A visit to the watershed

Laukkanen raised the subject of the visit one evening when we chanced to be at the same table in our local on Hämeen street. Laukkanen was a poet with five collections and a couple of plays under his belt, fairly well received. Some cultural secretary had called him a couple of days ago, suggesting he do a literary visit before the end of October.   
     Laukkanen said he'd been a bit tipsy at the time, and had suggested a broader approach. Something cross-literary. How about getting two writers representing different genres? They could debate the fundamental questions of their art forms; poetry versus thrillers, for instance. Laukkanen pulled a face over his pint.
     "Why not?" I reflected. "It's quite some time since you and I had a greasy meal at a roadside cafeteria with a cultural board picking up the bill."
     I was divorced and had no commitments. My annual thriller was at the stage where my next work effort would be to lie in wait for the reviews in the newspapers. It could be rather a nice change to hit the road. "Where are we going?" I asked.
     Laukkanen said the name of a place. It rang no bells.      
     "Wherever is that? It sounds like the back of beyond."     
     "Not really. It's about three hundred and fifty kilometres. We'll take the train first, then a bus. It is a bit out-of-the-way. You know, a watershed region."
     On the last Monday of October, well before noon, we set out. By tacit agreement we both had our travelling flasks with us, and from time to time we'd wet our whistles from them - but with great caution and moderation. Not for the first time were Laukkanen and I touring the provinces.

Vierailu vedenjakajalle (A Visit to the Watershed) from a collection of short stories, called Aito turkki (Real Fur) Translated by Britt & Philip Gaut