I had thought that this week would be a piece of cake—an exhil­a­rat­ing adven­ture, a worka­tion of sorts, tee­ter­ing some­where between a vaca­tion and a relaxed cof­fee break by the sea. But boy, was I wrong—it was­n’t as easy as it seemed.

As of next Mon­day, I’ll be on vaca­tion, and since the oppor­tu­ni­ty was ripe for the pick­ing, my wife and I took off to Helsin­ki a week ear­ly. My employ­er is open to the idea of work­ing remote­ly with­in the EU, and I decid­ed it was high time to take advan­tage of that. Work­ing in the city that I love the most—it sound­ed like a dream. I paint­ed the pic­ture in the most vivid col­ors imag­in­able: cof­fee breaks with cin­na­mon buns and a sea view, a jog along the water­front in-between, and strolling through the city after work, din­ing out, soak­ing up the sum­mer atmos­phere and the Nordic light.

It wasn’t as romantic as I had imagined

Real­i­ty, how­ev­er, had dif­fer­ent plans. While my wife had the free­dom to do all of that, I spent the first two days cooped up in our room between the bed and the bath­room, frus­trat­ed and star­ing at my lap­top on a small table. I kept think­ing about all the things I was miss­ing out on. I mean, here I was in Helsin­ki, our city! Out­side, seag­ulls were screech­ing, cruise ships were blow­ing their foghorns, and I was stuck inside work­ing. Yes, our evenings were relaxed. We went to the movies, cooked pas­ta with cray­fish, and vis­it­ed exhi­bi­tions, but on the whole, it was­n’t as roman­tic as I had imagined.

After two days, I decid­ed to shake things up—and in ret­ro­spect, I can’t believe it took me so long. I mean, I had every­thing I need­ed right under my nose. We had delib­er­ate­ly cho­sen an apart­ment over a con­ven­tion­al hotel for the first week of our stay in Fin­land. The com­plex had a restau­rant, com­mu­ni­ty rooms, a gym, a sauna, and co-work­ing spaces. There was even the city library, Oodi, right in the city cen­ter, offer­ing work­spaces, meet­ing rooms, a café, and dozens of craft facilities—from 3D print­ers to sewing machines. Yet, I had cho­sen to stay in the room. Why? I could­n’t tell you.

But as the third day dawned, I made the con­scious deci­sion to move my oper­a­tions to the co-work­ing area. Sur­round­ed by start­up founders and tran­sient man­agers, work sud­den­ly took on a new dimen­sion. In a spa­cious, loft-like office, a young man lay on the couch mak­ing calls. Across from him sat a young entre­pre­neur dis­cussing mar­ket oppor­tu­ni­ties with her co-founder. In a meet­ing room, a group of peo­ple hud­dled over a lap­top. Terms like «rev­enue» and «val­ue propo­si­tion» float­ed in the air. Despite the seem­ing­ly stressed young man on the couch, the atmos­phere was invig­o­rat­ing. I booked a room for myself and could final­ly focus on the tasks at hand, undis­turbed. Resource plan­ning, staff meet­ings, appli­ca­tions. And just like that, worka­tion start­ed to feel pret­ty good.

Sud­den­ly, one of the issues often asso­ci­at­ed with workation—the feel­ing of isolation—had dis­solved. I was no longer alone in Helsin­ki, while «every­one else out there» was hav­ing fun and enjoy­ing the city. I was now sur­round­ed by peo­ple who were also work­ing. More­over, I was in a des­ig­nat­ed work­space, not a small table wedged between a bed and a bath­room, but in an office with a white­board and mon­i­tor. It made me eager to exper­i­ment. On an after­noon free from meet­ings, I spent a cou­ple of hours at Oodi. Although it was bustling—from gig­gling teenagers to chat­ter­ing seniors to work­ing free­lancers and crafty hobbyists—the atmos­phere was inspiring.

Ready to enjoy what this city had to offer

More­over, I struc­tured the remain­ing three days more clear­ly. I sched­uled meet­ings back-to-back, cre­at­ing blocks of time with­in which I could con­scious­ly insert breaks. Breaks for cof­fee with cin­na­mon buns. Breaks for a jog along the sea. And at the end of each work­day, I felt like I had tru­ly clocked out. Ready to enjoy what this city had to offer.

«I was no longer alone in Helsin­ki, while ‹every­one else out there› was hav­ing fun and enjoy­ing the city. I was now sur­round­ed by peo­ple who were also working.»

How­ev­er, until the last day, I was left with an odd feel­ing. Although worka­tion is offi­cial­ly and well-man­aged at our com­pa­ny, and col­leagues trans­par­ent­ly dis­cuss their plans to work a week at their vaca­tion des­ti­na­tion, it felt strange to reveal in meet­ings that I was in Helsin­ki. As if I were lever­ag­ing some unfair advan­tage, as if I need­ed to wor­ry about my col­leagues being jeal­ous. But that was not the case, quite the oppo­site. Every­one to whom I men­tioned my worka­tion was curi­ous, inter­est­ed, approv­ing, excit­ed. Yet, this feel­ing lin­gered until the last day. Maybe the phe­nom­e­non is still too new, maybe it needs more time to set­tle and estab­lish. But at the very least, I can say this: with a bit of plan­ning, reflec­tion, and flex­i­bil­i­ty, worka­tion is a reward­ing expe­ri­ence. And I’m grate­ful for the oppor­tu­ni­ty to have had it. But now I’m swap­ping worka­tion for vaca­tion, it’s high time to hit pause and recharge. My work will wait.