susanna in österreich

the closest thing to magic

2007-11-28T14:26:00.000+01:00

I had my first training session in moving things through thought-power. It's all scientific!

That's how it works:

First, my friend the neuropsychologist pluggs my brain to a machine while I'm thinking of certain hand movements. After 30 min. of rigorous thoughts-workout the machine has figured out the patterns in which my brain imagines these moves. Then it's my turn to train speed and strength of imagination - the goal is to reach and hold the maximum level of activation the computer has measured.

The screen in front of me shows a hand and a glass. I have to stay motionless - no blinking, no swallowing. At first, nothing happens. Then, suddenly, fueled by my thoughts, the hand on the screen starts to move, approach the glass, and take it. The better I imagine the movements, the closer I get to the glass; after a while the hand grabs the glass in a split-second.

In the end I feel like I heaved a crate of beer with my brain - without lifting a finger... Now if that isn't magic...

you can't jump into the same river twice

2007-11-20T21:35:00.000+01:00

time.
Zeit.

Indo-Germanic:
dā. "to divide, cut, tear apart"

The "now" that is now, is no longer the same "now" in this very moment,

or:
"You can't jump into the same river twice" (Heraclitus)

However:

The "now" that was once remains unbroken in art,

or:
Heraclitus was not quite right...

Vermeer's Milk Maid

The constant flow of time in a calm flow of milk. The jug hasn't emptied since 1658.
(Check for close-up to see the impressive study of fluid in motion...)

Francesco Furini, Lucia

the smell of skin, the taste of dismissal, flicker of candles, rustling of fabric

Lucia, the saint of light, bathing in intimate chiaroscuro - between seduction and abstinence. Her charms are obvious, in contrast to her attribute, the eyeballs.

Bruno Liljefors, Jaybird

cool air, the smell of rotting leaves, surprise, infinity, fragility

The artistic point of view of a professional hunter.

Anders Zorn, A Premiere

laughter, the gurgle of water, gooseflesh, the sound of splashing and encouraging words

In uptight Europe, Anders Zorn turned portraits of Nordic "shamelessness" into gold.

it's there but it's not

2007-10-29T11:34:00.000+01:00

Yay! I found a tutor for my thesis! Well, this announcement isn't that spectacular since sombody had to take care of me anyway. On rare occasions however, I can get incredibly resolute in the face of (universitarian) bureaucracy. I tracked down a teacher who is in fact already retired, I persuaded him due to my hazy but great ideas and he agreed to help me write my thesis after my straightening out of the concept.

Eternal growth: Francesco Zucchi, La Primavera

After two weeks of hesitant reading I'm beginning to doubt my sanity - since writing about "time" would involve a lot of phenomenology. And phenomenologists really aren't nice people. Most of them just don't want anyone to understand their thoughts. At least they don't want me to follow them. Maybe I just reached the limits of my cerebral capacity. Or phenomenology is nothing but the philosophical incarnation of a tale called "The emperor's new clothes"... Pretending to understand things that never made sense anyway... Owww - come on, let me dream....

Eternal death: Matheus Bloem, Still life

So... time... the thing is that it doesn't even exist. Although everybody knows time, it has always been terribly difficult to define what it is. Take physical time, for instance. There was the need of a precise definition of time, so we built atomic clocks. Assuming that we have 5 atomic clock and 1 shows a different time due to a technical problem. The 4 other clocks will reprehend the 5th for giving the wrong time. But theoretically, they could be wrong too. In this case, time is given through a majority of votes. Before the physicists we had ancient priests, medieval merchants, astronomers and even popes to give us time. Difining time means the possibility to coordinate all kinds of processes happening in different places. "Possessing" time means influence over work rhythms, the flow of money and goods, and many more. Ultimately, it means power over growth, evolution, and death. More power, more money.

Paolo Uccello, The Battle of San Romano. Early study of movement: the body in time and space

So, time doesn't really exist, but it has the power to make us ridiculously wealthy if we happen to walk on the bright side of life. On the other hand it is an unsatiable Big Eater - nothing can withstand it. Pretty impressive for a nonexistent thing, eh?!
Have you ever tried to picture time? I mean T-I-M-E; not a clock or a number, your wrinkles, children growing up, the four seasons, an hour glass or the expiry date on a yogurt. Try it. I bet it won't work. Time ultimately needs space to be grasped by the human mind. Time has to be imagined connected to an event or an object, otherwise it remains an empty formula.

How about the ultimate absence of time? Ever tried to imagine that one: eternity? Or, worse: eternal space? A friend told me that his mother comes close to black-out every time she attempts thinking of the endlessness of the universe. Well, it is a brain twister...

to whom it may concern...

2007-10-20T19:44:00.000+02:00

Thoughts from this morning's walk to university:
I'm thinking that I don't like to see chocolate-Santas sold in the middle of October.
I think that I like how the old guitar-playing cowboy in the city looks at me every morning with this knowing smile, without knowing me. I like to smile back.
I think that I should discipline myself to look the beggars in the eye.
I'm thinking about how I live my life: being thrown into the unknown by an astonishing security net, making it more solid every time I fall back. So the trick is the jumping!, I grin and I walk past a ticket shop...
Un ballo in maschera, I'm thinking about me in a black dress, gold, velvet, an orchestra, and then I remember two black and silver masks, the Night, a crazy Frenchman, an asylum, glittery stars and a crazy croud.

Then I think of Victor and Ingmar, who kept me busy one year ago - this year it was Otto... I remember being undetermined whether I should be homesick or not. Approximately one year ago I was cooking a huge pot of pumpkin soup that would change my life.

A potage might be a strange symbol for this past year, but that's just what it has been: warm, rich and very filling. Thanks to all the responsibles, but especially to the one who added the piri-piri.

what's behind it?

2007-10-05T13:08:00.000+02:00

What's inside?

Mary Kelly's lighthouse of feminists' experiences

I've been thinking for a while now how to write about what I saw and learned at the Documenta 12, a big exhibition of contemporary art in Kassel, Germany. Time to write it down before the memories fade completely...

As usual, I already forgot most of the names and all the "important" stuff. What I remember quite well, though, is a way of thinking, a state of mind and the kind of bliss resulting from heavy intellectual labour...

I remember a group of people under the guidance of an admirable teacher, getting cerebral exercise in onion-peeling; finding layers within layers, within layers, within layers...

I remember being more than relieved to find myself with people and most of them not confusing their dislike of a work with its being art or not.

I remember thinking, rethinking, twisting things, looking at them again and again, feeling - really dissecting them... Asking zillions of questions:

Simple questions, but hey, once you start there's no stopping: What's the artist's object? How is it transferred? Why this way? Why not another? Do you actually understand the accompanying text? [good one!] Where does it come from? Where is it going? References? Memories? Facts? Beliefs? And - in what way can a museum destroy art?

I remember transformative experiences: meeting a work of art, not understanding it, and stepping away an hour later being all enthusiastic. I remember going to bed at night still brooding about something I saw, or heard, or felt, trying to catch it and find out what's behind it...

I also remember tired feet, an ugly city including pretty depressed looking people, a yummy turkish dish (forgot the name again...), cheap beer from plastic (?) bottles and lunch packages made from the hotel's breakfast buffet that fell apart in their paper wrappings after being tossed around for hours in our bags. Oh yes, and long busrides...

Alexander in battle, mosaic from Pompeji -
a still familiar viewpoint of history...

... transposed into "magnet" by Simon Wachsmuth
"Where we were then, where we are now", 2007

Celestial Teapot, 2006/07

Lukas Duwenhögger's proposal for a memorial site for the persecuted homosexual victims in the Third Reich

disgression concerning a noteworthy custom

2007-08-31T13:40:00.000+02:00

In Styria - especially in the Southwest - summer weekends are readily dedicated to pilgrimages up a serpentine path; the destination of the travel being a so-called Buschenschank.

The term Buschenschank is composed of a) the Busch; meaning "bush" or "scrub", and b) Schank/Schenke; meaning "tavern" or "bar": in old times, a pine twig was attached above the door to indicate the bar was open. The drinks served, though, have nothing to do with pines, but with far more delicate plants: vines, of course.

Another famous term for Buschenschank, namely Heuriger (more typical for Vienna, Lower Austria and the Burgenland) renders more precisely the actual noteworthiness of the entire institution: heurig meaning "of this year" tells us that the wine served in a Heuriger is "young"; made during the last year. And, most importantly, a Buschenschank/Heuriger is allowed to serve only its own wine, must etc. Food is usually locally produced as well.

Despite the clarification of all this it remains rather difficult to render the pilgrim's bliss when sitting amidst the vine, the late summer sun in his face and a glass of some "noble drop" in his hand. Due to this dizzying kind of bliss the way home down the serpentine can actually prove to be quite adventurous, yet, faithful and loyal to Bacchus, the pilgrim humbly accepts all occurring hardships...

Old People's Home

2007-08-19T20:13:00.001+02:00

Peng Yu & Sun Yuang: Old People's Home

Picture: Nicolas Lackner, Landesmuseum Joanneum

It was a cynical, eerie and saddeningly comical sight:

13 wheelchairbound wax dodderers dancing a hopelessly disorganized and clumsy ballet in some sort of arena inside the museum (Kunsthaus Graz).

Rolling towards the visitors with senile determination, stopping in time just to bump into each other and get stuck for good...

An old man looking like Arafat, fast asleep and drooping backwards, did not notice that he got pushed around in circles by some other semi-concious wheelchair driver, until visitors took pity on them and disentangled the tragicomic spectacle.

With white hair, age spots and wrinkles, these old men looked alarmingly real - you'd expect them to snore, or cough, or startle up. But - nothing. Still, the inanimate handicapped stirred up much puzzlement, compassion as well as reservation. Despite the inanimatedness of the mobile exhibits, visitors and museum staff involuntarily found themselves in the role of nurses and caretakers in the Old People's Home.

(One of the countless China-exhibitions at the moment: China Welcomes You, Kunsthaus Graz, until the 2nd of September)

blues

2007-07-11T14:00:00.000+02:00

so...

here I am...

Austria is green and beautiful and comforting, liked it used to be.
The climbing plant under my window has finally reached the balcony.
My home smells like it used to and they still sell Mannerschnitten.

Everything is really fine except that I don't want to be here.

My mind is moving through change as gracefully as a cat thrown into the bathtub.

Pray for me... (I mean it)

1st week in Greece - Athens!

2007-06-10T14:04:00.000+02:00

What a change, coming from quiet, idyllic Lund to a city like Athens!

Today is Sunday and it's quiet – no construction noises, few sirens, only the traffic of downtown Athens, the dogs and the birds. But the days before – my God! - it was crazy!

This city – how to describe it? - from the first two hours on I had the impression of it being an animal, constantly roaring, breathing, barking, booming, lurking about all around me. Half of Greece's population lives in this seemingly neverending concrete jungle. Although every big city is stressful and restless, Athens is so far the most extreme I've ever seen. It is fun, the first few days, to walk the streets in the constant alertness needed to make it in a big city. But then, when your feet start to automatically avoid dog poo, human pee or construction holes, you have the freedom to look up and see people's faces...

I admit that I forgot how much human appearance is shaped by the surroundings. In Athens, the unnerving chaos and madness of this city, and maybe also the hardships of life in Greece in general, have carved deep signs already in young people's faces. All seem to walk with difficulty from some sort of invisible weight. Especially women carry their worries in tilted basins and on rounded shoulders. What strikes me most, having lived almost a year in Sweden, is that almost everyone in this city looks unhealthy – apart from the stress of Athens' everyday life, let's not forget the abundance of cheap fast food, the daily consumption of meat, and the clouds of cigarette smoke that seem to engulf everything...
In a way, I feel very sad for what has happened to Greece – it becomes evident that this country was not really prepared for so-called “modernity”. Theo tells me that almost everyone here owes tremendous amounts of money to the banks (due to a scam organized by politicians, stock exchange companies and foreign companies in '99), and my innocent mind is still struggling with the fact that in a European country corruption and cheating are practiced on a daily basis. Politicians and companies do not even care to hide their money-making schemes from the public. All in all, it's sad.
Under all of this, though, I see amazingly lively and passionate people. So far, everyone I've encountered has been very warm and hospitable. It's refreshing to meet people who have their heart out on their jacket, and not burried under many layers that can only be passed through repeated proofs of trustworthiness. Also, I see that many people here carry in them a sort of faith like I have never witnessed before – it's not really dictated by doctrines or intellectual efforts, it comes directly from the heart (and I guess, it is also what saves them...)
I'm really looking forward to see more, since everyone tells me that Greece is wonderful, except for Athens...

huh?!

2007-05-31T17:24:00.000+02:00

Some spammer added a comment/article to my post about my hometown Graz, telling me all the things I did already know about the city (and some of them I had already written). But here comes the funny bit: after mentioning the "excellent connection of Graz to Vienna Airport" (3 hours, haha!), the article says:

Graz is also noted for its excellent transport planning policies which have ensured the city benefits from efficient public transport, low levels of congestion and good environmental conditions.

Right under this - how should I call it? wishful thinking? - comes a picture of the inner city, drowned in smog.

I really don't know if this guy and me are talking about the same city. But you never know, maybe some things have changed in my absence?

Ah, I'm really looking forward to coming back...

the planet

2007-05-25T19:52:00.000+02:00

Here are the links to an award-winning series of documentaries, called "The Planet".
The series aired on Swedish television, so don't be irritated by the Swedish commentators in the beginning, and the Swedish subtitles - everything else is in English and good quality. Enjoy!

The Planet - Part 1
The Planet - Part 2
The Planet - Part 3
The Planet - Part 4

touristic procrastination

2007-05-23T09:54:00.000+02:00

Each time I go to Copenhagen, I have this plan in my head of things to do and see. But somehow I always end up having visited none of the points on my list, because I usually stumble upon something else that keeps me for hours.

This time: the Botanical Garden. This is like the most magical place on earth (if you assume that the earth ends somewhere around the borders of Copenhagen, humhum). And the little hill in the center is the place to go if you're in for some dazzling olfactory experiences... *mh!*

appendix & update

2007-05-09T15:03:00.000+02:00

The cliffs near Ales Stenar

Afterword to my trip to southern Scania.
Not a lot of pictures.
Plus, I didn't take my camera to lovely Stenshuvud National Park.

Anyway.
I just hate stealing the illustrations for my blog from the Web...

My life here might be pretty idyllic, however, the topics I'm currently dealing with aren't. The spring term is nearing its end, the deadlines for papers, presentations and assignments are approaching, merciless professors are handing out even more papers, students are frantically working and missing the most beautiful days of the year :(

But, let's face it, I am learning a lot, right now...

Park at Häckeberga castle

I have just finished an enormously interesting book dealing with King Leopold's colonial terror regime in the Congo. In only ten years, the people working for the Belgian used up half of the Congo's population - an estimated 8-10 millions - in the chase for rubber and ivory.

Obviously, the other colonial forces wolfing down the African cake weren't any better. Still, cutting off heads and hands doesn't become an acceptable act, just because everybody does it.

The international movement against the Congo atrocities sprung from one man, E.D. Morel, and was one of the first and biggest, regarding human rights. Mark Twain participated in the Anti-Congo protest marches. Today, however, the whole story is forgotten.

All in all, Hochschild's book was a totally enjoyable and enlightening read:
King Leopold's Ghost

I am currently reading another high-class book for my course on religious terrorism:
Charles Kimball, When Religion Becomes Evil. Kimball presents five warning signs of corrupted religion, and tries to offer a series of correctives for each of them.

This course belongs, in a way, to one of these academic experiences that have deeply transformed my way of thinking, of researching, and my overall approach to relevant matters.

Let's face it - whether you're having a spiritual practice or not, whether you like religion(s) or not - they're gonna stick around for quite some time... And they are shaping our political, economical and social reality to such a great extent, that we ought to find a way to talk about and deal with these matters without being either afraid of being looked upon as a loony, nor ending up in the realm of blind beliefs, or total speculation.

Ales Stenar

With my group for this course, I am preparing the presentation of a Ugandan rebel/religious terrorist group, the LRA (Lord's Resistance Army). This group is (partly) responsible for one of the worst humanitarian emergencies worldwide - I doubt however, that anyone in the West has ever heard about it. Here is a blog on all recent developments: Uganda Watch

The deeper I delve into the subject, the crazier and hazier it gets. I ended up in a spider's web, where everyone seems to have their hands entangled in some dirty business.

The idea of a second, invisible reality known in many traditional myths, is often presented as an enormous spider's web that connects all beings, spirits, thoughts, places, and times.
Working here in Lund, I start to understand...

scanian paradise

2007-05-07T20:25:00.000+02:00

Warning! All pictures are stolen - didn't have the time to upload my own - yet...

Since my days here in Sweden are numbered, I took the opportunity to explore more of the country this weekend. Scania can be so heartachingly beautiful!
The people may be a bit reserved, but nature definitely isn't - at least this time of the year - and shows off in its most provocant colour combinations: bright blue sky, painfully yellow rapeseed fields, imbedded in fresh greenery, framed by the dark blue Baltic Sea...

Häckeberga castle

Some idyllic lakes and castles on the way...

Ales stenar

Ancient stone monuments...

Stenshuvud National Park

... and a multitude of national parks.
Stenshuvud definetely is my favourite. The forest there seems to have been cut and pasted from a children's fairy tale book.

Not to mention the breathtaking atmosphere on top of the stonehead: the shoreline can be seen for several kilometres (nothing but fine white sand and according soundscape), there is wind, and wild birds, and peace.

Yep.

I hope Greece can keep up with that ;)

the march of the emperor

2007-04-28T15:54:00.000+02:00

This is one of the most amazing (!) documentaries I have ever seen: March of the Emperor (La marche de l'empereur) . You can watch it here for free (bad sound, though, I'm sorry...)

Wikipedia tells me that the peguins started their journey around a month ago (90 kilometres to walk, for them that's approximately 40 days and more) to get to their breeding place. About now, they should have found their partners and mate. The girls will lay their eggs and walk back to the sea to find some food. The guys will have to wait for them with an egg between their feet, no food for more than 3 months, and additionally withstanding lethal windstorms and temperatures from -60° to -70° C...

This is why the Arctic explorer Cherry-Garrard said:

"Take it all in all, I do not believe anybody on Earth has a worse time than an Emperor penguin."

Oh - and you should definitely watch the following ad :D *lol*

being selfish

2007-04-01T14:55:00.000+02:00

Now that the cold season is definitely over, I have to get myself used to people again. Spent most of the weekend in Copenhagen, being completely knocked out by the masses of bodies moving everywhere around me. Lund is such a cosy little place, I'm simply not used to having strangers stepping on my feet and breathing on my neck anymore. Not that I ever really did... Anyway, you know what I mean, don't you...

The result was that I spend 4 days longing for my bed from 10 in the morning; pathetic.
As always, Yoga did the trick.

I just burped out another depressing assignment on the terrorist's mind; very intellectual and too philosophical as usual, and - worst and much to the despair of my teachers - I do mean my idealist ideas...

Now I'm free to relax into my monday-evening-occupation: running my fingers through some luxurious, deliciously soft Alpaca wool and transforming it into a gorgeous, extra-light and extra-warm cardigan just for me-me-me! After all the work for everybody else (pullovers, bears and countless mittens for the shop) I feel like I want to start wrapping myself in handmade purls and stitches.

Yay, call me grandma.

up the little hill

2007-03-16T10:51:00.000+01:00

The other day, up the little hill just before where I live, I could see the horizon again. I could smell the sea, and the wind was mild.

When you feel memories bubbling up, so old you probably didn't even exist when they were created,

when the warmth of the sun on your face wakes you up in the morning,

it's spring for sure.

A song that smells just as fresh and clean as spring-time:

baby born

2007-03-14T17:55:00.000+01:00

The baby is born, finally!

It took its mommy 60.000 stitches to make, 9 kilograms of wool (although she's certain it weighs less, strangely enough), and 70 days of labour. It's got a front, a back, arms and cables and everything:

It's ready now to roam this earth with its new owner. Farewell, baby!

Ŝtrumpetoj malaperis!

2007-02-28T11:00:00.000+01:00

Imagu, amikoj, loĝi en loko (apartamento, fakte) kie ĉiom da viaj vestoj malaperas ĉiom da tempo!

Hieraŭ, plia paro da miaj ŝtrumpetoj malaperis!
Tiuj estis belaj ŝtrumpetoj!
Estis tre belaj, purpuraj ŝtrumpetoj!
Fakte, estis la plej belaj ŝtrumpetoj en la tuta mondo!
Kaj nun, neniam mi povos porti ilin!

La knabinoj ambaŭ diras ke ili ne estas ŝtelistoj, sed mi trovas ke iliaj visaĝoj aspektas tre strange. Tro strange, fakte. Tial mi aktivigos mian esplorpovon kaj solvos la misteron! Estis unu paro de ŝtrumpetoj tro multa!

parsva bakasana!

2007-02-26T23:21:00.000+01:00

Uncork the champagne!

Usually it's when you stop forcing them that things finally happen. That's what I have to keep telling myself whenever I practice the more challenging poses: stay playful and just try, but do give your very best.
So, when I suddenly felt my feet up in the air and my knee perfectly balanced on my arms this morning, I felt like... mmmh... I have tried parsva bakasana many times before, just to avoid the humiliation the next time I try to carry a beer crate up the stairs. And all these times, I remained clueless about how my crow should actually take off... I could do a crow, but a side crow requires even more strength, it seemed.

This is a beautiful pose. A wise person writes that it unites surrender and strength; and, well, he's right. It's everything; a nice twist for the lower back, a balancing pose, a tremendous strengthener for the torso, and a lot of fun because your body is in a totally unusual position - prepare to be startled...
You basically squeeze everything you have (legs together, knees to belly, feet to butt), you pull, you push, and when you feel like a muscular ball under high voltage, you simply lean forward - you trespass the point on which you fear that you might crash-land on your nose - and give yourself to gravity. Tada! And now the cherry on top: breath deeply.

it will pass...

2007-02-24T03:13:00.000+01:00

"How are you?", a planet asks the earth.

"Ah, I'm not well at all", the earth replies. "I have homo sapiens."

"Oh, that one. I had it too - you'll see, it will pass..."

white!

2007-02-23T09:00:00.000+01:00

How come people are always surprised by the weather?

How come Swedish people are surprised by the cold?
How come they are surprised by snow?

I just don't get it - we had 30 cm of snow yesterday (and a storm that almost blew our house away) and in the bus this was discussed so excitedly as if we were all living in the Sahara and snow was something totally alien...

And a strange Swedish lady advised as not to be stupid and stop those dangerous snow-fights at once! Who would have guessed that these balls of fresh, fluffy cold material can turn out to be lethal weapons?

clever ways to save money, part 1

2007-02-17T14:04:00.000+01:00

Haha, so the friendly cosmetic surgeon asked me to remove the pictures that I had posted here a few weeks ago, because (see comments...) of my violation of his patient's privacy. This makes sense to me, since the photos of the lady are really really well hidden from the public sphere on his website... And I'm no criminal, so I'll undo my mistake and just put links.

Even if this man has done a wonderful job and you can't actually make out the tiniest evidence of his surgeon's knives even coming near her face, I'm a bit sceptical... I wonder if buying the same look (or a even worse one) for at least 1000€ isn't a bit expensive? So, people, even if the idea of transferring the fat from you behind into your cheeks and lips, or having holes cut into your eyelids, or getting your nose broken sounds oh-so-tempting - don't do it. But feel free to check the pictures of all the poor creatures who didn't get the warning in time - it's a lot of fun...

And here comes the lady who's privacy I hope I could now avoid violating (don't be shocked by the unbelievable non-alikeness, it IS the same person!)

Before After

P.S.: Dear mister surgeon, I'm sorry I am such a hopeless case. Maybe consider including this in your repertoire for people like me.

fences

2007-02-08T11:02:00.000+01:00

I admit I haven't been a very assiduous blogger these days...

Coming back to Sweden was somehow difficult and simple at the same time - many friends are gone for good now, and I am soon entering the second half of my stay here. The days I still have to spend here are going to be less and less, and I don't know if I'm more freaked out by the fact that I will have to go, or happy to collect this experience...

In the last week of January, I found myself in an almost nightmarish situation. Have you ever dreamed of being on stage without any clue of what to say or do, not even knowing the character you should play? It was a little bit like this for me, when Oleg's friend Thomas asked me to participate in an Esperanto-concert this same day. I said yes and found myself on stage approx. 90 minutes later, playing songs I barely knew on an instrument I knew even less (Melodika), but it was fun - and definitely a challenge. I was surprised by my own coolness, hm.

At the moment, I'm desperately trying to find where my courses take place. It's Kafkaesque: no informations, no contact-persons, no schedules, no nothing. Also, when I finally think I found the place, I go there and I find that there is a completely different course going on. It seems that my lectures are like little animals that escape every time you think you caught them.

Yesterday I treated myself and decided to go and buy some food. I realized that I have been living on an almost empty fridge since I came back (don't worry, there are some people who care for me...). I guess it was the trauma of coming back and being expected to pay 4 Euro for 4 miserable tomatoes which has held me back from providing myself with edible stuff...

So far, I guess my life doesn't seem to be very exciting, but I tell you, the show is going on inside... Since I came here, I feel like I'm on a roller coaster, or some sort of highway of self-experience. I shake up the boundaries of what I think I am, or what I think things should be like almost everyday. It comes naturally to try different ways and although it seems all so small I am astonished by the results. I'm especially interested in all these things that are linked to this notion of "femininity" - I dug up a lot of strange ideas from inside myself of how women (and therefore me, too) are supposed to be, and I'm having fun challenging myself to disappoint my own expectations. For instance, who would have thought that it was so difficult for me to go out without make-up? ... -
So, I went out without make-up.
And observed.

Voices in my head telling me I'm the ugliest creature on earth and should rather go home and hide under the blanket. Insecurities I have no idea where they come from. I'm especially amused by this conviction of mine that one layer of mascara would change it all... And what happened, you'll ask? Nothing. No-one making fun of me or looking repulsed. Let's say: no-one even looking (ok, I'm in Lund...). So: I'm free to do it or leave it.

It got all so smooth since I started to consciously get the "what-could-people-think"-fence out of my way; so I keep going.

There's more things going on, but I keep them for another post (matter of holding up the suspense...)

where Downward Facing Dog is man's best friend...

2007-01-18T11:33:00.000+01:00

Those of you who know me a little bit better, know it's pretty hard to stop me once I start jabbling about my N°1 passion. Yes, I am a citizen of the land of crows, downward and upward facing dogs, warriors, swans and other strange creatures...

But aside from poses with complicated names that make you look like a pretzel, even the simplest Yoga pose can have astonishing effects on your physical and mental condition. You can do it to gain strength, loose weight, relief pain, get really sweaty, encrease your respiratory volume, health, contentment or whatever other physical or psychological goal you may have. But the beauty of Yoga is, that here - for once - there's nothing to achieve in reality. You don't do it to be able to bite your toe-nails (unless you enjoy the taste). You do it for the sake of what it is - the joy of being alive.

So, if you want to give it a try: here's two podcasts I discovered a few months ago and which I find wonderful:

YogAmazing: Rather short classes (approx. 20 min.) with a very passionate and sympathic teacher. I'd recommend it to beginners who have never tried Yoga before. Technical basics are well-taught, as well as psychological and philosophical approach.

YogaToday: A long class (1h) every day. 3 different teachers, a lot of different styles, but the focus is always on the meditation in movement. Classes can get very vigorous - at least I sweat all the time - so to focus on security and your own limits is very important. In my eyes, the technical aspects are taught in a fantastic way; which gives you a bigger inview on how your body works, and enables you to move deeply into each pose. And you'll learn how to integrate what you learn on the mat into your everyday life (movements, actions, thoughts).

Happy New Year from Austria...

2007-01-01T20:22:00.000+01:00

Happy New Year to all the Australians, Austrians, Americans, Belorussians, British, Canadians, Chinese, Finnish, French, Germans, Indians, Italians, Japanese, Mexicans, New Zealanders, Russians, Spanish, Swedes, Vietnamese, aaaand Greeks!
All the best to you!!!

I ate a lot of sweet fish-formed cookies, ...

... watched strangers hug and hugged many unknown people, ...

... and melted little tin-figures above a candle, ...

... threw them into a bowl of water ...

... and read the future in the bizzare forms...

It's going to be a year full of challenges, surprises, wise dogs, winged feet and blooming eggs...

how to do a half french-half austrian christmas...

2006-12-25T21:57:00.000+01:00

N°1 - The Advent wreath
Very important! People who have stayed in Sweden will probably already know the tradition of lighting one candle each Sonday of Advent, until all four of them are burning on Christmas Eve. The only difference to Austria is that here, we don't put them in a row, but in a circle...

N°2 - The Christmas tree

Also very important! It's crucial to find a true fir-tree, not a spruce, if you don't want to constantly sting yourself during the hours of decoration (also, the smell is different, and fir trees tend to keep their needles longer). Decorate with real candles, if you know what good taste is! Put the presents under the tree if you are a grown up; and if you are a child, you wait for the Christkind (Baby-Christ) to do it...

N° 3 - The Food

Crucial, since both French and Austrian people are known to be unable to resist Lucullian delights... Some families have a traditional Christmas menu; we prefer to make up our minds anew each year. We try to put some dishes from every culture, which is a bit of a tightrope-walk, but it always works out well.

N° 3 a) The Starter

This year: Vegetable mousse with shrimps and a sauce of white wine (Susa rediscovered her Photoshop and overdid it, as you can see...)

N° 3 b) The Main Course

This year: Venison-ragout, red cabbage with chestnuts and dumplings and black-currant jam to eat in little portions with the meat. When I read what I just wrote, I can't help but feeling disgusted myself, but it's actually one of the finest dishes you can get (and I know some people out there who can attest to my good taste! *grmpf*)...

N° 3 c) La Bûche

The only course that must not change! The Bûche is a traditional French Christmas dessert in the form of a freshly cut tree-trunk. There are several ways to make it, but in our case (which is the "real" one, of course...) you prepare a delicious chunk of biscuit, butter, nuts, coffee and liquor...

Then, using all your physical force, you try to shape this lump in the form of a tree trunk. Demonstration by my mom, the expert-Bûche-producer (also, she made an effort to look really French):

A ton of chocolate and half an hour of patient fork-work later, the tree is almost perfect....

Finally, you put some artificial snow in form of sugar and simply eat it!

And then, all you have to do, is drink some coffee and marvel at your presents over and over again...

i am from austria

2006-12-21T22:54:00.002+01:00

I'll make the attempt to introduce you all to my hometown Graz in just one post. So it's going to be rather sketchy...

To start with, it's very simple: Graz is a town with a river and a kind of mountain in the middle. Napoleon has destroyed the old fortress on top of it except for some buildings, but only after the people from Graz had paid him dearly to spare them...

Climbing up that hill or mountain, you'll soon discover one of Graz' characteristics: the beautiful roofs (I stole the following picture...)

Graz is the capital of a department called Styria, also known as Austria's Green Heart (which is a bit stupid if you consider that basically all of Austria is green, most of the time...). Styria's emblem is something they call a "panther", but I'm not so sure what this poor beast is supposed to be in reality... Whatever, it's green and white and has a beautiful crown and dangerous claws. Once it even spit flames from its ass. Then somebody decided that this was definitely going too far and extinguished the creature's undecent fire. And now... ah... just have a look:

Now it's getting a bit more complicated. After having defeated the plague and the Ottoman army for good at the end of the 17th century, entire Austria was of course super-relieved and in the mood to show off their newly gained prosperity. Plus, Catholic church had made short work of Reformation - now clergy and aristrocracy suddenly recognized that they had the same interests. So they employed a lot of artists to make some publicity for them and to leave no doubt in the population that they were strong and had too much money. The results are beautiful and imposant (that's why they're mostly very golden).
Saint Sebastian and Saint Jacob under a Plague Column:

Personally, what I like most about Graz are its beautiful, cosy yards. You can always discover new ones (especially when you study art history and you know someone who knows someone who knows somebody who has got the keys...). As I'm a snoopy person, just randomly walking through an open door leading to the unknown is exactly my kind of hobby...

Austrian "Hausmeister" (concierges) and landlords love to leave their mark, like dogs, in form of little signs which tell you that what you are doing is on the edge of legality, even if it's just "going through", or "sightseeing"...

Usually, the beautiful yards have unimpressive doors, and vice-versa...

Some of our vices: smoking (Austria Tabak), drinking (Puntigamer Bier), Eating (red lobster in the background; sign of a restaurant), lotto...

Restaurants usually have nice names, like the "Golden Pastry" below.

Some years back, a new tradition was introduced to Graz: a huge Nativity Scene sculpted of ice blocks and displayed in a popular big courtyard in the center. Usually, the sculptures don't survive the first week of Advent; it's too warm...

Yep, of course we are affected by global warming too! But the population of Graz isn't very eager to help changing anything about the problem. They seem to be tied to their cars (the smaller the human, the bigger the car, I guess), preferring to spend 1 hour in the traffic jam than to just hop into the bus, the tram, or on their bikes and be there in 20 minutes. The results are really bad air and a lot of allergies and lung-problems - high life for doctors!

There are a lot of beggars too, many of them from Slovakia because they're not allowed to work in Vienna. See how xenophile we are?!

Seems like the perfect place to "Make Change Happen", hm?

coming home

2006-12-21T22:54:00.001+01:00

Ooohooo! Back again... It feels so strange, I tell you! I spent most of my Monday on the airport of Berlin and I was... irritated. I got used to not understanding what people around me are talking about - but it's certainly better this way... Besides, Austrian and German people have this nerve-wracking habit to discuss everything on their cell-phone in public. The louder the better. Is it like that in Sweden too, or did I just not notice/understand?

Back in Graz I was welcomed by a nice guard of honor. Now, I'm sure I'll have to deal with some rumours about my family later, if I tell you that my parents put a lot of different beers all the way up the stairs to my room. You'll be disappointed when I tell you that by now we have only finished two bottles (together!); which makes not even half a litre per person. But we're working on it...

And the rest of the time I'm still a bit groggy; jumping emotionally from enthusiasm (some people started producing babies in my absence...) to despair. Not because of the babies. It's because of... ah... *sigh*... Life is hard. More about that in the next post.

Bliss! I have my biiig bed again. And a big room. And sunny walls. And two hours more light. And no rain!

conspiracy

2006-12-15T15:15:00.000+01:00

I don't see any reason for smiling today.

Everybody is packing their suitcases, waving good-bye, wishing Merry Christmas!/God Jul! and telling me that we are going to meet next year, or - worse! - sometime in the future.

The entire world has conspired against me. I even know some people who are now sitting under the warm southern sun, wearing nothing but T-Shirts. In Lund it's raining, of course, and I'm sitting here - wringing out the 3.548th pair of socks. It sucks.

I just went for a cup of coffee with a friend for the last time this year. I feel miserable! I am like these pitiful cartoon-characters shuffling along with a fat rain cloud over their head while everybody else is whistling and walking under the clear blue sky.

But at least our conversation made me see what I want to be: a nomad.

copenhagen

2006-12-11T00:15:00.000+01:00

The best place to live in probably is a big red house located on one of Copenhagen's beautiful canals. I now have this fantasy of inheriting it and renting the appartments. According to a well-informed insider, this is how I can keep warm and well-nourished until the end of my life without ever needing to send any applications to any employer. Hehe.

The worst place to live in probably is any flat located right next to Copenhagen's amusement park Tivoli, especially when it's next to one of its wild rides, e.g. The Demon, or The Golden Tower. I still can hear the screams of terror. By the way, I just found out that Tivoli promotes taking the Golden Tower (free-falling from 80m high!) as ultimate test of character [!]. I'm sure you guessed that I failed... *bouhou*

The worst thing that could happen to you in Copenhagen is forgetting your camera - now guess what happened to me? It's an incredible town, from its cobbles to its rooftops. Everything there's grandiose, from the Christmas decorations to the crowds of people in the streets, the price of your coffee and the number of super-rich and well-dressed humans (especially men!). Now this could be read as the description of an extremely decadent, tasteless and snobbish capital - but somehow Copenhagen manages to take all these adjectives and turn them into something magical and truly enchanting.

This is certainly due to the fact that all these Gucci/Prada/I don't know what - people suffer from a spectacularly odd succession of strange sounds flowing out of their mouths - this makes their richness more tolerable and somewhat a merciful compensation for their horrible disease. If you want to listen to this clown-language, click the following link (you'll also see what Tivoli looks like these days): Christmas at Tivoli.

Conclusion: a trip to Copenhagen is highly recommended.

esperanto-update

2006-12-06T00:35:00.000+01:00

Shiny happy people

1 picture, 9 nations, and (hopefully very soon) 2 (two) common languages.

Not so shiny, but still very happy people

1 picture, 5 people, 4 nations...

(re)treat!

2006-12-05T10:54:00.000+01:00

Phew, it was really about time that all this working should stop... I treated myself with this beauty on Monday, right after my - almost - final exam and right before falling almost drop dead into my bed. I know, I should probably have waited until I get my results, but God knows that bureaucratic mills grind slowly... Also, my beautiful onyx will remind me that, girl, YOU CAN WORK!!!

(Even if this: only attests me a quite low nerd score...)

And this evening, the learning will be proceeded on another level: I have my first Esperanto-class, thanks to Oleg, and I'm soooooooo excited. You know I love words.

Did I mention that Beta.Blogger is superb?! Look at all the nice labels I can pin to my posts! (And all the other things I can do, which you can't see, unfortunately - just know that I can make my whole blog undergo a complete metamorphosis in just one finger-click. Good to know that some things still work like that. Magnificent. Yeahyeahyeah, I'll stop it...)

memory

2006-12-04T17:55:00.000+01:00

After a hard week and an exhausting Sunday (serving Glögg and Pepperkakor at the shop), we joined the International Memoir Society's first meeting yesterday evening. This society is presided by Susan McCabe, professor at the department of literature at the University of Southern California. The idea behind this Society - as far as I could get it - is to give artists from all over the world the opportunity to exchange, collect ideas and present their work, that should - of course - be linked to this rather ample notion of memory.

Susan was not there but I would really have liked to hear her opinion and have her lead the discussion. I read some of her poems - she's striking.

However, I had expected and at the same time feared the talk that came up. I'll seize the opportunities this platform gives me with both hands, but I have to find a way to go round this cliché-"art"-talk.

First, there were of course the unavoidable art comments, that "everybody is free to express everything with anything". Hum. I'd humbly like to state that I have quite a bit of a knowledge about this topic and that I don't have any problem with highly subjective art, BUT ... not any creative expression is suitable to be presented as art in public, however important to its creator.

Secondly, there was of course a long discussion about how our society is forgetting traditions; and about all these old people just waiting to die with no-one coming to collect all their knowledge. So, should this Society only collect the memories of our grand-parents? Are young people's memories not worth being dealt with?

It's an illusion to believe that there is something as "tradition". To be alive, a tradition needs to be constantly re-invented.

In early 19th-century Sweden, for instance, intellectuals bemoaned the loss of traditions and pilgrimaged to Dalarna, a part of Sweden considered as especially "Swedish".
There, they asked old people [!] to play them the oldest songs they knew, dance the oldest dances they knew and tell the oldest stories; completely disregarding the interesting new musical and cultural developments happening right in front of their eyes...

Now, of course, the work I would like to present in summer is again very subjective, but I'll try to avoid the slipperly "personal art" road and engage into something that I imagine to be useful and worth delving in for other people than myself.

Still; the starting point is very personal: trees. I've been "working" on this topic since early January, reading scientific and non-scientific books, visiting trees, taking pictures and collecting memories in a wider sense. And from the first moment on I remember falling in a kind of dreamy state whenever I spend some time under a tree; floating in images, sounds and scents.
One doesn't have to get metaphysical to aknowledge that trees gather under their bark memories older than the average human being. Most people don't realise how much influence the surrounding nature has on their own thoughts, actions and lifestyles...

All the pictures of this post (with the exception of the one above) have been taken at a hidden place near the river in the heart of Graz, where a wise willow has taught me many lessons in patience, truthfulness and protection during this spring and summer.

The sound of the river, sand on my skin and sun in my eyes - sublime memories!

highly unorganized - if not even messy - post

2006-11-23T02:25:00.000+01:00

So, I hear people complaining I should write more often. Yeahyeahyeah... Here I am. Writing.

What have I been up to during the last weeks? There has been a lot of photographing, reading, thinking, cooking, laughing and talking... The same as always yet always different... I feel supremely inspired.

Discussions of the last weeks have made me reconsider a lot of my jaunty little-girl-life-concepts. The world weighs much heavier on my shoulders now - but it's as beautiful as always to me. Maybe even more. However, while reflecting and trying to find my way in this jungle of new demands, I remembered a word I heard months ago in an Austrian radio show; it's called Quarterlife Crisis. I started to investigate and came across Erik H. Erikson, the guy we have to blame that the words identity and identity crisis are nowadays everyday-words. To cut it short: I'm reading his book Identity: Youth and Crisis; and I have to say that it's great to read some psychological stuff once in a while.

These are two old demonstrators standing in front of the University building every day. I have no clue what they want and neither do they.

Now I have a nice psychological advice for you:

Wanna make friends? Go paint in public. No matter how bad your art may be, I'll bet you that you'll have made three new friends in no time.

Wanna be alone? Go take pictures. I have no explanation, but the mere presence of a camera will create the aura of an untouchable around you. People will forgo you with at least 10m distance, or even wrap their lunch back in its box and leave the bench they have been sitting on. Haha. They think it's them you're taking pictures of. Ha. Arrogant egocentrics.

Run! There's a camera!

My camera has become some kind of third eye, or second mouth, or however I can express the fact that my Self has somehow decided to shift from linguistic to visual eloquence (I know some people who are probably utterly thankful to hear this). Whatever goes on in side of me at the moment, I haven't the faintest idea of how to put it in words. But a simple click of my beloved Nikon does it. Thanx to the generous donator! :)

Summer waved good-bye

I don't even care to write coherent posts any more. Now I'll be talking about things like music and art and literature again. Because, you know, input is important.

So, first, go and listen to E.S.T.! They haven't payed me to tell you this, so just trust my sincere recommendation. I haven't heard anything so vibrant, luscious and deep in a long time (my favourite: Seven Days of Falling) Erm... and they are playing in Vienna, February 23rd 2007... Ah, by the way, this is some kind of rock-jazz-post-bop. Whatever, trust me, Scandinavians are by far the best European Jazzers. They are! And I knew that before coming here.

If waiting until February seems to long for you and you want something inspiring right now, go to Peter Callesen's Homepage. It's surprising what beautiful things one can cut out of a little piece of paper, and I guess his artform is what some people would call "sustainable".

If on the other hand you happen to be not such an artsy kind of person or/and longing for something deep and meaningful, I highly recommend Gustav Herling's book A World Apart. I'll simply go with Albert Camus and tell you that this book about life in a Soviet Gulag should be published and read in every language. It may seem paradox, but one can actually draw hope from these accounts of the darkest pits of (un)human condition and despair.

Not so inspired to read a book like this in winter? I've got something else, namely Mikhail Naimy's The Book of Mirdad. And when you're done with it you'll have accomplished a whole year's reading, because this is 20 books in one. Just better. And that's all I can say if I don't want to desecrate this piece of art. Thanks to the generous donator!

And now to something completely different:
This is what shadows look like at this time of the year - picture taken at 12:30.

And finally: Voilà Maman: un rayon "godis" dans une vidéothèque. Il y en a un deuxième juste en face. Et c'est presque la même chôse au super-marché... Miamiamslurp...

our bodies are wonderlands...

2006-11-09T22:29:00.000+01:00

Bouhou... I missed Grupo Corpo this summer in Graz and I just did the big mistake of looking up the Internet for some videos... Now I know WHAT I missed... *sniff*

Such a clever choreography! Such incredible body control! Such beautiful people! (Brazilians, of course... *arghs*)

At least, these pictures of super-elastic masses of flesh (because I'm sure there are no bones!) make me work out harder. I'd like to know what my dad would say if he knew that I'm currently practicing a Yoga-pose called The Crow? Imagine if he saw me, inelegantly perched on my upper arms with my derrière in the air - would he try to shoot me like the real crows when their croaking wakes him up in the morning? :)

Now that I'm getting better and a more and more authentic crow, I'm terrified of going home for Christmas. Maybe I should skip this pose and focus on something less dangerous. For instance, I could stand like on the picture below and put some red ribbons in my hair - voilà!

Or I could do the Fish and turn into a Christmas Carp (dangerous, too)?

Or I'll play the innocent (Christ-)Child:

Now go and claim that Yoga doesn't save lives!

update

2006-11-06T14:33:00.000+01:00

Winter has now become a fact here in Lund. The first snow arrived punctually on November 1st, together with a huge bill for the dentist (85 € for one little filling that had fallen out of my tooth, can you believe it?). Also, our concierge had mercy on us and turned on the radiators. Mh, it's a good feeling to go to bed without dressing like an explorer of the Arctic first (socks, scarf, pull-over, long pants)... And while I'm typing this, I'm drying my toes on the radiator - because now, the snow has gone and true winter has begun and that means: RAIN! RAIN! RAIN! Hihi, but I still don't regret being here (did I mention that it's dark at half past four?)...

I'm a bit disappointed that my camera was not able to capture the snow-storm on November 1st, so please just believe me that we have been close to the end of the world.

Last Saturday I went to the first Halloween-party of my life! Usually I hate dressing up, but I thought that I could make an exception. The party took place in a student corridor, St. Lars, which used to be a psychiatric clinic - and that's just what it still looks and feels like! White walls, huge cold rooms, barred windows, long sad corridors. Perfect for Halloween!

And most people actually had made an effort to dress up as something unusual.

I was The Night, which is easy, because all that you need is a lot of black (black gown, black mask), glitter and stars everywhere (eyes, hair, skin...). But I prepared a little bag filled with surprises (nightmares, black cats, sweet dreams, shooting stars...) people could pick.

I also had the opportunity to do some gender and cultural studies: people, especially men, don't like masks. But while they show respect to a male stranger hiding behind a mask, they think they can do whatever they want to reveal a disguised woman's identity. Conclusion: fix your masks firmly, girls! Pay attention to the hands coming out of nowhere! Don't hesitate to sacrifice your drink or other appropriate items to defend yourself!

Master and Slave at St. Lars' Halloween

Next day I was at the manifestation against climate change. It was all very Swedish: short, unexcited, everything well-scheduled. At least we all got cold enough to warm up with coffee, tea and delicious home-made cake made by the lovely old ladies at Theo's place.

Learn from the Swedes:
5° are still no reason for drinking your coffee inside!

pachyderms

2006-10-30T09:32:00.000+01:00

I dream strange dreams these days:

Yesterday I travelled inside a huge building, with busses and tramways driving along the corridors and there were time tables too...

Today I dreamt I was on my way in a muddy landscape to meet a friend by the sea. I come to a little hill rising in front of me with hundreds of vultures sitting there or flying around it. They eat people who are hurt and bleeding and I see that some of the birds even miss a leg that the others have eaten. I'm not really scared, but I'm not crazy either, so I go back.

Suddenly I see two baby elephants lying in the mud and playing. I stop, amazed and happy, because I have never seen any elephants of course (and no vultures too...). Their mother appears and I know she's probably going to think that I want to harm her children, so I run away. As I turn around, one of the little elephants showers my back - I feel warm water running down my spine.

I consider that I could maybe calmly explain myself to the elephant-mother, so there's no need to run away. I don't really know what to tell her, but I simply want to be in their presence.

I meet her in a dingy bathroom (I think it is even in the house I travelled in yesterday?). Her eyelashes make the air on my right cheek swirl. I see her huge head next to me reflected in the mirror, the trunk gently swinging above the sink, the warm and wrinkly skin of her left shoulder close to mine. I don't dare to touch her and I don't think she would like it. We don't talk, we are just standing side by side.

And suddenly I am sitting in a train and I see the sundown on the northern sea through its dirty windows. I hold my face out the window. I know I'm going to meet my friend.

victor-Y!

2006-10-23T18:02:00.000+02:00

There are these strange noises in my ears (*huiiishwhooompwhooomp*) and I think I'm hallucinating: letters and phrases swirling around me! I guess my brain is not really used to reading at a speed of some 250 pages per 5 hours - and I'm not talking about the easy-to-read literature you grab when you're waiting for the hairdresser to give you a makeover or the doctor to check you!
It's not very respectable yet I need to praise myself for today's work, otherwise I'll never get myself to do it again - although I really need to (tomorrow, and the day after tomorrow, and the day after the day after tomorrow, ...) Can you believe that all this reading is necessary to write a 5-pages-essay?

But at least my grey matter is stuffed with facts about this genius called Victor Sjöström (or Seastrom, as Americans have re-named him). Please, go and watch one of his movies because I don't have the time to. As far as I read Ingeborg Holm, The Phantom Carriage, Name the Man, He who gets slapped, and of course The Scarlet Letter, are totally recommendable (don't watch He who gets slapped, though, if you happen to be afraid of clowns). It's almost tragicomic that I could give you a detailled overview on Sjöströms achievements and his importance for the development of film as an independent art form without ever having seen any of his work.

But maybe I just discovered one of the beautiful side-effects of studying: one can talk a lot and still be a total ignorant.

Oh, I almost forgot to mention that the films mentioned above are silent movies. But this is not an excuse to go past Victor Sjöström! Watch Bergman's Wild Strawberries instead (Sjöström plays the central character) - you'll love it. At least I did.

hello brain? anyone in there?

2006-10-19T01:32:00.000+02:00

Tell me, is this a big pile of books?

It isn't. But it alarms me that I have it in my room since I'm here. Today I only returned the first book. After 2 months... Do I only imagine myself being a highspeed-reader?! What is going on here? (And I know that was a tremendously stupid question to ask)

I don't even have the excuse that the books are uninteresting, because they simply aren't. They are fascinating. This book I returned today was about Americanization in Sweden and it's one of the most intelligent ones I've read in the last 2 months. But my eyes stick to the printed letters, like glue...

Besides, I have some assignments/essays to hand in by next week and I still havent the faintest idea of the things I should write about. I think it has something to do with Ingmar Bergman and Viktor Sjöström... but I already forgot. I don't freak out, which I find utterly impressing! And again, it would be unnecessary and stupid to ask why this is so...

In addition to that, I'm having a hard time trying to get my brain to remind some strange-sounding words of a totally freaked-out language that my mouth refuses to pronounce properly.

It's a big mess.
I love it!

P.S. to Silvia: I still look like an alcoholic...

foooooood!

2006-10-15T10:31:00.000+02:00

I spent Friday evening and Saturday afternoon preparing a lot of food for about 20 people. Dava came up with the idea to have a party and then I came up with the idea to cook dishes from Germany, Austria and France. So we had Styrian pumpkin soup, Bavarian Obatzda with a lot of bread, eggs and vegetables and finally French Mousse au Citron... We even had some delicious Tartiflette, thanks to Lolo... I just woke up and had a huge Sunday morning breakfast and I found that it makes me so utterly happy to cook for people (and even for myself) that I should do this more often...

I really enjoyed cooking for you, I'm happy that you liked it and that you had a good time! Thank you for coming, everybody!

More pictures here

1 liter of buttermilk, a load of lemon zest, even more sugar, 75 dl of cream and a lot of love -
it all fit in three stomachs!

cries and whispers

2006-10-12T22:26:00.000+02:00

Another Bergman film today... Funny, I had done a lot of reading before actually watching it and there was a lot that was just as I had imagined and a lot that did not touch me the way I had expected. I guess that this film must be shocking for people who have never talked about death openly, nor reflected it frankly nor have experienced the death of a loved one.

The movie reminded me of my grandmother whom I think a lot of these past weeks. People often tell me that I look a lot like her, that I even move like her. It's true that I often had the impression of looking in a mirror when looking at old pictures of her. I inherited her restlessness, her eyes, her hair, her silhouette, her nails - but she never gave me the chance to get to know this person I'm appaerently so alike.

I saw her die and I don't think of that time as an especially dark or depressing one although it was all very moving. I remember being very curious about her state, especially about her thoughts. I wanted to know what it is like to face death, I did want to learn everything I could from her and I told her that more than once. She always refused. She always used to turn away, mute. Maybe she thought that I would be afraid of what she had to say? Or maybe it was all just too personal for her. I'm almost sure that my request forced her to think about what she didn't want to face.

Still it's the only thing I can't let go: that she refused my hand and didn't want to give me hers.

caught between two stools

2006-10-08T21:33:00.000+02:00

Please compare the following two pictures:

Sweden, Skane, somewhere near Lomma

Somewhere in Austria

I met a girl from Nepal the other day at a party and the first thing that came to my mind was: "How does she deal with all these missing mountains???"

I was really curious how the south-Swedish landscape would affect my mental constitution. Until then I had always turned into a depressed and dull something (I wouldn't even have called myself human anymore) when I was in a place where I could see the horizon wherever I turned. So naturally, I'm quite surprised of myself being in a content state of mind since I'm here, neither down nor disgusted by the even land. On the contrary I can't stop boring my environment (and my readers) to death with my exalted statements about how much the vastness and openness here just wow me...

But then...

I had another look at the pictures my dad sent me the other day. I knew it would be dangerous, so I only threw a hasty glance the first time.

But I just took another close look at those pictures a few minutes ago.
Hew...

And now I can smell the comforting coolness of the woodlands (firs, pines, larches...), I see the pale blue outlines of hills and mountains against the horizon, the forests painted in gold, red, brown, yellow and green... I hear the creaking of wooden floors in old cottages and the ringing of cowbells, I feel the stones near the river where I like to sit and the grass of our municipal park, I taste the autumn breeze in grilled corncobs, Sturm (a beverage in between must and wine) and chestnuts, sitting in a wineyard... I hear my friends chatting and laughing in the garden or cooking with me in the kitchen (ok, I just lied - I would never let anyone get between me and the pans and pots). I see myself swimming in the Ossiachersee in the middle of the night, all alone and perfectly content, or standing on top of the Loser-mountain, or driving through snowcovered, dreamy Vienna sitting in the tram (with this horrible man's voice coming out of the loudspeakers - I love him!). I remember the many times I forgot everything around me during long walks with my camera. I even think of the stuffy lecture room I spent most of my last semester in with an affectionate smile on my face.

I know it's all stereotype...
I know, I know...

I'm not homesick at all.

I only know I'm gonna cry like a baby and kiss the earth when my feet touch Austrian ground again. And I love Sweden for giving me this insight!

opa! opa!

2006-10-04T21:44:00.000+02:00

Following the magic scents in the enchanted Botanic Garden
***

Basically, you run into a lot of friends every day here in Lund just while walking from one library to the other. The other day I met Theo on his new purple bike, doing what he likes most here: getting lost in the city. So we fixed an appointment for today to get lost together.

It seems to me that this Greek guy has the gift of detecting the most enchanted places just by straying in the streets thinking some philosophical thoughts(needless to mention that he lives in a kind of gingerbread-house...). So after forgetting time in a charming antique shop run by an even more charming Swedish lady (who even fed my hungry hungry art-historian brain) we kind of stumbled on the old cemetary. This, my friends, is definitely the most beautiful place to be dead I have ever seen (right after the cemetary of Hallstatt). We basically just tumbled from one enchanted spot to the other - after the cemetary it was the huge Botanic Garden, which is stuffed with all sorts of trees and herbs and flowers from all over the world (I know this is the purpose of such a place...) and the most dazzling multitude of ethereal scents one could ever imagine.

It is now pretty clear that I'll absolutely have to go to Greece one day (ok, let me see, just after I have visited all these people from New Zealand, Germany, Russia and Spain...). I mean, just the fact that Greeks have one little word to express the whole range of human emotions wows me so deeply that I won't be able to think about anything else than this wise people for days. Listen, opa! is not only used to express your feelings of joy (e.g. while dancing), but also when you or someone else behave in a very clumsy way (like "oops!"), or again when you are attacked physically or verbally to put the person back in it's place.

It is fascinating how being abroad gives you the opportunity to discover both the foreign and mainly the own culture from a totally new point of view. I look at the notion of national identity in a completely new way now, and most of all, I like what I see.

Push the button to see more pictures...

Swedish antique shop

old cemetary

Botanic Garden

Autumn sun

facts, facts, facts II

2006-10-03T18:25:00.000+02:00

Hermes got a fancy pair of shiny new boots to fly high...

Die Durchschnittstemperatur liegt bei 12°, die durchschnittliche Niederschlagsmenge liegt bei etwa einer Badewanne/qm alle 2-3 Tage, dazwischen überdurchschnittlich viel Sonnenschein. Die Sonne bereitet sich ab etwa 6 Uhr aufs Schlafengehen vor, dafür braucht sie durchschnittlich 2 Stunden und viele Farben. Ich gehe durchschnittlich 4 Stunden nach ihr ins Bett und erwache durchschnittlich um 8:30 (2 Stunden nach ihr). Ich gehe täglich etwa eine Stunde zu Fuß und drinke 2 l Wasser und eine Tasse Milchkaffee.
Die durchschnittliche Rad-Reparatur dauert 4 Werktage und kostet etwa 150 Kronen (16€).
Der durchschnittliche schwedische Autofahrer fährt durchschnittlich mit 40 km/h und bremst prophylaktisch etwa 10 Meter vor dem Zebrastreifen. Außerdem kann es auch gut sein, dass er mitten im Kreisverkehr stehen bleibt, um einen anderen Autofahrer hinein zu lassen. Ich weiß nicht, ob sie das System wirklich durchschaut haben, oder ob ich da etwas falsch verstehe?...
Schwedische Mädchen kennen keine Hemmungen, sich in der Öffentlichkeit ausgiebig und lange im Spiegel zu begutachten, weder allein noch im Rudel. Das ist ein nicht zu unterschätzender Unterhaltungsfaktor!
Es gibt hier sehr wenig frei herumlaufende Katzen. Warum? Die Schweden gehen mit ihren Katzen Gassi. Angeleint. Ja. Wirklich! Wirklich!!!
Schweden ist eine gigantomanische Kinderfabrik. Hier ist alles aufs Kinderkriegen ausgelegt. Super. Auf der Straße ist jede zehnte Frau sichtbar schwanger, die Dunkelziffer ist bestimmt wesentlich höher. Die Schweden scheinen Kinder regelrecht zu züchten. Ich habe einen Nachbarn, der 4 Söhne hat (ja Bnerd, es gibt noch einen Zwerg außer dem Großen und den Zwillingen!). Und sie sehen alle gleich aus. Es ist beängstigend.
Jede Bibliothek hat ihr eigenes System, was die Sortierung der Bücher betrifft. Was in der einen alphabetisch geregelt wird, geht in einer anderen nach einem mir schleierhaften, geheimnisvollen Sortier-Mechanismus vor sich, der zum Beispiel dazu führt, dass Bücher zum Thema "Ethnologie" in einem Regal mit dem Buchstaben "M", oder "Mz" untergebracht sind, usw. Ich brauche also jede Menge Intuition und einen scharfen Blick, um manche Bücher zu finden! Die durchschnittliche Menge der pro Woche zu lesenden Seiten beträgt 650. Tatsächlich bewältigt: etwa 400.
Durchschnittliches Lebensgefühl: SUPER!

*°*°*

The average temperature is 12° Celsius, the average rainfall is about a bathtub/sqm every 2 or 3 days. The sun prepares to go to bed at about 6 pm and it takes her 2 hours and a lot of colours. I go to sleep 4 hours after her and I usually wake up at 8:30 am (about 2 hours after her). I walk about 1 hour each day, I drink 2 liters of water and one cup of coffee.
Getting your bike fixed takes about 4 days and will cost you 150 Swedish Kronor.
The average Swede drives 25 miles/hour and starts to slow down 20 meters before the crosswalk. He may even halt when driving in the roundabout to let an other car in. Hm, I'm not sure if they don't get what this is about, or if I should re-think my expectations...
Swedish girls are not ashamed of closely examining their looks in public, wether it's alone or with their friends. This can be very entertaining (at least you can leave your books @ home when you go to a café...)
There are very few cats strolling around here in Sweden. The reason for this is that Swedish people prefer to take their cats for a walk. With collar and leash and everything, believe me. Believe me!
This country is one giant baby-factory. Everything is well-prepared for having millions and millions of children. Every 10th woman on the street has an enormous belly, I dare not think of the average number of yet invisible pregnancies! Maybe it is exceptional for a Swedish woman not to be pregnant? My neighbors have 4 boys who actually look the same, just if they had been produced in a plant - it's so scary...
Each library has a totally different sorting system. One may use the alphabetical sorting but that may not be the case at all in an other library. Sometimes I have to forget everything I ever learned about the alphabet or about sorting in general and have to use all my imaginative powers and female intuition to find a book. For example the books dealing with ethnology are placed in racks with the letters "M" or "Mz" in the main library. The average amount of pages I have to read each week is 650. I actually manage about 400.
Average feeling: GREAT!

Persona

2006-09-29T17:54:00.000+02:00

Was ich am Studieren mag? Wenn es Früchte trägt. Wenn die ganze Leserei und Lernerei und Schauerei dazu führt, dass sich im Kopf eigene Gedanken bilden. Wenn man merkt, dass man sehr wohl schon in der Lage ist, eine ausgereifte, vielleicht sogar "professionelle" Antwort aus dem im Hirn Vorhandenen zu bilden, ohne vorher tagelang recherchieren zu müssen. Und ja, es ist ein gutes Gefühl, wenn es einem gelingt, den/die Prof zu überraschen.

Gestern, während der Diskussion nach dem Film "Persona" (Bergman, 1965) war so ein magischer Moment. In meinem Kopf war hängengeblieben, dass der Charakter der Elisabeth Vogler (die das Sprechen verweigert) das Sprechen während einer Vorstellung aufgibt, bei der sie die "Elektra" spielt. Das wird nur ganz kurz erwähnt, man könnte es fast überhören. Und der Punkt auf den ich hinauswollte, war die Parallele zwischen Elektras Schicksal (a-lektra bedeutet "vom Bett (der Eltern) Verstoßene") als ungeliebtem Kind, ihrer Verhärtung und Rachsucht, ihrer Sehnsucht nach dem verlorenen Vater - und den Frauen in diesem Film, die ihre Kinder verlieren, verloren haben, von sich stoßen... Es ist sogar Elisabeths Sohn, der namenlos bleibt und nur einige kurze Minuten lang gezeigt wird, der das Hauptmotiv der Verschmelzung der Persönlichkeit einleitet: er übernimmt die Rolle der Elektra, wird aber nicht von Sehnsucht zum verstorbenen Vater getrieben, sondern von Sehnsucht nach der Mutter, die ihn verstoßen hat - damit wird er zu Elektras männlichem Gegenstück, Ödipus. Das Motiv der Eltern-Kind-Beziehung (wer schützt/ernährt wen?) wird in diesem Film also erst dann deutlich erkennbar, wenn man die Geschichte der "Elektra" näher betrachtet.
Ha, und das alles auf Englisch auszuführen, vor einer riesigen Klasse und einem wirklich kompetenten Prof. war schon nicht so einfach- und dann dessen erstaunte Reaktion... Hm, ja, ein absolutes Glücksgefühl!
Es geht nicht nur ums Angeben! Geht auch darum zu erkennen, dass die Kohle, die in mich investiert wird, nicht umsonst ist.

Und übrigens: ich habe trotzdem recherchiert. Auf die Idee, die Geschichte der Elektra im Zusammenhang mit diesem Film näher zu durchleuchten, bin ich nicht als Erste gekommen, natürlich. Aber die meisten Analysen sehen darin eine Vorgeschichte der Elisabeth Vogler, nicht ein Hauptmotiv des ganzen Films.

*°*°*

What I like about being a student are the moments when you realize that your work is actually leading somewhere, moments in which you discover that all this reading, learning and peering is leading you to new thoughts of your own. You suddenly see that you are perfectly capable of giving well-thought, "professional" answers to maybe difficult questions with what you already have in your head and without needing to camp in the library for days. And of course, moments in which you succeed in surprising your teachers.

My time came during the discussion on the film "Persona" (Bergman, 1965). It struck me that the charakter of Elisabeth Vogler (who refuses to speak and is therefor in therapy), stops talking durin a stage performance in which she plays the part of "Elektra". This is mentioned very briefly at the beginning of the film, but I constantly had to think of it. So during the discussion I tried to explain my instant association between Elektra's fate and some main motives of the film. Elektra (which means "the one pushed away from the - parents' - bed") is an unloved child driven by a burning love for her dead father and overwhelming hatred for her mother who she kills. Once you think of her story, the motive of children longing for their parents and parents losing or casting away their children in "Persona" really begins to stick out. Especially Elisabeth's son, who is just shown for a few minutes during the film and doesn't seem to be very important, initiates the main motive of the fusion of personality: he is a kind of Elektra, but not longing for a dead father, but for the unreachable mother. By this, he becomes Elektra's male counterpart, Oedipus.

Phew, wasn't easy to explicate all of this in front of a huge class and our very competent teacher in English - but, well, his amazed reaction made me feel so happy!
This is not about showing off (not only...) It's about realizing that all the money put into my education is worth something...

Oh, and of course I went to the library to do some research: in fact, I wasn't the first one to think about the meaning of Elektra's story in "Persona", of course. But the other authors generally interprete it as Elisabeth's previous history. Just so you know...

say: "ayashpise"

2006-09-25T15:04:00.000+02:00

jessassna, de is jo gonz zaschossn!

Einer guten alten Tradition folgend, die der Herr H. ins Leben gerufen hat, habe auch ich meine Eierspeis heute fotografiert und stelle die Ergebnisse ins Netz.
Damit das jetzt nicht allzu uninteressant wird - ich war heute außer Haus. Ja, da draußen in der großen weiten Welt!!! Bin bis zum Supermarkt gekommen (wo ich für Dava und mich Essen erlegt habe). Was für eine Aufregung. Muss wieder schlafen gehn.

***

Following a good old tradition iniciated by Mister H. I took a picture of my food today (Omelette, of course, which we call "Eierspeis" in Austria).
To make this post a bit more informative I'll tell you I went outside today. Yes really, I walked out into the great wide world with people, and dogs, and cars and everything. I got as far as to the supermarket (where I slayed a lot of food for Dava and myself). How exciting, I think I need a nap soon...

thinking about...

2006-09-23T22:26:00.000+02:00

You maybe wonder if I quit my mission (fighting the bacteria). Well, there's a wild party going on in the appartment keeping me from falling asleep. Doesn't matter, I'm not tired anyway *uaaaaaah* Time to crack my little brain open and show you what was going on in there for the last few days (besides: "uahhhbrbrbrbrbrHOT!").

I was thinking about responsability. Why? Because I was reflecting on my illness and came to the result that if I have the power to make me sick, I have everything I need to go the other way round. This is a notion quite close to something simple that is called personal responsability - and it's in fact one of the hardest things I know...

But now comes the interesting part:
I was thinking in German (forgive me, but hey, at least I thought, hugh?) and the word that came to my mind was Verantwortung, which contains the word Antwort. I checked and it's the same for all other languages I'm (quite) familiar with at the mom': responsabilité and réponse in French, responsability and response in English; ansvara and svar in Swedish (which is of course very close to answer and also made me think of the German schwören; to vow or swear).

It may seem very evident and uninteresting to you, but I was struck by the fact that there seems to be a very common definition of this notion and that it has to do something with an answer, a reaction; a response - but it has to be made in a very specific way, obviously. I didn't see the connection first and it made me all nervous, then I couldn't find anything about the ethymologie of these words and then finally I decided to use my brain:

Good, so responsability doesn't always come naturally although it's necessary if you want to survive, I guess. It is said that children have to learn responsability and there have always been different ways to teach them (e.g.: in the middle-ages litte children were given birds to take care of, at least I know it was so in Burgundy). Taking responsability for others is always a risky thing (because no-one can tell you if your efforts will be acknowledged) but it's sometimes necessary. Taking responsability for yourself is also a risky undertaking, but in a different way: your efforts will always be acknowledged, but you will loose the comfort of imaginary leaning on someone else's shoulder. But no matter what we are taking responsability of/who we do it for: it does never appear suddenly but is developed in the personality while we are dealing with challenges.

When we take responsability, we answer a challenge. That means that we must have heard it's call first. We didn't ignore it and pretend it wasn't there so someone else would have to take charge.
Conclusion: responsability has to do with communication (call & answer), listening, making a commitment and making yourself heard in some way by this. It's about answering the phone and not hanging up when life is calling, or something like that *please take out your hankies*

Phew, another problem solved. And now I'm quite astonished how satisfying answers I'm able to give myself without having any "Mag" or "Dr" or "Prof" in front of my name (YET!)... But if you, by some reason, know the correct ethymological answer to this mystery, please tell me!

***

And now that I finished writing this down, the awful party-crowd finally got their asses out of the door and into town so I'll be able to sleeeeeeep... YIPIIIE! (You just assisted at my definite metamorphosis into a REAL, boring humanist, good night)

38.5° im Schatten

2006-09-21T16:14:00.000+02:00

In der Susa ihren Nieren tanzen seit neuestem die Bakterien Samba. Und überhaupt herrscht im ganzen Susa-Körper tropisches Klima.

Weil aber die Bakterien keinerlei Aufenthaltsgenehmigung vorweisen können und der Susa mit ihrer ausgelassenen Feier auch ziemlich weh tun, hat die Susa sich mit einem antibiotischen Sondereinsatzkommando aufgemacht, die Wichte schnellst möglich vor die Tür zu setzen.

Um den Erfolg der Mission zu gewährleisten, wird die Susa ihren Körper die nächsten Tage in den Untiefen ihrer Matratze vergraben. Deswegen wird es hier ein bisschen still werden - die Frau K freut sich aber über Aufmunterung in jeglicher Form! :)

cultural studies

2006-09-13T20:42:00.000+02:00

Bin wiederhergestellt und habe einen guten Teil des Nachmittags mit Bernd im zweiten Stock des wunderhübschen Café Emma zugebracht. Unsere Hauptbeschäftigung war es, wiederkehrende Muster im Auftreten der Passanten auf der Straße zu erkennen, wobei wir allerdings kläglich gescheitert sind. Zum Beispiel ist das von uns herausgefilterte Muster Auf Vater mit Kind von links folgt automatisch Leggings-bekleidetes Mädchen von rechts nur genau 4x (in Worten: vier mal) eingetreten. Außerdem musste ich eine andere, schon früher von mir aufgestellte Theorie als falsch anerkennen, nämlich dass schwedische Männer sich von weiblichen Reizen jeglicher Art völlig unbeeindruckt zeigen. Seht selbst im folgenden Video:

***

I'm fit again and spent the whole afternoon with Bernd in a charming café watching people walking by on the street. We were very busy trying to detect recurring sequences in their movements but we didn't really succeed. For instance, the rule "father with child coming from the left is always followed from girl wearing leggings from the right" actually occured only four times. In addition to this I had to find out that my theory of "The non-responding behaviour of Swedes to any heterosexual impulse" was not true. Check out the following video:

Fieber

2006-09-11T08:47:00.000+02:00

Also ehrlich, ich bewundere die sogenannten "fröhlichen Kranken". Menschen, die sich von so einer kleinen Grippe/Angina/Blasenentzündung o.Ä. nicht wirklich aus ihrer ruhigen und gelassenen Grundstimmung reißen lassen. Ich kann das nämlich nicht. Ich bin eine weinerliche, grantige, zwiedere und mitleid-heischende Kranke. Ich mutiere ab dem ersten Kratzen im Hals schlagartig zu einem kleinen Mädchen und ab dann geht es nur mehr abwärts...

Es ist nämlich so: man hat die Wahl, während der Ferien krank zu werden, oder eben nicht während der Ferien. Egal wie es dann kommt, man hätte es gerne genau anders herum (sobald man sich einmal mit dem Zustand des Krankseins per se arrangiert hat). Die schwierigste Übung am krank-Sein-ausserhalb-der-Ferien ist für mich nicht, irgendwie mit der körperlichen Zerschlagenheit umgehen zu lernen, sondern der geistigen Sorgenmühle Einhalt zu gebieten. Mit jedem 10el Grad Fieber mehr, oder von mir aus mit jedem kleinen Hüsteln, steigt die Menge der "Ich sollte doch noch.." und "Ich muss doch eigentlich aber noch..." - Gedanken, die einem innerhalb einer Minute durchs Hirn schießen, an. Am Ende sehe ich meine gesamte Existenz wegen dieser oder jenen liegengebliebenen Sache den Bach runter segeln. Wenn ich allerdings die Anzahl meiner Gesundheits-Ausfälle mit beispielsweise den Prüfungsergebnissen der letzte Jahre vergleiche, sollte ich mir eigentlich gar keine Sorgen machen. Es ist aber zwecklos, meinem Hirn mit statistischen Wahrheiten zu kommen; es gelingt ihm nicht, sich von der Krankheit nicht beeindrucken zu lassen - denn: mens sana in corpore sano und wenn der Körper nicht gesund ist, kann das Hirn nicht sauber denken!

Also, Kondolenzschreiben sind immer willkommen!

finally!

2006-09-07T20:33:00.000+02:00

Heute Nachmittag und Abend war meine Vorlesung ueber Schwedischen Film. Es gibt endlich was zu tun, nämlich lesen, lesen, lesen und viele viele Filme schauen (zusätzlich zu den ~15, die wir dieses Semester während der Vorlesungen sehen werden)... Hu, meine Streberaugen leuchten! :)

Den Auftakt hat heute Ingmar Bergmans Film Wilde Erdbeeren ("Smultronstället") aus 1957 gemacht. Ein stiller, aber sehr beruehrender und aufwuehlender Film. Jede einzelne Einstellung ist eine ästhetische Urgewalt, die ganze Geschichte wirkt auf mich traumwandlerisch, aber mit sehr sicherer Hand erzählt. Eine wehmuetige aber schöne Geschichte um - naja, eigentlich immer das gleiche: Zwischenmenschliches, Herzenswärme, Geborgenheit, Vergebung, Familien und ihre Generationen, Rollen, altern,... So ungefähr.

Das Auge hat Zeit zu sehen und zu geniessen. Im Hirn Assoziationen wie Luftballons auf (was eine Art Parallel-film vor dem Inneren Auge ergibt). Das Hirn ist also beschäftigt, während sich die Seele ganz unbemerkt beruehren lassen kann von dem, was diesen Film so besonders macht, ohne dass ich wuesste, was es ist... Conclusio: nochmal schaun!!!

Ahja, und wer Gelegenheit hat, den Film im O-Ton anzuschauen: sehr empfehlenswert. Ich muss mit den Vorurteilen aufräumen, Schwedisch sei eine hässliche Knödlsprache. Das ist nämlich ueberhaupt nicht wahr.

***

I finally have something to do! My course on Swedish Film just started today and I have tons and tons of books to read and looots of films to watch (in addition to the approx. 15 films we'll watch during the lectures this term...)! I know I'm a nerd...

We started with Ingmar Bergman's Wild Strawberries from 1957. A very calm but moving film. The beauty of each shot is simply overwhelming and the whole plot is told in a kind of dreamy state, still Bergman doesn't lose his viewers for a single moment. It's a melancholic but beautiful story about - well, isn't it always the same?: human interaction, security, generosity, forgiveness, families and (psychic) inheritance, loneliness and growing old(er)...

My eyes had time to look and enjoy and my brain was dealing with a huge bunch of associations emerging like soap-bubbles, while my soul could secretely get in touch with what makes this film so special (which I still haven't figured out and somehow I don't even want to over-analyze...) Conclusion: have to watch it again!

Oh, and if you have the opportunity to watch this movie in Swedish, do so. I'm tired of all these prejudices saying that Swedish is a nasty language - it's simply NOT TRUE!

trance

2006-09-06T22:38:00.000+02:00

War gestern in der Stadt, um einen Brief abzugeben. Die Spiegelung einer Kletterpflanze in einer Metalltafel hat den Fotografier-Reflex ausgelöst... Und - peng - weg war ich... 2 1/2 Stunden und gute 50 Fotos später bin ich wieder aus der Trance erwacht... Hm, schön ist das, das Kuenstlerleben!...

***

I was in town yesterday afternoon to post a letter. I was walking by a beautiful shiny metall-plate reflecting a plant winding up the housewall. I immediately pulled out my camera and - zoom - I fell in a trance. I woke up 2 and a half hours and 50 pictures later... Mh, I like this arty life, it's so fulfilling!

that's how it all began...

phew... another sky-picture...
I'm sorry...

love for nature

I don't know why, but when I saw this rose behind a dirty window, I felt like I was in Paris...

sometimes, the streets of Lund have the atmosphere of small Parisian alleys or backyards
and sometimes, the city feels just like a charming, cosy village...

Sphinxes on top of the uni's auditorium

Domkyrkan

now I'm a stylish chick, too

good-looking young people everywhere

auditorium in the background

when I'm grown,
I'll earn a lot of money,
and live in my own huge appartment, with a drama-queen-bathroom all in red velvet with a fancy antique porcellaine bathtub on shiny golden feet, a LouisXVI make-up table, golden tassels everywhere,
and: I'll have THIS mirror!

one, two, three, go!

2006-09-04T16:21:00.000+02:00

Seit heute bin ich wieder fleissige (?) Studentin. Oder, sagen wirs anders herum: ich wäre gerne fleissige Studentin, aber ich vermute, dass ich mein Hirn selbst beschäftigen werde muessen.

Mein Semester hat jedenfalls unglaublich gemuetlich begonnen, nämlich mit nur einem Kurs; der Schwedischen Musikgeschichte (wer denkt, ich mach den auf Schwedisch, hat mich ueberschätzt). Von der Gesamtzeit (13.15 - 16:00) war alles in allem eine ganze Stunde lang Pause. *kopfkratz* Dafuer sind die Sitze 1a Spitzenklasse; man stelle sich gepolsterte (!) Möbel in der Grösse von Flugzeug-Sitzen vor, und dann einfach ein grösseres, natuerlich einklappbares Schreibbord vor einem. Mmmh. Und das in einem Raum, der ungefähr die Grösse eines durchschnittlichen Volksschulklassenzimmers hat!

Es ist immer das Gleiche mit diesen Ueberblicksvorlesungen: sie sind ein bisschen wie French Cuisine. Sehr häufig sehr appetitlich präsentiert, teuer (in diesem Fall das Lernmaterial), aber man ist hinterher immer noch verdammt hungrig. Manchmal sogar noch hungriger als davor. Und Buecher gibt es erst nächste Woche.

Na gut, dann fahr ich halt nach Kopenhagen!

***

Yipie, I'm a busy student again! Hm, let's say it in other words: I want to be a busy student but I suppose that I'll have to feed my hungry grey matter on my own.

My term started very calm with only one lecture (Swedish music history) this afternoon. It lasted almost 3 hours, during which we had two (!) breaks of 30 minutes (!!!) each. Hmmm... The course took place in a small room with high-class furniture: very comfortable cushioned (!) seats like in an airplane with huge retractable boards in front of you. Wow!

It's always the same thing with these survey-lectures: they have big similarity to French Cuisine. They are very often very well presented, expensive (in this case it's the learning material) and they leave you hungry. Sometimes even more hungry than before. And books will only be avalable from next week!

Very well then, I'll do other things instead - a trip to Copenhagen, for instance?

Wider die Zwiederniss II

2006-09-03T20:29:00.000+02:00

Und weil ich immer noch urzwieder und urgrantig bin, gibt es jetzt den zweiten Teil meiner gedichteten Lieblinge, diesmal aus der wunderbaren kleinen Anthologie "Blaue Gedichte", aufgegabelt in der Buecherstube in Graz, ihr wisst schon, die mit dem Leuchtbären vor der Tur. Und das Foto ist vom Ossiachersee im Mai. Schon wieder.

Blauer Abend in Berlin
Der Himmel fliesst in steinernen Kanälen;
Denn zu Kanälen steilrecht ausgehauen
Sind alle Strassen, voll vom Himmelblauen.
Und Kuppeln gleichen Bojen, Schlote Pfählen

Im Wasser. Schwarze Essensdämpfe schwelen
Und sind wie Wasserpflanzen anzuschauen.
Die Leben, die sich ganz am Grunde stauen,
Beginnen sacht vom Himmel zu erzählen,

Gemengt, entwirrt nach blauen Melodien.
Wie eines Wassers Bodensatz und Tand
Regt sie des Wassers Wille und Verstand

Im Duenen, Kommen, Gehen, Gleiten, Ziehen.
Die Menschen sind wie grober bunter Sand
Im linden Spiel der grossen Wellenhand.

Oskar Loerke (1884-1941),
aus: Die Gedichte, Suhrkamp taschenbuch

***

Fotoalbum
Ich mit dem blauen Auge.
Ich mit dem Buesserhemd.
Ich mit der Kornschnapslauge.
Ich mir bekannt und fremd.

Ich mit Achillesferse.
Ich mit dem Kinn aus Glas.
Ich mit dem Lindenblättchen.
Ich rosig leichenblass.

Ich mit dem Dreck am Stecken.
Ich mit dem Richterstab.
Ich mit den runden Ecken.
Ich, der ich mich nicht hab.

Ich mit zwei linken Fuessen,
Ich mit Fortunas Horn.
Ich mit den Ungluecksgruessen.
Ich tot und neugeborn.

Peter Maiwald (*1946),
aus: Lebenszeichen. Gedichte, Fischer

***

Frau in Blau
Fernes Beben der Erde der Hand der ganze
Körper bebt in feinen Pinselstrichen
Beben gebahnt durch Sehnen
und Muskeln Gewebe
Samtmieder Halsband Spitzenhäubchen
schwer wie der weg
den sich das Wasser aus den Steinsgeschichten
bahnt ins Blau aus reinem weissen
Schweigen leinenblassem Schweigen
in blaue Erscheinung blaue Fluchten
aus Kindertagen ins dreissigste Jahr
innerlich von Weinen geschuettelt muede
von so viel Form und Befreiung

Ulla Hahn (*1946),
aus: Galileo und zwei Frauen. Gedichte, Deutsche Verlags-Anstalt

Anm.: Zwiederniss ist sehr gut fuer die Schöpferkraft! Mein Notizbuch fuellt sich und fuellt sich...

Wider die Zwiederniss I

2006-09-03T19:56:00.000+02:00

Ja, ich bin heute grantig und zwieder!

(Gruende unwichtig, aber wer es genau wissen will: ich sehe nicht ein, dass jedes Quäntchen Sonnenschein mit Hektolitern frischen Regens aufgewogen wird, ich habe was dagegen, dass mein Rad rosten muss, weil es nirgendwo untergestellt werden kann und ich wuerde gerne wissen, wo in Europa die Lieferung mit meinem warmen Wintergewand, meinen Lexika, Flöten und wichtigen Buchern verschollen ist. Soviel dazu).

Und weil ich heute also nix Gscheites zustandeschreiben werde, gibt es Ausgleichsliteratur von meinen Lieblingen, zum Beispiel Rose Ausländer, meiner Muse. (Und wer sagt, dass er sie nicht mag, fängt eine*grumpf*)

Auf meinen Wänden
blühen Bilder
Poeten dichten
im Regal
Ich schaue, lese
spreche mit den
schaffenden Gefährten
Mein kleines Zimmer
ist ein Riesenreich
Nicht herrschen will ich
Dienen.

***

Oder das Folgende (das erste Mal gelesen im Wald ueberm Ossiachersee - wo uebrigens auch obiges Bild entstanden ist -, und seitdem eines meiner liebsten Gedichte...):

Nie

nie
werde ich
die Drossel erreichen

nie mit drei Lauten
umzugehn wissen
als wären sie
alles

Alle beide aus dem Band "Die Sonne fällt".
Rose Ausländer: Portrait, Gedichtauswahl

how to party in Sweden - a crash course

2006-09-02T22:15:00.000+02:00

Went to a so called "sittning" with Dava tonight. Every nation here in Lund has some events going on every week. Don't be afraid, student nations here don't have any political aims, it's just about bringing people together - well, it works. Tonight, the Östgöta Nationen has served a nice dinner and there was a party afterwards.

If you want to drink wine, you're welcome, but please only order red ones (even if they serve fish) - I don't think that any bottle of white wine has ever been introduced to a fridge by any Swedish student...
If your neighbour at table suddenly bursts into a song in the middle of your conversation - don't take it personal. This is what it's going to be like for the next three hours, cause they have to go through the WHOLE SONGBOOK!!! At a Swedish dinner, the most thrilling conversations are immediately interrupted if someone in the room starts singing. And you'll may not come back to the original topic afterwards, so you better learn to savour every moment!
This is why ear-plugs are recommended!
You won't be able to spot any nuances going from slightly tipsy to completely plastered. They walk in as decent quiet people and they turn into animals from the second their lips get in contact with the first glass of beer (of approximately 20, but I just guessed)...
It may be that you start feeling very uncomfortable sqashed in the middle of this loud and drunk but extremely good-looking croud. Trying to take fresh air outside won't make you feel any better: you'll be probably horrified by the amount of people (good-looking an noisy, of course), queuing up to get in. If you start worrying about how they all will fit in or wishing you had eaten less to avoid the squeezed feeling in your stomach, it's probably time to go.

ersatz - granny

2006-09-02T15:29:00.000+02:00

Erinnert sich noch jemand an dieses Bild?

Dieses kleine Haus in der Innenstadt ist mir schon am ersten Tag hier aufgefallen und es ist im wahrsten Sinne des Wortes zuckersuss!!!
Bin heute Mittag zusammen mit Dava auf dem Heimweg und sehe Theoharis vor dieser Puppenstube telefonieren, der mir anschliessend mit seinem unbeschreiblichen griechischen Akzent vorschwärmt, wie fantastisch es da drinnen ist. Wir also hinein. Zwei Stunden später wieder hinaus: vollkommen verzaubert.

Amélie und gesamt Montmartre können einpacken gegen dieses Märchenknusperhäuschen. Ich habe ein paar Besucher beobachtet: sobald sie ueber die Schwelle sind, werden die Augen grösser, ein Lächeln fliegt ueber ihr Gesicht - pure Glueckseligkeit! Jede Kleinigkeit in diesem Laden ist so magisch: Balsam, Kinderlachen, Zuhause-Gefuehl!

Und dann, nach einem wirklich köstlichen Kaffe und einem schönen Gespräch fliegt zu den Klängen von Saties Gymnopédien ein weisser Luftballon ueber den Hinterhof und in den Schäfchenwolkenhimmel hinauf...

Ich sag's ja: Amélie, go home!

Viktorianische Postkarten, Oma-Marmeladegläser, Lakritze, bunte Lutscher, wunderschöne Kaffeedosen, altes Holz, Uralt-Tapeten, Telefon aus der Kinderzeit der Telekommunikation, fantastische Mehlspeisen, wunderbare Musik, guter Kaffee und...

SIE!

Anastacia & Theo (Greece), Dava im Glueck!

facts, facts, facts!

2006-08-29T11:30:00.000+02:00

Die Durchschnittstemperatur liegt bei 16 Grad Celsius, Windgeschwindigkeit durchschnittlich 7 km/h, häufig aus Nord bis Nordwest, Niederschlagsdauer pro Tag durchschnittlich 90 Minuten, Niederschlagsmenge im Normalfall eine Badewanne pro Quadratmeter, Sonnenaufgang heute: 6:03, Untergang heute um 20:12, Anzahl der Sonnenstrahlen auf meiner Nase: 3 pro Stunde im Durchschnitt, Anzahl der vorbeiziehenden Wolkenformationen pro Viertelstunde: 10, Anzahl der durchnässten Schuhpaare bis jetzt: 3.
Muelltrennung ist hier theoretisch erforderlich, bei ihrer Umsetzung in die Praxis habe ich bis jetzt allerdings kläglich versagt. Mein Österreicherhirn hat prinzipiell Probleme damit, alle (!) Verpackungen zusammenzuwerfen (Plastik, Metall & Papier, kann man sich das vorstellen?), und dabei aber beim Altpapier eine Trennung zwischen Zeitungspapier (wird getrennt und recycelt...) und Postwurfsendungen/Briefen (wird anscheinden nicht recycelt?) vorzunehmen...
Habe beschlossen, einen auf Student zu machen und mein eierndes Hinterrad eiern zu lassen. Erstens: Geld wächst nicht auf Bäumen. Zweitens: Geld wächst nicht auf Bäumen. Drittens: Wozu braucht man ein super ausgeruestetes Rad in einer Stadt, in der sogar die längsten Wege nicht länger als 1/2 Stunde dauern und in der alles flach ist. Hm?
Durchschnittliche Kosten fuer einen Café Latte: 22 Schwedische Kronen (Adam Riese sagt: Daumen x Pi 2 Euronen 40 Centimes). Dieser Durchschnitt wird gedrueckt durch ein kleines Kaffee, in dem man einen kleinen Becher um 8SK, einen grossen um 10SK bekommt, Milch kann man sich selber gratis dazugiessen.
Ja! Schwedinnen sind enorm scharfe Hasen. Ja! Aber ich wär ja nicht die Susa wenn ich da nicht sofort wieder etwas dran auszusetzen hätte. Es ist nämlich so: ich bin eitel, ich richt mich auch gern her, ja! ich liebe Taschenschuhekleiderbrillenarmbänderklimbimohrringeschminkeketten! Ja, ich bin ein bekennendes Mädchen - aber: was sich da tagtäglich auf den Strassen und in den Kaffees abspielt, ist einfach unfassbar: die Mädchen sind einfach SCHÖN. Sie haben ganz wunderbar wallendes blondes Haar, ebenmässige Gesichter, hohe Stirnen, eine Haut wie sonnengekuesste Pfirsiche (es ist ein Vorurteil zu glauben, Schweden wären blass, die sind alle natuerlich braun, jaja!), wandeln auf Stelzen die von jeglicher Cellulite unberuehrt geblieben sind, wackeln mit Äpfelchenpopos, haben lange schlanke Finger, wunderschöne Muender aus denen dieser herrliche Singsang kommt (JA, SCHWEDISCH IST SCHÖÖÖN!!!) und nicht einmal die Tatsache, dass der aktuelle Modetrend ihnen das Tragen seltsamer Leggings gepaart mit Oversizepullis (die auf wundersame Weise DOCH den Hintern betooonen) diktiert, kann ihnen ihre göttliche Erscheinung ruinieren. So. Aber:
Sie haben ganz ganz ganz leere Augen. Sie wandeln mit leeren Augen und vollen Einkaufssackerl durch die Strassen und auch wenn ich noch nicht viel Schwedisch verstehe, dann doch, dass es um Taschen geht, oder irgendwelche Schuhe - was ich ja jedem Mädchen gönne, aber als Ganztagsbeschäftigung finde ich es eher besorgniserregend. Sie sitzen auch mit ihren leeren Augen in Cafés und zeigen sich ihre Händis und Bilder auf den Händis, und Klingeltöne auf den Händis oder Bilder auf ihren superteuren Laptops und hachja, es ist sehr leer. Aber zum Anschauen ist das hier wirklich ein Paradies. Und fuers Hirn sind die Austauschstudis hier! :)
Woran erkennt man Austauschstudis? Einfach, das sind diejenigen, die ganz aus dem Häuschen sind ob der vielen schönen Frauen. Die Schweden bleiben nämlich seltsam unberuehrt, was ich einfach nicht verstehe!, hier ist nämlich 24 Stunden am Tag Parade der Mini-Miniröcke vor einer Shampon-Werbung-Haare-im-Wind-Szenerie.
Ich muss skrupelloser werden in Bezug auf den Auslöser meiner Kamera. Zuviele göttliche Bilder (und damit Beweisfotos) sind mir schon durch die Lappen gegangen, weil ich Angst hatte, einfach Zack! den Apparat zu zuecken und Zack! abzudruecken. Ich habe Angst, die Intimsphäre irgendwelcher Personen zu verletzen. Blödsinn, wenn man bedenkt, dass zumindest die weibliche Bevölkerung ihre Intimsphäre grösstenteils fast unbedeckt durch die Strassen spaziert und man hier einfach nicht angesehen wird. Ich gelobe Besserung.
Ahja. Vielleicht erwarten sich einige geifernde Leserinnen jetzt ein paar Worte zu den Schweden? ... Hm. Ja, also. Was soll ich sagen? Gegen blond und blauäugig hab ich nichts, auch nicht gegen dunkelhaarig, auch nicht gegen Muskeln, auch nicht gegen Cornettos, auch nicht gegen Modebewusstsein. Aber gegen Pfaue hab ich was. Dagegen, dass es wurscht is, ob einer seine Sonnenbrille auf den Augen hat oder nicht, weil man sowieso das Gefuehl hat, gegen eine Wand zu schauen, ich hab auch was gegen Modepuppen und Catwalk-Gehabe und gegen "Mein-Händi-is-grösser-als-deins!" Daher kann ich nicht viel sagen ueber schwedische Männer weil sie mich kalt lassen,.. Aber die anderen schwedischen Männer sind sehr höflich und zuvorkommend und hilfsbereit, und rennen mit ihren schwangeren Frauen und einem Kinderwagen durch die Gegend, schleppen ihre Babies auf Rockkonzerte und arbeiten.

***

The average temperature is 16 degrees Celsius, average wind speed 7 km/h (usually from north or northwest), average rainfall/day: 1 bathtub per sqm & 90 minutes, sunrise today at 6:03, sunset at 20:12, average amount of sunrays on my nose: 3/hour, average number of clouds passing by: 10/15 minutes, amount of soaked pairs of shoes so far: 3.
People are expected to separate their waste but I didn’t really get the system until now. It is too demanding for my little Austrian brain to through all the package into one bin (cans, plastic AND cardboard boxes, can you believe this?), while you have to separate newspapers – which are recycled – from other paper like advertisements, which is not recycled…
I decided not to do anything against the not-turning-round of my back wheel. First because money doesn’t lie on the streets, second because it DOES NOT lie on the streets, and third: I couldn’t find any reason why I should need a high-tech-bike in a town where everything is even and the longest distance take about 30 minutes…
Average price for a Café Latte: 2,2 Swedish Krowns (appr. 2,4 Euro). There is a little café where a big cup of coffee is sold for 10SK, and a small one for 8 - milk is free.
Yes, Swedish girls are hot! But it wouldn’t be me if I hadn’t already found something to criticize about them. You all know I really AM a girl: I’m vain, I like to spiff up, I looove bagsshoesclothesbanglesearringsmakeupnecklaces, I do – but: this is all nothing against the spectacle I’m able to attend here in Lund everyday. It’s simply unbelievable. The girls here are drop-dead gorgeous. They have cascades of blonde hair, beautiful faces, rosy cheeks like sun-riped peaches, long legs untroubled by cellulites with cute little bums on top, long fingers, wonderful lips with this beautiful language coming out (Swedish IS beautiful, believe me!) and even the fact that current fashion obliges them to wear dreadful leggings and oversized pullovers (that miraculously still accentuate their dérrieres) can’t do a thing against their divine appearance. BUT:
Unfortunately, they have dead eyes. They walk around with empty eyes and filled shopping-bags and though I don’t understand a lot of Swedish yet, I understand that they talk about clothes and shoes – I don’t have anything against that, but if people do this all day long, I find it kind of irritating… These girls sit in fancy cafés and demonstrate each-other their cell-phones or computers… Everything is so fashionable, but very very empty… They are eye candies, though. But exchange people are here to put some brain into the whole thing!
It's easy to recognize (male) exchange students - they are the only ones to turn around when a pretty girl walks by. Swedish guys remain untouched and I don't get why; since there's this parade of supershort miniskirts 24/7...

Lomma - Beach

2006-08-26T19:25:00.000+02:00

Lektionen dieser Radtour:

mein Hinterrad eiert -> zum Mechaniker gehen

mein Hintern schmerzt -> weichen Sattel organisieren

im Kraut sind nackte Männer versteckt -> unbedingt auf Schilder am Strand achten

alles voller Hagebutten -> nächstes Mal mehr Plastiksackerl mitnehmen

und: nur weil der Himmel vor dir blau ist, heisst das noch lange nicht, dass sich hinter dir keine fetten Gewitterwolken auftuermen -> gelegentlich umdrehen!

***

Lessons I learned from today's bike tour:

my back wheel isn't turning round anymore (could someone look up a word for "eiern", pleeease?) -> have to go to the mechanist.
my dérriere is in pain -> have to buy a comfortable saddle
there were naked men hidden in the bushes -> pay attention to signs on the beach!!!
tons of rose-hips -> bring more bags next time
there's sometimes a storm approaching although there are only nice fleecy clouds in front of you -> turn around from time to time!!!

UAH! Nudisten...

Ersatz-Mama

2006-08-25T18:50:00.000+02:00

Das einzige, was ich am Disneyfilm Pocahontas mag, ist Grossmutter Weide. So einen tollen Baum wollte ich auch schon immer einmal kennen. Und jetzt hab ich eine Baumoma gefunden, im Lunder stadsparken (eigentlich ist sie keine Weide, sondern etwas anderes, was ich noch nicht identifizieren konnte, aber wurscht).

Weil sie so schöne blickdichte Zweige hat, die ein Zelt mit mindestens 10 Metern Durchmesser bilden, weil sie ausserdem leicht zu beklettern ist und sehr freundlich, bin ich nicht die Erste, die gerne zu ihr geht: ihr Stamm ist ganz zerschnitzt mit Herzen und Namen.

Ihre Stämme bilden ein Bett und wenn man da drinnen liegt, blickt ihr einäugiges Gesicht auf einen herunter. Ein bissl zwieder schaut sie drein, aber das dient nur zur Abschreckung.

Ist sie nicht wunderschön?

Ein Gesicht hat sie auch

Und bequem ist sie...

strange little girl

2006-08-24T17:36:00.000+02:00

Strange little girl...
on her way to the supermarket

Geschafft! Ich war heute das erste Mal richtig gluecklich. Und das kam so:
Thanh, Dava und ich haben letzte Woche eingekauft wie die Verrueckten (was man halt so braucht: 10kg Waschmittel, 5l Milch, tonnenweise Käse, Gemuese, Brot, Tee...) und haben dann diesen Berg Verpflegung direkt im Einkaufswagen mit nach Hause gerollt (was die Bevölkerung sehr amuesiert hat). Und besagten Einkaufswagen habe ich heute zurueckgebracht. Der stand zwischenzeitlich ganz brav neben unserer Haustuer (wo sonst nix is ausser einem Fenster). Diese Tatsache muss aber unsere Nachbarn derart echauffiert haben, dass sie sich beim Hausmeister beschwert haben, der sich wiederum telefonisch bei Thanhs Mutter in Hanoi (!!!) beschwert hat, welche sich daraufhin per elektronischer Post bei ihrer Tochter beschwert hat, und diese meinte heute beim Fruehstueck, dass unser praktischer Einkaufswagen wieder zurueck nach Hause muss (und ich war der Trottel, der gegangen ist). Habe schon ueberlegt, den Nachbarn einen Zettel an die Tuer zu kleben mit: "Sparen sie Geld, läuten sie an" oder "Wir beissen nicht". Manche Dinge sind eben ueberall auf der Welt gleich, Nachbarn zB.

Heute um 11:00 konnten also unsere lieben Nachbarn vom Fenster aus ein unbeschwertes Mädchen beobachten, welches einen riesigen leeren Einkaufswagen die Landstrasse zum Supermarkt entlang schob und dabei alle paar Meter stehenblieb um auf den Auslöser seiner Kamera zu druecken. In Schweden wie eine Aussätzige angesehen zu werden, geht wirklich ganz einfach.

Na jedenfalls: ich war gluecklich. Weiss schon wieder nicht warum, aber die Sonne, die Elstern, die Landschaft, der HIMMEL!!! ... Den Wunsch, ein Vogel sein zu können, kannte ich nicht, bevor ich hierher gekommen bin. Hier ist alles so weit und frei, dass man am liebsten in die Landschaft hinein explodieren möchte.

***

Finally! I have experienced a moment of complete beatitude today.

Thanh, Dava and I went shopping last week. We bought so much stuff that we hadto borrow the trolley to carry home the tons of washing powder, detergent andfood. I finally brought back the trolley this morning.

Until then, we had parked it next our door where it couldn’t derange anybody (for there’s only a window and some sad looking potted plants). Anybody except our neighbors who called the concierge to complain about us, then the concierge wrote to Thanh’s mother in Hanoi to complain about us, whereuponThanh’s mother called her daughter to complain about us and Thanh just told us this morning that we’d better bring that thing back to the supermarket (and I was the goof who did it).

So our beloved neighbors could watch me strange little girl rolling an empty trolley down the road to the supermarket this morning, stopping every ten meters to take a picture with my digi-cam.

To cut this long story short: I was happy. Once again I don’t know why, but it was probably because of the sun, the landscape, the sky… THE SKY!!! I didn’t know the desire to be a bird before I came here but now I do. Everything is so wide and vast that I want to transform into a giantess and walk with my head in the clouds.

Goofball with golf ball
(I hate snobs)

1 of 2.457.321 Rowan trees in Lund

the next shower is never far away

die wundersame mädchenvermehrung

2006-08-24T17:13:00.000+02:00

oans...

zwoa...

drei!

(Thanh, i, Dava)

Ein Eintrag nur fuer Valérie

2006-08-23T16:19:00.000+02:00

Liebe Valérie,

dieser Eintrag dient ganz allein der Beantwortung deiner vielen Fragen. Ich mache das so öffentlich, weil die Antworten vielleicht auch andere Leser interessieren (die sich nur nicht zu fragen trauen). :)

An alle, die Valérie nicht kennen: das ist jene junge Dame, die mir einen fruehen Tod vorhergesagt hat ("Wenn ich gross bin, bist du schon längst tot!"), von mir Flöten-Unterricht bekommen hat und der es gelingt, in einer Minute 25 und eine halbe Frage auf einmal zu stellen. Wirklich.

Wer sind Sylvia und Ben?

Das wird jetzt ein bisschen kompliziert. Sylvia studiert so wie ich auf der Uni in Graz ("Was?" Psychologie und Molekularbiologie) und jetzt eben in Lund. Sie wohnt in einem grossen Haus ("Wo?" In Bezirk Östratorn ganz im Osten von Lund) und weil das Haus so gross ist, können dort auch noch einige andere Leute wohnen. Und das sind: Ben, Laurent und Carol, die aber noch nicht in Schweden angekommen ist ("Warum?" Weil sie noch in Suedafrika ist, dort ist sie nämlich zuhause).

Woher kommen sie?

Ben kommt aus Deutschland (ich weiss aber nicht genau, aus welcher Stadt) und Sylvia wie gesagt aus Graz. Aber wenn man's ganz genau nimmt, dann ist die Sylvia zur Hälfte aus Schweden (daher kommt ihre Mutter) und zur anderen Hälfte aus Salzburg (daher kommt ihr Vater). Und zum Studieren ist sie nach Graz gezogen ("Warum?" Weil Salzburg blöd ist.)

Wie alt sind sie?

Der Ben ist 26 (oder so) und die Sylvia so alt wie ich (Ha! Jetzt musst du nachrechnen!). Und von den anderen Leuten weiss ich das noch nicht ("Warum?" Weil ich nicht gefragt hab).

Sind sie in einander verliebt?

Auch wenn es auf dem Foto so aussieht: nein. Der Ben hat eine Freundin, von der er die ganze Zeit redet und die er sehr vermisst und die Sylvia hat keinen Freund.

Damit keine Geruechte aufkommen: auf dem Foto ist lediglich zu sehen, wie Ben Sylvia zeigt, wie man im Mittelalter böse Menschen an den Pranger gestellt hat. Sieht ungemuetlich aus, ist es auch.

Wie alt ist der Biblothekar?
Ungefähr 25. Ich hab ihn auch noch nicht gefragt. Kommt glaub ich nicht so gut. Das könnte der Bibliothekar ja auch falsch verstehen.

Wirst Du ihn heiraten?
Nein!!!
(Auch wenn er sehr nett ist.)

Wo sind die anderen Studenten?

In ihren Betten, die meiste Zeit. Auf der Uni, in den vielen Kaffees, beim Einkaufen, auf irgendwelchen Parties, beim Sprachkurs... Oder hast du die Frage anders gemeint?

Wer ist alles auf den Photos von deinem Ausflug abgebildet?
Meinst du diese Fotos?

Das sind alles Studenten, die ich nicht kenne, die aber bei dieser grossen Gruppe dabei waren.

Das ist eine rothaarige schwedische Mama mit ihrem ebenfalls rothaarigen schwedischen Kind, die genau in dem Augenblick die Stufen zum Eingangstor (siehe oberes Bild) hinaufgestiegen ist, in dem ich im zweiten Stock von Glimmingehus aus dem Fenster geschaut habe. Ich habe sie hinterher nicht mehr gesehen (und auch das Kind nicht) und konnte ihr deswegen leider keine weiteren Fragen stellen.

Und das ist Sylvia, die in Glimmingehus in der mittelalterlichen Dusche steht. Was sie grade angreift, ist eine Aufhängung, an der ein grosser Wasserkessel befestigt wurde, den man sich dann ueber den Kopf kippen konnte. Bruagh! Uebrigens sitzt man dabei auf einer der zwei Bänke.

herd-instinct

2006-08-23T14:29:00.000+02:00

Still flyin (US)
18 people on stage, 60 minutes of great music

War gestern beim Malmö-festivalen. Das ist ein Musikfestival in Malmö (nona) und geht vom 18. bis zum 25. August. Und es ist: gratis. Absolut gratis. Bis auf das Bier (40 Kronen, also umgerechnet 4,4 Euronen *entsetzen!*) und die restliche Verpflegung (also sämtliche Alkoholika und Non-Alkoholika, köstliche frisch gemachte gebrannte Mandeln, Zuckerwatte,...). Achja, und die Zugfahrt nach Malmö kostet auch etwas. Nämlich hin und zurueck 128 Kronen fuer zwei Personen, rechnet bitte selbst um. Bin also gestern mit einer Gruppe von ca. 20 Austauschstudenten von Lund nach Malmö (die Zugfahrt dauert genau 15 Minuten 30, Valérie...).

Erasmusmenschen sind schon ein eigener Schlag... Sie bilden nach aussen sofort eine starke Einheit, selbst wenn sich die Menschen innerhalb der Gruppe gar nicht kennen sollten. Herdenbildung zur Erhöhung der Ueberlebenschancen. Interessant, ab und zu mal in so ein System abzutauchen - sonst bin ich ja eher eine einsame Wölfin. Ich habe mich bis jetzt noch jeder Veranstaltung meiner Mentorgruppe erfolgreich entzogen, bei der uns die Stadt gezeigt werden sollte o.Ä. Ich weiss wirklich nicht, was mich daran so stört? Hab einfach was dagegen, wenn mich jemand davon abhalten will, das hier alles auf eigene Faust zu erkunden. So ist es nämlich viel abenteuerlicher, ueberraschender und spannender!
Vielleicht habe ich aber auch einfach nur ein ernsthaftes Problem damit, Hilfe anzunehmen... ;)

Zurueck zur eigentlichen Info: gestern war grosse Aufregung, weil die Yeahyeahyeahs aufgetreten sind (vielleicht kennt ja jemand "Gold Lion"). Hm. So vom Hocker gerissen haben mich die nun nicht. Obwohl ich einen Hocker gebraucht hätte - Schweden ist NICHT GUT um auf Konzerte zu gehen, weil immer ein paar Riesen im Weg stehen. Dafuer stehen sie wirklich sehr ruhig und stoisch, selbst wenn, wie gestern, eine vollkommen durchgeknallte Lady im Glitzer-Glamour-Outfit vorne auf der Buehne abviechern und dabei ins Mikro plärren sollte (was 10 Minuten lang wirklich Spass machen kann). Die Schweden bleiben in so einem Fall erst einmal ganz ruhig, sehen sich das Ganze an, legen vielleicht das Kinn in die Hand, als als handle es sich beim Geschehen vor ihnen um einen weltberuehmten Brueghel oder meinetwegen einen Mirò und vielleicht hat man nach einer guten Stunde sogar das Glueck, einen wippenden Zeh oder ein dezentes Lächeln zu entdecken.

Ein Zelt weiter ging dafuer aber auch vor der Buehne die Post ab, da haben nämlich die Reaggae-Warriors aufgelegt und alles hat getanzt. Ich durfte erstaunt feststellen, dass es dem menschlichen Körper tatsächlich möglich ist, jeden (!!!) seiner Teile unabhängig von den anderen zu bewegen (demonstriert wurde mir das von einer weissen Dame). Hm. Weiss noch nicht genau, welche Auswirkungen das auf mein Sportprogramm haben wird.
Und noch ein Zelt weiter standen 18 fröhliche junge Menschen aus SanFrancisco auf der Buehne und haben das Publikum beglueckt mit Reagge (das ist was anderes als Reaggae, Obacht!). Da bin ich dann auch geblieben bis zum Ende (das ist in Schweden ganz brav dann so um 23:00) und habe noch eine 1/4 Stunde nach Ende des Konzerts gesummt: "Still flyin, never gonna touch the ground..."

during the Yeahyeahyeahs' concert -

daddy, what is the strange lady doing to her microphone???

***

So, I've been to Malmö-festivalen yesterday. Needless to say, this is a musicfestival in Malmö, going from August 18 -25 and the best thing about it is that entrance is actually free. Really! This fact makes you forget even the horrendous prices for beer (40 SK, that's 4,4Euro!) and other drinks or food. I went there with a dozen exchange-students by train (the round-trip cost 128 SK for two people).

Exchange students really are a strange race. Once they come together they form a strong group almost instinctively, even if they barely know each other. It's just a way of increasing your chances of survival! It's interesting to be part of such a herd once in a while. I'm rather a lone wolf than a gregarious animal (by the way, I have this site for my vocabulary...). Until now I managed to avoid every single activity of my mentor group, and I'm proud of it. I don't know why I hate this kind of things so much. I just want to find my way on my own cause it's much more adventurous and exciting! Or maybe I just have a serious problem to accept somebody's help...

Back to what I wanted to tell you: yesterday everyone was really excited because of the Yeahyeahyeahs' concert (maybe some of you know their song Gold Lion?). Hm, I wasn't really swept off my feet, though I should have worn higher heels - Sweden is the worst country to watch concerts if you happen to be smaller than 1.8 m. There will always be a giant in your way, but luckily Swedish people are really calm and stoic giants. They keep their calm even if there should be a completely crack-brained lady on stage, like the one there was yesterday. In such a case, the Swedish won't panic, they keep cool and watch everything very attentively (maybe like I would look at a famous Brueghel or Mirò in the museum). After a while you'll maybe notice one of their toes moving to the music or a corner of their mouth moving slightly upwards (in case they like what's going on).

In the marquee round the corner people were dancing like crazy (there was some reaggae music going on). I was surprised to find out that the human body is in fact able to move all of its parts individually. This will probably affect my daily sports-routine...

And in the 3rd marquee 18 jolly young people from L.A. were making their audience dance and sing with their happy Reagge-music (be careful, there's a difference between Reaggae and Reagge!!!). I stayed there and even half an hour after the concert had finished (which is at 11 in Sweden *sigh*) I still kept singing: "Still flyin, never gonna touch the ground..."

from left: Camille's hair (France), Theo's blue pullover (Greece), Yo (Japan), Silvia (Austria)

in the background: the Raggae-marquee

(und die anderen Leute kenne ich leider nicht, Valérie!)

this is Laurent, a hyper-active French guy

please note the incredible hair

Kåseberga & Ales stenar

2006-08-20T11:21:00.000+02:00

Kåseberga liegt an der Suedostkueste, direkt am Meer. Ueber dem winzigen Dorf, mit Blick auf dem Strand, haben vor ca. 1500 Jahren einige starke Leute Ales stenar errichtet - 58 Seine, die in Schiffsform aufgestellt sind. Zur Fruehlingstagundnachtgleiche geht die Sonne genau am Bug auf, zur Herbsttagundnachtgleiche genau ueberm Heck. Wir konnten keine Fuehrung kriegen, weil sich Wissenschaftler nicht auf das genaue Alter und den Zweck der Formation einigen können. Also geben sie lieber gar keine Informationen. %-/

Ich wollte aber gar keine Info. Ich bin nämlich zum Strand abgebogen und den steilen Weg zum Wasser runtergestiegen. Und genau dann hat es aufgehört zu regnen und der Himmel hat sich gnädig ein wenig geöffnet. Sehr schön! Der Mix aus Sand- und Kieselstrand hier gefällt mir wirklich gut. Hab nach Österreich gewunken. Und mich beim Wunsch ertappt, doch öfters am Meer sein zu können. Dummes Mädchen - ich hab's ja jetzt ein ganzes Jahr lang quasi vor der Haustuer! *freu*

***

Kåseberga is situated on the southeastern coast. It is famous for a stone monument called Ales stenar. This was erected 1500 years ago by some husky men who miraculously managed to arrange 58 big stones in the form of a ship. At the summer solstice, sun sets at the bow, at the winter solstice on the other side. There was no guided tour because some scientists can't agree upon the exact date of erection and purpose of Ales stenar. So they prefer not to give any information at all...

Anyway, I didn't want any information cause I prefered to follow a little path down to the ocean. Sitting on the stones I watched the sky, which has already become my favourite occupation here in Sweden. It's always worth a look, even when it's raining! Caught myself wishing I could see the ocean more often - still have to get used to the fact that I'll be able to go there whenever I want for the next 10 months!

Greetings to Austria

Stones are so colorful here

My own cost-free theater

Take your time, she said

Glimmingehus

2006-08-20T10:56:00.000+02:00

Oppressing; sinister - though really vast and spacious

Der dänische Edelmann Jens Holger Ulfstand (Wolfzahn) hat sich Ende des 15. Jhs. Glimmingehus bauen lassen. Der arme Mann litt wohl ein wenig unter Verfolgungswahn, denke ich. Er wollte sich und seine Familie vor seinen vielen Feinden beschuetzen, hat aber seltsamerweise nicht bedacht, dass die gut 2,5 Meter dicken Mauern fuer damalige Waffen-Verhältnisse ein ziemlich mickriges Hindernis waren. Er ist trotzdem uralt geworden. Lag aber vermutlich eher daran, dass Glimmingehus damals mitten im Sumpf lag. Und wer will dort schon hin.

Glimmingehus was built by Jens Holger Ulfstand, a danish nobelman, at the end of the 15th century. The poor man must have been a bit paranoid, I guess. He wanted to shield himself and his family from his numerous enemies. But strangely enough he didn't notice that the approxemately 2.5metre thick walls of this building were actually useless to protect him against the weaponry of his time. Anyway, Jens died really old and never got attacked. Must have been because of Glimmingehus' environment then - marshland.

The attic smelled of dust and wood aged some 500 years

Frau K. hat einen Plan

2006-08-19T20:53:00.000+02:00

Das ist er. Der totale Durchblick.

Man sieht, Lund ist wirklich die Definition von "klein". Wer aufs Bild klickt, bekommt die grössere Bild-Version. Und wer dann mit dem Finger den roten Strich nachfährt, vollzieht meinen täglichen Radweg in die Uni-Gegend nach. Wobei, das war jetzt nicht korrekt ausgedrueckt, denn eigentlich ist ganz Lund eine Uni-Gegend. Hier wuerden vermutlich ganze drei Häuser uebrigbleiben, sollte die Uni einmal nicht mehr sein...
Jedenfalls endet der rote Strich beim Institutionen för konst- och musikvetenskap. Und gleich daneben ist die Bibliothek mit dem netten Bibliothekar.

Eine Daumenbreite links von der UB hab ich mein Rad gekauft. Der Radverkäufer ist uebrigens ganz angetan von Österreich (war dort schon 17x) und kann nicht verstehen, dass ich den Schanzlwirt in Tirol nicht kenne, dabei ist das doch ein ganz famoses Nobelhotel. Jaså! Ausserdem spricht er richtiges, waschechtes Schonisch. Stellt Euch das so vor: ein Mix aus Wienerisch mit urigem Steirisch. Schonisch bellt und hat ååå's ganz unten aus der Rachengegend. Genau das sollte ich auf jeden Fall vermeiden, wenn ich auch im Rest Schwedens freundlich behandelt werden will...

Den Tuerken hab ich eingezeichnet, weil ich immer noch kaum glauben kann, dass ich hier etwas Guenstiges gefunden habe. Tatsächlich. Die tuerkische Chefin muss einen ganz furchtbaren Akzent haben, das hör sogar ich. Und um die Weintrauben schwirren ca. eine Million Wespen. Aber die Tomaten sind gut (weil reif) und es gibt ungefähr so jede Nudelsorte, die man sich wuenschen kann. Ausserdem: fantastische Oliven in allen Variationen, eingelegten Knoblauch, Fladenbrot! Und eine verdammt lange Schlange an der Kassa.

Ueber den Baum im stadsparken habe ich noch vor ausfuehrlich zu schreiben.

Und natuerlich gäbe es noch viel mehr einzuzeichnen, aber es ist einfach kein Platz mehr auf diesem Plan.
Lund ist so klein.
SO!
Ich kann's gar nicht oft genug schreiben...

Tag 3

2006-08-18T13:07:00.000+02:00

Hab es endlich geschafft - Zugang zur UB, Bibliotheksausweis. Und jetzt schwänz ich Schwedischkurs, damit ich Euch allen schreiben kann. Habe fast geheult, als ich die vielen lieben Mails gelesen habe. Aber nur fast! Der Bibliothekar hat trotzdem sehr mitfuehlend geschaut und mich persönlich ganz schnell zum Raum mit den USB-Anschluessen gebracht.

Draussen Sonnenschein und ich hab den Blues. Was wollte ich hier eigentlich noch einmal? Was tu ich hier? Ahja, irgendsowas mit "Erfahrungen fuers Leben sammeln". Bla. Alles bla!

Die Leute hier sind alle so motiviert. Wenn ich hier ein paar Stunden herumrenne, fuehl ich mich komplett ueberfahren. Die reden alle von Party, kaufen sich teure Tickets fuer diese Welcome-Geschichte und ich hab inzwischen schon vergessen, wie man "Bier" buchstabiert. Das heisst auf Schwedisch uebrigens öl. Hab ich im Kurs gelernt, bitteschön :) Dafuer gibt's am Sonntag einen Ausflug in den Suedosten, ans Meer. Und wenn ich mich in Lund aufs Rad schwinge, sinds zum Strand von Lomma auch nur 10 Kilometer.

Ernähre mich momentan hauptsächlich von Brot mit Brot mit Brot und Käse. Muss noch einen Markt finden, an dem es Gemuese fuer weniger als 4€ das Kilo gibt. Aber ich verhungere nicht. Die sind hier auf mehr oder weniger arme Studenten spezialisiert, man kann fast ueberall gut und guenstig essen. Aber halt nicht schwedisch.

Werd mich jetzt in ein Kaffeehaus setzen, mit österreichischer Musik im Ohr und österreichischer Literatur in der Hand. PROTEST!!!

Alle Fotos und noch mehr gibt es hier!

Tag 2

2006-08-17T20:36:00.000+02:00

Yoga - geht immer!

Heute war Orientierungstag. Hab mir zuerst ein Rad gekauft (wenn ich den Preis verrate, fallen gleich ein paar in Ohnmacht, befuerchte ich...). Das ist so herzig, himmelblau und ein "Monark". Hab mein Institut gesucht und gefunden. Dort war niemand ausser einem Anstreicher. Und mir. Dafuer gibts dort Kaffee um 2Kronen. Sehr gut.

Mein Rad, mein Institut. Neidisch?

Ruhigste Kaffeepause seit langem...

Wollte dann noch einige Dinge erledigen, aber die Schweden haben was gegen schnelles Erledigen, anders kann ich mir die Öffnungszeiten nicht erklären. Jedenfalls konnte ich KEIN Bankkonto eröffnen, KEINE Mails schreiben, KEIN Shampon einkaufen.

Aber Sprachkurs war ich. Boah ey. Die spricht nur Schwedisch mit uns. Das heisst, auf dem Weg von ihr zu uns geht der Grossteil der Information leider verloren. Nach knappen 4 Stunden bin ich vollkommen erschlagen wieder rausgewankt. Aufgabe hab ich auch bekommen. Das geht jetzt die nächsten 2 Wochen so. Aber wird schon.

Wurde ausserdem von einem Marienkäfer verfolgt. Der taucht immer irgendwo in meiner Nähe auf. Suess, der. Heisst Bosse.

Bosses Rennfahrt auf dem Wasserglas - immer im Kreis herum, so gehts mir auch

Kleintiertransport

Zimmerrundschau

2006-08-17T12:56:00.000+02:00

Heute abend versucht, die kahlen Wände zu beleben. Wird langsam wohnlich hier.

Einmal im Kreis rundherum, beginnend bei der Tuer und dann weiter im Uhrzeigersinn: mein Spiegel, mein Bett, mein Kasten, mein Tisch, mein Regal. Alles klar?

Tag 1

2006-08-16T11:54:00.000+02:00

Es ist soweit - ich bin richtig angekommen!
In meinem Kopf ist Achterbahn: so viele Dinge zu tun, Adressen abzuklappern, Formulare einzupacken, Zettel durchzulesen, Deadlines zu bedenken... Mein Hirn wehrt sich dagegen, mehr als 3 Tage im Voraus zu denken, und das ist gut so. Interessanterweise denke ich aber auch kaum rueckwärts - mit dem Aussteigen aus dem Flieger ist das Kabel nach Österreich abgeschnitten worden. Ich lebe also vor allem im Augenblick, und in diesem Augenblick fuehle ich vor allem:
Angst! Ueberforderung! Verwirrung!

Ich halte Ausschau nach Vertrautem und Dingen, die mir gefallen, mit denen ich mich anfreunden kann. Ich rieche noch deutlicher, höre den Leuten genau zu, ich suche nach schönen Perspektiven und Blickwinkeln... Ergebnis ist, dass ich ziemlich schnell vollkommen erschöpft bin. Habe ausserdem das Beduerfnis, ganz unscheinbar zu werden. Vielleicht ist das politisch nicht korrekt, aber momentan kann ich die Vorzuege eines blickdichten Kopftuchs sehr deutlich nachvollziehen!

Mich erstaunen die vielen Ebereschen ueberall. Schön.

Meine Vermieterin ist unglaublich nett, fährt am Freitag mit Sack und Pack nach Hanoi. Das andere exchange-girl und ich beschnuppern einander noch. Bin froh, Sylvia und Ben zu haben, zumindest ein kleines Sicherheitsnetz fuer den Anfang.

Die Stadt ist wirklich entzueckend und ganz klein. Sehr lebendig, obwohl jetzt nur die Austauschler hier sind. Das wird sicher wild, wenn alle in die Stadt zurueckkommen. Die Gebaeude sind altehrwuerdig, vor allem die Geisteswissenschaftler haben Glueck, sind nämlich in den schönsten Gebäuden zuhause!

Ein ganzes Haus voller Zuckerl!!! Ben und Sylvia waren kaum loszueisen.

Erste Mahlzeit in Schweden: Thai-Teller fuer fantastische 55 Kronen.

Grade ist Harry vorbei geflogen.

Hoch oben

2006-08-15T11:31:00.000+02:00

Ich glaube, es war Matisse, der in "Jazz" schreibt, dass jeder (junge) Mensch einmal fliegen sollte, weil man ueber den Wolken wieder froh und klar im Kopf wird. Daran hab ich im Flugzeug gedacht. Matisse ist nicht grundlos einer von den Grossen...
Kopenhagen: Sylvia getroffen. Regen. Kunst am Flughafen und ein Eingangsbereich, der mit Parkett ausgelegt ist. Wie im eigenen Wohnzimmer, sehr schön... Dann die Fahrt nach Malmö (nachdem uns der dänische Ticketverkäufer um einige Euronen betrogen hat, Hund!). In Malmö die erste Lektion ueber Schweden: der Zug sollte eigentlich weiterfahren bis nach Lund, aber plötzlich war niemand mehr drin. Wir zum Schaffner: "Wie kommen wir bitte nach Lund?" "Sie muessen umsteigen!..." Und weg war er. Aha.

Dann im strömenden Regen vom Taxifahrer in Lund betrogen worden, dann von Sylvias Mitbewohner mit Essen und Bier und Bett versorgt worden. Wir drei ergänzen uns perfekt: die Mädchen haben einen 2Meter hohen Beschuetzer, er hat zwei nette Mädchen, denen jeder gern Auskunft gibt. Praktisch.

Und dann: geschlafen wie ein Stein.

Wie man Susa in Schweden besucht...

2006-07-08T15:45:00.000+02:00

Keine Angst im Daten-Dschungel!

Eine kleine Bedienungsanleitung für alle, die im WWW noch nicht ganz zuhause sind und befürchten, sich in seinen Untiefen zu verirren (ich werde keine Namen nennen...):

Die Seite gliedert sich in die Leiste meiner Beiträge (links) und die Leiste mit Schnickschnack (rechts).

Die linke Leiste

In der linken Leiste könnt ihr nicht viel tun, außer gezwungenermaßen meine Berichte zu lesen und die Bilder zu betrachten. Bilder können durch Anklicken vergrößert werden. Ihr könnt das Gelesene/Betrachtete allerdings kommentieren: ihr klickt dazu auf den kleinen Link unter dem jeweiligen Beitrag, der anzeigt, wieviele Kommentare schon hinterlassen wurden (z.B. "0 comments"). Es öffnet sich ein neues Fenster, wo Text und Name hinterlassen werden können. Vergesst nicht die Wortbestätigung, sonst kann der Kommentar nicht veröffentlicht werden. Das ist lästig, aber nötig (ich erkläre jetzt nicht warum, glaubt es mir einfach...).

Die rechte Leiste (von oben nach unten)

Wer vergessen hat, wie ich aussehe oder generell das Bedürfnis verspürt, näheres über mich zu erfahren, klickt einfach auf das Foto ganz oben. Es erscheint mein Profil.
Wer mir eine Mail schicken möchte, klickt auf "schreib mir!"
Wer sich künstlerisch in meinem Kritzel-Gästebuch verewigen möchte, klickt auf "mal mir ins Gästebuch!"
Wen Wissensdurst oder Langeweile plagen oder wem Erlebnis-Berichte und Fotos einfach zu wenig sind, empfehle ich die Link-Liste. Einfach durcharbeiten. Sie wird meinem Wissens- und Interessenstand gemäß aktualisiert.
Die Leiste "aktuelle Posts" versteht sich von selbst...
Unter "archiv" gelangt man zu den Beiträgen der vergangenen Monate.

Bald geht's los...

2006-06-21T10:23:00.000+02:00