you can't jump into the same river twice

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

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...

blues

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)

appendix & update

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...

up the little hill

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:

it will pass...

"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..."

fences

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...)

conspiracy

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.

memory

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

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...

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!

facts, facts, facts II

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

1. 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.
   
2. Die durchschnittliche Rad-Reparatur dauert 4 Werktage und kostet etwa 150 Kronen (16€).
3. 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?...
4. 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!
5. Es gibt hier sehr wenig frei herumlaufende Katzen. Warum? Die Schweden gehen mit ihren Katzen Gassi. Angeleint. Ja. Wirklich! Wirklich!!!
6. 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.
   
7. 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.
8. Durchschnittliches Lebensgefühl: SUPER!

*°*°*

1. 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.
2. Getting your bike fixed takes about 4 days and will cost you 150 Swedish Kronor.
3. 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...
4. 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...)
5. 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!
6. 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...
7. 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.
8. Average feeling: GREAT!
   

thinking about...

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)

Fieber

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!

how to party in Sweden - a crash course

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.

1. 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...
2. 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!
   
3. This is why ear-plugs are recommended!
   
4. 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)...
5. 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

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!

1. 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.
2. 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...
3. 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?
4. 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.
5. 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:
6. 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! :)
7. 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.
8. 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.
9. 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.

***

1. 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.
2. 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…
3. 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…
4. 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.
5. 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:
6. 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!
7. 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...