Searching for Estelle.

Ville and I made our way out of the bar and into the cool Helsinki night air. I realised at that point that we had very different opinions on the concept of a “nice night”. I was not uncomfortably cold, however, and Ville was right on one thing- the hotel was quite close.

“So, you never did tell me more about your writing?” he began as we started walking.

I froze momentarily. I didn't really like talking about my writing. I was quite self-conscious about it (surprise, surprise, I know) and doubted that it would ever become something successful.

“Oh, it's more of a hobby I guess.”

There was a moment of silence before Ville spoke again. “I think you're just being modest, Estelle. I can't see you moving overseas to pursue a hobby.”

I shrugged. “It's something I'd like to do and I've had a few small features and some short fiction published in magazines in Australia, but I don't really see it becoming anything too serious.”

“It could if you wanted it to. It's all about hard work.”

I nodded, “It's also about talent though.”

“Which you've obviously got if you've already had things published.”

I sighed. “I'm not going to win this argument, am I?”

“Nope,” Ville said with a grin. “Modesty is nice, Estelle, but you have to trust your abilities at least a little bit.”

I smiled. “I guess I've always had trouble with that.”

“So, what do you write?”

“Well, short fiction mainly. I've also done some poetry though and I'm working on a novel.”

“What's the novel about?”

“It's all pretty conceptual at the moment, but it's essentially about happiness. It's written from the point of view of a teenage boy and it's pretty satirical,” I explained. I'd just said more about my novel to Ville, who I'd known for less than a day, than to anyone else, including Dani.

He smiled and nodded. “Sounds fun, I'd be keen to have a read of it.”

I blushed. “It's not exactly anything ground breaking and if I don't manage to nail some actual philosophy in it it'll just turn into something pulpy and rubbish.”

“Now, what was that I said about modesty?” he asked sternly.

I smiled, feeling a rush of warmth through my body. If someone had told me that I'd be walking through Helsinki having a conversation about writing with Ville Valo; who was one of my favourite lyricists I'd have said they were mad.

“Unfortunately, I've hit a bit of a block with my writing,” Ville said with a sigh “Have you ever tried writing lyrics?”

I frowned. “No, but I'm told it has a lot of the same concepts as poetry? I think I'd struggle though because I'm completely musically retarded, unfortunately.”

Ville chuckled at my turn of phrase but nodded. “Yeah, not too dissimilar from poetry. With the help of someone who is musical you'd probably still stand a chance. I mean, Jyrki doesn't really play an instrument and he writes all their lyrics. I'm not exactly a virtuoso either.”

“I guess so,” I replied “To be honest, I've never really thought about it before.”

“Have you had any poetry published?”

I nodded. “A series of haiku and a children's poem. Nothing too dramatic, but I wouldn't mind expanding the haiku to a full collection.”

“That's all pretty different stuff,” he said with a smile.

“Yeah, I like trying different types of writing. Like I said, it really is a hobby. I edit other people's novels for a living. You have no idea how hard it is to not unintentionally plagiarise after doing that for so long,” I said with a laugh.

He laughed at that as well. “I'll bet.”

I realised that we were almost at the hotel. A sad sort of feeling settled over me because I realised that it meant our conversation would have to be over.

“Jyrki said you were reading Dante,” Ville's voice startled me from my moping.

“Oh, he did? Well. It's true. Not that he'd lie about that. It'd make no sense to at all. Sorry. I'm rambling,” I finished apologetically.

Ville laughed again and I found myself smiling once more at his dorky, yet adorable, giggle. “Do you read a lot of classic literature?”

“Yeah, it was one of my majors in Uni, actually. I love being able to get a sense of the time and society through the novels,” I said sincerely.

“Me too. Finnish literature, the classics anyway, is pretty interesting stuff. There's an exhibit on at the museum here in Helsinki for the next week. You should check it out.”

I smiled. “I might do that. Hopefully my limited Finnish will get me through it okay.”

Ville shrugged. “That's why I'll be there to translate.”

My heart fluttered for a moment before my smile turned a little sad. I doubted there had been sincerity in his voice. Tonight had been immensely fun and I'd relaxed and socialised more than I ever thought possible. I hadn't just been hanging out with rockstars, but with genuinely beautiful people- inside and out.

I had to be realistic though. I'd met Jyrki just yesterday and the others today. I doubted I would hear from them or see them again. I'd heard that both bands, but the 69 Eyes especially, are very social with their fans and I figured tonight had just been another product of this. I didn't mind, though. It'd been pretty special.

I looked up and saw my hotel in front of us. I sighed lightly.

“Thanks for walking me back, Ville,” I smiled.

“It's fine, love. Thanks for the chat,” he gave me a hug and smiled back at me.

“Goodnight, Ville,” before turning to walk inside.

“Sweet dreams, Estelle. I'll see you again soon.”

When I was inside the building I had an overwhelming urge to stamp my foot and throw a tantrum like a 3 year old. He would not see me again soon. Unless he had superhuman vision and somehow managed to spot me in the crowds at Ruisrock, chances are he'd never lay eyes on me again. His politeness and parting words were just frustrating to me, because it fuelled an unhealthy hope.

I'd felt accepted and comfortable tonight but I knew that I could never possible be a part of their world, and thus never really be a close friend to them. And besides, I was leaving Finland in less than 2 weeks and moving to London. They were closer than Australia and Finland, sure, but far enough away to impact on a friendship with a world famous, very busy rockstar.

Regardless of that, however, I was content. Most people would never get to meet the people they most admired, their favourite bands and I had. So it was hard to feel too disappointed. I also felt inspired.

I made my way up to my room and changed out of my dress and boots and slipped on some comfy pyjamas and slippers instead. I took my laptop from its case and set it up on the desk in the room. I made myself a cup of tea and sat down in front of it. I still had quite a bit of energy and was determined to make the most of it.

Opening a blank Word document I poised my fingers over the keys and sighed.

“Right, let's give these lyrics a crack, then,” I said to myself aloud before beginning to type.

Once I'd started I found that the words just flew onto the page easily. I couldn't shake the feeling that I was just writing a poem, but it didn't matter. The fact of the matter is that I was writing.

What I'd failed to mention to Ville was that the reason I decided to come overseas to write (which was a question I was surprised to not be asked) is because after a year of trying to write in Australia I'd come up with nothing. I had absolutely no ideas. Every time I sat down to write I ended up just staring at the paper/laptop screen and, inevitably, began doodling heartagrams and ankhs instead.

I'd only been in Finland for two days and overseas for around a month and I'd already written two complete poems/songs. I grinned to myself, a full genuine grin and kept going.

I didn't care that I'd probably never see them again or that many people wouldn't believe me meeting the bands and hanging out with them, joking around or that I wouldn't even bother telling them about it. I'd already gotten more from my trip to Finland than I thought possible.

I was stoked.