Fridges are ultimate todo-lists, I’ve discovered. I’m going to Poland for a couple of days with my brother. I haven’t been for a while except for funerals, so it’s a good change of pace tagging along to something which is less depressing. I don’t know how I’ll fit all the orders for Zubrowka, but I’ll manage somehow. I might be difficult to get hold of, but SMS ought to work as usual. If there are requests, I might upload video and stuff! How about that!
Mom brought me and Tomasz along with her and Jozef to San Francisco and then Hawaii, and I thought I’d sum up while I’m still here. I’m in full on vacation mode, and between driving around Oahu and laying on the beach, time sure flies. I haven’t been able to dive cause of a cold clogging up my head, but I did snorkel and see an underwater turtle. It was awesome. Other observations:
1) The IHOP doesn’t carry anything vegan except dry toast and lettuce. It might actually be for the better though, as I got to watch others pig out and didn’t hate myself afterwards.
2) Tofu is common, but even “very firm” varieties are watery. As I write this, it’s been frying for 30 minutes.
3) If you leave crisps out for an hour, the humidity will reconstitute them into potatoes, at least in Hawaii.
4) Saying “C’mon let’s go before we get sunburned” for an hour does not in fact stop you from getting burned.
5a) It takes three days before Speedo’s seem like dinner wear.
5b) Speedo’s, although tight fitting, do not stop sand from abrading your tender bits.
6) People really like to show of their military credentials. Like, really.
7) Waves are big as fuck in person. Thinking about dying is an interesting thing. Also, see “abrading” above.
8) People do the “hang loose” sing a lot, and they seem to be serious about it.
9) “Noisy” and “gargantuan” are selling points when buying cars.
We stopped by San Francisco on our way to Oahu and Petter met up with me and Tomasz for a days walking and sightseeing. Back when I went to New York I had the ambition to hang out in local bars and ordering coffee with the pronunciation I’ve heard from old Jewish ladies in sitcoms. In San Francisco I didn’t have any ambitions of my own, so was very happy to be guided around by Petter, who has gone completely native and is talking to everybody and everyone, embodying the concept of being friendly. It’s an astounding transformation, and one can only hope that he’ll bring some of that attitude back with him. In Gothenburg, he’ll be that really nice and talkative guy you will hear about. He’s still there for another week or so, looking smashing in his new hat and posting pictures here: annanstans.tumblr.com.
For some reason I’d gotten into my mind that I ought to buy a “proper kitchen knife” since that is something which adults seem to do a lot, and I bought a MAC from a nice lady in Chinatown, who threw in another knife and a backscratcher just cause I was nice. She asked me to pass on the word that they ship cheaply to Sweden, and that Kiwi knives are the new black and available, so stop by The Wok Shop if you’re looking for cutlery or such.
Of all the places one can be sick in, Hawaii isn’t the worst, and between getting a really uneven tan and driving around the island, I’m enjoying myself plenty and don’t really look forward to the cold back home, nor the awaiting jetlag which will kick my pasty ass.
After four days of travel to and from the funeral, I’m back in Gothenburg. Playing chess in granmas room felt odd with her not present, and suddenly every medicin and picture on her dresser took on new meanings. The blanket I’d used as a backdrop for her portrait was on her bed, and our youngest half-brother was sitting on it, dispensing dubious chess advice.
Once in Sanok, seeing relatives I hadn’t seen for years was truly a memento mori moment — gray hairs, walking canes, half-serious comments of “it’s us next” over dinner and photo albums. The jovial uncle who used to tell dirty jokes now tells of the dirty jokes he told the nurses when recovering from surgery.
Below are all the pictures I took in chronological order. I don’t know what grandma would have thought of the video, but she might’ve asked if doing it hadn’t made me hungry, and perhaps I ought to have some dumplings.
On Sunday I fly to Warsaw and then get on a buss to Sanok for my grandmothers funeral. I will need to borrow a shirt and black pants when I get there, as well as visit a barbershop. I don’t do funerals so don’t know how to dress or behave. I guess I’ll take my queues from the rest of the family.
A couple of days later I’ll fly from Warsaw to Copenhagen for the alt_cph 2009 where we’re participating with SKUP PALET. Having an ambulatory career is part and parcel of the romantic notion of the artistic life but I don’t feel all that much enthusiasm about it. If I had a car or a boat I guess slow migration wouldn’t be bad, but these shit airlines are so far removed from any romantic ideals that only the movement remains, none of the glamour.
We need to bring back zeppelins or slow trains. There is no dignity to travel today. I don’t think this is me whining about the lack of comfort — remembering that the cheap flights of today were pipe dreams ten years ago — but there’s no fun in just going somewhere. A five day trip would require you to prepare mentally for moving somewhere; You’ll be more fluid and maybe less stuck in one place, paradoxically because travel would be more difficult.
Whatever, I’m just bummed about the reason for the trip. I’ll occupy my time taking pictures of Poland to show folks back home later, as per Wakabas request. Maybe I’ll do a slideshow and commentary. Who would be up for an hours worth of lecture on travel in Poland?
I asked a friend “Conan, what is best in life” and got a rather good summery from her: The best of life might be a time when you have the feeling your brain is being challenged and fed everyday, without having loads of stress and fear or inferiority complexes.
Kayaking! There is absolutely no reason for me to think kayaking is a good thing, but why the fuck not? It’s not as though I have a bunch of other hobbies that compete for my attention (Note to self: It’s always sunny in Philadelphia isn’t a hobby) and there’s always the off chance that I’ll enjoy myself – God forbid – and have fun.
I know I wrote that interesting stuff is happening around me and I’m looking forwards to spring. Yes, well, that was like a week ago and the happy happy has left the way of Spongebob (and the season 4 of It’s always sunny in Philadelphia) leaving me once again pondering the meaning of life and the “get a job for summer” issue.
Lars, the happy architect I worked with at the museum last spring, is full of sage advice on any topic, and pointed me in the right direction when I asked about kayaking. I have this idea, see, where I would travel through Sweden on a kayak, using only smaller rivers and lakes. There are people paddling up the coast, but in my minds eye I see myself slowly gliding next to the riverbank with a straw in my mouth with a whistle on my lips. Whenever I felt like it I would just lean to one side and sleep on the soft and green grass; Birds chirping and strawberries within reach.
Maybe a slight exaggeration, but I’d rather call it “hope” than “lunacy.” Forrest Gump never listened to the nay-sayers, now did he? Just picture me smiling like an idiot, paddling up a river. Tell you what, I might even consider fishing if the expedition would be long. (Or does tofu keep for three weeks in a kayak?)
I came back to Gothenburg in time to welcome the new year with a couple of friends. After dinner we headed to Heaven 23 (on the 23rd floor of a hotel) for drinks and fireworks. We’d been told that a strict dress code would be enforced, and as a result we all looked bloody fabulous in jackets and such. Anna and Hanna had given me a scarf with flower prints on which allowed me to play the part of a toyboy and/or gay chihuahua.
We pretty soon realise that the whole dress code thing doesn’t apply to the scores of hotel guests that have found their way to the top floor with their kids in search for lebensraum and alcohol. The enterprise we had set out on is now transforming in front of our eyes into an after ski, but with more expensive alcohol and family friendly music volume. Once the fireworks start the kids are swarming, longingly staring out over the city but probably missing their Playstation consoles.
We’ve been buying drinks for two hours or so and slowly realise that we’re not getting value for money. We wrap shit up and leave in search for other venues that might enjoy our custom, and where we might actually enjoy being customers. I’m still sick and communicate mostly through coughs and spit – I’m a whiny bastard when I’m sick – so it’s actually a relief when we give up on finding anything interesting at half two and take the tram home.
Mum just got back from Hawaii, where she and her boyfriend were seeing new places and having a grand time. Sounds like fun, that. My Christmas has been spent under the banner of plague and lethargy, and I’m looking forward to getting back to work at Chalmers and planning stupendous projects. Also, I need to make more money so that I can buy people all those Christmas presents I’ve been putting off for three weeks. I mean, my brother got two pairs of socks from me, which although they were designer socks, still are socks.
Contrary to the title, I don’t have a new years resolution yet. I’m working on it and it’ll be a good one. Promise.
I’ve been in Barcelona the past week, teaching a group of architects to use video as an self-analysing tool. I also have had plenty of avocado. Coming home tomorrow. You may now reach me on my phone.
I’m in Eskilstuna for two weeks at an intensive drivers ed course. Not twenty minutes after me and my brother arrived this morning I was already out and about, making the streets slightly less safe. Fun times.
I’ll try to be a good boy and blog about this, but since they have no internet (in this day and age!) Im leeching off of a neighbour who seems to occasionally wrap his wifi in tin foil just to annoy me and drop the signal to -30-go-away.
Dear Lord, please let me have two seats
upon which I may rest my weak flesh.
And let not the person behind me kick the seat repeatedly,
nor the person in front violently lower their seat.
Allow me to sleep,
uninterrupted by others cellphones or luggage dropped onto my head.
And let me not worry about talking or passing gas in my sleep,
for that is embarrassing.
Keep any man with musky body odour away from the bus,
and smite the woman with too much perfume.
Let no light shine in my eyes,
not sun, road lights, nor computer screens,
for that is annoying.
Keep the bus on steady ground Lord,
for I lean my head against the window and bumbs make my teeth rattle,
and shake,
and I groan for death and deliverance.
My legs are too long,
my neck too stiff,
make me like jelly so that I may rest my weak flesh.
Lord, at least make so my iPod not runneth out of battery.
And on the seventh day they rested, and they saw that it was ok.
The last day was packing day. We were leaving at noon, and so we’re packed and out of the room with time enough to buy five litres of olive oil and cigarettes. I walk to the medina alone at first, hoping to score some cheap smokes, but my face is not one that invites haggling, and either way I don’t know where to start, and I can’t get the price below 25 dinars per carton.
Somewhat depressed I return to the hotel with the oil and ask Christoffer to come along and hold the business end of the shopping stick. With an air of gorgeous nonchalance he leads the way and within a few minutes we exit the medina with three cartons at 18 dinars each. He’s a God of nonchalance. If there ever is a war he might be that guy who will sell you a can of pork in exchange for gasoline that magically will appear because he knows a guy, but even in peacetime talents such as his are handy as hell.
On our way back we run into a man who sells cigarettes from a plastic bag. He asked what we paid for the ones I’m carrying, and I brazenly (and out of character) answer “fifteen”. He is willing to sell us a carton for 13 dinars, and Christoffer immediately jumps on him and offers ten. I end up buying a carton, and we’re soon back at the hotel.
I walk away and get two cans of harisha, the ubiquitous paprika paste, and we file into the bus. We will be at the airport three hours before departure, not counting delays, and as usual everyone is looking out at the cityscape wondering what this was all about and if there isn’t something that we might have overlooked.
Of course there is. During our week in Tunisia we got to know the country only a little, and what we learned was as superficial as doing more harm than good.
Here are a few advice on going to Tunisia:
* If you don’t like tourist traps, be sure to have read up on the country and have an actual interest in historic sites. Staying with the tour guides will leave you discontented and with an acidic fecal aftertaste.
* Tunisia has no food worth mentioning. This was a huge disappointment as we were all looking forward to something interesting. What we got was a bun with egg and tuna; in my case lots of salad. I have never visited a country with such lack of food tradition, and I imagine that Tunisia has simply picked up the food traditions of it’s conquerors, trying not to offend any-ones palate by aiming for the lowest common denominator: You gotta eat something.
* You might as well be wearing a tattoo spelling out “TOURIST” on your forehead for all the good any camouflage will do. Be prepared to get hassled by a lot of people looking to befriend your money – imagine that “ordinary” Tunisians are a rock band that you would like to get to know, but you can’t get close enough because of the guards and bouncers surrounding them. You will mostly run into guards that are annoying assholes because they are making a living off of you. You will become distant and bitter if you don’t remind yourself of the role that you are playing.
* Make notes of your trip. This will make it easier to blog afterwards, and you won’t forget things like the colosseum you visited.
* Consider going to Egypt instead. I hear Kairo is really cool, and they’re bound to have better food. Or, y’know, don’t fly half way around the earth because you’re conscious of the green-house emissions you’re the financial incentive for.
It was good to get away from Gothenburg for a week, and it was wonderful to travel Tunisia with three friendly people. I don’t know if I’m going on a charter again, but it’s a comparatively cheap way to travel (vaccinations not accounted for) and it would have helped to be better prepared. Being able to smoke anywhere is awesome, I just wish that the coughing would let up soon. I’ve halved my consumption to one pack a day, so I should be able to breath normally any day now.
Also, I ran out of hair wax on the last day and would appreciate it if you would buy me another one for christmas:
