Emma Järvinen

Longyearbyen is by far most the most memorable town where I have stayed in. A town filled with mine workers with their families, adventure guides and scientists. The daily life in Longyearbyen evolved around work, grocery shopping at the only supermarket in the city centre, lunch at cafe Fruene and the two options for after-work beer, Svalbard or Kroa. Every day had the same pace: 8 o'clock meeting, pre-flight, lunch if not flying (always the Serrano-ham sandwich), post-fligh

It is often so that one thinks that there's enough free time in a field campaign to update one's blog and to be up to date in the social media. In every campaign I go with the mentality to do my best outreach ever but quickly realise that the actual scientific work is taking all of my attention. I first thought to write my stories down immediately after the campaign but the first weeks went in some kind of blur. Excitement and stress changed into exhaustion and rather than do

After months of preparation I got to change my office clothes to a screaming orange immersion suit and spend almost four hours in cold, unpressurised and loud propeller machine over the most remote Arctic. I took off with the knowledge that if something goes wrong, I'll find myself either on the arctic ice pack miles from any civilisation, or worst, floating in the northern Atlantic. Adventure in the name of science. The goal of the mission was to reach to solid sea ice pack

Exhibition in the Arctic can be dangerous. Cold, ice and predators leave little room for human errors. Seeing a polar bear is something many hopes when traveling to arctic but an encounter with one might be your last. A typical scientist won't ever see a polar bear live, especially if working at towns, like Longyearbyen. Yet, the climate change and the diminishing ice sheets are driving polar bears closer to human habitats - and those bears are curios animals. Sometimes encou