Two political beasts met up in Helsinki this summer. It was  time to evacuate. Sometimes you just have to take time off from everything. My partner in life and I decided to travel. Our first stop was the lake district of Central Finland.

The whys and whats of the Helsinki summit may forever remain obscure. This was no Disney movie; the beasts – also known as Trump and Putin – did not endear themselves to anyone.

Finland, however, decided to show its best face to all of us. While the beasts were enjoying Helsinki, we were enjoying the quiet beauty of our lakeside cottage.

While Trump joined Putin by the hip, leaving the world to cry chicken and worry about the spilt milk, we were enjoying the life work of one single woman: Anja’s park.

Anja’s park is a woman-made park near the city of Mikkeli. It’s a wonderfully crazy endeavour.

In addition to both beasties, chicken, and spilt milk, you get to enjoy a scarcely tamed, wannabe English park, with a dash of wild art thrown in.

This was a hopeful form of craziness unlike the one the beasties unleash on the world.

Hope was also available in other forms. While I am convinced that climate change is a reality and the pollution of our seas is getting out of hand, we ended up on the shore of one of the clearest and cleanest lakes that one could ever imagine. All is not lost.

The adaptability and resourcefulness of the locals gave us hope too. People are unbelievably adaptable to change – whether they like it or not.

We rented our summer cottage from a family of berry farmers. In addition to strawberry and raspberry fields and rental cottages, our hosts ran a summer cafe and a shop (with its own online website) selling high quality linen products.

So how does one expand from berry farming to linen products? It just takes some imagination. Our hosts explained that their mother used to spin linen yarns and colour them herself. This she did with such flair that people wanted to buy her yarns. Suddenly the family was in the linen business. Now the range has grown from yarns to cloth, towels and clothing. The production is outsourced to the Baltic countries, but the design and the shop remains in the hands of the family.

My return back to Helsinki and reality was jarring. There they were again, the good old beasties. Arguing about who said what at the Helsinki Summit, who poisoned who, how many Puerto Ricans died during Hurricane Maria, the list goes on.

Thank whoever for Bob Woodward. He finally explained it all to me. It’s not about facts or alternative facts. It’s just that facts don’t matter. Not to the beasties, not to their voters. We have been moving towards an era of fact-free politics for some time. Trump is the end result. Who needs facts – just feel your way through.

As far as I was concerned, it felt as if the world was in free fall. It was time to seek refuge again.

This time we steered towards our trusted retreat: Northern Italy. I have covered Piemonte in an earlier blog, so I will skip this year’s tour among the Barolo vineyards – an example of adaptability and survival themselves – and head to Venice.

Venice boggles the mind and sports its own type of crazy but it never fails to charm you in the end. Just check out some Venetian examples of adaptability:

As we struggled with our luggage over a bridge that could have been flat-surfaced to ease our way, but instead sported multiple steps up and down, we recognised that sometimes it makes sense to ensure that things are not too easy. Venice would have sunk under the tourist load, if that was the case. Now it barely manages to keep up with the flow.

Somehow I ended up feeling that if Venice can survive, we all have a chance.

All things come to an end – as did our travels for the time being.

Reality looked none the better after our brief Italian respite. Brexit is at a standstill, the far right is gaining support in the unlikeliest places all around Europe, and threats of tariffs and sanctions are flying freely between the US, China and Russia.

In addition, the world is struggling through its yearly dose of natural disasters.

Yet hope awaited us at home, this time in the form of my goddaughter’s wedding; a wedding full of youthful optimism and an eagerness to work together towards a better future for us all.

After my travels and an inspiring wedding, I feel hopeful. I will go with that feeling for a while. This does not mean that I subscribe to fact-free politics, but sometimes the facts can overwhelm you.

Its time to indulge in hope.