It is only slightly less awkward, I discover, when Aksel is around to introduce his friends to me. On Sunday, the day after we visit Sibelius Park – Lumi was right, it was beautiful, and the monument had been intriguing to look at – I meet the group of Aksel's closest friends.

Finns don't have very large social circles, Aksel has told me. Since it's not the norm to interact much with strangers in daily life, Finns tend to stick to the people they already know – from school, work, or friends of friends. And for Aksel, his main group of friends now are from his university days. He has told me that, ironically, they weren't very close when they had still been at uni. Aksel had known only Janne from his classes. After graduation, they had run into each other in Helsinki quite by chance and gotten around to talking. Janne had told Aksel about a couple of others who had also moved here from Oulu. They'd all met up for a drink, and that had been that.

My first impression of them is that they're all tall and very typically Finn. I'm even starting to wonder if there are any Finns around that are not blue-eyed. Even though Helsinki, being the capital city, has quite a diverse population, it still seems to me that most of the people here – those of Finnish heritage, at least – fit this light-haired, blue-eyed stereotype.

Though Aksel's friends may all look typically Finnish, they have greatly differing personalities. Other than Lumi and Janne, there are two others: Aliisa and Matias. While Matias falls more into the reserved category that Finns tend to be known for, Aliisa is the complete opposite of every stereotype I've heard about the Finns.

Her first question, upon laying eyes on me, is, "So are you German or are you Asian?"

"Aliisa!" Lumi chides.

Aliisa is still looking expectantly at me, so I answer her. "I'm both."

"Aha." Her eyes run over my features unabashedly. She is scrutinising me, and being completely unselfconscious about it. "Well, you look more Asian. Kind of Chinese?"

That assessment is nothing new, but I am more than slightly annoyed. "I'm from Germany. I'm German." And even the Asian part of me isn't exactly Chinese – it's Singaporean. The majority of Singaporeans may have Chinese ancestry, but calling them Chinese would be like calling Americans Europeans. There is a huge difference.

She shrugs, like she doesn't care. And I suppose she doesn't – it's not like my identity matters much to her personally. "If you say so."

I dislike Aliisa within five minutes of having met her.

As I descend into a sullen silence, Aksel shakes his head. "Be nice, Liisa."

Aliisa tosses her hair. "I am being nice. I'm making small talk."

Janne raises his eyebrows at her. "Are you a real Finn? What is this 'making small talk'?"

Aliisa rolls her eyes. "You are the reason people think Finns are stupid."

"You need some lessons in appropriate topics for small talk," Janne counters.

"What's inappropriate about asking about someone's nationality?" Aliisa challenges.

"Aliisa," Lumi repeats, sounding exasperated this time.

Aksel cracks a smile. He pulls me into his side, slinging a casual arm around my shoulders. "Look, don't bug her about it. She's from Germany."

They are all obviously very close. And watching the way Aksel acts around them, I can see that it's very different from what I saw in Edinburgh, or the way he is when it's just the two of us, or when he meets my friends in Hamburg. This is a side to Aksel that I've never seen.

But even after Aksel speaks up, Aliisa isn't done. "Yeah? Aren't Germans supposed to be loud, beer-guzzling, and obnoxious? She's quiet as a mouse."

I want to say something scathing about Finnish stereotypes, but I bite my tongue. I am in Finland. I am surrounded by Finns. Aksel, the guy I live with, the guy with the steady weight of his arm around me, giving me wordless support, is a Finn. I can't retaliate. I don't want to offend all his friends in one fell swoop. And, most of all, I don't want to hurt Aksel.

So I swallow my indignance and simply shrug. "Must be the demure Asian blood in me," I say, a little sarcastically. "Dilutes all that beer-guzzling Germanness."

Aliisa looks vaguely impressed. "Not that mouse-like, I see," she revises her opinion of me. And suddenly, I get the feeling that her belligerence may have been a test of some sort.

I have no idea if I've passed the test.

"Aliisa," Lumi sighs for the third time.

"Aren't Finns supposed to be tongue-tied around strangers?" Janne asks, in a startling show of support. Or maybe he just likes riling Aliisa up. He seems to enjoy contradicting everything she says. "You're talking way too much."

"I can't help it if I'm gregarious," Aliisa declares.

I wonder, privately, if she really knows what the word means. And then I feel petty for thinking such a mean thought. All of them – even Aliisa – are speaking in English for my sake. They're very, very good at English, but it is always easier to speak in your native tongue when with close friends. They're going out of their way to make me feel included. I should be grateful for that.

"Enough," says Matias, speaking up for the first time. I notice that, when he speaks, everyone stops to listen. Maybe it's true, what they say – the quieter you are usually, the more attention people pay you when you finally decide to speak. It was true of Aksel in Edinburgh, too. "Let's go. It's cold and I'm hungry."

"Where are we going?" Janne asks. For some reason, everyone swivels their head to look at me. As usual, my neck begins to freeze up under so much scrutiny. My left hand, instinctively, creeps up and latches onto the back of Aksel's shirt. He must've felt the tug of my hand, because his arm tightens around my shoulder.

"We've mostly been having Finnish food lately," he says, looking briefly down at me. "Maybe something else?"

"Why don't you choose, Emilie?" Lumi says to me. She means well, but I hate making decisions like this. Especially when there are so many people around. It's not that easy to find a solution that everyone will be happy with.

"I don't know... Where is there to go around here?" I ask uncomfortably.

"There's a Mexican place just around the corner," Janne says.

"There's Ekkon's, too," Aliisa adds.

"But that's Finnish food, isn't it?" Janne points out. "I thought we were looking for alternatives?"

Aliisa makes a face. "Ekkon's is still the best restaurant around here, though."

"Finnish food is fine," I say quickly, before it drags out into an argument.

"Or," Lumi suggests, "I know this great sushi place, too, if you'd prefer that."

"No, we don't have to. Sushi isn't really my thing." I try to shrug nonchalantly. "I hate rice. I don't really like these Asian things."

Everyone, even Aliisa, looks gobsmacked by my little announcement. I try not to bite my lip or shift into a defensive posture.

Lumi speaks up finally, "Well... What kind of food you prefer then?"

"Meat," I say, over-loudly, "and potatoes... Beer."

"Well, well, well," Aliisa says, looking curiously at me. "I guess you are German, after all."

"Beer," Aksel repeats in a curiously flat voice. I refuse to look at him. I can guess, well enough, the look on his face – the same expression that he gets every time he sees me drinking.

"Ekkon's, then?" Lumi looks around to gauge the others' reactions. Nobody objects, so she shrugs and declares, "All right, then, Ekkon's it is."

"All right," Aliisa says, striding ahead, "I want stew!"

The others walk on ahead and I make to follow, stepping out from under the arm Aksel has around me. But he catches me by the waist and lowers his head to speak in my ear. "What are you doing?" he asks. "You love sushi."

I pull away from him, eyes downcast.

Aksel grabs my hand from behind as I try to walk away from him. "Emilie?"

I try to tug my hand out of his, but he is holding on too tightly. "We have to go," I say, still not looking at him.

"We'll catch up with them."

"They'll be wondering where we are–"

"Emilie," he murmurs, cutting me off. That's not fair. He knows I can't resist if he says my name like that, like it's barely separated from the breath he exhales.

I finally turn to look at him. His eyes are lighter than the colour of the sky today.

"Potatoes?" he asks. "Because it makes you feel more German?"

I smile wryly. He always sees right through me.

"No," I correct him nonetheless. "The potato isn't the most popular vegetable in Germany anymore, you know? It's the tomato now." I hesitate, wondering if I should say this next bit. "But, well... The potato is still the most popular vegetable for Germans living abroad."

Odd. Maybe all the other Germans living abroad had felt the need to hold onto their identity through the stereotypes as well.

Aksel is silent for a moment. "So you feel like you need to conform to the stereotype?"

"I like potatoes," I defend myself. "It has nothing to do with stereotypes."

"Emilie..." His voice is almost a sigh. I can almost hear him thinking the question he doesn't voice: Why do you always do this?

"I'm German, too," I mutter.

"Nobody thinks you're not."

I shake my head, pressing my lips together.

Aksel, as always, seems to know where my mind has gone. "She doesn't mean anything by it. It's just the way she is."

"Who?" I pretend not to know what he is talking about.

But his eyes are knowing. "Aliisa. What she said bothers you, doesn't it? But she doesn't mean it. She just doesn't think before she speaks."

I bite my lip and don't answer.

Aksel is still watching me. For a moment I think he's either going to say more or let go of me and walk ahead. But then he sighs and entwines his fingers more securely with mine. He dips his head down to speak softly near my ear. "Hey, if potatoes and beer can make you feel more yourself here... Why not?"

He starts walking again, stopping to look back when I don't immediately follow. He doesn't rush me; just stands there, our hands still linked in between our bodies, waiting patiently for me.

I squeeze his hand, my throat full of emotions that I can't voice. This man... He may not always understand my actions, but he understands me. And no matter how ridiculous he sometimes finds it, he always gives me just what I need.

As I start walking again, the words tumble out of me, unbidden. "I love you."

My voice is in a whisper, but he hears me. I feel him squeeze my hand, and hear the smile in his voice when he whispers back, "I love you, too."