Stranger Danger in One of the World’s Worst Hostels
I met Viivi two years ago in one of the world’s worst hostels.
A sad and sunken place a short drive from HEL International Airport in Helsinki, Finland.
Viivi appeared less than 24 hours after I witnessed police corruption and collusion in HEL. When Timo Luoto and his airport police officers worked overtime to help Romanian criminals, Nicholae Florin Lautaru and his girlfriend, flee the country.
At the airport police station, I confronted Timo Luoto and asked why the criminals — whom I had caught redhanded, live on video, with some of my stolen luggage — weren’t being charged and questioned about the location of my stolen and still missing suitcase.
As the victim and an American journalist, the more I questioned Timo about victim’s rights and police procedures in Finland, the more his voice rose in frustration. And anger.
“Where are you staying?” he kept asking me.
A question I refused to answer.
For now it was glaringly clear to me that Timo and his gun toting thugs were fully dedicated to shielding and protecting the thieves, criminals and — as my investigative reporting would later uncover — the child traffickers operating freely in HEL Airport’s rental car parking garage.
Where no inner cameras were allowed.
Viivi appeared mere hours after I started posting viral videos of the criminals and their police protection on social media.
What a coinkidink!!
She was short and stout, like a mother hen, with thin blonde hair, rosy cheeks and a bubbly personality.
Viivi told me she was a solo mom to a teenage daughter, with whom she was very close.
Though she would be sad when her daughter inevitably flew the coop, she was looking forward to traveling the world; and maybe even relocating to a country that was warmer and friendlier than Finland.
Viivi also told me she worked in social services and lived in the suburbs, about an hour’s drive outside of Helsinki.
“So why,” I asked, “are you staying in this crappy hostel?”
To understand just how crappy that hostel was, picture a grim and grimy dive bar with a lodging annex filled with Eastern European men. The men were tired, immigrant day laborers who drank vodka, smoked chimneys, and kept to themselves. A ray of sunshine this place was not.
Other than the female staff who worked during the day, I was the only woman there, staying in a women only room. I had only been there one night when Viivi magically appeared.
Why was I there?
I was trying to save money while staying close to the airport and its corrupt police station.
I was robbed in HEL the week before, the very day I arrived in Finland, when Nicholae Florin Lautaru and his girlfriend drove away in my rental car — from HEL Airport’s rental car parking garage where no inner cameras were allowed — with my luggage and film equipment inside. (They returned a week later to fly out with my most expensive items.)
So not only did I have to stay in Finland much longer than I had planned and budgeted, but I had to buy new clothes, new toiletries, the works.
Why was Viivi staying there?
Was she flying out of HEL the next day? Viivi shook her head no.
“I’m meeting friends downtown to watch a movie tomorrow afternoon,” she said.
Say what now?
“I didn’t want to drive in traffic tomorrow. So I decided to come down tonight and have an adventurous night out. It’s my first time staying in a hostel!”
Of all the hostels in all of Helsinki, you just so happened to walk into this one? A crappy one. In the middle of nothing. Located nowhere near the city center.
“You couldn’t stay the night with one of your friends?” I asked.
“Oh no, we don't do that in Finland,” she replied, her breath aghast.
Granted, that region of the world does have a reputation for being pretty cold and inhospitable, even to child playmates come dinnertime. But choosing to sleep in one of the world’s worst hostels instead of your friend’s abode… that sounded pretty icy to me.
Not just icy… nonsensical.
And unbelievable.
No local woman in her right mind would stay in this sad and sunken place unless something bad had happened to her. Or, she was ordered to do so.
Though her story made zero sense, with a twinkle in her eye and a bubbly grin, Viivi was sticking to it.
HEL or high water.
But that day wasn’t my first day around the sun. I left that crappy hostel the next morning and never returned.
Before we parted ways, Viivi really wanted to take a photo with me.
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