October
26
2011
By Susan Henry
In a world filled with economic meltdowns, terrorist extremists, and natural disasters, how does one rationalize a World Championship Wife Carrying Contest? Oddly, it somehow seems perfectly rational in Finland.
To be clear, this is not your grandpa’s piggy back ride; it’s a race around a 250 meter track with your missus on your back, in pursuit of the ultimate prize: your wife’s weight in beer.
The winning form calls for the husband to dive headfirst between the wife’s legs, then rise up with her thighs draped over his shoulders such that her noggin dangles face-forward somewhere in the vicinity of, well, his backside. The hazard of this arrangement becomes abundantly clear as the so conjoined couple charges down the track and the first obstacle comes into view: a watery trench three feet deep and thirty feet long. Marital bonds—and the little woman’s lung capacity—are put to the test as the husband charges into the ditch. If the physical contortion and spousal relationship survive the plunge, the serpentine course then leads the couple to the next challenge, three-foot high hurdles made of huge logs. Taking the hurdles in full running stride with the old girl in tow is just not a viable option. Success here involves a sort of crotch-numbing, sliding straddle by the husband. Ideally, but not always, a nominal separation is maintained between the wife’s swinging head and the very solid logs. After clearing the two hurdles, only a wobbly-legged dash to the finish remains, followed by the roar of the crowd.
Some participants take a tongue-in-cheek approach to the race. One couple does a sexual turnabout, the husband sporting a dress and heels, the wife wearing the trousers. Another man flaunts his machismo, toting not only his spouse but a second (inflatable) gal. In a dramatic moment, a particularly theatrical challenger stops to transform himself from Clark Kent into Superman, before transporting his Lois Lane into the watery breach.
Other contenders embrace the games with the steely determination of Olympic athletes, soberly stretching and sprinting in pre-race warm-ups. One uber competitive wife vice-grips her legs around her husband’s neck so tightly that his arms are left free to pump fiercely as he runs, propelling them both to warp speed.
When the competition is over and the winners are crowned, the crowd departs the stands for the after-party tents. A great deal of very bad karaoke ensues, along with excessive consumption of vodka and what appears to be the Finnish version of KFC, fried whole herring, complete with little fishy eyes staring blankly out of the batter.
Maybe this is all part of a search for a national identity in a country with a history of being conquered and annexed by its neighbors. Maybe this is the product of too much idle time during those long, cold winter nights. Maybe it’s what happens when a populous is competitive by nature but still firmly in touch with its inner child. Somehow, in Finland it all makes sense.
From the Matchmaking Festival in Ireland, to the Camel Wrestling Contests in Turkey, Susan Henry is slowly checking off her bucket list of wacky worldwide spectacles. Trufflepig can artfully execute even your most fanciful travel ambitions. If you like what you read, book with us here, and while you're at it, become our fan on Facebook, and follow us on Twitter.