Shawshank and Sauna in Hameenlinna, Finland

Hameenlinna is easily missed. It’s the kind of place that's typically masked from view by conifers along its dual carriageway exit and glossed over in two sentences by travel guides. The kind of place with a sign declaring itself as the regional mustard capital. This two-horse town is famous for the composer Sibelius and for its brick castle that is more Shawshank than Disney.
And true enough, one of the castle's many uses over the years was as a prison. In the town square, lined with shops displaying an eclectic mix of wares, from tins of whale meat to vibrant Marimekko fabric, young Hameenlinnians, dressed in Lordi-esque heavy metal outfits, drink cider. They seem incongruous with the soft never-ending gloam of the June twilight and the pleasant warm air wafting around the gentle waters of Lake Vanajavesi.
 I’m here strictly on business, you understand. Twenty lucky souls from across the European Union are participating in a week of cultural exchange on how come the Finns are one of the world’s top educators. In reality, this rather nice jolly means spending a week in the Scandi sunshine with twenty strangers drinking extortionately priced lager. A benefit of EU membership that has never been put before the great British electorate, I feel. We visit a motor vehicle chopshop full of female mechanics modifying and spraying cars (incredibly inspiring) and a massage class with a male masseur laying hands where no man should boldly go in the name of vocational training (decidedly dodgy). We learn that there are no tests for kids until they’re 16, no inspectors and teachers are free to act as autonomous professionals (radically refreshing). 
At the end of the week, I find myself in an eight-man canoe on a remote lake in Evo National Park in Central Finland. It's breathtakingly beautiful. Lakes link endlessly with lakes and the water is deep and shiny black like cow eyes, surrounded by vast expanses of coniferous forest. Our activity to support European integration means that I am in the ‘canoe of friendship.’ And just like the EU, I'm being actively sunk by one of its members. Except it’s not UKIP this time. This time, it’s maniacal Mr Cyprus who keeps rocking the canoe and screaming sea commands at his compadre, Mr Greece, who's taking great exception and citing his Greek seafaring credentials. Mr France, wearing a jumper twisted jauntily around his neck like only a French man can, is giving Gallic shrugs and looking on with despair until Mr Portugal eventually takes control and guides us to the shore an hour later. By this time the charcoal sauna planned as post-canoe entertainment is now at smokey meltdown and Rudolph, the barbecued reindeer who is to be our dinner, looks like he’s had an accident at work and fallen down a chimney. Both Brexit and vegetarianism seem highly appealing.
 It’s a curious fact that Finland has more saunas per head of population than people, and for the beautiful Finnish people, it seems that getting all your kit off in a mosquito-infested swamp is all part of a good night out. But as we lie in the wood-smoked sauna it’s surprisingly relaxing. I totally get it. It's spiritual. The peace is abruptly broken when we’re told we need to dive into the lake. Luckily I’ve got my swimming togs on but I can see that the men are actively contemplating the Full Monty approach to this. All prudery aside, Mrs Ireland says to me laughing, “Sounds gas... where I’m from yer don’t even take yer socks off till yer married.”
 And with good reason, I think, as I see several pale, freckly and flabby middle-aged torsos bombing into the icy lake water. In the name of education, I try it too. And as I plunge in, it’s strangely and massively refreshing. Who would have known? I may not have learned much more about Finnish education but I have been thoroughly educated in sauna, which I highly recommend.