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“I was stunned,” Nga says. “In Vietnam, a man would immediately rush to help in a situation like that.”

Three years ago Nga, now 36, decided to quit her job as an HR director in Ho Chi Minh City and move to Finland with her daughter to study education while her daughter enrolled in third grade.

A week after arriving she met Vainio, a naval officer a year her senior, at a friend’s birthday party. Their relationship started off somewhat “out of sync,” she says. He would text Nga in the morning, then disappear in the evening, or reply tersely and then go silent. Used to the voluble style of Vietnamese men, she assumed he was not serious and deleted his contact.

Three months later, on Christmas Day, Vainio unexpectedly messaged her: “Do you remember me?” At the time she was bedridden with a high fever due to COVID-19. Learning this he drove nearly 100 kilometers to bring her medicine.

When they met he asked her why she had stopped replying to his messages. She candidly explained Vietnamese cultural norms, where men typically pursue and court women.

Vainio said in Finland it does not matter who takes the initiative, and that his work often makes constant texting impossible.

“Also in my country, people stay silent when there’s nothing urgent to discuss,” he explained. “It’s a way to think, listen and connect with nature around you.”

For the first time Nga realized that silence can also be a form of communication.

As they grew to understand each other, they began dating, but the cultural differences were often stark. The biggest shock was that Finnish women often shoveled snow, changed tires and repaired cars themselves, tasks she found overwhelming.

After a few failed attempts to get his help, one day when her low-clearance car got stuck in the snow, she had to tell Vainio plainly: “I want you to help.”

Cultural differences surfaced again six months into their relationship when Vainio suggested they move in together without getting married.

“Love is between two people, it doesn’t need to be validated by marriage,” he claimed.

But for Nga, raised in a culture that values family, living together before marriage was unacceptable, and he accepted her explanation.

“I’ll do things that make you feel comfortable,” he told her.

But he later also told her that at times he was confused by their differences. Things only became clearer during his first trip to Vietnam.

“At home, even as an adult, she is pampered by her parents and younger brother, unlike me, who was taught independence from a young age,” he says. “I realized she wanted help not out of weakness, but as a way to feel love.”

While visiting her family, he embraced local customs, rolling up his pants above the ankles to sit on the floor, awkwardly held chopsticks and carrying trays, making everyone laugh.

“When I told him about our national history and took him to honor fallen heroes, he quickly learned how to bow,” Nga says.

Ort. 2024. Photo courtesy of that

In Oct. 2024 they held their wedding in Finland. Before the ceremony he asked her about how household finances are managed in Vietnam.

“In Vietnamese culture, a husband usually gives his entire salary to his wife,” she told him. “Even if I can be financially independent, being trusted with the finances makes me feel valued.”

In Finland, couples are financially equal, contributing according to agreed proportions, with each spending their own money. But Vainio agreed to do the Vietnamese thing.

They are both introverted and have a love of nature, she says, and talks about one early date when he took her ice fishing to a river.

“It was freezing, but we’d catch fish and release them. Feeling so connected to nature was magical.”

When Vainio is on army duty, she and her daughter stay in Turku in southwest Finland. When he has days off, they all head to Pyhämaa, a coastal village 100 kilometers away, where he enjoys boating, fishing and hunting and she gathers wildflowers, berries and mushrooms. Every year the family spends a month vacationing in Vietnam or Lapland in northern Finland, Vainio’s homeland.

After three years Nga now understands that Nordic people dislike noise, avoid bothering others and value personal space. Conversely, Vainio has learned Vietnamese culture, practicing taking the initiative in the relationship, “being a breadwinner” and caring for his wife and her child.

One recent afternoon, in their new home, Vainio held his wife and gazed out the window. Outside, the sun shone on green grass and blossoming apple trees, heavy with fruit.

He whispered to his wife: “I’ll do everything so that one day you feel Finland is your home too.”

Love transcends cultural barriers between a Vietnamese wife and a Finnish husband