There were, for many years, various different suggestions for how to get passengers from Helsinki Airport into the city. Metros, a dedicated underground express line - these were rejected in favour of the Ring-Rail Line, where a new east-west railway passing under the airport connected two existing north-south lines and created a teardrop shaped loop. This was seen as economically and geographically apt.
I believe the real reason the Ring-Rail Line was built was so that every tourist coming into Helsinki was forced to go through Helsinki Central station, allowing the Finns to show off about how brilliant their terminal was.
Helsinki Central (or, to give it its proper Finnish name, Helsingin päärautatieasema) is a station that is muttered about in nothing but tones of awe and reverence by railway architecture fans. It was completed in 1914 (though didn't open for another five years, thanks to the combination of World War I, the Russian Revolution, and the Finnish Civil War) and it's one of the finest pieces of Art Nouveau design in the world.
Soaring curved roofs, distinctive light fittings, elegant glass windows allowing the passenger areas to be flooded with light: it's everything you want from a railway station. Arriving here after being hustled through airport after airport, pushed and shoved from one stark metal gate to the next, is a reminder that travel can be beautiful and passenger friendly.
It exudes class and beauty. I arrived on the train from the airport and wandered around, gleeful, delighted, grinning wildly at the detailing. I even returned on the Sunday morning, when it was quieter, so that I could take it all in without those damn passengers getting in the way.
The Kiosk Hall was having refurbishment works done, because of course it was. It wasn't possible to see the full sweep of the train shed because of the hoardings.
Actually, I say "train shed", but the glass roof over the tracks is a remarkably new addition to the station, having been added in 2001. Yes, the country that is regularly battered by snow and ice and rain made its passengers wait in the open air for their trains; I can only assume that this was due to persistent lobbying by the cafes and restaurants housed in the station. The rush when your train came in and you could run to it in the snow must've made Euston's swarm look understated.
However great the interior is at Helsinki Central, it's the exterior that really blows you away. Eric Saarinen, the architect, developed and honed a style he'd used for Viipuri station (subsequently blown up by the Soviets during the war) to create a dominant, welcoming building for its city.
It's friendly, but also intimidating; it reeks of importance. It's solid, permanent. Around the station are a load of modern and Brutalist buildings, shopping centres and offices, and they seem unbelievably flimsy next to the brick arch of the station. This feeling of dominance is only enhanced by the Lyhdynkantajat, the Lantern Bearers: four vast intimidating stone figures either side of the main entrance, designed by Emil Wikström .
They're fantastic, muscular - in every sense of the word - creations, expressing the power of the railways and modern existence. It's hard not to look at them in awe. They're Gotham City, but without the dread; I imagine Anton Furst had a picture of them on his mood board when he was designing the first Batman film. They've naturally become symbols of the city and the railway, and get dressed up for big events and promotions.
The clock tower behind was the tallest structure in the city for many years, and is still noticeable from all around. I almost prefer it to the Lyhdynkantajat, but that's because I've always been a massive fan of big clocks. Yes, I said clocks.
The western entrance is a smaller, budget version of the front, opening onto a bus exchange. Trams run outside the front, and there's another bus station on the eastern side around the Rautatientori, or Railway Square. This is the centre of Helsinki's transport in every way.
The east wing was the headquarters of the Finnish Railways for most of its life, but they vacated in the 2010s and it was turned into the Scandic Grand Central Hotel. I love a railway hotel, of course, and I managed to get a good deal to stay there.
This is not a paid advertisement, I promise. I'm not one of those influencers who is slipped a few grand to plug where they've been (though, you know, if you want to send me a message Scandic, I'm open). I will say that you absolutely must stay in the Grand Central because it's been beautifully restored.
They're so proud of their heritage that every room comes with a self guided walking tour round the building so you can see all the architectural magnificence for yourself. You don't get that at the Basildon Premier Inn.
A wonderful railway station obviously needs a wonderful metro station, but this is sadly where Helsinki falls down. It's not that Rautatientori - they named it after the square, for some reason - is a bad station. It's more that it is very much of its time, and unfortunately, that time is the late seventies and early eighties.
Take the escalators down from Helsinki Central's ticket hall and you're transported into a low ceilinged shopping centre. The transition from the fine craftsmanship above it immediately apparent - this feels cheap. not helped by the stores inside being on the budget end of the market.
The station is down another set of escalators, in a lower concourse that is the one stab at making it impressive. It's certainly big, and when I came up and off a train there was no mistaking which was the way to go to reach the city centre.
Incidentally, at the back of the picture above is a photograph of the girl who would become my nemesis throughout my Helsinki trip. I don't know how much Save the Children Finland paid to have every LED advertising screen in the city show the same advert for an entire weekend, but I'm writing a strongly worded letter to Princess Anne asking her to check if this is an appropriate use of their funds.
I grew to hate that little girl. Every platform ad, every on-train screen, every information board, and there she was, switching from sad to happy and trying to look all cute. I'd see a perfectly acceptable advert for hamburgers or some incomprehensible Finnish television programme and then bam! Here she was again, staring down the camera and trying to make my long dead heart feel an emotion. It didn't work. In fact I loathed her so much I've been considering setting up a charity of my own called called Sod the Children to spite her.
Europe around the turn of the eighties was not a happy place, and Rautatientori feels like it was built as a defensive structure. It was constructed to not be blown up by terrorists or attacked by punks or covered in graffiti by smackheads. Passenger comfort and aesthetic virtues weren't necessarily a priority.
Rautatientori's main attempt at charming artistry is its tilework. In London or Paris, this would mean beautiful neat rectangles of ceramic, arranged prettily and symmetrically; in Helsinki, it's varying shades of brown black and grey wrapped around the corners.
Why stick to one design when you can have all of them, all at once, in one space? They definitely won't clash or anything. It reminded me of the Stockholm Tunnelbana's "bathroom" stations, the ones built in the fifties and also covered in tiles, but there it was much more pleasant.
I'm being unfair. Rautatientori does feature some artwork along the tunnel walls, but, notably, it's a stylised frieze of the Saarinen station upstairs. They know what side their bread is buttered.
For those of you keeping score, by the way, Rautatientori is the third and final station to include English on its signage, after the two universities.
Helsinki Central is epic, beautiful, and an absolute must-see if you have even the slightest interest in transport architecture. I loved it and, if you're reading this Scandic Hotels, I am more than happy to accept another trip back to see it again.
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