Baby it's cold outside

NUDITY, according to the guidebook, is optional - but my choice to wear a towel left me in a minority of one. It isn't my naked body, but the fact that I am covering it up, which is drawing attention to me. As I slip on my baby blue towelling robe, provided when you hand over the (euros)11 entrance fee, I suspect the lack of belt with which to close it and hide one's modesty is a calculated omission.

After all, this is Finland, a country where British prudishness is much more likely to raise an eyebrow than the odd flash of flesh. The Yrjonkatu Uimahalli, or swimming hall, is the oldest indoor pool in Helsinki. First opened in 1928, it is a sumptuous Romanesque bath house with wood- burning saunas, steam rooms and scores of naked men lounging on beds, playing cards and reading newspapers.

The sauna is integral to Finnish culture and not just a place to get a good scrub. To a Finn, a sauna is somewhere to socialise, drink beer, unwind, eat food, but generally not a place for romantic encounters. In fact, they are quite strict about the non-sexual nature of the sauna bath. At least, that's the official line. The truth is on men-only days the Yrjonkatu feels ever-so-slightly cruisey.

After shedding my Scottish inhibitions, and clothes, I go for a naked wander around the pool before plunging into the water for a few lengths. Swimming costumes were actually banned at this pool until only three years ago, and even now it is terribly unfashionable to cover up. But there is a trade off; there are as many toned young blond Finns doing backstroke in the pool as there are overweight, gouty old men in the steam room.

After my dip I retire to one of the 'private' booths (none have doors) lining the side of the pool to lie back on my bed while a waitress brings a beer and something unpronounceable from the menu, which turns out to be a fried egg on top of a steak and a piece of toasted bread.

To me, this is the most Bacchanalian of experiences, but in Helsinki it's just a typical Saturday afternoon. Finland is an odd, often overlooked, place, tucked away on the northern fringe of Europe. It's a sort of Arctic Poland: subjugated for so long by powerful neighbours on both sides, it is now fiercely proud of its independence.

But its identity has been obscured by so much outside influence, most evident in the city's buildings which are a mixture of European, Scandinavian and Russian styles. Culturally, the Finns share a lot with their Scandinavian neighbours. Attitudes towards sex are liberal, equality is embedded in the national psyche (75 of the Finnish parliament's 200 MPs are women), and there is a sound, shared sense of justice. After all, this is a country where criminal fines are based on the offenders' income, resulting in one millionaire businessman being fined (pounds) 65,000 for speeding.

Helsinki may be a capital city within the European Union, but the biting Baltic air and Russian architecture remind you that St Petersburg and Moscow are only a train journey away and Tallin, the Estonian capital, can be reached in just 18 minutes by helicopter.

Attitudes towards homosexuality are relaxed, same-sex partnerships were approved by parliament in 2001 and Helsinki is somewhere where the sight of two men or two women walking hand in hand down a busy street will go more or less unnoticed. There is no gay ghetto as such, largely because the city is so small, and gay clubs are spread evenly around the town. Dtm on Iso Roobertinkatu is the throbbing, day-glo pink heart of the city and the largest gay club in Scandinavia. Unlike the gay ghettos of Scotland, clubs here attract their fair share of straight clientele and have a more mainstream feel, especially Dtm.

Spread over three floors incorporating a terrace, cafe, bar and two nightclubs, it is jam-packed with beautiful blond Nordic boys at weekends, and, unlike the scenes in Edinburgh and Glasgow, there is a sizeable and visible lesbian element. If on a weekend break, then it is the must-visit club on the scene. Worth avoiding is Con Hombres on Eerikinkatu which plays excruciatingly painful Europop and where the crowd is older, the corners darker, and the overall atmosphere more intimidating. Hercules on Lonnrotinkatu, while being much smaller than Dtm, is no less lively.

Thanks to Nokia, Finland was the first country in the world where mobile phone ownership reached saturation point and the wealth generated by the company's global dominance is reflected in Helsinki's boutiques and restaurants. Stockmans, Finland's answer to Harrods, dominates the main thoroughfare through the city but more interesting are the scores of funky boutiques and stores selling minimalist Finnish interior design products. Marimekko, a favourite of Jackie Onassis on Etelaesplanadi, is en route to the harbour which is the perfect place to walk off a hangover.

While the rest of the world's coastal cities are sinking as sea levels rise, Helsinki, oddly, is rising. The Baltic is not tidal around the city and the land on which it is built is, after being compressed by billions of tonnes of ice for tens of thousands of years, now rising again at the rate of a few millimetres a year. Here, the harbour is dominated by the vast ferries and ice-breaking ships.