fun, intrigue and train connections

“The thing is in Finland that would be unthinkable.” He moved his hand to set his watch right and inhaled some cigarette smoke.
“Once we were passing a Polish village. Dense, out-of-the-way, dim, full of broken fences and plastic bus shelters. We were exhausted from the journey, but a friend of mine picked up two fabulous girls. They didn’t look like hookers, and maybe that was the problem, for after twenty minutes the blond stated she was a Catholic and ran out crying, and the brunette, having noticed the puzzlement on our faces, thanked us for the drinks and kissed me on the cheek. “Give me a break, Ville, did you get the idea that we spent our lives prostrating ourselves”
Ville wielded the English language exquisitely. I still squirm with embarrassment at the thought of my ignorance, when I learned how many languages he had actually mastered and when I said Finnish is almost the same as Swedish. He placed his hand on the bar and the waitress accepted an order without any word; she seemed totally indifferent to the gimlet eyes of the frigid Finnish guy. She wore a black top revealing red bra straps, which she frequently and nervously touched.
“You don’t think I believed that, do you? Try to touch any of these girls here and you will see what Slavic temperament means,” I answered while Ville was drinking pure vodka, and after each cleaning-up of the glass he hit the table twice with it.
“I would prefer to learn something about the Slavic naivety.”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re very young and you have adorable eyebrows, unlike any other female eyebrows I have ever seen. I had invited you here, and you told me about your fiancé. In Finland the next step is the proposal of spending the night together, and you are the one who should take this step.”
“Sometimes it’s so difficult to tell whether you are joking or not. Start speaking Polish already.”
“Why? Do you think it’s alluring?”
“No, but you wouldn’t venture to say this crap in my language? Are you so cold and blue that you view everything as an occasion?”
“No, but I guess your attitude to love requires this. The Finnish are so satisfied, for they already understand that misery is overrated. And all your longings and quandaries, no matter how lovely they are, are still just longings and quandaries.“ The Finnish, as stand-offish as only the Scandinavian can be, sent me the most tender glance I have ever seen.
“Enough. Teach me something in Finnish.”
“Mina rakasta sinua.”