Getting nearer the border. Summer 1998. (see Visiting the Russian Border)

Seems to be, that after the God had created the continent here, He
found something itching and struck under His nails. After some furious
scratching and picking with a toothpick, He dropped the found remains to
the sea and finally, the archipelago of the Finnish Gulf was born:
thousands of islets, small, low islands full of rocks, birch and dry pine
woods. (see Visiting the Russian Border)

The town of Virolahti. The turning point of my trip. Visitor's berth
just behind the market. (see Visiting the Russian Border)


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