Chapel Market

Wedding in Mesoropi

2009-06-08T08:04:00.000-07:00

Beredskapens kvinner

2009-03-12T07:19:00.000-07:00

Sist veke var eg observatør på Sivilforsvaret si redningsøving med beltevogner på Hemsedalsfjellet. Ein rar ting å bruke laurdagen sin på, seier du? Kanskje det, men sjå no kven som skal vere observatør neste gong...

Fakkeltog

2009-01-10T09:59:00.000-08:00

Getting up for Gaza

2009-01-10T09:32:00.000-08:00

How on earth does one do anything for children whose houses have been bombed? For terrified grannies? For the injured and maimed? It's hard, really, from far away. But it was hard to refuse the invitation to do one 24th of a vigil for Gaza (needless to say, getting up and facing the cold was a little bit tough too) (relatively speaking)...

Skiing in minus 12

2009-01-10T08:51:00.000-08:00

Hermaning

2008-12-04T02:16:00.000-08:00

Hermaning: verb (Nor.): the action of dwelling at Café Herman in Leikanger, involving intense enjoyment of high-quality food and/or beverages

Welcome back

2008-08-02T16:08:00.000-07:00

And the blog is back!

2008-07-23T05:28:00.000-07:00

What a pitiful excuse for a summer it is! The blog has decided to return to provide entertainment to all those who suffer from gray summer day depressions. Stay put.

Life is good

2008-04-28T12:20:00.000-07:00

How could a day at work possibly get any more fascinating than afterski beer-drinking in the sunshine with a furry wolf, nice colleagues and tai chi entertainment?

Flagg & fjell

2008-04-28T12:17:00.000-07:00

Rødflette & ulven

2008-04-28T12:14:00.001-07:00

Nansen mistar to bein

2008-04-28T12:11:00.001-07:00

Nansen goes wild sheep

2008-04-28T12:09:00.001-07:00

A Fjord Dip in April

2008-04-28T11:52:00.000-07:00

Proof: I do ski

2008-04-28T11:47:00.000-07:00

Velkommen, Olve!

2008-04-28T11:39:00.000-07:00

Krudle har laga ein heilt perfekt, liten beibi som heiter Olve.

Alt som 0-åring bestemte han seg for å vere med på Kjeringi Open på Leikanger. Det lovar godt for friluftskarrieren!

Trude frå Tripoli

2008-04-28T11:35:00.000-07:00

Denne dama hadde definitivt trent før dei knipsa ho til dologoen. Det kan òg hende ho hadde opparbeidd seg eit skikkeleg raserianfall etter at nokon tukla med den nedste delen av kroppen hennar. Fy skam!

Sudanese Wedding

2008-04-02T14:32:00.000-07:00

What wedding? Where? If you are wondering what this is all about...

....read everything about the mysteries of Easter here

The weather is no excuse not to go to Oslo

2008-02-26T13:12:00.000-08:00

Urban weekends come at a high price in peripheral Norway. Meet a national specialty: "kolonnekøyring".

It was clearly not meant to be. As time drew closer to Friday, the weather forecasts grew grimmer. "Stay at home on Friday"! "You should have a good reason to try and cross the mountain on Friday". Simone's stubborn insistence on driving there herself, come what may, was transformed into preparedness planning, to the point where the car trunk filled up with sleeping bags, blankets, woolen sweaters, digging equipment and hot drinks. Then - wisely - we decided to go for the bus, and made it accross the closed mountain pass road while a couple of hundred cars were held back. For the first time, a 7-hour bus ride seemed immensely comfortable.

Super-efficient Simone decides to work.

Idle Idi decides to interrupt.

So does Gard, on his way to a weekend of psycho drama workshops.

Our struggles to get there were rewarded with endless amounts of winter sunshine along Akerselva.

Former factory building at Sagene, now featuring sun shades

Possibly someone with a cold bum.

Simone, that is illegal!

Quick rest at the leather repair man's...

...on an inflated spotted cow's hide!

Mirror basket Sunniva

Candle me

Waterloo foot bridge

2008-02-26T12:56:00.000-08:00

Slik fekk eg villsauparykk

2008-02-18T13:49:00.001-08:00

Eg har hatt hobbyar i eit vidt spekter, frå unemnelege betalte aktivitetar til musikkskule. No også alderssamansett dans i trollkostyme ved isbasseng, ein del av det interessante påfunnet mange kanskje vil kalle verdsleikane i vinterbading - for første gong arrangert utanfor det deilig bisarre landet Finland.

Våre mannlege vener Bernt og Terje luftar svansen etter eit isbad med tidtaking - før halen og villsauparykken kom på

Andrea frå Slovenia tok ein pause frå tre ekte barnetroll for å heie på oss

Simone og Super-Marit (med ambassaden sitt flagg som kappe)

Kva for ein nasjonalisme?

Troll-Hilde tek ein pause før strabasane

Troll-Idun på veg til å flørte med eldre russarar i strutteskjørt

Tooting Turtle tek seg òg ein pause før opptredenen som hovudperson i Water Performance

Trollteamet girar seg opp i kulissane før avspark

Troll like før den revolusjonerande trolldansen med tittelen The Hall of the Mountain King (Dovregubbens hall) and the Tooting Turtle (dvs. skilpadda frå Tooting Bec Lido, VM-bassenget). Ved ein mystisk feil vann vi ikkje konkurransen. Det merka vi ikkje, då vi var opptekne med å ta bilete av oss sjølve.

Perkele

2008-02-18T13:03:00.001-08:00

So far in my life, Fins have never fallen short in terms of craziness. Again, our brave eastern neighbours failed to disappoint by way of hairy bum display and other side branches to winter swimming.

In Finland, I am told people commonly cut holes in frozen lakes in winter in order to jump in and "cool down", as some would have it. I call it suicide, but I am fascinated by the spirit of their hobby, which was clearly stated by the no-comment poster placed outside the sauna at Tooting Bec Lido. Hairy bums go ice-dipping across a sheet of snow. And?

Below: Lovely Finnish competitors for the Water Performance at the 2008 World Winter Swimming Championships in London.

Swan Lake Senior and friends

2008-02-18T12:29:00.000-08:00

These pretty ducklings are Russian, and include more than one grandfather (of the pretty girl above). Ice dips are no doubt a common way of shortening one's life in Russia too. The granddads of Swan Lake spellbound the audience with their perfectly synchronized elegance (the duckling tops came off as they transformed into ballerina swans and entered the pool wearing only big smiles and plastic)

I decided I had to befriend the lovely ducklings, and here we go!

Hello London

2008-02-06T09:13:00.001-08:00

Hello sunshine! Hello Maria and Jo and all the other darlings of London. Hello Chapel Market!

Coming soon!

2008-02-06T09:02:00.000-08:00

A typical amount of snow to be shovelled in a Norwegian garden during winter.

Hei på seg

2008-01-24T12:59:00.000-08:00

The more we fly

2008-01-21T03:41:00.000-08:00

...the less CO2 in the atmosphere, says a well-known Norwegian professor. Is that what the world has come to? Please allow me to sneer at this climate newspeak.

"It's a beautiful thing, the destruction of words." (George Orwell, 1984)

Naughty Christmas

2008-01-19T04:40:00.000-08:00

As soon as I saw the look in Simone's eyes, I had a feeling we were not going to be baking ordinary Christmas cookies this year.

Daymon peeling almonds, still happily unaware of the naughty marsipan scheme he will soon be part of.

Simone testing a model for her sculpture, which soon took the form of a phallic tribute to marsipan baking.
Pretty soon, Daymon's Asian upbringing kicked in, his suspicious skepticism increasing by the minute.

Was he right?

He was. But it was too late. Naughtiness was all over.

Next year's project is allegedly going to be a Seigmenn-based gingerbread brothel, states Simone from her hiding place in Leikanger.

Me? I was not part of this. Honestly!

Baby discovers wolf discovers baby

2008-01-19T04:09:00.000-08:00

My office has its own office wolf. Nansen is his name. Though by some described as "autustic" due to his economic approach to social interaction, Nansen has on one or two occasions demonstrated an impressive ability to become fascinated with objects and beings beyond the deer, moose, fox and his beloved owner - Hanna.

These occasions include:
1. people who possess or have recently been in direct contact with mandarins (a behaviour giving rise to the nickname "Mandarin Wolf"),

and (as the photograph reveals)

2. my colleague's baby grandson, Ask. The latter encounter reportedly resulted in Nansen getting up from his more retreated waiting position, moving over to the window and having a closer look at the object of his fascination over an extended period of time, while Ask stretched out and made keen sounds to the effect of "There! There!". This proved an unexpectedly welcome source of entertainment for wolf and child alike, allowing granddad to return to his computer to work.

The bloggee declined the offer to comment on this entry, as well as confirming the rumour that he frequently reads the contents of Terje's computer screen from the window behind Terje's back.

Merry Moosemas!

2008-01-02T13:11:00.000-08:00

Silje is famous

2007-12-17T04:59:00.001-08:00

Silje's first album is out. It is already celebrated by critics all over Europe. Today, the advent calendar of Sogn Avis' window no. 17 displays the budding artist's face - this is hard proof of her rising fame. Applause!

For more links to reviews, see framtidsfylket.no

Catholic Weekend

2007-12-13T09:41:00.000-08:00

Little altar girls and boys on their way to Sunday mass in Oslo

Mischievous Maria, alias Crazy Dutch Lady calling Hotel de Lutece in Paris to test Samuel's customer treatment and patience

Swedes apparently can't eat breakfast in the Norwegian way. Samuel receives training, including lessons such as "Jam goes on top of the bread" and "You really can't mix caviar with ham"

Samuel flirting through romantic, personalized Christmas decorations

Samuel hiding behind 1) a documentary featuring his younger sister (now a nun) and a book he has translated from French to Swedish

Love birds near Maria's school and the Catholic church

Love birds again!

We all make our pilgrimages. At Vår frelsers gravlund, I found my hero - Ivar Aasen, the Father of Nynorsk.

Be nice to the birds

2007-12-10T23:53:00.001-08:00

Follow the example of my wonderful colleague Eva Marie!

Bergens Tidende, 10 December 2007

Antropocentrical discovery

2007-12-05T11:20:00.000-08:00

Apparently dogs can be allergic to cats, and cats to dogs. Why did we never think of that..?

Visitors to the nest

2007-12-05T10:51:00.001-08:00

Lukas & Olai (and their mummies)

Hogne, cold

Moose-eaters

The big-mouthed kitchen wolf

Strangely, it has become customary to leave offerings in the nest

Everyone needs a nest

2007-12-05T10:22:00.000-08:00

This is mine!

Sogndal is a small place by most standards. Its insignificance, however, is compensated for in many ways - it is surrounded by beautiful mountains, it has plenty of academics, students, sporty GoreTex people (obviously a minus) and places to drink beer (now we're back to plus).

My nest is smack in the middle of this tiny town, five minutes from the stores, the coffee shop, the bus station, work and the gym. Its pluses are plenty: you can watch TV while peeing (given that you are a girl or a gentleman, of course). It has eight and a half rooms plus a corridor and an outer corridor. It has nice, elderly people on three sides, which makes for considerable heat transfer.

The bedroom, which used to be a doctor's office at some point in the early 1900s, leads directly to a walk-in closet (I assure you, the closet of your dreams). The marvellous little kitchen is big enough for you to cook comfortably with at least three people and a normal-sized wolf in it. There is a stove in the livingroom AND outside it is a huge big verandah with stairs leading to a garden and a large orchard. Most importantly, as a moose-eating guest remarked yesterday: It's so cosy!

Truly my nest.

Testing - testing

2007-12-02T07:40:00.000-08:00

Bloggen sjekkar pulsen sin

Heia Portugal

2007-07-16T07:23:00.000-07:00

Portugal has legalised abortion.
Not a minute too soon.

La Fauna do Algarve

2007-06-17T15:11:00.000-07:00

Ei veke på ein bakketopp på den portugisiske landsbygda gir tid nok til å bli kjend med eit vidt spekter av dyr. Vi mimrar:

Grashoppe på panser, vekkerklokkefugl, svale over frukostbord, stork i Faro, slange, øgle, salamander, hund med symjeføter, kakkerlakk på badet, rotte i grøfta, tigerreker, ein milliard kjøtarar i varierande storleik, geit (med horn), sau, seabream, seabass/havabbor, kalkun, kylling, blekksprut, makrell, kalamari, reke, ku, delfin på strand som ville uti, hest med sigøynerfamilie, elvefisk, britiske turistar, gås, høne og hane, fasan, gauk, giraff, sjøhestskjelett, esel

Sjølv om hundane (i alt frå storleik piraya/flokk til grizzlybjørn) pregar opphaldet, blir ei kåring tvingande nødvendig:

Beste dyr
S: Stork i landingsfase + plastdelfin som ville bade
P: Stork
H: Slange
K: Stork
I: Vekkerklokkefuglen

Beste hund
S: Miniatyrvanleg hund
P: Kjettinghunden som blei rykka tilbake/pirayahundane på joggeruta
H: Kjettinghunden
K: "Den hese hund"
I: Hunden som ville flytte inn hos oss + Baltazar i grøfta

Beste oppleving
S: ?
P: ?
H: Elektrisk støyt frå oppvaskmaskina/første køyreturen opp til huset/at verdas ende var stengt på grunn av streik
K: Springe frå hundar
I: (Ikkje) finne vegen heim frå joggetur

Største kulinariske nedtur
S: Ost i Malaga
P: Å få servert Dr. Ötker-pizza på restaurant
H: Grilled squid
K: Kebab squid
I: Miniblekksprut

Heftigaste bekjentskap
S: DJ-en
P: Gamal dame i Faro + kuhund med puppar
H: Spandere-mannen og Carlos
K: Kotelettmannen, mann i minibil
I: Badejenta og Fussball-mannen

Stemningsrapport frå ferieslutt:
"Myggstikkene mine skiftar til beitemark. Paellaen smakar svidd. Middelhavet var nesten like kaldt som Atlanterhavet, men det stoppa ikkje oss. Og soleksem"

Ice Dip

2007-06-08T06:18:00.000-07:00

Sunday, June 3rd 2007: Idun swims in the Sognefjord for approximately 4 minutes. She is still not sure if her body temperature has returned to normal.

Glimpses of Brussels

2007-06-08T05:53:00.000-07:00

Experienced protester parked outside the European Commission at Schuman today

The sun setting at Grande Place, the square that is filled with tulips in the summer

Swedish Euro Info Centre officers Johanna and Ellen taking a stroll in the hot, humid Brussels afternoon

French-looking house in Central Brussels.

Outdoor exhibition of Polish landscapes at Schuman, the very core of the EU capital.

Kor er beltet mitt?

2007-05-23T15:16:00.000-07:00

Hard proof that your life is too busy

When Andersens meet

2007-05-23T07:18:00.000-07:00

How to make your child feel special

Gothenburg, today: My colleague and I run into two Swedes at the university department we are visiting. We are shaking hands and exchanging greetings as an awful truth becomes apparent: We all share the same, God-forbiddingly boring Scandinavian trademark surname - Andersen.

Some would argue that such a common name is a gift from above - how can it ever be misspelt? I will tell you how. Andersens, due to their utter commonness, have developed a strong need to differ. How do you differ if you are an Andersen? You fidget with that surname of yours until it looks special. This is how the four of us, although we were called exactly the same, had still ended up with 3 different varieties: Andersen, Anderssen and Andersson. I would like to conclude by pointing out that the best Andersen of them all is my father, who, bowing to his fate, proudly bears the special-common name of Anders Anderssen. Beat that, Ola Normann!

Very sudden title upgrade

2007-05-21T05:33:00.000-07:00

Spot the mistake!

http://www.scitizen.com/screens/blogPage/viewBlog/sw_viewBlog.php?idTheme=14&idContribution=622&PHPSESSID=10e73462543eae6bbe7b854ca74d3a47

Crazy Cab

2007-05-18T02:59:00.000-07:00

"Have dinner witn me!"

It is 5.30 am. I'm standing on the pavement outside Daymon's flat in Battersea cursing myself for booking such a ridiculously early flight AND relying on the local minicab service for transportation to Heathrow, instead of a black London cab with at least some sort of reputation to protect. 10 minutes late, a blue car without the faintest resemblance with a cab appears. It comes with a fat, little Tamil driver. I jump in - no choice.

The ride to the airport is hardly enjoyable. After no less than two minutes I start wondering if I need to plan my escape. His first question is deeply jealous: "Why you with that person, ey?". The question refers to my boyfriend. I try to interpret his question in the best possible way, but there is no doubt - he thinks it is his business to scrutinize his passenger's choice.

Later in the conversation, which I regret having agreed to, he decides to provide me with a rather detailed account of his sexual desires. "Chinese!" he exclaims, perhaps inspired by my taste. "Chinese girl is what I need." Fooled by his Hindu look, I have mistaken him for a faithful husband. Not so. He has a wife and a kid, but is hungry for more, "of course only for fun".

We ride slowly towards Heathrow in the lorry lane (fixed price, so why should he try to get rid of his conversation partner sooner than he has to). All other normal cars pass us by with a loud "wooom!". I am stuck in the back seat, heart racing, with this little pig's dirty mouth.

He has now decided that not only does he need Chinese girl, but Norwegian. "What you think of me!" he demands eagerly, glaring at me in the rear-view mirror. I try to change the subject of the conversation, but he knows his time with me is limited, and needs to know. "When you come back?", he barks, implying that we'll go out for a meal together. I try to explain that this might upset my boyfriend, but the problem is unfathomable to him. "You can take him," he finally decides. "Take him to dinner with us".

As we approach Heathrow, I swear I will never ride anything but a black, registered, normal London cab ever again. My little friend in the front seat is of a different opinion. He grabs my hand with his little paw. I cringe, expecting the worst. "I really like you", he declares. "I do. When you come back, we have to meet! I'll save your phone number. Can I save it? I will!". So excited is my new friend that he first decides to suggest I venture into corruption ["I'll write 30 pounds and you pay less!"] but then settles on giving me a discount. Happily, he waves and honks his horn as he drives away, while I walk in the opposite direction of Departures in pure life-loving delirium.

Romania

2007-05-09T09:12:00.000-07:00

Bilete frå jobbmøte i Brasov (Transylvania) i april

Leiande bensinstasjonkjede i Romania

Bestemor på veg heim frå kyrkja

Diger middelalderkyrkje ved torget i Brasov

Kollega Otto og eg på Tampa-høgden over byen. Gamlebyen i Brasov nedandfor. Romania har fjellbeite, gjetarar og ikkje så reint frå hestar med kjerre

Bakgarden på Beke gjestehus. Blømande tre og synagoge vegg i vegg

Bestemor og bestefar Beke (ungarske rumenarar)

Guide-studentar

Transylvanske fjell

London spring

2007-05-09T09:01:00.000-07:00

I'm in London to observe a concluding conference in a large project on Hydrogen as a fuel for transportation. Spring arrived here ages ago. It's already like the summer city I left last year, and most other things are the same, except for one or two minor changes to minor things at the flat at Chapel Market and new staff at the Castle (pub).

Transylvanian spring

2007-04-26T06:22:00.000-07:00

Today and yesterday were brilliant days at work! My colleague Otto and I arrived in Brasov late on Tuesday for an energy conference and a project meeting. It turned out things did not really start at once, so we (the lucky bastards that we are) managed to fit in some crêpes, a climb up the mountain overlooking the medieval city, Serbian bean soup, a trip on a local bus to Dracula's supposed castle and a few hours of pure spring relaxation.

The blog will be back with more juicy information shortly.

Påskepip

2007-04-17T14:48:00.000-07:00

Very soon there will be some more Easter photos right here. Meanwhile, this little chap from Veitastrondi wishes you all a great time.

Hello from the Attic Office

2007-04-03T01:21:00.000-07:00

Hello all of you who actually have an Easter holiday. Just to let you know I am not that envious, this is where I am working from today. It is a hybrid between working from home, working out and not feeling like I am the only one working during Easter.

Downstairs, something exciting is happening, at least for those of you able to write and read Norwegian:

http://wikibok.skald.no/index.php/Hovudside

Easter Bunny greetings,
Idun

Spring! Spring! Spring!

2007-03-28T06:42:00.000-07:00

A Blessing and a Curse * Ei rasreise

2007-03-24T12:45:00.000-07:00

This winter my town became an island, and for the first time in my life, there was no way of escaping - but by boat.

People in this part of Western Norway love their mountains. They remember their names, they worship them through paintings and photographs, and they go hiking on them all year round. But there is a tragic note to this love. Without it we would have few means of explaining to ourselves why we risk living here at all, as dangers abound.

A strange chapter in the history of my town was over just yesterday, when the road between the town where my parents live and the town where I now live and work, was reopened. This was after nearly five weeks of planned and unplanned permanent closures which rendered people roadless and carless (unless they took a 3-hour detour out of there on car ferry). Some people were "lucky" to have their car stuck on the other side of the closed part, where the boat dropped them off. Others had to rely on buses to get to the other town. I should add that although both towns are small by almost anyone's standards, hundreds of people now had to channel their daily travelling through the bottleneck of a boat and a bus.

But why close the road? Simple. It rests beneath a mountainside full of surprises. The road needed securing, so that one could even think of digging a planned tunnel under the dangerous part of the mountain side. The securing process, however, involving a lot of dynamite, made the mountain side more dangerous. And so hundreds of people, whose lives are split between the two towns, found themselves transformed into sea commuters.

I must admit (in the deepest secrecy, of course) that I actually enjoyed this sudden back lapse to the pre-1960s, where old quays (formerly busy stops along the fjord "highway") bounced back into use again. Despite their moaning, I think everyone did, a bit; the odd slagging-off of the road authorities worked miracles on people's sense of community - not only in my town but in the neighbouring ones too (and we rarely bond across towns if it is not against the evil capital, Oslo, or the even bigger devil, the EU - believe me). Also, the forced waiting and travelling together brought shy and secluded locals into touch with each other for the first time in years. Suddenly, involuntarily, we all realised to what extent we have become hermits, captives of our own wealth: We never see each other anymore. We drive everywhere, and so we only see cars, or silhouettes behind steering wheels.

So to commemorate this time of forced encounters, a series of photos from travelling to work one morning February with my Mum.

On some days, nearly a hundred people crammed into the boat each way. Most of them are work commuters and upper secondary school students.

Heidi (my Mum's friend) and my Mum met frequently during the closures, as both commute to and from work in Sogndal (big brother town).

Heard of bird watching? Welcome to mountain watching. My Mum is trying to figure out what fell down where to cause road closure this time.

Scarping snow off the car window was a frequent factor of delay. About a minute later, the photographer fell subject to strong group pressure to take part in the desperate scraping effort.

One doesn't always succeed in getting ALL the ice off. Driving is still quite safe, if you ignore the risk of avalanches and freak rock fall. I didn't mention the other dangerous stretch between the two towns. This one is called Stedjeberget (the first one being Fatlaberget). It is said to be even more dangerous, but we actively ignore it because the opening of the new tunnel under it is near (the coming Friday).

(I told you about the worship? I guess I do it to).

Loneliness and Cats

2007-03-21T10:17:00.000-07:00

A week of the flu has led me to new social experiments.

Today was the second time in three days I tried to invite a cat into the house through the window. I agree it might seem I am losing it completely. But I am still only sticking to cats. And I do wish to underline that although my first feline friend turned me down with the most intensely contemptuous gaze, he did agree to come closer to have a second look before thinking uh-uuh.

To my defense I'd also like to stress that the second cat, a long-haired grey and white kitten, came all the way from the street up to my front door, at least after I realised he would have a hard time with the 2-metre jump up on the veranda where I was making my desperate bid for attention. Contact finally being achieved, we had quite a time, with generous sunshine all over us, the snow, the first green grass and all of Sogndal below us - until Mr Cat decided to move on. I didn't ask him about the bird, but unless it was the monster from Twin Peaks who put it there, he could well be the one.

Maria,

2007-03-21T09:57:00.000-07:00

...if worst comes to worst, we'll just have to grow old together!

Spooky nights

2007-03-10T05:34:00.000-08:00

I guess paranoia is a logical consequence of watching Twin Peaks DVDs.

It is Sunday afternoon. I am watching Twin Peaks at Hogne and Karianne's place. This evening we frequently comment on the time and space provided to a seemingly random bird in the opening sequence. How irrelevant, we laugh.

It is Sunday afternoon, now midnight. I am returning to my dark, quiet house along a path through the woods feeling a little bit jumpy. On my doorstep I discover something odd. I bend down. A dead bird, right there on my doorstep.

!!!

I have never thought that watching scary things wes a good idea. The fact that I avoid the huge big basement of my house after dark is an additional reason. With doors, corners, and a lot of big heavy tools is an almost perfect venue for recording a crime series. Or worse: X-files episodes.

Shiver

!!!

Beauties of Barcelona

2007-03-02T11:50:00.000-08:00

Dream City

2007-02-28T04:20:00.000-08:00

Barcelona - I love you!

In August, some clever friends invited me to go to Spain in February. Cheap tickets! We went. After a week of open-ended scavenger hunts, cheese orgies, wine swims, shopping sprees and pure bliss, I am deeply grateful. Go to Barcelona! Get lost in narrow streets and empty your pockets of Euros! Have a really thick chocolate caliente! Have ham!

I am a little bit sad to be back in Norway, where my red tango shoes with high heels are of no use for another few months. But I look at them once in a while (while keeping close to the fireplace) and remind myself which city to go back to.

Rain, rain, go to Spain (except this week)

2007-02-17T05:38:00.000-08:00

Weather report for Bergen:
Strong winds and neverending rain. Felt temperatures down to -5 degrees Celsius.

Weather report for Barcelona:
Sunshine and light afternoon breezes at the most. Temperatures up to 17 degrees Celcius.

The look on my face:
:) :) :)

Peculiar Christmas

2007-02-13T09:16:00.000-08:00

Yes, yes, I know it's February, but I just came accross some photos from Christmas, which I spent at home with a black-snouted dog, Daymon and my parents. There was absolutely no snow (but then it made sure to show up later). Still, we went tree-hunting (in legal places) with Sunniva on the day before Christmas.

I hearby withdraw all previous claims that Norway is not cold

2007-02-09T11:14:00.000-08:00

Minus ten has been torturing my area for a week. Protruding body parts threaten to fall off, and the icy ground is too freezing to make you slip. Everyone is outrageously cold, but as some of you have already guessed, I am colder.

Skiing would be a great activity if only we didn't freeze our toes off trying to go about it. I'm so cold I don't know what to do but glue myself to the fireplace.

Rumours have it the temperature up in the inland mountains has been down to -30. Minus 30! The one time I experienced minus 20 (not in Norway, but in Freezing Finland), the dampness from my breath made my top and bottom eyelashes freeze together.

I just got myself a place to stay for three months in Sogndal, where I work. However, due to the utter graveness of the current circumstances (i.e. having to heat a whole house by myself), I have sought refuge in my parent's house until the weekend is over.

A Little January Tour

2007-02-04T08:59:00.000-08:00

The blog has been out travelling! In one week I was lucky enough to catch Maria and Daymon in London, Jo in Brussels and Margunn in Førde (above). The short visit was a stop-over on the way between Norway and Belgium for work. Most of the time in London was spent consuming old pleasures at Chapel Market and on Upper Street. Maria managed to trap me into entering Gap and French Connection's local stores on the last day of the sales. Apart from this we feasted on Turkish food and Efes beer at Gallipoli Again and gobbled sausage and mash at The Narrow Boat down by the canal. After two heavenly days in London, I travelled to Brussels to attend my meeting (in a new EU project on local biodiesel production), staying in Margunn's old room, now inhabited by Jo, as Margunn is on her way to Sudan. Margunn's and now Jo's house is also inhabited by a lovely group of people and an insane kitten called Camille, whose maniac hobbies included throwing himself against the glass door leading to Jo's bedroom and climbing up my woolen scarf. Brussels was nice, but definitely not the bustling, hyper-international city I had expected to find. What's with the no cash points after work hours? The cobble stones messing up suitcase transportation? The medieval airport bus? And the tiny airport? I really liked it, though. Brussels has definitely found a new friend.

Letter from Ankara

2007-01-31T11:38:00.000-08:00

Merhaba!

And now in a brief interlude between Norwegian postings, we bring you the weather from Ankara, Turkey.

Ataturk's Mausoleum, Anit Kabir, Ankara: Saturday

Roman Baths, Ulus, Ankara: Following Saturday

Sizin Turkiye Muhabiri. (or something).

Solo-Silje

2007-01-17T01:31:00.000-08:00

Silje plays solo for the first time in the history of mankind.

This unmissable event took place last weekend in a very small clothes and records shop in a very small street called Skostredet. In Bergen, of course (the city of all current musical geniuses). The audience, a good 100 crammed into a room the size of your living room, included celebrities such as Margunn, Sigrun, Ragnar, Sid and Idun. Needless to say, the blog offers its sincerest congratulations!

If you are keen on the details and master Norwegian: http://www.studvest.no/kultur.php?art_id=5776

You could also go to MySpace and type "Silje Nes" for a wee sound snack.

Christmas & New Year

2006-12-30T01:52:00.000-08:00

Christmas may be a holiday, but it is certainly a busy one! The blog will be back shortly, it just needs to celebrate New Year first.

Hugs to all who have been good over the past year!

Funny Winter

2006-12-16T08:25:00.000-08:00

It's December, and the Russian bears are sleepless. Around here, winter is threatening to arrive,
but we are still waiting. Funny or not? The climate changes we are witnessing have to be real. Even extremist liberalists have started believing so, though they probaby think it ludicrus to demand any change in policy or individual behaviour just to save the planet.

Today, while walking my neighbour's dog with a former classmate, her baby girl and their dog, I witnessed about four kinds of downpour, ranging from hail through snow, sleet and rain. The snow actually stayed on the ground - finally - covering the green, drowning grass for a moment.
I'm not sure this relieves my fears that something very odd is about to begin.

Klimaangst

2006-12-15T06:58:00.000-08:00

Eg tel. Dette er minst 3.toreveret på Leikanger i november/desember. No sit eg på jobben, klokka er nesten ti, og det er stupmørkt med lyn ute. Det er ikkje for ingenting at eg har begynt å drøyme om vondsinna torevêr og kulelyn som følgjer etter meg

Beijing

2006-12-07T20:30:00.000-08:00

The project on which I am working is about bringing Chinese and European researchers involved with Green Electronics together - through for instance conferences. So, it did make sense that we would go to China. This was my colleague's first time in Asia ever, and my second time in China. Just some quick photos from our even quicker trip

My colleague Otto and I with a very Chinese-looking tower behind, or so we thought

The Beijing Olympics stadions are practically rising out of the sandy ground as we speak! Our hotel was right next to the "Bird's Nest", a marvellous architectural creation in tangled steel

Otto before the presentation he gave of our project. It turns out my name too is now on a conference paper..!

Our "reactionary" logo, designed by a certain Silje (bottom left)

Researchers capturing the moment

Finally, I got to eat proper Chinese food again, in contrast to "Norwegian" Chinese food. Otto was a keen student of this new universe of food&drinks. Here, with a pot of heavenly tea.

Overhanging Dangers

2006-11-30T11:53:00.000-08:00

A rock the size of three office blocks falls down on the only road out of my town

After a near death experience last night, flying in from Oslo in something so exceptional and freaky as a winter thunder storm, I decided to dodge danger and declared a day of "home office". This was a smart move as the road authorities decided to secure the mountain side by first making it very dangerous: An immensely huge and risky block had been discovered - and they wanted it down.

Curious as we are, my mum and I snuck out in monstrous rain for an extended home office lunch break to enjoy the wild heralded scenes of explosion and devastation. My mum decided to test a path she remembered having tried in the past (no doubt in bright sunshine and with no previous month of daily rain). Horrendous mudslide was the viscious result, but our shared desire to see the fantastic explosion saved us from another intra-familial quarrel. We got there just in time to have our ear drums shaken from behind a tree a few kilometres away from the spot ("in case of stone splinters"). Guess what: there was fog. But the bang was fun.

The tiny orange spots in the first picture are the wackos whose job it was to climb about 200 m up the vertical mountainside to place dynamite on the danger spot. They were still looking alive when we left. At the foot of the mountain, we ran into a bunch of former journalist colleagues who were also waiting for the horror scenes. My mum managed to get interviewed, while I kept a lower profile.

Summer...

2006-11-19T10:08:00.000-08:00

November in Norway. No words can describe the darkness, the cold. Horror.

But luckily we have photos to remind us that life can be different. And then, how we long for the wonderful times when this (photos) was the colour of our skin. And the days when London was too hot to exist indoors, and life along the canal, in an air con building or under a tall tree in the park were the only viable options!

Our PhD Princess

2006-11-13T12:42:00.000-08:00

Friends... You are looking at a photo of someone we may now refer to as Dr. Sultana Pavlou! Tania passed her university's grilling session - without having to make a single change - just a few days ago.

This basically means that her PhD is made of gold, as is her brain and entire self. Tania...I'm incredibly proud of you.

Congratulations!

Is Small Ugly?

2006-11-13T11:36:00.000-08:00

An example of how small places may simply get too small

I was in a taxi. Not one for just me, but a huge big shared maxi one. The other passengers, like me, had flown in from Oslo and Bergen half an hour earlier. All of us were going to Leikanger [where my parents live], and all 13 of us were employed at some state, region or independent office or institute [Leikanger being something like a mini Brussels, where about 1500 out of 2000 inhabitants are "bueraucrats"].

It was pitch dark as the taxi approached Leikanger, and this is where it gets exciting. In any other case, the young man driving the taxi would have inquired about where the 13 individuals wanted to get off. But not in my teeny-weeny town. This is where the driver simply slows down his vehicle, swithces on the interior car light for about five seconds and scans the back of his taxi. Then - one by one - we politely get dropped off in front of our homes. Directions, [God forbid!] are seen as superflous; after all there is not a soul in town whose life is not to some extent monitored by the silent We.

Incredible as it may sound in our security scandal-haunted times, this mechanism of instant identificaton still allows all 2000 of us to dial the bank's number and ask the clerk to make payments and transfer money between our accounts, based on pure voice recognition. To be honest, I am not sure whether I like it or not, because this also means that news travels fast. The downside: Puke in a person's flower bed today, and (you can be damned sure) you feature in the jungle telegraph tomorrow. (Not that I ever did that).

This is FOOD

2006-10-29T09:30:00.000-08:00

You may think I'm joking, but I'm definitely not! My friend Sunniva and I were visiting a farm nearby to have a hundred kilos of apples transformed into pure apple juice, and suddenly found ourselves standing right underneath these poor wooly creatures' former heads...

Grilled sheep's heads are immensely popular as autumn and Christmas food in Western Norway. I've never had one, but friends of mine boast about having swallowed the eyes. Yikes! Whoever wants to have a go is welcome to visit between now and Christmas...

Highlights from work I: I'm a Trainee

2006-10-24T07:42:00.000-07:00

(Photo: T.Bickhardt)

My job is not only about research conducted from a tiny office (luckily). The photo shows me rowing a boat with the eight other trainees taking part in this year's trainee programme in my region. On the agenda is personality development and cross-institutional network building. For the purpose of becoming more of a team we spent about two hours rowing an old church boat to a tiny, roadless farm where we ate locally produced goat meat. Being a trainee is not bad!

Postcard from Idun/flying in from outer space

2006-10-08T06:41:00.000-07:00

My darlings everywhere - how are you all? Me: busy, too busy to even begin to locate the telephone to phone you. Living is just so demanding right now, or (and this scares me) is this just my first taste of Life After Studying?

That was the excuse. Here comes the news. Or...there is none. Jeez, I am exceptionally scatterbrained today, but at least it made a nice rhyme. Oh, yes: I started my new job. It's great - great colleagues and interesting though sometimes peculiar tasks (nanotechnology). I am being taken care of in a zillion ways - I now have one mentor for every finger on my hand. Two days into my employment I was sent to a conference. Nice, I thought. Then, this week, nanotechnology in Stockholm, and the coming week, a trainee seminar. Also, my first application deadline is coming up. Life IS a deadline; life moves fast. So, I've never slept so little in my own bed before! But still nice.

It's unbelievably pleasant to be home. It feels like a holiday, but one that never ends. The fire place is lit at night, someone bakes an apple cake with Aroma apples from Husabø (it's a farm our ancestors once ran, and the trees remain). It's oh, so silent (No Murphys, Toby, isn't it great?) and you every morning you wake up with the mountains still outside. Examples:

Today is Sunday. I landed in Bergen on Friday, intentionally as a transit point between the work journey and a modified hen's party on Saturday. Somehow, my friend Silje talked me into not going to bed. This always happens, probably because I am weak and she is convincing. At 6 am we texted someone with whom I was to take the train at 8.40 am (for some reason in Finnish) to say that I would have to take the next. After three hours of deep sleep, I travelled to the next party, which began at 11 am on Saturday and ended early this morning. Buenanotte, brainpower! I can feel my body's "no battery" sign flashing...so long, my dears!

Important postscript, all ye foreigners reading this: In ancient times, Nordics believed their Gods, worn down by old age (plus, no doubt, drinking, fighting with swords and having Viking sex) could rejuvenate themselves through eating apples. Not just any apples: The apples of Idun. I am planning to have a bite right now, to see if it works.

Do not despair...

2006-10-01T07:39:00.000-07:00

...the blog is only having a little break. It is exhausted after all the partying, and promises to be back any day now.

The Realisation of the Promised Vestiments

2006-09-22T16:58:00.000-07:00

(or, catch-up number 1)

Next stop, West-End costume designers

Don't worry, the bananas didn't get it.

Catharsis III: Finishing My Beans

2006-09-20T03:24:00.000-07:00

One of my most hilarious character flaws is a perpetual need to stock up on food. Normally, I am unaware of this phenomenon. But the minute I decide to move houses and start checking out my cupboard contents, there it is! Enough food to keep a family of five alive for a month.

This time, the amount of bean types hit me particularly hard. In my cupboard, I found no less than 8 kinds of beans distributed in 11 cans and two bags: soy beans, mung beans, chikpeas, green lentils, kidney beans, canneloni beans, berlotti beans and, of course, baked beans. Through ingenious smuggling techniques, I have now made my friends help me consume most of these. I do, however, have 5 left, and only two days to eat them. Don't warn Toby and Maria! Hehe

Catharsis II: Library Returns

2006-09-20T03:20:00.000-07:00

Post-Dissertation Catharsis

2006-09-20T02:48:00.000-07:00

Finishing a big piece of work requires serious celebrations. This is the moist side to the ongoing process of riddance. Please don't feel sorry for my liver - I am flying back to the Kingdom of Imposed Teetotalism, Norway, in only two days.

Thursday
2 Stellas
2 Leffe
- memory gap -
At least 2 beers of unknown type
1 Malibu Pineapple

Friday
Water x 10

Saturday (Oh My God)
An unknown number of glasses of wine,
spread out in time and interspersed by
gypsy dance

Sunday
I thought white day,
but as Sunniva aptly reminds me, we had:
2-4 Erdinger and Stella
at least 2 glasses of rosé

Monday
Another white day.
Max. 2 glasses of red wine

Tuesday
1.5 can of exciting beer on the roof, then 1 cup of rosé
- time gap -
1 glass of white wine
2 glasses of red wine
2 Erdinger
1 Malibu Pineapple
1.5 Tequila

Idun in the Sky with Extremely Many Diamonds

2006-09-14T08:38:00.000-07:00

I am done. I am done. I can't believe it.

(Photo: Hans-Marius Foeleide, Sandane. Nicked from NRK Sogn og Fjordane)

Toby, who patiently helped me print my four coupies of about 57 pages each before doing his, is also done, or better still: he is running for his life just now to UCL, which closes at 5pm, with his bound dissertation in hand, just as I ran to SOAS to try and make it before our closing time, 4pm. The last text message read:
"At Russel Square now, 20 minutes to go!".

The drama, which was not that real since the deadline is tomorrow, was still memorable: We printed, found mistakes, printed again, found mistakes, and then printed without looking, and eventually ran to the binding shop in Angel where the colour pages were printed and the darn thing was finally bound.

This was at 3.30, and I tried to calculate if it would be possible to get it in today. Then I ran to the bus, ran from the bus, bolted up the stairs at SOAS past sweaty professors who have forgotten what writing a dissertation is all about - and made it by about 30 seconds. I have to add at this point that I had no less than 20 books from the SOAS Library in my backpack, so this was not only running, but running with a certain edge to it. I could feel people staring at my sweaty chest, messy hair and pathetically flushed face, thinking "My God". This did, however, not affect me to any mentionable extent, as I had arrived on the second floor and caught a distant glimpse of the door to the promised land.

Just as I stepped in, the lady went "Oh, it's four" and shut the door (behind me, luckily). And so it was done. I know it's only Thursday, but more importantly, it is NOT Friday, and in this fact lies a personal victory of unimagiable significance. Now I will go and swim in a barrel of beer.

The Pact

2006-09-10T06:28:00.000-07:00

Kids' screams down from the market pierce my hard-pressed head like sharp needles. I'm drinking tea as if tea was magic potion with the ability to magically reduce my scandalous word count. The deadline is Friday, but I have pledged to hand in my dissertation by Wednesday. Below, the co-signer of the pact, Louise, one month ago, about to discover how little time she had left for writing. Like me, Louise is notorious for her time consumption. But we can do it! See you Wednesday, Louise!

Recent Events III: Python eats pregnant ewe

2006-09-07T04:41:00.000-07:00

So far, this picture has been the only good thing about the ongoing newspaper war in London, which entails that about 20 people will attempt to force LondonLite into your bag and another 20 will throw the London Paper at you (in a single afternoon).

The memorable caption goes:

"A python sits on a road after swallowing a pregnant ewe (ei søye) in the Malaysian village of Kampung Jabor, about 124 miles east of the capital Kuala Lumpur. The six-metre reptile [after this I will NEVER walk barefeet in the woods or visit Malaysian villages, I repeat, NEVER], weighing in at 198.5lb, was too full to move, making it easy for firemen to capture it.

Epilog
Biletet har sett meg så til dei grader ut av spel at eg heldt på å døy av skrekk i dag tidleg då eg skulle dusje og mistok kjønnshåra mine for ein enorm edderkopp. Pistre!

Recent Events II: More about the Canal

2006-09-07T04:15:00.000-07:00

By some beautiful coinsidence, I discovered a notice one day for a canal festival in Islington, went there on the day, and, two days later, hitched a canal ride through the Islington tunnel with a woman who turned out to be the organiser of the event.

This wonderful enthusiast used to work in an office next to the canal at King's Cross, and told us (as we travelled through the Islinton tunnel underneath Chapel Market and all the rest of it) she had rented a boat for seven years on which she lived half the week. From her residential docks, she set out every morning to her workplace, tying up her boat by the canalside. After seven years she had saved enough money (from not renting a flat and commuting) to buy the boat. Having retired, she can now puff along Britain's waterways all year long, at the pace of a trout, having coffee, watching the geese and chatting with other life-indulging narrowboat owners - while the rest of us lead fast lives right nextdoor.

Canal people are nice people. As you can see from the photos, they know how to relax and enjoy a nice, sunny day.

Recent Events I: Fire!

2006-09-07T04:08:00.000-07:00

Don't we just love nightly events that, despite waking us up, will add spice to our breakfast conversations! This fancy fire engine decided to pay Chapel Market a visit one night at 3 am. For a while we wondered if we were in fact on fire, as the van seemed to park dangerously close to the bakery downstairs. But we were not, a rubbish bag was. Any action, though, is good action in times like these.

Living With Men

2006-09-07T03:31:00.001-07:00

It's funny, isn't it, how women just seem to take on all the boring tasks that prevent kitchens, worldwide, from turning into stinking garbage pits?

This seemingly harmonic photo from the kitchen this morning, of Toby and my father contemplating breakfast, actually conceals a darker, more inconvenient truth: active avoidance of dishwashing.

Both of the depicted individuals claim that on several occasions in the past year, they were actually quite close to doing the dishes. Unfortunately, both have yet to produce any substantial supporting evidence of this, which begs the inevitable question: Is this what living with men is always going to be like?

Double-speak?

2006-08-31T12:49:00.000-07:00

Toby's fed up with kitchen papparazzis. Or is he?

NEWSFLASH: controversial dissertation photograph released

2006-08-29T16:19:00.000-07:00

This exclusive picture shows what is believed, by experts, to be someone actually working on their dissertation.

The grainy photograph was delivered to our office earlier today in a sealed anonymous e-mail. Speculation over who could have taken the photograph and for what purpose has dominated the conversation in the kitchen.

In response to calls to act, government Minister for Misinformation, Kermit T. Frog, this evening poured scorn on the claims saying: "This is a load of codswallop. Someone idiot has taken a photograph of an innocent blogger, and faked it to look like they're actually working. I can't believe anyone would fall for such a load of nonsense."

Sources close to the Chapel Market intellegence agency, Darrel the fishmonger, indicated that bosses do not believe that anyone in this country is currently working on their dissertation, and that the public should remain calm.

"In a break from our normal programming...

2006-08-29T11:29:00.000-07:00

...we bring you the Notting Hill Carnival."

With far too much time on our hands here in Chapel Market (ahem!), we thought we'd use up an afternoon down at 'ole Notting 'ill. Little did we know*, someone had arranged a giant party with lots of barely-clothed people dressed up in colourful feather outfits.

"What the 'ell is this?", said we.

"Why, 'tis the Notting 'ill Carnival, mate", said the kindly police man. "Enjoy the show...!".

So we did.

(NB: if you happen to be the person depicted in the above photograph : please contact Toby immediately at t dot wilkinson at lineone dot net, I repeat, immediately, thank you.)

(Hi, yep, um, just a reminder, if this is you, I'm still waiting, um, right...)

*(Actually that's a lie: we did know it was on, but why spoil a good story with the truth?)

It is said to have advantages

2006-08-29T05:36:00.000-07:00

Rain, rain, go away,
come again another day.
Little Johnny wants to play.

Rain, rain, go to Spain,
Never show your face again!

But listen to this: The origin of the lyrics of Rain rain go away are said to date back to the reign of Queen Elizabeth I (1533-1603). During this period of English history there was constant rivalry between Spain and England culminating in the launch of the Spanish Armada in 1588. The Spanish Armada consisted of many Spanish galleons and was sent to invade England.

The Armada was led by Duke of Medina Sedonia and the the fleet numbered over 130 ships. The English fleet, under Admiral Lord Howard, totalled 34 small Navy vessels and 163 armed merchant ships. But the great Spanish Armada was defeated. Only 65 Spanish galleons and just 10,000 men returned to Spain. The attempt failed, not only because of the swift nature of the smaller English ships but also by the stormy weather which scattered the Armada fleet.

Søket ga 471 treff

2006-08-26T11:57:00.000-07:00

Er det ikkje litt pirrande at vi blei akkurat oss? Ein dag søkte eg på Gule Sider for å utforske tilfeldigheitane nærare. Der fann eg mange Idunar eg potensielt sett kunne ha blitt i staden for ho til høgre.

Viss eg ville vere unik:
Idun Idun
Idun Vakt Telefon
Idun Ring (og burde ikkje dei to møtast…)

Viss eg ville vere verkvinne:
Idun Storm

Viss eg ville vere politikar:
Idun Brustad
Idun Søviknes
Idun Kleppe
Idun Halvorsen

Forfattar:
Idun Tiller

Fotballstjerne:
Idun Flo

Kunstnar:
Idun Backer

Viss eg ville vere vanleg:
Idun Olsen
Idun Larsen
Idun Johnsen
Idun Nilsen
Idun Hansen

Viss eg ville vere syster til Krudle-Reidun:
Idun Mo

Viss eg ville vere syster til Evy:
Idun Solbakken

Viss eg ville vere kort og grei:
Idun Sem
Idun Vik
Idun Eid

Viss eg ville vere i slekt med naboen min:
Idun Drageset

Viss eg ville vere bittelitt frekk:
Idun Skrukli
Idun Våtsveen
Idun S. Assen

Viss eg likte bokstavrim:
Idun Sunde Semb

Viss eg ville legge egg:
Idun Vagle

Viss eg ville vere litt utanlandsk:
Idun Smith
Idun Sommerschild

Viss eg ville vere artig:
Idun Kannelønning
Idun Haanshuus

Viss eg ville vere transe:
Idun Frank Folkedahl

Viss eg ville hatt færre feilskrivingar:
Idun Andersen (med 1 s)

Viss eg ville hatt heftig samansette namn:
Idun Ida Solhaug
Idun Irene Utne

Viss eg ville vere ultrakomplisert:
Idun Elisabeth Henden Al Hajjam

Viss eg ville vere rik:
Idun Reitan

Viss eg ville vere morosam i England:
Idun Herring

Viss eg ville vere engel:
Idun Dale Rein

Viss eg ville vere naturleg som naturen sjølv:
Idun Foss Myrmo

Viss eg ville vere den andre Idunen på Leikanger:
Idun Berit Svensson Himle

Viss eg synst namnet mitt var for kort:
Idun Emilia Lervik Roesen
Idun Elisabeth Stenbakken Østgaard
Idun Elisabeth Findalen Stenbakken
Idun Kristine Sverdstad Bjørvik

Viss eg sakna eit kjekt mellomnamn:
Idun Nelly Johanne Liland
Idun Nordis Hesenget Larsen

Viss eg ville bake namnekake:
Idun Wathne + Idun Mehl + Idun Egge Nilsen

Til alle Idunane der ute som i eit øyeblikks narsissisme googla namnet sitt og blei støytte: Det er for all del ikkje personleg. Til sjuande og sist er vi jo alle ein Idun, og hugs: Det er Stabburet som er vår eigentlege fiende.

Writing is a Prison

2006-08-26T10:53:00.000-07:00

Procrastinate
* verb: postpone doing what one should be doing (Example: "He did not want to write the letter and procrastinated for days")

* verb: postpone or delay needlessly (Example: "He procrastinated the matter until it was almost too late")

Buying Hungarian "chimney bread"

Soft-terror workshop

Monitoring the local construction work

Going to Greenwich

All in all, there should be no doubt that writing is hard.

The Pepper Can Strikes Again

2006-08-25T07:04:00.000-07:00

It's one of those days - again. Both Toby and I are now starting to feel as though the devious little pepper can is surveying the atmosphere in the room in order to strike, with lethal precision, just as we arrive at the lowest point of the weekly mood curve - to push us even further down.

A Difficult Day

2006-08-23T01:47:00.000-07:00

Some days are more difficult than others.

These are some of the common symptoms of a Difficult Day:

- the entire contents of the pepper container lands on your breakfast (exemplified in Toby)
- you have breakfast for more than one hour
- you stare at your computer
- you check your e-mail every 10 minutes or more
- you do unusually many wordcounts
- the weather is shit
- people on the street swear at each other, and you listen instead of working
- you decide to clean your ears
- you burn your dinner
- you can't upload pictures to your blog but keep trying for 2 hours
- and finally, there is no ketchup for your omelette, which forces you to go ketchup-hunting - while your dinner turns cold (exemplified in Toby)

This, however, turned out to be the only success story of that incredibly difficult day, which in fact lasted from Monday morning until Tuesday evening.

Toby got his ketchup in the end.

Millipede Murder

2006-08-20T03:03:00.000-07:00

It's been a weekend of brutal bloodshed.

I don't normally kill. Killing is wrong, and I'm usually scared that the insects will attack me before I have the time to smack them. Yesterday was a rare exception, but I put it down to shock. While comfortably stretched out in the staircase in a phone conversation, this squiggly, long creature starts worming his way underneath the floor carpet right in front of me, giving rise to all sorts of scenarios. I get hold of a shoe to try and smack it, not realising that the enemy has sought refuge in a corner, out of access of non-pointy Camper shoes. I slam and slam while still on the phone, but the millipede wisely plays dead. Or is he? That's when I discover that red shoes, unlike black shoes, leave red stains.

At this point, poor Toby returns from a four-day stay in a tent under a tree in rural France (apparently the drawback of country manor weddings). As always, this wedding attracted a swarm of couples, leaving Toby to hang out with (and share the campsite with) the only other single person around.

This, unfortunately, was the Murderous Mr X, who soon into the conversation mentions that he killed two squirrels the day before. Why, Toby asks, and then, just before bedtime in the dark garden by the manor, the campmate admits without trace of regret that he drowned them (!!!). A friend of his apparently needed some stuffed animals for a new chess board, and Mr X thought he'd help him out by providing two of them, so he grabbed them from a friend's pest control van, and svush. (Police...)

Toby calls his mum to report the madness.

This was the first of Toby's sleepless nights under the tree in France. Not that I think his fears are justified, but after discovering the millipede scene, Toby doesn't seem to sleep all that well in his London bed either.

PS. This is Toby's 20cm-long Chinese millipede friend, which justifies my actions. But not Mr X's.

Warning

2006-08-15T17:13:00.000-07:00

This is not just an invitation. This is a THREAT. From Toby and Idun.

And we're serious. You have only one option if you want to save the bananas. Be here at 7.30 on September 16th WITHOUT your disgusting dissertations.

"I'll eat them!"

We do, however, command that you come dressed as your dissertation. Guidance follows...

Uyghur Reponses to Chinese Rule

Cultural Ecology of Google Earth (or Toby after a mass consumption of the bananas' friends)

As we said: We are serious. Be there.

An Expedition to Kilburn

2006-08-13T05:21:00.000-07:00

London's outskirts are packed with little gems. Angeles, a Chinese restaurant in Kilburn, is one such place. Its food is spicy, abundant, and highly authentic; the staff is Chinese and so is the clientele. This includes round tables, sharing of dishes and of course, authentic alcohol - bai jiu) - with a taste so foul that it makes most people cringe.

Our infamous expeditions to Kilburn have been going on since the winter, but it's still nice, and the tube trips back tend to be particularly entertaining. Here's the last expedition, with Linda and Ragnhild (visiting from Norway), Gry (Ragnhild's friend), Daymon (my beer&language partner), Eleise (from my Chinese class)& Arjun (her Indian friend), Ee Loong (form Chinese politics classes), and myself.

Forbidden Fruit

2006-08-12T10:45:00.000-07:00

This is a prime specimen of durian. Never heard of it before? Me neither, until I had lunch with four Singaporians and they started talking about this mysterious fruit in a fascinatingly enthusiastic way. For instance, how did their different families consume it - on old newspapers? At home, or in parks? Which countries produce the best ones (apparently NOT Thailand), and what is the best time of year to go hunting for good ones? The most captivating aspect of this verbal orgy of fruit love was that everyone in Singapore seems to share the appetite for durian, despite the fact that it stinks (which is why it is forbidden in airports!). For this reason, the opera house is - unless someone was trying to fool me - actually shaped as the fruit!

Ee Loong, if you're reading this, you know what you have to bring me when you come back in September...

Marerittet er eit faktum

2006-08-11T06:06:00.000-07:00

Murphy's confirm that they are never going to leave Chapel Market.

Eg kjem att frå ein spasertur, og kjenner meg vågal. Eg marsjerer bort til arbeidskarane som framleis okkuperer både området framfor ytterdøra mi, lydrommet, og heile gata.
- Hei, omtrent kor lenge skal de halde på med arbeidet, spør eg bråkjekt. Mennene bykser opp frå arbeisstillingane sine, for er det ikkje ei KVINNE som snakkar til dei?
- Vi veit ikkje, ropar alle i kor, og det er først no eg oppdagar at den eine er (unnskyld uttrykket) ein vandrande penis.
- Koffor spør du, spør han med eit vulgært glis, bur du i nærleiken? Kor då? Det han eigentleg spør om er såklart om eg òg har sett den episoden i Frustrerte fruer der ho med det raude håret kastar seg over ein arbeidskar.
- Ja, koffor spør du, spør den andre. Det kan dei jo få lure på, tenker eg, og skiftar til eit farlegare ansiktsuttrykk.

Omsider kjem den stygge sanninga fram: Ingen veit faktisk kor lenge dei skal bore hol i hovudet på oss, og 2-3 veker er i ALLE fall ei underdriving.
- Meir sånn 2-3 månader, ropar den sex-hungrige nede frå grøfta si
- See you around, then!

Plant a Cracker

2006-08-09T12:02:00.000-07:00

- You know you can plant these in your garden, don't you? The lady at the till was looking up from my shopping bag, which she insisted on packing.
- Sorry?
- Your crackers. They have seeds on them, and if you plant them, they will turn into flowers. I stared at my Ryvita crackers with sunflower seeds, then glanced over my shoulder for the candid camera. There was none.
- I have no garden, I said, sheepishly. The peculiar lady ignored me and continued packing, no doubt thinking to herself "what a waste".

My confused head rewinded to last week, when a whispering, Chinese bloke now seated two tills away started interrogating me about the first red carrots I have ever bought, asking how I was intending to eat them, and then proceeding to the other products in my bag, in such a whisper I had to stick my head into his comfort zone to even hear.

There are many things in our kitchens we could plant, does that mean we have to? And who teaches these people their job?

Bryllaups-spesial

2006-08-09T11:31:00.000-07:00