been heard on FOX, NPR and Clark Howard’s “Friday Flyer” radio travel
show, and is often quoted in The Atlanta Journal-Constitution and travel industry magazines. The former host
of Washington D.C.’s “The Trip Chicks Travel Show” on FOX Talk Radio WMET, Ann is now heard in the Atlanta
area every Monday from 3 to 4 p.m. Eastern on 1620 AM’s “Travel Talk: Escapes.”
Ann’s zest for globetrotting has led her to Europe, the Americas, Asia and the Caribbean. Among her fondest
exploits are finishing dead last in the Berlin Marathon, bailing out of a glider plane in Switzerland, hitching a
ride in spiked heels on an Amish horse and buggy, touring Moscow with a black marketer, surviving the
riptides of Mexico and getting arrested in a junkyard in Korea. She hangs her backpack in Atlanta, Georgia,
where she is writing her first travel book. Check out her company’s website at www.TheTripChicks.com.
back to the hotel, where we chugged down steaming cups of hot, black coffee. Henna disappeared into the
back office. Minutes later she reappeared with an official-looking “Lapp Reindeer Driving License” she had
whipped up on the computer in my honor.
I thanked her profusely and headed back to the safety of my room. Flinging off my stiff clothing and my ice-
encrusted backpack, I buried myself in my thick, fleece bathrobe. Then I collapsed on the bed for a hard-
earned catnap. Thirty minutes later, I made a shivering beeline for the hotel sauna.
A-a-a-h, the sauna, a quintessential Finnish ritual. I could hardly wait to take in the raw pleasure of it all. I
opened the heavy door and peeked inside the cedar-lined room. Three buxom, blonde beauties were
lounging buck-naked on long wooden benches at the front of the heated chamber. I instantly felt fat and
badly claustrophobic. The air was incredibly thick and hot, and the room quite small and dark. I quickly shut
the door and debated what to do. Sucking in tightly, I stripped in a nano-second and sprinted into the
chamber. Then I slithered to a far corner of the bench so as not to intrude and tried to talk myself out of a
serious panic attack.
A few minutes later, one of the girls jumped up without warning, reached into a bucket and pitched a scoop
of water onto the wood-burning stove, creating a sizzling plume of steam. The scalding steam blasted me
smack in the face. I could contain myself no longer. Afraid I would pass out before I could exit, I shrieked “I’
m trapped!” at the top of my lungs. Within seconds, the trio of slender beauties snatched up their towels
and left in a huff, scowling at me for disturbing their inner peace.
Finally I stopped hyperventilating, and I felt a relaxing calm spread over my limp body. With a new sense of
well-being, I decided there was no way in hell any Finn was going to trick me into rolling in the snow or
plunging into an icy lake to wrap up my “authentic” sauna experience.
While I was daydreaming in the buff about the day’s remarkable conquests, there came a loud rap on the
door of the steamy sauna cubicle. The door creaked open and a beefy, red-faced woman in a white uniform
marched right up to me. I noticed she was carrying a bundle of unusually long twigs. I also observed that
her forearms were bigger than George Foreman's.
"You want I beat you?" she smiled. Surely I had misunderstood. "You want I beat you?" she repeated.
"Finns think very good for circulation." I was certainly not into flagellation at this stage of my life. I was still
recovering from the brutal massage I had endured in Budapest a year ago. Besides, my wiped-out body had
taken enough beating today. "Kiitos, but no thanks," I said in my best broken Finnish. "My blood is circulating
just swell."
That evening after my sauna, I enjoyed a scrumptious meal of savory salmon with arctic cloudberry sauce and
roasted potatoes in the cozy, hotel restaurant. As I gazed out the window at the twinkling polar stars, I
started plotting how to bring my Sami reindeer home to Georgia where he belonged.
Bio
Ann Lombardi is a 24-year veteran travel consultant, born-again “athlete”, and former E.S.L. teacher with a
knack for misadventure. She has been heard on FOX, NPR and Clark Howard’s “Friday Flyer” radio travel
show, and is often quoted in The Atlanta Journal-Constitution and travel industry magazines. The former host
of Washington D.C.’s “The Trip Chicks Travel Show” on FOX Talk Radio WMET, Ann is now heard in the Atlanta
area every Monday from 3 to 4 p.m. Eastern on 1620 AM’s “Travel Talk: Escapes.”
Ann’s zest for globetrotting has led her to Europe, the Americas, Asia and the Caribbean. Among her fondest
exploits are finishing dead last in the Berlin Marathon, bailing out of a glider plane in Switzerland, hitching a
ride in spiked heels on an Amish horse and buggy, touring Moscow with a black marketer, surviving the
riptides of Mexico and getting arrested in a junkyard in Korea. She hangs her backpack in Atlanta, Georgia,
where she is writing her first travel book. Check out her company’s website at www.TheTripChicks.com.
| Page 2 of 2 | Previous Page | |
| WAVE Journey.com Women's Adventures, Vacations & Experiences ~ Your Journey Starts Here! |
TM
| In Search of Sami ~ An Adventure in Lapland - continued pg 2 of 2 by Ann Lombardi |