My Finn experience|
I met three Finns at a party in Moscow, once, young diplomats normally assigned to St. Petersburg. They were huge, dour, spoke excellent formal English (though describing my embassy job title as “computer geek” threw them off a bit), and wore identical Russian peasant smocks they’d bought that day on a tour of the countryside. As far as I know, none carried knives to the event, though concealing a knife on a body that big would be easy. Borderline surreal.