Alia Santini has a Master’s degree in Intercultural  Leadership and lives in San Francisco.

Before I arrived in Finland I was given a few tips on what to expect here – increasingly cold, dark days, a safe and pristine city, and a population of people who have the tendency not to fill space with unnecessary words. As someone who goes out of their way to avoid small talk, my initial thought was, “Perfect, I’ll fit right in.”

My experience with what I’ll call “Finnish silence” started with the Night of the Arts – an annual event that draws thousands of people from Helsinki and the surrounding areas to watch a row of helium-filled sea creatures fly across the nighttime sky. I followed the crowds to the Helsinki cathedral, the final stop on the parade route, where at least one-third of Finland had gathered to watch the giant balloons float through the summer sky. It was a beautiful sight – the white church in the background, the not-quite-dark evening light and the sea creatures dangling in the air, but what struck me most of all was the silence. Despite all the fanfare – whales in the sky, fireworks exploding and people everyone – there was a palpable tranquility among the crowd as they observed the spectacle.

I am not a particularly loud person. I have been known to shout out a “bravo” at the end of a theatre performance, gasp at a surprising movie scene or cheer on a sports team, but my encounter with Finnish silence has spilled over to other venues. I attended the theatre a few weeks ago and when the final curtain fell and the applause began, I almost let out a “yahoo”, which a typical thing to yell at the end of theatre performances in the US. Observing my fellow theatre-goers, there was no yelling, no “encore!” or even talking after the show. The crowd clearly enjoyed the performance but chose to express their gratitude in quiet and disciplined clapping.

I had a similar experience at the movies. Most of the crowd continued to watch the full set of credits at the end of the film and then exit the theatre little more than a dull whisper. I had to resist the urge to scream out, “Hey, what did you think about the movie?” to fill the uncomfortable void, but this complex relationship to silence began to fascinate me. In a world where it is so easy to fill space with empty words and other loud activities, the Finns have chosen on occasion to let that space exist and to savour it.

There is a Chinese proverb that says: “Your speech should be better than silence, if is it not, be silent.” I think the Finns would agree. For the duration of my time in Finland, I will practice a more quiet existence. I will not shout in the streets or yell in the theatre. I will clap quietly yet enthusiastically, but not fill space with words to escape the discomfort of a long pause between sentences or an awkward moment. It is in that silence that something else can take place – a chance to think, to be present with the people you are with in a different way and experience a slowing down of pace. I definitely think I have something to learn from being in Finland – how to talk less and say more.