It's always raining

A recipe for acceptance

2011-02-03T17:14:00.002+07:00

Acceptance

200 g empathy
1 ltr introspection
300 g forgiving
50 g shame
Love

1. Gently pour the introspection to a large pot, slowly bringing it to a simmer over a low heat
2. Take the shame and coarsely chop it, adding it to the introspection. This will clause the mix to clump, so make sure to stir it very well for about two minutes, until the shame is thoroughly mixed in
3. Remove the mix from the heat and allow the sediments of shame to slowly settle at the bottom of the pot
4. Scoop the shame flavoured introspection out of the pot and into a bowl, making sure to leave all the sediments at the bottom of the pot
5. Throw away all the bits at the bottom of the pot and pour the soup back into it
6. Thinly slice the forgiving and stir it into the soup, allowing it to simmer for a minute or two
7. Finely chop the empathy and add it last, as you remove the pot from the heat
8. Serve with a dash of love

This is the healthcare system of newsweek's 'best country in the world'

2010-10-13T02:21:00.001+07:00

My bad experiences with the Finnish medical system start when I was fourteen, almost fifteen, and I became ill with pneumonia. As strange as it seems, due to extenuating circumstances, I was alone in Finland, a place that was new and exotic to me.

Finland has systems. And people abide by those systems without realizing that elsewhere in the world, people function in very different ways. So, armed with my life experience of a simple formula (1. Go to hospital, 2. See a doctor, 3. Get medicine and get better) that had worked so well in the past, I braved the winter winds and went to the nearest health centre.

Here’s what the lady behind the counter told me: “Sinun ois pitänyt soittaa ja varata aika ensin.” ("You should have called and made a reservation first.")

I didn’t understand at all. So there would be no doctor for me? I went home and lay in bed with pneumonia for two weeks.

Since then, I’ve avoided healthcare in Finland as much as possible. I’ve saved my medical concerns for when I’m in Thailand. This hasn’t been hard to do, since I only lived in Finland for three years. Needless to say, though, all other run-ins with healthcare in that period were equally unfriendly and unkind.

I’d been gone so long by March 2010, that I’d managed to forget how awful my experiences with Finnish healthcare had been in the past. And I thought, well, now, with a Finnish partner and a fresh perspective, surely things aren’t really that bad?

In April, our one-year-old son started vomiting. Every day, once or twice. At first, we went with what the doctor said and thought maybe it’s just some gastro-intestinal infection or virus. But it just continued and continued. We went to numerous doctors, public and private, who all kept insisting that it was just some GI, even after a month of it. Finally, our own health centre agreed to run some tests for allergies and celiac disease.

I had done my own research and insisted that, as we have no history of food allergies or of celiac disease in our family, I thought that was unlikely. The symptoms looked like gastro-esophageal reflux disease to me. Our doctor, however, insisted that it MUST be celiac disease. To complicate matters, this doctor retired, leaving the case with another person who was constantly having to consult some doctor in some other department because she didn’t really understand much about pediatric medicine.

The testing took another month, and of course, he came out clear of allergies or celiac disease. It was only at that stage that someone on the other end of the phone (I don’t to this day know who it was) suggested that maybe it’s reflux. Two and a half months after I had made that suggestion. And at stage, we started taking Losec MUPS, and gradually, the problem went away. It wasn’t until June that we got to see a pediatrician (other than private ones, who had all maintained that it was just a GI).

This experience is what confirmed to me that there really is nobody who listens in the Finnish healthcare system. You get referred to one doctor, then another, who all insist on their own agenda, and who simply will not listen to you.

Around the same time, I started developing panic attacks – another ‘old friend’ from my teenage years that I had forgotten about. My panic attacks accompany a sense of depression and helplessness. They stem from a sense of nobody listening, of being alone. I start seeing horrible images in my head – mostly of myself dying, or killing myself, in a different manner and a different situation every time – but sometimes also of my loved ones being killed in various brutal ways.

So around June, hoping it would make me feel better, we started enquiring our maternity nurse about the possibility of making a birth plan and meeting some of the staff that would be around for my delivery. We were told that birth plans were not customary in Finland and we should only start asking about hospital tours after my 32^nd week of pregnancy. I also tried contacting psychologists, because I thought that I quite possibly need help untangling the mess of my teenage years in Finland in order to overcome the panic attacks, but of course, everyone was on holiday.

In the meantime, my fear of not being listened to simply got progressively worse. I tried all sorts of avenues to find out what is customary and what isn’t in a Finnish birth, and it seemed that everyone I asked had a different story to tell. I wanted to get some concrete information so that I could make decision to go back and deliver in Thailand, where I had already delivered once, and where I knew I could trust the doctors and nurses, since it would be the very same individuals I’d be working with since the beginning of my first pregnancy.

It wasn’t until my 28^th week check-up in early August with an ob-gyn that the doctor realized something was wrong and asked my nurse to refer me to a psychologist for therapy. She explained that I would first have to get a diagnosis from a psychologist before I could be referred to this service called the ‘pelkopolikliniikka’ (fear polyclinic?) since I wasn’t actually afraid of any of the physical pains associated with giving birth. She also explained that this person should be able to help me work through my other fears.

And so on August the 19^th, I finally went to see a psychologist. My partner had given her a heads-up, so she knew the rough outline of my case. I was under the impression that I’d be working with her for some time, so I opened up to her and told her about my experiences. It wasn’t until the end of the session that she said she was retiring. I could see her one more time, and then she’d refer me to some new people. Needless to say, for me, the trust was broken, and the subsequent meeting a week later was meaningless.

It wasn’t until October the 1^st that anyone was able to arrange any time to see me. At that stage, it was already quite pointless in my opinion. Three weeks away from my due date, too late to travel to Thailand even if I wanted to, what were they thinking to accomplish? Psychological cures in three weeks? It seemed absurd to me that I had been bounced around from one place to another from June, and nothing had been accomplished. Finally, when someone who could help me for a sustained period of time was found, I only had three weeks left myself.

That same afternoon, I finally had my first appointment with the ‘fear polyclinic’. I explained all this to the doctor who received us, in tears, again, for it’s no easy matter to pour your heart out to a stranger, and after ‘listening’, she said, “Ok, let’s do an ultrasound to see that the baby is ok.”

Excuse me? I was happy to see the baby, sure… but… I had a sense of being stuck in a healthcare version of Kafka’s ‘The Castle’. After the ultrasound, we tried to gently guide the topic back to what I was actually afraid of, and so we were referred to the birth ward upstairs.

The communication between two floors of the same building was no better than between different health sectors. The midwife who received us was under the impression that I was someone who needed a tour in English (The English language tour was full) because I didn’t understand Finnish. When we told her that I could understand Finnish if she preferred to speak in Finnish, her response was to get agitated and say “Well, then why don’t you just join the Finnish birth ward tour then?”

So that was the end of the road, I thought. They aren’t going to help at all. The fear polyclinic has once more confirmed that nobody will listen to me. At this stage, I was in tears, and my partner got agitated and asked her what the policy really was in cases from the fear polyclinic. It was then that it was clear that she had misunderstood, and so she promised she would ask her supervisor to give her special permission to arrange an out of working hours appointment for me. She said she really wanted to help, and that she would call us on Monday (it was Friday afternoon then) to make the arrangements.

We didn’t hear anything from her all week, and finally, a week later on Monday, my partner left two messages asking her to return his call, and nothing happened. On Tuesday, he called again. The midwife had gone on a two-week holiday. I guess the upside is that I don’t have to get upset the moment I see her at the maternity ward and I don’t have to ask for another midwife should she be assigned to me because she won’t be there.

justice?

2010-09-10T18:24:00.001+07:00

I was left with a decidedly strange feeling after my translating job today. After a serving of justice, my client treated me to lunch, the latter of which left a better taste in my mouth.

The former was a bit like badly microwaved meal. You know how sometimes something can have a cool surface but be boiling underneath? Everything was settled outside the actual court room, in a way that made me feel like my client was worn down rather than fairly included. On the surface the lawyers agreed about all the terms and conditions of the mother's rights to see her kids as though they were ordering lunch at a work cafeteria. Meanwhile, my client told me she was counting to 100 under her breath. "Never mind what they are saying - just let me count", she said, as I tried to translate.

The father of the kids was sitting there with a smug look on his face.

I couldn't fathom why the lawyers agreed among themselves that it looked likely that the father would win, when it seemed that both had fairly equal claims to their kids.

The only thing I could conclude is that justice is difficult for someone who doesn't understand the system or the language.. and above all, is seen as somehow ignorant because of her nationality.

I couldn't help putting on my social worker 'hat' for a moment in order to tell her she had a right to request that the decision and summary be translated to Thai, a fact that nobody had bothered to tell her.

...sigh...

Can there be justice for the 'alien'?

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Granny stuck in lift for over 24 hours

2010-07-20T13:08:00.000+07:00

I read a bit of news this morning (and won't be following the news for a few days again as a result) that made me sad. An old lady with epilepsy was stuck in an elevator at a public train station from Saturday afternoon to Sunday night. The doors were made of see-through glass, so a few people had even gone to see what the commotion was about as the granny banged on the glass to attract attention. Then, satisfied that someone was stuck there, they LEFT.

Had she pressed the emergency button? Yes - but the elevator company received an erroneous report of an elevator stuck with nobody inside.

Is it just me, or is the extent to which people trust in the 'system' to come to the rescue a little bit extreme?

Great little allergen free product :)

2010-05-25T03:18:00.005+07:00

If anyone has been 'listening' to me gripe on facebook recently, you may have realised that I'm having some issues with the Finnish medical system - all for a reason. Monn has been vomiting on and off for two months, putting me in a lot of direct contact with doctors, nurses and lab attendants both in the private and public sectors. Right now, the prime suspect appears to be Celiac's disease, but considering our absolute nil history of it or any other food allergy/intolerance within the family, it seems a long shot. Anyhow, now that the allergy test has finally been taken (another long story in itself!), I'm cutting out gluten from his diet until the results come in on Thursday. Because the baby had been punctured 5 times before they finally found a blood vein, I thought he deserved a treat, so I bought him these gluten free "Riso Fruit ai frutti rossi" by Probios
The results are fairly entertaining, as you can see from the video below:

Service failure: Part one - "universal healthcare"

2010-04-22T18:52:00.004+07:00

I know a lot of people, especially in Finland, will take offense at reading this, because it's been in the government's best interest to promote a picture of the world where the Finnish (or Scandinavian) model of social welfare is the best, and really, the rest of the world are suffering without any medical services. Perhaps I exaggerate a little in saying this, but a little examination of some devil's advocacy I engaged in yesterday would seem to support this claim.

I made a claim, for the sake of taking an extreme argument, that user pays is better.

The general gist of the responses to this claim was that this system doesn't leave behind those with absolutely nothing, and that the system is comprehensive and provides for everyone in need.

True. Those with absolutely nothing (that is, "absolutely nothing" by Finnish standards, which, by a lot of standards, is still a lot, but that's a different topic altogether) don't get absolutely nothing. And it's true that everyone gets emergency medical services.

But by no means is it a comprehensive system, as many claim. Or how much 'in need' do people need to be? Those who need everyday medical attention are not seen. The system should stop being hypocritical and just admit that all they provide is severe malady and accident insurance. I mean, if, even after three days of being sick, people are still advised to stay home and see what happens, it sure isn't covering everything.

Basically, it's a medical system with a big sign on the outside that reads: "Do not enter unless your life is at risk."

Before many Scandinavians will (again) make the point that "At least we get medical attention when we need it - user pays means people are dying without healthcare," let me first and foremost say that I am the last to believe in a totally user pays system. I believe in universal and accessible health care. But the system here is not universal and accessible. People in Finland do die because they are sent home to 'wait it out', and stories like that are often reported in the media here. My problem with the system is that those running it have brainwashed people into believing it is such an awesome system. And on top of that, many people believe it's free!

I've heard many say "we have free healthcare". Free? People are paying around 20 - 60% of their money in taxes for this and other state provided services. No problem with that - the state should provide those services to everyone equally. What is ludicrous is this: Those paying the most for it often have a sense of 'guilt' at using the system - a sense of "I can afford private healthcare, so I better leave the public system for the poor and truly in need." So not only are they paying for healthcare they never use - they then go to private clinics that are far more expensive and get only a fraction of their costs back from the state. Even the cheapest of private clinics are far more expensive than public services, and according to some sources, of lower quality, too. And yet, people feel guilty for using public services.

So, instead of a system where everyone benefits equally from public healthcare, you end up with a situation where only those who are in the 0 (no income) - very low percentage tax brackets feel that they are entitled to public health services in situations that don't constitute an emergency.

There is also the question of cultural appropriateness. A discussion with most middle-aged Finns will reveal that there is "Finland" and there are "others". Finland is populated by Finns and an increasing amount of "foreigners". Incidentally, these "foreigners" have Finnish passports, but so long as they belong to different cultural, ethnic and language minorities, they are "foreigners".

This situation is not unique to Finland. Many countries suffer from similar delusions of mono-ethnicity and mono-lingualism. And as such, these countries often provide services accordingly. Since we are on the topic of medical services, I shall provide an example in that thread. Finnish healthcare is intended for Finns who find the concept of 'modesty' fairly difficult. To a Finn who goes to public saunas and undresses in front of all sorts of strangers, it is no big deal to undress as doctors and nurses watch. To people who are not from a 'sauna culture', this is incredibly humiliating and dehumanising.

So - a universal healthcare system? I think not. It's a very Finno-ethnic healthcare system, suited to those who have been born and raised here, and generally only of benefit to those in the lowest earnings brackets. To a "foreigner" who doesn't understand how the system and it's bureaucratic machinery works (and also won't be told), it's frustrating, infuriating and humiliating.

Early retirement

2010-03-27T17:47:00.003+07:00

I'm apparently joining the masses of grumpy old folks' out there now, as I begin my rant about 'the youth of today', and praise the aged people of Finland. But I was deeply disappointed the other day, as I struggled with an amazingly heavy 'winter-stroller' seating a fairly heavy 1-year-old , at the lack of helpfulness of people, especially young people. On a simple hour-long trip to the supermarket, there were three counts of inconsiderate youth.

1. The tram ride there: The tram was filled with 17-18-year-olds going home or wherever after school. I made eye-contact with several of them, and they all looked the other way, before I had to shout "Can somebody please help me?", and a middle-aged man halfway up the tram grudgingly got up to assist.

2. When I was getting off at the supermarket, an old lady, herself on a walking stick, came up to insist she could help. I was like "Oh my - are you sure? It's heavy!" and looked around for other possibilities. A 20-ish year old girl came up and briefly muttered, "I can help" - at the granny, who didn't hear her (surprise surprise), so she shrugged her shoulders and walked out in a hurry before I could say anything. But that granny was STRONG! I guess old people have to help themselves in this country, judging by how 'helpful' everyone has been.

3. When I was returning home, I managed to get on and off the tram with the help of some foreigners, who were happy to come to my assistance, but I forgot to get something from the supermarket, so I dropped in at the corner store, which has aisles so narrow the stroller can barely fit through. I paid for my groceries and had huge difficulty opening the heavy doors and pushing the stroller at the same time. Instead of helping around 10 teenagers squeezed past me and the huge stroller, went through the doors and walked on, leaving the door to swing back against the front wheels. Finally, and old granny (again), came, took the handles of the stroller and said "You go open the door, I'll push this out."

Seriously? Can I start my old age now by saying, "What's wrong with the youth of today?"

Does that qualify my for early retirement and pension? (If so, I'll post more horror stories that have happened over the last couple of weeks here! Hehehe)

2009-09-07T17:18:00.000+07:00

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Not Hamsters in Born!

2009-08-18T14:41:00.001+07:00

www.NotHamsters.com on Facebook

The kind of man I'm engaged to

2009-07-14T14:53:00.003+07:00

If Mikko's giving you instructions, he'll first explain A, briefly, then jump to E, without explaining any steps in between, then talk about dinosaurs and hobbits somewhere in between. Then he'll smile and nod, satisfied at his well rounded explanation.

He thinks about details before the big picture. When he planned to propose to me, he first went and bought the champagne, about a month and a half in advance, then hid it in the garage. After Midsummer, he discovered the champagne was missing. He searched frantically for it everywhere, and came to the conclusion that my dad must have found it and been delighted to find a bottle he'd forgotten about entirely in the garage, and probably drunk it on Midsummer.

Indeed, the night before my dad went back to Azerbaijan, we were placing a bottle of sparkling wine in the fridge, planning to have a few glasses with my dad. I noticed a bottle of champagne in there, and said to Mikko - who was sitting with my dad - "Oh - there's a bottle of champagne in here!" My dad said, happily, "That's MY bottle of champagne!"

Mikko said he found it highly amusing, and since he had already bought a new bottle anyhow, thought he'd let my dad bask in the champagne bottle induced happiness!

I told my mother the story last night, and we had a good laugh around the dinner table. The only mystery we couldn't solve was WHERE the wine bottle had been between the time it went missing and when it reappeared almost a month later...

Mikko is very forgetful - he'll run around searching for a roll of tape, and then you'll have to remind him that only half an hour ago, he put it in the drawer himself.

He's very sentimental. Once when I was rocking the baby to sleep, he started crying. He cries easily - more easily than me, and mostly of happiness. Although he says that he used to cry sad tears more often.

He's romantic. He likes to think of sweet surprises for me, like carving a heart out of pine wood and leaving it for me to find. It's too bad that when it comes to bigger surprises, he's terrible at keeping it to himself, but that's just part of the charm.

Mikko's very talkative. Many nights he'll talk so long that I finally have to interrupt him with "Hold that thought - I can't hold it any more, I need to pee!!"

He's spontaneous. This is exactly how our decision to have a baby went:

"Let's have a baby."
"Really? Ok."

So, all in all, I'm happy I said yes. :)

The platonist

2009-07-07T15:46:00.002+07:00

Poor poor platonist
The world is slipping away
The perfect manner for a person no longer applies
So no longer are there perfect people
As once there were in your youth

Poor poor platonist
The older the get
The more upset you become day by day
The world is no longer yours
The role models - ashes in the air

Oh my dear platonist
Ideals have served you so well
They are the inner courtyard to your villa
The stones crumble away
The courtyard decays

Can you, platonist, be happy?
Can you face change?
For there lies the key to your happiness
But what do I know?
I, who have never recognised
That perfect manner.

It wouldn't be my trip if...

2009-05-14T13:09:00.002+07:00

It wouldn't be me traveling if there wasn't some major mishap. Which I survived, of course, sitting here as I am, in Finland, writing this blog.

Common sense will counsel that if one loses one's passport, one cannot travel. I lost my passport the night of my flight, two hours before we were due to leave, realising the missing travel document as Monn came out of his bath, crying and ready to be fed.

"Can you just feed the baby?" said Mikko, slightly irritated by the protesting bundle draped over his shoulder and pummeling his shoulders with its fists. "I'll look for your passport."

The baby fed, the room turned over by Mikko and P'Oad (who's aid had been enlisted on this occasion), and still no passport. "As long as I can get out of the country, it's fine - they can't deny my entry into Finland." I was pretty calm about it, having come from Australia to Thailand once without my Thai passport, and having once been told by the Thai immigration officers that what matters is that you exit the country on the same passport with which you entered. My non-dual-nationality family members, however, were not entirely convinced of this. They rarely check that you have a visa upon leaving the country. Really. It's your problem on the other end if you are not allowed into the country of destination. It still pays to be at the airport well in advance, just in case somebody raises an eyebrow, which in this case they did, since my mom immediately reported the strange situation to the check-in ladies. Still, I think the whole procedure would have been faster if we hadn't said anything about the passport's unknown whereabouts.

In any case, I do digress - So, now that the passport was definitely missing, and a state of general panic, and of irritation directed at me, there were some phonecalls to be made. The passport (in case you haven't already guessed, my Finnish one) wasn't at home. The last recollection I had of it was at the Spanish embassy (try explaining to officials - "My passport is at the Spanish embassy." "Are you Spanish?" "No, Finnish." "So why is your passport at the Spanish embassy?"). The Spaniards are insufferable bureaucrats who are incaple of reading university transcripts in English, and do not believe that all documents aren't somehow forged documents unless certified by a Spanish official.

(Small digression: Monn has just woken, and projectile vomited into my shirt, and fallen asleep again. See why, despite the mishaps that I incur, the baby himself is not difficult to travel with?)

My first degree was done in Australia, and my Masters was done in Spain, and thus I needed my transcripts and diploma translated and legalised at the Spanish Embassy (They also refuse to believe that Finland, another EU country, could have a birth-certificate free system, and thus my Spanish university was also, until two days ago when they decided they no longer require birth certificates, requiring a letter from ANY official, stating that it is in fact true that Finland does not issue birth certificates.). This is why I had reason to suspect that my passport had been forgotten at the Spanish embassy. How that came to happen is a short story of its own:

Having recently borrowed a baby sling/carrier - shaped like a money belt with straps to keep the baby against your chest (which is how Monn is currently asleep), I put my wallet, with my Thai ID, into the pouch. Upon arrival at the building housing the Spanish embassy, however, Mikko decided he would carry the baby, and so, the pouch was left in the car. At the entrance to the embassy, they needed our ID's and our phones, and of course, I was unable to produce mine. Luckily, however, I had my Finnish passport on me, should I need it for the document certification procedure. In the middle of waiting for our turn (Monn slept through all of this - he'd earlier been at the hospital for his check-up and second Hep B vaccination), we realised that in any case, we'd require cash to pay for the documents... and thus, my wallet was needed in any case.

So, out I went - the guard at the door saying there was no need for me to exchange my queue card for my things. "But I need my phone," I said, thereby sowing the seeds of eventuality. I got my phone, and ran downstairs to call the driver and ask him to bring me the black pouch. When I got back, I traded my phone back in... When we left, now that I think back, I don't recall receiving my passport back - only my phone. But at that stage, in the rush we were to leave, it wasn't noticed.

Anyhow, so on the evening of the flight, the Finnish embassy's emergency number was called. They said no, it would not be possible for me to travel to Finland on a Thai passport without a visa (Bollocks! Shows how much they know!) The Spanish embassy's emergency number was called, in case they had seen my passport, but they wouldn't check until Monday (it was Friday night that we were traveling).

So finally, we agreed that we'd just go to the airport and try our luck. And of course, my mom confessed my missing Finnish passport to the check-in ladies immediately, who had to then make a million phonecalls checking to see if this case was ok (they discovered it was). I guess we'll never know if they would have ever noticed if they hadn't been told. In any case, on their recommendation, I went to the tourist police to report the missing passport. My mom and I decided to report it as missing on that day (a public holiday, thus, embassies closed!) at the Emporium shopping mall (easier to explain than "Well, it's been missing for two weeks, and we just realised it tonight"). I wrote, on the form, "Spent the day at Emporium. At home, we couldn't find the passport." Technically, I didn't lie - I can't pull off lies convincingly - I just relied on human faith in causality (one sentence follows the other, therefore, one event must be the result of the previous reported event. People like to add "because of this" or "therefore" where there are none). I don't feel as bad about saying misleading things as I do about lieing.

The immigration official in Thailand didn't bat an eyelid, and stamped me through. Of course, now the baby was a problem. "How did he get here?" asked the immigration officials. Out of sheer luck, having run out of space in my suitcase, Monn's birth certificate was in my carry-on. He was leaving Thailand on his Finnish passport (his Thai one is yet to be obtained), and nobody had said anything about producing a birth certificate upon leaving the country!

All debacle's cleared, the flight was fairly uneventful. The Finnair staff may wonder why, from row 21, there was one pee'd on blanket, one poo'd on one, and a third vomited on, but perhaps Monn was being cheeky, giving them their dues for apalling 'don't look at me, this is just a job' service. I was waiting for them to start blowing bubble gum in the aisles. One of the air hostesses spilled a bit of orange juice on my arm and said 'Ooops!' and walked on.

On the Finnish side, the immigration official was a bit puzzled, pointing out that I didn't have a visa in my Thai passport, after he already said it was fine for us to pass... I think he realised this and changed to subject to going to report the passport as missing at the Porvoo police station ("There's one at the airport, too, but you have baby with you and it'll take a long time here.").

Well, that was that for that trip. The trip home was fairly uneventful... My alcoholic aunt claimed to not have gotten the message from my dad saying we didn't need a ride from her, as a Thai friend would come to get us. She explained this with breath that smelled of the last night's wine, though... Not difficult to choose who to believe on that one. To keep the peace, my mom went with her, and we went with the Thai friend. Not that that kept the peace... My aunt called me the next days with reports that my mother had cursed the entire family (she'd said she was bored of hearing her stories about the family).

The fun never ends... I could go on for a few more paragraphs about these mishaps... perhaps one day I will write an autobiography :S

Myths and theories about motherhood

2009-04-26T09:01:00.002+07:00

My thoughts so far: None. The most common question I am asked nowadays is: "What's it like being a parent?"

I've been told several things - that having a child is a huge event that suddenly changes your life from day to night. I haven't actually noticed much of a difference. I'd say I've got a new, time-consuming hobby... but my life, changed? Nah. I think I'll have to agree with the quote below:

"Parenthood: That state of being better chaperoned than you were before marriage." ~Marcelene Cox

Some say they have less time. True. But it's not that drastic - after all, anyone who has noticed my facebook activity has probably noticed that if anything, I spend more time procrastinating than ever. I just have to learn to make use of all the 5-15 free minutes I have more constructively. I actually have hours of free-time a day... just not consecutive ones, that's all!

"Now the thing about having a baby - and I can't be the first person to have noticed this - is that thereafter you have it." ~Jean Kerr

Again, I'd like to reiterate that in my experience, there hasn't been fireworks, no sudden explosion of maternal instinct. I think being a parent grows on you, it's a learning process and whoever thinks that motherhood is somehow instinctive has been brainwashed by propaganda designed to keep men and women in their traditional roles. At best, the mother has more of a chance to learn, since babies spend so much time eating!

"Before I got married I had six theories about bringing up children; now I have six children, and no theories." ~John Wilmot

"In spite of the six thousand manuals on child raising in the bookstores, child raising is still a dark continent and no one really knows anything. You just need a lot of love and luck - and, of course, courage." ~Bill Cosby, Fatherhood, 1986

Mikko and I have been bombarded with books and theories on childrearing. I guess that's a problem all parents face. And I think at the end of the day, the baby is my baby, not Gina Ford's or Miriam Stoppard's or Dr. Sear's or any other famous baby manual writers. Anything that can be reliably put down in those books can probably be just as easily figured out by the parents. I think the only thing I learned from reading those books is that there is nothing that you 'should' objectively do. There are only things that you do because you are you, and sooner or later, things will fall into place. You're three people who will learn to adapt to each other.

"Most of us become parents long before we have stopped being children." ~Mignon McLaughlin, The Second Neurotic's Notebook, 1966

A close friend of mine once told me he thought having children might just be what he needs to become a responsible adult. At the time, I thought that with that attitude, he definitely shouldn't have kids. Surely, one should be responsible first, then have kids? If only I know how amazingly indoctrinated I was. I know somehow believe that maybe the one thing that stops a person from behaving like a kid is having them. And on the other hand, it also makes them act even more like kids. For example, just 2 months ago, I wouldn't have imagined not doing what I wanted when I wanted it. Now I still do what I want when I want, but I just don't want to do things like go to the movies or clubbing anymore. I suddenly want to sing silly kids songs and lullabies and make 'pfffrrrrr' sounds through my lips, which makes me act more like a kid than before.

So anyhow, I didn't notice any grand revalations - I was happy before, and I am happy now :) If I start being miserable, then I'll say that having a baby has changed my life... but until then...

The 'joys' of induction

2009-03-08T23:07:00.001+07:00

Distractions are good at keeping pain at bay, so anyone reading this gets to share in on a little bit of induced labour.

Today, the idea was to ‘trick’ my body into going into labour by causing uterine contractions with the aid of an internal cream.

It seems that the body is not as easily tricked as modern medicine would like it to be. 3 doses and 11 hours later, my doctor was reporting contractions strong enough to cause a birth, but without any dilation of the cervix.

For those not in the know, the cervix, or the mouth of the uterus, needs to open 10 centimetres, at least. Mine barely made 1 centimetre in an entire day.

But of course, now I’m in a state of limbo. The medicine has after effects, which means that I’m still getting contractions that are painful enough to keep me awake, but still aren’t real labour contractions.

I don’t want a caesarean, so tomorrow will be a new attempt.

For now, I feel like there is a bowling ball resting in my pelvis.

All is not so bad – I managed to teach Mikko how to play rummy. My doctor jokingly asked if he could join in on a game, to which I responded only if he’s any good at it, since Mikko’s just learning and I’ve been playing for as long as I can remember!

Even with a triple handicap of being attached to a saline solution drip, bedridden and taking my turns between contractions, I managed to achieve a grand victory in cards, if not otherwise…

Well, here's to tomorrow's victory... be it in cards, or delivery...

Cooling mock-duck curry

2009-03-05T20:02:00.002+07:00

As the title of this blog suggests, there is a bowl of curry standing, cooling, next to typing fingers.

At the same time, there's this bump, squirming, like some overripe alien reluctant to breathe the world's oxygen.

I found out a couple weeks back, that once a baby is delivered, if you don't cut the umbilical cord, the baby could technically even live for a day or two without breathing. The placenta that is now its' sole supply of nutrition and air will continue to do its work as though nothing had happened after birth.

You could also leave a baby with no food or water for about 3 days, and nothing would happen, even without the placenta.

And everyone thinks a baby is a fragile thing. It seems nature had other plans for the species' survival...

What puzzles me more, however, is the abundance of myths around pregnancy. Well, at least my experience has made some claims seem like pure fancy.

First of all - back to my mock duck curry. I ate all the bits I liked, and I'm sorry to say, flushed the rest down the toilet (yes, the toilet - I'm on the third floor of the house, and the kitchen is all the way down on the first). I've never been such a picky eater. And I've never had a smaller appetite. Instead, I've been hungry but nothing I've normally liked has tasted good or seemed appetizing.

I suddenly started disliking ginger, sweet basil and sala (I think it's called salacca in English). And as for the curry, all the pea eggplant had to go.

I didn't go through months of vomiting. In fact, I didn't even vomit once.

My feet didn't swell up.

People didn't notice I was pregnant until my 7th month or so.

No cravings.

A due date is a +/- 2 weeks thing. Mine is now officially late.

Waiting for the end is rather anticlimactic. It's about as much fun as cold curry.

Intro to Ajarn Mikko

2009-02-25T14:37:00.001+07:00

On November 26, 1982, fans around the world were piling into cinemas for the 25th week to follow the plight of a certain alien stranded on Earth. Fortunately for this alien, who went simply by the name of E.T., within a few week of his arrival, he was saved from a life next to Santa Claus in Area 51.

As E.T. landed to the sound of popcorn crunching in ten thousand theatres across the world, another strange creature made it’s way into the world, and despite his furious protests at being push out onto planet earth, was not eventually rescued.

Instead, he gradually forgot the indignity of his entrance onto planet Earth and became quite accustomed to his new home, Finland, surrounded by clean lakes, forests, saunas, and strange creatures such as reindeer, salmon, drunk teenagers and Santa Claus.

When he realised that a fat man could not fit down the chimney, the young Mikko turned his attention to drawing sailboats and dinosaurs. One day it dawned on him that he could design a chimney a fat man could fit through, and pleased, joined the drunk teenagers at the faculty of Architecture at TKK university.

During his seven years at university, he managed to forget about Santa Claus, as he became more interested in the stage and Elvis impersonation, which, in turn, led to a certain Thai girl becoming fascinated by him, which, eventually, led him to end up at Suvarnabhumi airport, which one could say, is as good a replacement as any for a spaceship removing him from planet Earth.

Life on planet Bangkok is different from life in Finland, but Ajarn Mikko has been happy to find that elephants are really not too different from reindeer, pineapple makes a great salmon replacement, and that protesting mobs make similar sounds to drunk teenagers and wear nice bright colours. Thai houses have no chimneys, so he’s not sure whether Santa Claus will be paying him a visit.

Ajarn Mikko is happy to discuss art, design, pineapples, Elvis, and other mysteries. You can reach him at:
08xxxxxxxx
mxxxxxxx@gmail.com
www.hut.fi/~mjsinervo

News stories

2009-01-26T14:29:00.003+07:00

My blog entries are going to be a little bit sparse for a while - so if anyone is interested in reading the reason why, then go ahead to my 'news' page, where you will find my articles for Bangkok Post, along with links to where they are originally published.

A TCC's account of the holiday season

2008-12-21T22:27:00.002+07:00

As the Christmas and New Year season draws near, I often find myself feeling like Scrooge. You know, the grumpy old fellow who hates Christmas...

In my defense: I don't hate Christmas - I just don't attach any particular importance to it. I'll get Christmas presents for those who care, and certainly don't question the desire to be with one's family. I only wish to be left in peace to have my own non-sentiments towards the day.

But well, before I'm accused of being a bit of a "Bah - humbug" - er, I'd like to first of all analyse the season, or 'special occasions' in general, and investigate why these things are more important to some people than to others.

Let's illustrate this with a personal example:

Mikko was getting very depressed here in Bangkok... I could literally see his level of moodiness and irritability steadily increase from November when the Christmas carols and decorations started appearing in department stores. He didn't really want to admit it to me, but he really missed his family a lot.

So 6 days before Christmas, as he again started leaking tears at a department store, I set out to convince him that he needed to go to Finland, visit his family. Of course, he refused, said that I am his family, and he should stay with me, etc., etc. He said he'd feel wrong deserting me at Christmas, even as the tears rolled down his cheeks and I could see where he really wanted to be. I gently reminded him that I don't really celebrate Christmas. This argument went on until the middle of the night, when I was finally so fed up at this obstinate indecision that I was going to buy the ticket for him myself. He begged me to let him think, and so I did, and woke up in a terrible mood the next day. I started feeling a lot better when he finally talked to his sister about it in the afternoon. By the evening, as we were having a massage, his dad had called and said his mother was in quite a state of melancholy, too, at the prospect of a Christmas without her son.

So it was decided. Mikko was going to Finland, and his dad was paying for the ticket as a present for the whole family.

But what interests me most is WHY Christmas? What's so special about it? What is so distinct about this particular date on the calendar that spending a day with family on any other day isn't good enough?

Ok, so we've all heard the season of giving, family, etc., arguments. But that doesn't answer the last question. Why is it that many people in Western countries can spend an entire year ignoring their family, but somehow, Christmas is a time that they have to be reunited? Why can't family reunions take place on any other day of the year?

But this may be a question that has been treated by many frustrated non-Christmas-spirited people. My real thesis here was my defense of the Christmas-scrooge.

My family is half Finnish - so by default, I feel some sort of obligation to recognise the event. And yet, I'm impervious to the sentimentality of the holiday, even as I make a concrete effort to wish everyone the best for the season.

I wonder if it has anything to do with being a Third Culture Kid. Three and a half years ago, I took part in a study by Kathleen Gilbert of Indiana University on the topic of loss and grief in TCKs. Of course, this doesn't relate directly to the holiday season as such. However, one factor which she identified as a commonality in TCKs was the apparent inability to attach themselves to things as they grow older. Another is a detachment from things that can be lost, resulting in an inability also to fully integrate into any given culture. This all is linked to untreated loss and grief during the process of growing up, leading to a characteristic known as 'disenfranchised grief'.

I get the feeling that this is seen as a problem by psychologists. Although I don't understand why. Getting back to my example of Christmas. I'm generally happy every day. I don't get depressed if special occasions are not given due recognition (for example, I spent my birthday a few days ago running errands and discussing the terms of my new job at Bangkok Post and just trying to convince Mikko to go to Finland for Christmas). I'm not sad or depressed, and the world does not get me down. I don't miss countries or people to the point of misery. I live in the moment and don't let inevitables get in the way of enjoying my day. Can anyone tell me why this is seen as a bad thing?

Gasohol – push or shelve?

2008-10-28T17:54:00.002+07:00

As in the case of the 70s in Brazil, Thailand’s drive to promote the development and usage of bio-fuels such as ethanol was first prompted by rising costs of oil, coupled with the assumption of continued rising oil prices.

Dramatic increases in oil price throughout 2008 led the government to further speed up the process, in July cutting virtually all tax on mix-ethanol fuel and diesel, and in the process, jumpstarting the promotion of E85 gasohol, a move criticized by some car producers as providing too little time for the car market to adjust to the changes required.

Given the downward trend in oil prices, some would argue that the force of the current push by the government to push gasohol is financially unnecessary, with oil prices down almost 60% today.

Thailand’s agriculture and industry need time to adjust to the new demands being made of them, and a too-rapid push may only serve to destabilize local industries, especially when such rapid adjustment is no longer required of them.

Although oil prices are currently low, there is no reason to believe that they will remain so. World Energy Outlook projects that the world’s oil reserves will be depleted by 2050. The savings made from not actively promoting renewable energies could be far outweighed by the cost of the inevitable future demand for alternative energy sources, as oil resources diminish in the next 40 years.

In the 90s, that the world would be left energy-less before viable alternative energy sources became widespread was a global concern. In the new millennium, the concern is focused not so much on the possibility, but rather the cost of switching to these new energies.

Brazil sets a good example. In the 1976, the Brazilian government made 11 – 22% blends of gasoline with ethanol mandatory. Now, it is considered the world’s first economy driven by sustainable bio-fuels. The nation’s ethanol program provides jobs to approximately 1 million people.

Thailand’s capacity to produce cassava and sugar cane, both raw materials for ethanol, have the capacity to support Thailand’s bio-fuel scheme. Cassava self-sufficiency (the ratio of total supply of cassava for food to consumption) is projected to fall from 419% in 2004 to 381% by 2011, following the current scheme.

Crude-oil self-sufficiency, however, does not increase as dramatically. It rises a meager 10.3% to 10.4%, leaving doubt as to whether this project has a real impact on Thailand’s self-sufficiency, or whether alternatives should be explored. After all the current cost of subsidies on gasohol is higher than the cost of substituting the fuel.

Strict economic terms, however, may not be the only factor to take into consideration. Thailand, having ratified the Kyoto protocol in 2002, has an obligation to reduce greenhouse gas emissions. A 2007 study by King Mongkut University of

Technology emphasizes other benefits, such as reducing GHG and other pollutant emissions; enhancing technological development; stimulating and expanding the market for domestic agriculture production and commodities; and generating rural employment and improving farmers’ income.

***

This was my "homework" from my job interview. Less than 4 hours to research and write 500 words on what should be done with regards to Thailand's ethanol programme, in light of the current 60% drop in oil prices. *phew* Comments welcome!!

Governor candidate justifies violence

2008-10-03T07:39:00.002+07:00

"I am ready to apologise and get fined. But as a media professional, he should have ethics."

"I will pay the fine. It will be Bt500 for using an elbow and another Bt500 for stomping on him. I will pay a tip and to make it Bt2,000 in total."

- Bangkok Governer candidate Chuwit Kamolvisit after punching and stomping on television anchorman. He thinks that voters will be further encouraged to vote for him now because they know he isn't fake.

... The anchorman's 'unethical' action was to imply that Chuwit was "unmanly".

The Edgar Diaries

2008-09-30T09:04:00.003+07:00

29.09.08, 07:56 a.m.

Edgar came to Bangkok! He's under the table here at my office... I guess he drank a lot last night, and he's confused about the time... and location... he's kinda running around confused. I'm a bit worried that somebody will kill him...

Perhaps if he's still around in the evening, I should take him home?

29.09.08, 08:04 a.m.

My coworkers may think I'm insane, having introduced them to Edgar, and telling them that he's terribly hungover. But Celia and I did begin discussing, as if it was normal, the possibility of trapping Edgar in a used cardboard coffee cup and releasing him out the window. However, the conclusion we reached was that his antenna might get stuck between the lid and the rim of the cup. I think Edgar overheard us, however, and went under the divider, running into Khun Sophia's side of the office (she's not in today). But still, I thought it would be best if he hid somewhere, so I walked over and shooed him under the cabinet.

"Edgar! Don't you have any sense of self-preservation?? Shoo! Under the cabinet! Now!!"

Well, hopefully he has the good sense to stay there for the rest of the day!

30.09.08, 09:03 a.m.

I just had an encounter with Edgar. He climbed into an almost empty rubbish bin, no doubt in search of a friendly pint, but was unsuccessful, and perhaps as consolation, began sucking on a chewed up piece of gum stuck to the bottom. So, given this opportunity, I decided that I would go and release him outside, as he might better be able to cure his hangover there. So I stuck a plastic bag over the bin, and headed out with it. However, given that there was rubbish in it, of course, I had to find another rubbish bin into which to deposit the contents - Edgar, the paper, and the gum, just in case that was going to come off, too.

The best candidate for this was a slightly bigger rubbish bin located next to the parking lot, just to the right outside the building. There I headed, all the time with this irrational fear that Edgar would, in his alcohol deprived state, jump out and search me for a flask of whisky or something. Anyhow, I'm glad there weren't any witnesses. I suppose it must have been a pretty comical sight. It went something like this:

1. Fon tries to shake contents of rubbish bin and plastic bag covering it into other bin.

2. Edgar, agitated, wings ruffled, jumps out and starts running after Fon, who promptly screams, drops the bin and starts running towards the UNESCO building.

3. Fon, realising she must bring back the bin, notices that Edgar is no longer following her and thus tiptoes back, not knowing where Edgar may be hiding, and retrieves the bin, then marches back into the building looking distressed enough for the security guard to get worried and ask if she's alright...

... I think I needed to relate that event in third person to prevent re-experiencing the trauma of the whole event...

Waldeck: Ballroom Stories

2008-09-25T07:28:00.010+07:00

**disclaimer: I KNOW I'm like two years late in showing my appreciation for this album, and that a lot of the tracks have been remixed by several people, and that there is a lot more sampling in the album than I've given credit for!**

I've discovered two new tracks I'm entirely obsessed with: "Midsummer Night Blues" and "Get Up ... Carmen", both by Waldeck. Perhaps it's the trained up academic head of mine that likes there to be lots of referencing going on. Or perhaps it's just my belief that good music should be a dialogue between musicians.

Anyhow, so I finally *gulp* purchased the expensive, but also very-worth-it collection, Buddha Bar X, and heard Waldeck's "Get Up ... Carmen" for the first time. I suppose many are familiar with Bizet's dramatic operatic "L'amour est un oiseau rebelle" in Carmen. Well, this version is an absolutely stunning chill-jazz-club remix of the heart stealing classic. "Get Up ... Carmen" uses tender high piano to reinterpret Bizet's main theme, and pairs it up with some bass-tone flute (not sure of the name) to produce a few minutes of bliss!

So, having fallen in love with one Waldeck track, I then ventured into purchasing the album: Ballroom Stories. I have to admit, that although I like the overall sound of it, upon closer inspection, I found most of the first half of the album to be slightly disappointing... a cool background music album, more or less. Consistently good quality, but only a few striking tracks.

Listening through, however, I found myself puzzled: When did I put my iTunes in shuffle mode?? The slow drawling violin notes of "Summer Time" (as performed by Ella Fitzgerald and Louis Armstrong) was being played! But just as I opened up the iTunes window, entirely different lyrics and tune were introduced to the song. Great reinterpretation! It's a slightly dark vocal set. The Youtube video of "Midsummer Night Blues" does absolutely no justice to the song. So you'll have to find another way to listen to the music!

That said - this is not a remix album! Although the tracks sample and refer extensively to old classics, I would not go as far as to call any of the tracks, "Waldeck's version of...", other than 'Bei mir bist du schön (Dub)'.

Other favourites on album: 'Bei mir bist du schön (Dub)', 'Jerry Weintraub', 'So Black and Blue', 'Why Did We Fire The Gun?'

Just for reference ;), here's the original of 'Bei mir bist du schön' by the Andrews Sisters (perhaps your grandfather has the vinyl original somewhere!).

... As for Jerry Weintraub - I'm not sure why there is a track devoted to the producer of Ocean's Eleven, other than, perhaps, his highly successful and influential show-business career, starting with music and moving into the movie industry (He's the current CEO of United Artists) I guess that's a good reason as any to devote a song to him...?

So Black and Blue is a reinterpretation of a song by Louis Armstrong and his All Stars song by the same title, which, apart from being a song of a forlorn lover, is also a covert reference to the budding civil rights movement, like much of jazz music in the 50s. The reinterpretation loses the political element, keeps an upbeat jazz vibe, and becomes simply a love song, but still conveys a tension in its atmosphere, which I interpret as a little reminder of history.

The origins of 'Why Did We Fire The Gun' are a mystery to me, even though there is something hauntingly familiar about this track. A beautiful track!

I give the album an 8/10 (pretty good!)

**side note & question of the day**

They classical is good listening for babies, even in the womb... so does it count if it's remixed into modern chill?? I mean, the classical is good because of its relaxing effect. So shouldn't lounge do the same??

Silly Translations - had me ROTFL-ing away!

2008-09-22T10:34:00.002+07:00

For the original post, please visit http://www.spanishenglishtranslations.com/Dilects_Humr.html

Intrigued by "machine translation" that is performed by a computer? Check these results when common English expressions were fed to a computer to translate to a foreign language, and then back again to English.

"Out of sight, out of mind" became..."Invisible insane"
"The spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak" turned into..."The wine is good, but the meat is spoiled"

A few fun examples of what can happen when translations are performed without regard to the culture of the audience. Enjoy...

Welcome to Our Inn

In a Bucharest hotel lobby: "The lift is being fixed for the next day. During that time we regret that you will be unbearable"
In a Paris hotel elevator: "Please leave your values at the front desk"
In a Yugoslavian hotel: "The flattening of underwear with pleasure is the job of the chambermaid"
In a Tokyo hotel: "Is forbidden to steal hotel towels please. If you are not person to do such thing is please not to read notis"
In a Kyoto hotel: "You are invited to take advantage of the chambermaid"

... and this is our fare...

A Swiss menu boasts: "Our wines leave you nothing to hope for"
A Shanghai Mongolian hot pot buffet guarantees: "You will be able to eat all you wish until you are fed up"
An Indian restaurant advises that: "Our establishment serves tea in a bag like mother"
The menu of a Tokyo restaurant offers: "Special cocktails for women with nuts"
A Torremolinos eatery informs: "We highly recommend the hotel tart"
An Acapulco restaurant promises that: "The manager has personally passed all the water served here"

While shopping...

In a Hong Kong supermarket: "For your convenience, we recommend courteous, efficient self-service"
In a Bangkok dry cleaner's: "Drop your trousers here for best results"
Outside a Paris dress shop: "Dresses for street walking"
In a Rhodes tailor shop: "Because is big rush, we will execute customers in strict rotation"
In front of a Madrid travel agency: "Go away"
In the Leningrad airport: "This is Leningrad airport and you are welcome to it"

The Dairy Association's huge success with the campaign "Got Milk?" prompted them to expand advertising to Mexico. It was soon brought to their attention the Spanish translation read: "¿Tiene leche?" which also means "Are you lactating?"

The Scandinavian vacuum manufacturer Electrolux used the following in an American campaign: "Nothing sucks like an Electrolux."

Clairol introduced the "Mist Stick," a curling iron, into Germany only to find out that "mist" is slang for manure. Not too many people had use for the "Manure Stick."

When Gerber started selling baby food in Africa, they used the same packaging as in the US, with the smiling baby on the label. Later they learned that in Africa, companies routinely put pictures on the labels of what's inside, since many people can't read.

Colgate introduced a toothpaste in France called Cue, the name of a notorious pornographic magazine.

An American T-shirt maker in Miami printed shirts for the Spanish market which promoted the Pope's visit. Instead of "I Saw the Pope" [el Papa), the shirts read "I Saw the Potato" [la papa].

Pepsi's "Come Alive With the Pepsi Generation" translated into "Pepsi Brings Your Ancestors Back From the Grave" in Chinese.

The Coca-Cola name in China was first read as "Kekoukela", meaning "Bite the wax tadpole" or "female horse stuffed with wax", depending on the dialect. Coke then researched 40,000 characters to find a phonetic equivalent "kokou kole", translating into "happiness in the mouth."

Frank Perdue's chicken slogan, "It takes a strong man to make a tender chicken" was translated into Spanish as "It takes an aroused man to make a chicken affectionate."

When Parker Pen marketed a ball-point pen in Mexico, its ads were supposed to have read, "It won't leak in your pocket and embarrass you." The company thought that the word "embarazar" (to impregnate) meant to embarrass, so the ad read: "It won't leak in your pocket and make you pregnant"

When American Airlines wanted to advertise its new leather first class seats in the Mexican market, it translated its "Fly In Leather" campaign literally, which meant "Fly Naked" [Vuela En Cuero] in Spanish.

Mr. Mick Harper from Channel M of the Canadian Multivision Television (http://www.channelm.ca) contributed these gems:

The Canadian home improvement retail chain “Rona” wanted to run a campaign in Punjabi. Their slogan was “For expert advice and more, count on Rona”. Problem was, in Punjabi the word “Rona” means “crying”. So ‘for expert advice and more, count on crying’ wasn’t exactly the message they wanted to get across. The Punjabi campaign was cancelled.

In the 1970s, General Motors had a great deal of success with its muscle car, the Chevrolet Nova. They decided to start producing and selling these cars in Mexico. But ‘no’ and ‘va’ translated into Spanish means ‘doesn’t go’.

Buick also offers its “Lacrosse” SUV in Canada, where “Lacrosse” is the national sport (although hockey may be the country’s national favourite pastime). But in the French-speaking province of Quebec, the word lacrosse can also be a slang word for ‘masturbating’. We’re not sure if lacrosse is still the national sport of Quebec, but one thing’s for sure… the Buick Lacrosse is not available there.

A cocktail lounge in Norway declares:
"LADIES ARE REQUESTED NOT TO HAVE CHILDREN IN THE BAR"

A Nairobi restaurant invites:
CUSTOMERS WHO FIND OUR WAITRESSES RUDE OUGHT TO SEE THE MANAGER

A hotel in Moscow located nearby an Orthodox monastery encourages:
VISIT THE CEMETERY WHERE FAMOUS RUSSIAN AND SOVIET COMPOSERS, ARTISTS, AND WRITERS ARE BURIED DAILY EXCEPT THURSDAY.

In Hong Kong, a dentist promises:
TEETH EXTRACTED BY THE LATEST METHODISTS

A laundry in Rome offers:
LADIES, LEAVE YOUR CLOTHES HERE AND SPEND THE AFTERNOON HAVING A GOOD TIME

A tourist agency in Czechoslovakia reassures:
TAKE ONE OF OUR HORSE-DRIVEN CITY TOURS. WE GUARANTEE NO MISCARRIAGES.

Donkey rides in Thailand allow certain options:
WOULD YOU LIKE TO RIDE ON YOUR OWN ASS?

Missing sewage...

2008-09-12T11:27:00.002+07:00

Maybe it's only me, but I couldn't help laughing a little at the choice made by the carjackers...

"ARMED MEN CARJACK UN-AFRICAN UNION SEWAGE TRUCK IN NORTH DARFUR

The joint United Nations-African Union peacekeeping mission to Darfur (UNAMID) reported that one of its sewage trucks was carjacked today by unknown gunmen in the north of the war-wracked region of western Sudan.

Three men approached the truck at a sewage dumping site in North Darfur state, pointed weapons at the driver and then ordered him to move the vehicle towards the nearby Zam Zam camp for internally displaced persons (IDPs), UNAMID said.

The mission immediately reported the carjacking to Sudanese Government police and efforts to recover the truck are now underway."

So, here's the big question: If the carjackers are nice, and return the truck, what will the note say?

"Here's the truck. We deeply regret having misplaced your shit."

"Thank-you for lending us your poo." ... any more suggestions?

The father of the lime-sized baby...

2008-08-24T21:20:00.003+07:00

I've been somewhat busy for the past year, which is why the news that I'm pregnant is a surprise to a lot of people. A couple people so far didn't quite understand what the facebook announcement was about, even though they had noticed the changing (growing!) fruit on my facebook profile pics!

But, no, it's not a joke - I am pregnant. For some, it's strange, because even though close to me, there hasn't been an opportunity to meet Mikko! So, understandably, I got a few questions about the father!

So, here's a brief profile (sorry Mikko!) - I randomised the features after I wrote them, so there's not order of importance here.

1. Square glasses, mmmm :)
2. Artist
3. Gets along well with my parents
4. Actor/Elvis impersonator
5. Tendency to panic
6. Super emotional (makes me seem like a very rational person in comparison)
7. Met 1 year ago
8. Likes Italians
9. 1 year older than me
10. Architect
11. Impulsive
12. Cookie-enthusiast

Something changed part II

2008-08-22T22:50:00.002+07:00

So... the promised big news from earlier today: I'm having a baby in early March!!

Something changed

2008-08-22T07:20:00.002+07:00

One year ago today, in a scene involving the lovely Mimosa, a Russian busker named Dima, some people floating on poles, and Tatu's band rocking a cellar, something changed in a moment and would never be the same again.

And although it's a public celebration in Helsinki, no matter where we are in the world, the third Friday of every August, or the Night of the Arts, will always be our night, too!

Later today, something else will change, too... but not yet...

No biting!

2008-08-18T10:45:00.001+07:00

Ok... so no biting my nails... Just gotta make it to the end of this week! ... then no more secrets!

Things that make me cry...

2008-08-08T10:26:00.003+07:00

Ok... so I'm super silly today (well, in general), and am the office trying to dry my tears. Yes. That's right. And why? Because I've seen two youtube videos that are for some reason making me emotional today. Well... I'm just very emotional at the moment - don't ask me why if you don't know why (it'll all become clear soon).

The first video is a sweet 'christmas card' by David Fonseca:

The second one actually *is* quite moving, I think. Unless I really am behaving irrationally today. The portuguese really know how to sing! This is Dulce Pontes featuring Andrea Bocelli performing O Mare e Tu:

Would anyone who speaks portuguese care to translate for me?? Marta??

I can now get back to feeling like the heroine of a Hindi movie singing about my ever-beating and hurting heart, with little tears at the corners of my eyes...

3

2008-07-31T08:29:00.002+07:00

Just three more weeks to go... just three... How do I keep myself from going insane?

Break time!

2008-07-25T06:07:00.002+07:00

Yes, the last publication was May 16th... and I never did get around to writing about the last couple of concerts I attended in Bilbao... but this site isn't dead (I was quite flattered to discover that somebody actually checked and commented! Somebody reads this stuff??).

In any case, this site is MIA due to THESIS, work commitments and big changes in life, which will become apparent towards the middle/end of August. Until then... a brief interlude!

La Bilbaina Jazz Club turns 17

2008-05-15T21:43:00.003+07:00

Next year it'll be allowed to drink!

Last Thursday's show was somewhat unorthodox: A seven-piece act (although the website says it's a quintet...) called the "Fun Collective", apparently a group of friends who just like to play together, starting off the show, and ending in an open jam session (well, for those who had instruments).

The jam session is perhaps not worth commenting on: it was a birthday party, and everyone pulled out their instruments and jammed - there was no particular logic, and as jam sessions go, no particular show, but it was certainly a lot of fun, and contributed to the festive mood already begun with the cake and champagne cocktails distributed during the break!

A couple weeks ago, I mentioned Enrique Crespo and his wonderful photos that he now has up on his site.... well, it seems that not only has he pleased happy jazz-goers like myself, but now, he seems to have filled the position of photographer for La Bilbaina Jazz Club. Again, I highly recommend you check out his photos! They convey the mood of the party beautifully!

So, the first act... Great! I wouldn't go as far as to say they were extremely sophisticated, but I would definitely say that they had an amazing energy. It reminded of SomaFM: Secret Agent, which sometimes plays the sort of happy energetic jazz that reminds you of Austin Powers! When I say they weren't 'sophisticated', perhaps I mean that they weren't subtle - which is the thing to be expected when you put a trumpet, an alto and tenor saxophone, drums, keyboard, bass guitar and electric guitar on stage together. I apologise this time for not having references. I was informed that they haven't gotten anything recorded, and the names went by so fast that I didn't quite manage to catch any of them, other than that of their amazing guitarist (Raoul).

But regardless of that, here are some observations.

As far as characters went, the drummer and the tenor sax really amused me. I dubbed the drummer, with an indian style hippie shirt, bootleg pants and a cigarette dangling from his mouth 'the displaced hippy'. The sax, on the other hand, had these vertical lines appearing from the corners of his mouth, making him look extremely happy at all times! But appearances aside, I must say that without a doubt, it was him and Raoul that were the backbone of the whole act, with the pianist as an important back-up.

The pianist, unfortunately stuck in the corner out of view, is definitely deserving of special mention. Going the way of many modern musicians, he had his laptop by his side throughout the show, no doubt thus enhancing his already great performance!

I'm looking forward to the group releasing a disk in the future!

Javier Vercher Trio

2008-05-09T00:18:00.003+07:00

Who says appearance doesn't matter?

Not only did Javier Vercher (tenor sax), Edward Perez (bass cello) and Ferenc Nemeth (drums) demonstrate that they were well accustomed to playing each other and attuned to each other as a group - but they also charmed the crowd.

I'm not, referring, of course, only to the appearance of the individual band members, but naturally, to the actual investment into being pleasing to the crowd - a point which many jazz musicians miss. I adhere to my opinion that in a live concert, presentation is half the equation (unless the audience is blind). The musicians were calm and relaxed on stage, which, of course, really helped the audience relax and enjoy the music.

Edward Perez (whose instrument was given a prominent 'voice', instead of relegated to the background), seemed particularly happy, staring at the ceiling as if it was a starry sky. Javier Vercher can be said to have a tall and imposing figure, yet seemed utterly confused and tiny when introducing Thelonius Monk's 'Ask Me Now'- which, of course, in a musician, is only an endearing feature! But in terms of presentation, the drummer was an absolute pleasure to watch!

Ferenc Nemeth truly mastered both the art of coordination, experimentation and presentation! There was a really high level of coordination with the other band members. He didn't stop looking like he was enjoying himself at any stage... and finally - the plethora of mallets he had was absolutely phenomenal. He's got the regular drumsticks, padded mallets, and things that look something like whisks, and then finally, his self-devised thin bamboo-sticks tied together with something like rubber bands! I was duly impressed by the amount of sounds that came out of a drum-set (which was partially tailor made for him!). Being a something of a chef myself, I must admit I appreciated the way he looked as though he was cooking his favourite dish!

I had, earlier in the evening, been to a classical concert, and noted that busy, dissonant notes that are so common in jazz music and are phenomenal on a saxophone simply do not function so well on a classical violin (re: modern classical style). So, as such, I was happy to find myself in the context of a well performed classical style jazz set that cured my ears of the unfortunate cacophonies of John Adams performed (and technically well!), by Chloe Hanslip.

But - back to the topic at hand - I had just finished mentioning the instruments in use - from the specially brought drums and mallets, to - what I noticed, was Javier Vercher's own microphone for his sax (normally, the one at the club is a square sennheiser [ed: it's a MD-441 - thanks Borja!), but I'm not sure what his was).

My favourite musical moment: The amazing cello solo on the last song before the break! There was something reminiscent of Django Reindhart in it (even if the instruments were different!).

During the break, I had a short chat with the trio:

Me: "You have really great coordination between the three of you! I especially like how Javier steps back and plays softly to let the others have a go, too!"

Edward Perez: "No, he's works on his own - it's just part of the act!"

.... hmmm.... so presentation of pretending?

Ila Cantor and the Egyptian

2008-04-19T16:53:00.002+07:00

It seems to me that every time I go to La Bilbaina, the show starts later and later. I get the impression that this is a generally Spanish feature. Society functions like a typewriter ribbon, extending out further and further until it has to be pushed in again. *ping! - chk chk click click chk - ping!*

The last time I attended the jazz club, I had recommended to a certain man who always wanders around with his camera, that he set up a website, along with, I'm sure, many others. And lo and behold - Here it is!. So now you can read my humble opinion about La Bilbaina sets, as well as getting a thousand words worth of second opinion (or perhaps, first-hand account?). I even brought my camera along to this gig, thinking I'd take a couple pictures, seeing as Mikko wasn't there to sketch the happenings, but I put it meekly away - no doubt my camera suffered from an attack on its poor little ego, seeing the size of Enrique's lens!

But, to the Ila Cantor Quartet! The group were recording tracks for their new album - which may explain the somewhat tense aspect on the part of the composer/guitarist throughout the set.

Their sound, I must admit was unique, complicated, technically advanced, but not quite to my taste. If it were a dish, I'd say it was complicated and strong, but too heavy on the spices, and therefore a bit unpalatable. Some listeners may have started to feel the effects of indigestion and left during the break (not something that happens so often at La Bilbaina).

What I appreciated: There was a very fascinating cross-over between a punk/rock style and jazz which I hadn't heard before, and that was superbly done. But despite that, I still preferred the bits when Ila Cantor's guitar was set to not so 'dirty' sound options. My favourites from the group, were without a doubt the saxophonist (Fredrik Carlquist) and the drummer (Joe Smith). Smith was practically sensual with his drums - one of the most feeling sets I've seen! And Carlquist reminded me of a very friendly uncle (who happens to rock the saxophone!!). Ila Cantor and the Bass Cellist (Tom Warburton) were clearly on the same page, and Warburton really supported Cantor well - but unfortunately, Smith and Carlquist seemed more often than not more comfortable in their own skins, and working with each other, than with Cantor and Warburton.

Warburton only had two solos, the first of which was practically inaudible - I'm not sure whether this was done purposefully, but in any case, as a bass cello fan, I felt somewhat annoyed that it was not until his final solo (in the last or second to last song!) that I actually heard him play properly!

Anyhow, I didn't buy the CD - but, as I mentioned earlier, it was more a question of a style that didn't really sit well with me, rather than a lack of skill on the part of the musicians. I say, if you are into a super-experimental sound, and both jazz and heavy rock, buy the CD, and especially watch out for Ila Cantor's solos. She definitely worked better as a soloist - in fact, when she was playing on her own was probably the only time I saw her smile on stage! And also, look out for "Hens", "Docking" on their upcoming album!

***

I finally completed "The Egyptian" by Mika Waltari (Original Finnish: Sinuhe, Egyptilainen).

Yes, yes, shame on me for 1) not reading in the original language, and 2) being a 'bad' Finn and only getting around to reading the classic in my 'old age'.

To further create scandal, I believe that was the first Finnish literary work I've ever read. Shame, shame. I'll read the Kalevala next if somebody finds a good English translation. I think I go against the grain when it comes to common opinion on what language books should be read in. I think what's important is the enjoyment of reading and the communication of the message. If you are more comfortable reading in English, then read a good translation, and add that book to your list of favourite books.

Or, optionally, do your head in struggling with a language you are not comfortable with and throw the book against the wall in angry rage half-way through.

I say let the people who have the skills translate the meaning and form, and make of the book a work you will enjoy to the fullest!

There are a million reviews of Waltari's work out there already, so I won't plague the internet with yet another in-depth one. I will, however, comment on what I perceive to be the central question that the book asks:

"Is it better to live a life shaped by ethics and compassion, and thus die alone? Or would one rather turn a blind eye to suffering and gather all earthly wealth around oneself?"

And the book doesn't pass judgement on either form of living, even though the protagonist leans towards the ethical, and his faithful servant towards the material. I think, from that relation between Sinuhe and Kaptah, there springs a certain analogy for the human psyche - no matter how we wish to strive for the light, for the truth, for purity, the material cannot be shafted away - it must always follow us, even through our convoluted course of the search for meanings and maintain us, sometimes unwillingly, in this life. That is what is magical about this book - it is an epic historical adventure, spanning the entire life of Sinuhe, and the rise and fall of several pharoahs; but most importantly, it is a thoroughly profound look at the human condition, and the struggle raging in each individual.

A well-considered review

2008-04-17T23:48:00.006+07:00

I hate to write a scathing review, but truth be told, ... well, if I didn't like it, I didn't like it, and it took me two weeks to come to terms with that.

So today, before once again heading to La Bilbaina Jazz Club, I need to get the last visit out of my system (I wasn't there last week because I was becoming a member of the Russian Cocaine Club, based on the roof of Olga's house (more on that later).

So...: Pete Robbins Quartet. 03 April 2008 at La Bilbaina

Let's start with the positives.

I really liked Masa Kamaguchi, the quartet's Japanese bass cellist who lives in Barcelona, plays his instrument as if he were practicing capoeira, and is too unorganised to know when his next gig is. That, in my books, is cute (absent mindedness is a trait I'm happy to put up with when it comes to real talent!)

The drummer, one Danish Kevin Brow, also got my plus points: He was relaxed, and smiled throughout his performance, and displayed an unflinching and easy skill! In fact, he was the only one who seemed entirely natural, and was experiencing some level of enjoyment!

But, well.. Pete Robbins, what can I say? Obviously, he's talented, and executes his performance well. But half a show is the presentation, especially in a small, intimate venue like La Bilbaina. A self-obsessed and rude saxophonist only serves to alienate the crown. I've never seen the crowd less involved before.

And finally, the poor guitarist. Ryan Blotnick. I don't doubt at all his skill on stage, as he plays in great acts like Akoya Afrobeats, but unfortunately for him, I think he had to work under the shadow of Robbins' ego, and really wasn't allowed to shine.

Well, to the credit of the artists - it didn't sound bad, in fact, it was probably technically perfect (which is why I still bought their CD), but unfortunately, the actual performance did now whet my appetite for another performance by Pete Robbins!

*** *** ***

From one topic to the next topic, as promised: The Russian Cocaine Club (RCC)

Below, dear reader, you find the picture of the Russian Cocaine Lord. She is highly wanted in the land of Pthhurzlazomsink, especially in the capital, Kenttalktomushvokka. Before her you see a platterful of lemons sprinkled with coffee and sugar - essential parts of Russian Cocaine.

It is obvious from this photo, that the RC lord has struck again - her eyes are wild, and she sits poised to drain the bottle of vodka, and greedily consume every last slice of lemon.

But let it not be assumed that the RCC does not engage in activities other than the consumption of Russian Cocaine. In fact, it is a highly artistic group, and as one can observe below, are well equipped to perform shadow plays involving many exotic animals - such as steppe deer and siberian husky (well, they can't be lions and giraffes, or else it wouldn't be the RCC!).

If you are also a Russian Cocaine addict, or if you have any questions regarding the availability of the product, or would like to suggest new theatrical acts, kindly visit the facebook group at http://www.facebook.com/group.php?gid=10841851554&ref=ts

From the worst to the great!

2008-03-31T18:45:00.002+07:00

See more funny videos at CollegeHumor

Now that you've seen what comes up if you google "the worst music video ever", I'd like to share with you an absolutely amazing musical experience I had last Thursday, once again, at La Bilbaina. This time, I saw an Italian group: "Alphabeats Nu Jazz". Super awesome! They did relatively tame, only slightly experimental set as far as the instrumentalists went... but they coupled it with a rapper! And the outcome was fantastic!

I had a chat with the rapper during the break and I highly recommend you visit his myspace site

Apart from that, I've had a marvellous weekend with Mikko here - we went to Aranda de Duero to visit Narot (my Finnish student) on Friday, and his parents took us on a tour of the town, including the 5 kms of middle-age wine cellars to be found underneath the town! That was incredible! And they were even nice enough to take us out for lunch and invite us back another time to their house! The whole day was sunny, once we got out of Bilbao - but on the way back, we saw dark clouds on the horizon. "Follow those and surely we'll be getting into Basque country!" Surely enough, 5 kilometres after the "Ongi Etorri" sign, fat raindrops started falling on the car...

Another highlight of this week: Africa (Fernando's dog) opened her mouth and let out a bleat... yes: "BAAAAAAA" out of the blue. We haven't been able to get her to repeat the sound again, despite multiple attempts at convincing her that she really IS a sheep. She doesn't buy it. I don't think she realises the chaos her moment of mistaken identity has caused in Bilbao.

Or perhaps we were just high, since we'd been gluing the frame onto our present to Jimena... who knows?

The Irish Leprechaun

2008-03-18T10:10:00.003+07:00

Tonight a leprechaun searched my soul with four simple questions, which I answered honestly. I wish I'd never met the leprechaun.

It all started Sunday night with two films. The first one was 'Juno'. I enjoyed it. A lot. The second one was 'A Tough of Spice'. It told me about life through the eyes of a chef. I guess it was the second one that really touched me. It was honest. And it made me see that life is like a stick of cinnamon - it can be bitter, and it can be sweet.

But so I went to sleep deeply uncertain about many things in my life. Most of all, not sure about why I've been so sure recently. Then I woke up to a somewhat grumpy Sneha (I'm in Dublin, visiting what has to be one of the loveliest women I've ever met in my life) on St. Patrick's day.

Well, no matter how much we like to believe that we are an island, the moods of other people do have the power to affect us, and today, considering how important Sneha is to me, I felt off all day. It's not her fault, and already I know that it had nothing to do with me... we all have our bad days.

The day started for me with a jerk, and so instead of going down to join the others for breakfast, I decided to stay up in Sneha's room (after running down to get a cup of coffee) and paint my face for the St. Patrick's day parade. I love dressing up for an occasion, and so I painted a big green star around my left eye, and a smaller on on my right. Then I proceeded to pass through a relatively fun, if somewhat grumpy day.

It was at the last bar that we arrived at many hours after the parade, and perhaps several guinness behind us that I met him. I was dancing with Marta and Etxazo when he approached us with a tube of those little candies with hearts on them that say things like "Be Mine" and "Bye bye" and "Whatever" and "I love you" and offered them to us... At first he was very interested in what Marta's and Etxazo's said, and ignored me until he nonchalantly offered me one and was uninterested to hear what mine said and left.

But after a bit he came back, and noticing the stars on my eyes, asked me how I'd done them. "I painted them", I said. "Have you got your paints here?"... "Yes! Would you like me to paint you some stars?". "Yes".

I had some trouble finding my jacket, though, and that's where the paints were. And honestly, I was a bit too lazy to look for it well. So I told my leprechaun that I couldn't find it. He called me a liar. So I, hating being called a liar, since I am a terrible liar, told him the truth. That I wasn't sure where it was, because I hadn't put away the jacket myself - and also that I was lazy. But in the end I found it. And as I painted his face, he told me a little story... well, more like asked me some questions. It goes like this:

You are walking in a desert. Walking, walking, walking, through endless dunes, and you see a cube. Yes a cube. Describe it. Is it big or small? What colour is it?

Done?

Then, you see a horse. Where is it? Describe it if you wish.

Got your answer?

You see a ladder. Where is that? And other details you want to add?

Finally, you see a flower. In relation to you and the horse and the ladder, where is it?

The answer revealed this to me: I have quite a small ego, apparently. But that's not important - it's just part of the meaning of my answers. What struck me was the rest of it. My friends are crazy and I keep them close. I also keep my family close. But as for my love life? I keep it distant, but I still know exactly where it is and what's happening with it.

Scary insight.

And Mr. Leprechaun disappeared when the stars were drawn. The end.

p.s. Tell me if you've got answers to the questions and I'll tell you the analysis!

The cutest hippo EVER!!!

2008-03-12T23:51:00.002+07:00

Ode to Bilbao!

2008-03-10T01:13:00.004+07:00

Based on the tune of the opening song in Beauty and the Beast (Little town, full of little people, waking up to say "Bonjour!")

Intro:
Little town
It's a quiet village
Ev'ry day
Like the one before
Little town
Full of little people
Waking up to say: ¡joder!

There goes the junkie with his needle, like always
Along the river, still and green
There are clouds up in the sky
And the people are equally high
Stumbling home in the morning from the bar

Remember to pay your drinks when leaving
Eskerikasko and aguur¡
The Guggenheim's the trump
Right next to it a dump
There's no denying the quaintness of Bilbao

Look there she goes, she's wearing high heels
Look there, tight pants, and a Basque haircut!
Off goes a bomb, another dead councillor!
But by night fall the town forgets it all!

Look there they go the Erasmus students
They fill a club and make a scene
With a dazed and wasted look
The Irish say "Oh Fook!"
And in Dubliner they have another beer!

Bridge:
Ooooh, isn't this the centre
Of the whole wide world and the blue sea?
You'll never need another
But you'll never know it's true until you leave!

Now there's no doubt that Bilbao has beauty
The ambient has no parallel!
But I'm not sure we all accede
That Euskal Herria should secede?
But Bilbao's different from the rest of Spain
Oh so very different from the rest of Spain
So different from the rest of Spain are the Basques!

Go veg!

2008-03-09T12:37:00.001+07:00

International Recognition (for recipe-cards)

2008-03-05T17:02:00.003+07:00

In my frenzy of practicing the writing down of recipes, I sent off a few cards, too, which have
ended up on lovebites (Australia) and Mimi's facebook albums (England) :) :) :) Yippee!

On lovebites:

On Mimi's facebook:

Total inefficiency!

2008-03-03T16:46:00.000+07:00

Ever since December, I’ve been meant to appear before the “juzgado de instrucción” – regarding the case of the robbery that occurred in November. The first time I was in Tanzania when a notice to collect a letter from the post office arrived. By the time I got back and went to collect it, there were three messages from the court people who had tried to reach me, and whatever had arrived at the post office had already been sent back. Apparently, I was meant to have appeared in court at some stage. Then I got another little notice in my mailbox. This time, I collected the little envelope that that court sent me, presenting my passport and signing for it.

The letter was threatening me with a fine of 200 – 1,500 Euros for not appearing in court, and gave me another date, which, unfortunately, was a date for when I already had a ticket bought to be in Finland. Screw that!

So now, I got another one. I again went to the post office, signed for a letter asking me to appear today… and well, this time, being in the country, I decided to go. And for what? To receive a piece of paper that notified me that the trial is, indeed, over. And to sign for it. That’s all. They didn’t even bother looking at the passport which they said I had to bring. In the end, at least the post office made sure it was me signing for the letter. Why didn’t the bloody judge just send it to the post office instead of threatening me with massive fines for not showing up to receive a piece of paper I really couldn’t care less about??

What a way to fall out the wrong side of the bed! Aaaargh!!!!

A special prize for the weekend!

2008-03-02T20:51:00.002+07:00

It's been a while since I 'reported' my weekend activities on my blog... but this one, I feel, deserves special mention... Well, the 'weekend' started on Thursday, somehow...

So, the fact that my internet at home as been forcing me to be a little more social, starting from Thursday night. The connection died on Wednesday night, in fact, but late enough that it didn't really bother me.... and Thursday was a bit nuts, anyhow... Thursday = Class -> Teach -> Teach more -> Moroccan immigrant event -> Jazz concert -> Party -> Home.

The Moroccan immigrant was especially fruitful, as I seem to be getting an idea of what is going to happening for my thesis. Namely, I started thinking about social responsibility, following on from a conversation with Mikko on Wednesday night. And slowly a question has begun to emerge... What does it mean to be the 'original' population? Why does this population have 'rights' over the 'newcomers'... and why should they, if they do? Assuming that everyone, as a person, has equal rights to human dignity and other basic necessities, shouldn't 'integration' be more of a cultural exchange, rather than forced assimilation into majority?

Well, that's the seed of it, anyhow... I'm going to pay their office a visit on Tuesday and see if there is any volunteering I can do for them, like on a Saturday or Sunday morning, for example, like I did for SAIL in Australia.

But now... my favourite part of last week/this weekend: The Heckler and La Bilbaina. The basement of La Bilbaina, where there is live jazz every Thursday, has one of the best sound systems I've ever heard! And the quality of the act... Incredible! It was quite the fusion of different styles, getting together to form what was, simply, great jazz! The man in the neighbouring seat told me that they were all from bands of different styles, except for the Columbian bass cellist, who was, indeed a jazz musician. The saxophone, electric guitar and drum were from different acts. Incredible, I'm going again next Thursday, even if it was 12 Euros... They have a different act every week, so I'm really looking forward to the next one!

The Erasmus party after the concert went by without anything incredible to note....

Friday, however, was quite the night. Ironically I was meant to stay in. Or, well, stay until midnight or so at Marta, Tessa and Stijn's house, and use the internet... but well, a few glasses of wine turned to a few more people over, which in turn led to Tessa, Francois and me not getting home until 8.15 in the morning... (oops.) If it's the thought that count we did TRY to head in the direction of Deusto at around 5 a.m. for an 'early' night....

But it was super nice chilling with the girls the next day, eating pasta, looking at photo, downloading academic texts for my thesis proposal. And ending the day by seeing "The Gift" (a portuguese rock group). Highly recommended!

Girl Children as Soldiers

2008-02-14T05:00:00.002+07:00

Something new to think about:

In situations where child soldiers are used, roughly one third are female (meaning around 300,000 globally). Wow. You learn something new every day.

And for all of you who are about to protest: "But I study the topic of child soldiers, and I haven't seen anything about girl child soldiers", then here's the thing: It's a fairly new topic of research. In fact, I had the honour of attending a talk today by Diana Castillo, an academic from Colombia.

So why do we hear so little about this?

- There are no treaties dealing specifically with female child soldiers

- All treaties assume that child soldiers are male

- And even so, when there is a lack of weapons, the boys are given priority, and thus, without weapons, girls are often not recognised in battle, although essentially, they are unarmed combatants

And why should we treat it as a separate problem to child soldiers in general? Diana gave a few accounts from the girls and women she interviewed... very moving! But the main point is this: Girl children get raped. In a patriarchal society, they are also less likely to gain recognition, as we have seen from the treaties concerning them.

So, these girls are also psychologically affected... they are expected to return to society and start behaving like "other girls" immediately, but that is ignoring the fact that despite all that - they still went through formative years in the context of war.

What happens when they come out of the war context? Many of them 'become normal' by having a child... and this means, in effect, that there is a serious effect on the education of women, as they then have to either work to support or stay home to look after the kids! Thus, skills they may have learned in the army, such as medical aid or mechanics, are most likely lost forever!

The only 'comforting' thought, if any, is that for example in the Philippines, the Moros, who are an Islamic nationalistic group accord their girl-child soldiers much more respect than anywhere else - you see some (but very rare) girls rise in the ranks. They are not raped or used as sex slaves. Under the protection of the Koran. What I wonder, though, is that why they aren't sacred for being children?

We are, of course, thinking of places such as Nicaragua, Haiti, Colombia, Sri Lanka, Myanmar, The Philippines, etc, when we talk about these things - but a fellow coursemate made a good comment - Whilst we easily criticise the behaviour of cultures 'distant' from the 'western' culture, we are ignoring the fact that in countries like USA, it's ok to recruit 15 year olds to the army!

And that lead me to think of the slight disappointment that I felt, reading Neil Gaiman and Michael Reeve's children book, Interworld... in it, a 16 year old boy decides to go to war... and his mother sees him off, sadly, as a mother does - but without raising the question of age... Well, it's a science fiction/fantasy book, of course, but it scares me to think that the thought of children going to battle is not an off-limits area in popular culture!

Anyhow, definitely an area worth more research!

The problem with PORRIDGE

2008-02-04T17:42:00.000+07:00

Khao Tom, Puuro, Congee... what do all these have in common?

That, that they are unquestionably BREAKFAST. So, what is the problem? BREAKFAST as a concept is something so obvious, so comfortable, that one doesn't ever question it... and one never thinks that it could make people emotional... but it does!

Last night, we started talking about "basic porridge" with Kirsti and Mikko... and well, Kirsti was lucky to head home by 11 pm. Let's just say that it IS possible to have a two hour argument about porridge. Oatmeal porridge was a sweet Sunday treat in my home... in Finland, it isn't considered sweet, and it certainly isn't a treat.

To me, for anyone Finnish reading this, "basic porridge" is made by boiling a lot of rice, adding soysauce/nampla, vegetables, soyprotein/meat/fish, lots of garlic, spring onion, ginger, coriander... and to Finns, it's a lot of oats, milk... well, anyhow. To me, Finnish porridge is a dessert... to Mikko, Thai porridge is lunch. So we can both wonder what's wrong with the other.... one eating desert for breakfast, and the other lunch for breakfast...

But, the real surprise is the way it is possible to get worked up about it. Seriously... our first argument! Over PORRIDGE!

Luckily we had better things to do... like finish an invitation for a party on Friday:

Chance encounters: The heroin zone

2008-01-18T22:26:00.000+07:00

I had heard that Bilbao had a bit of a drug problem... but I thought that 'drug problem' meant that a lot of people spend a lot of time smoking marijuana. I don't see that as a 'problem' as such. People are pretty open about it and it's just normal here. Well, it doesn't really bother me, anyhow!

And if people go out and take a few drugs at night clubs, that doesn't really bother me, either. Doesn't effect me in any way. And I think it's pretty harmless... on Monday, these people go back to work/school and it doesn't really come with more cost to society than, say, alcohol consumption.

But I never saw anyone shoot up until today. And yes. That bothered me.

I was in a mood to explore, and I decided to walk home from the swimming pool in atxuri on the 'other' side of the river (the side behind the market building), and I gazed down to the foot of the bridge to see a needle being pulled out of someone's arm. And then blood flying all over the place.

I couldn't resist taking a picture from a distance... so here it is:

But it's too far away to tell what is happening. By the time I was where I took the picture, the same hand that held the syringe was wiping away blood from his friends' arm. Directly above them (on the right as viewed in this picture) is pretty much where I saw the blood fly.

I walked a little bit further, and found some used syringe packets on the stairs. Well... at least they are responsible heroine users?? I guess at least there is a community help centre for the
users. Which is a positive thing.

But really... the thing that really struck me was the gentleness with the man pulled the syringe from his friend's arm. And the care with which he folded the arm and wiped away the blood as his friend started tripping away. That was striking. I'm always amazed to find human kindness in the most unlikely of places. There really isn't much that destroys the human capacity to love.

Farewell, beautiful people

2008-01-17T19:46:00.000+07:00

When not in class, I feel guilty writing anything not related to my final project, so for those whose sensibilities it offends to know that I am updating my blog in a lecture, I offer my apologies in advance!

There is exactly one week left of classes. Including today. And then we are all shooting off to enjoy our 2.5 week vacation, or to settle down where we'll be in the second semester. Or to hibernate. Or ski. Well, whatever it is that we are going to do (I'm going to spend 2.5 weeks as much indoors as possible in Helsinki!!), the point is I'm starting to feel really nostalgic. And I'm already thinking of the menu for next week's farewell vegetarian pintxo and intoxication party with a theme of creative clothing made of newspaper (at my place!).

Thinking of food, as always - these were the fusion vegetarian pintxos I made last time (Pintxos are something small to munch on, sorta like snacks, but more like mini mini meals... cocktail snacks!)

This is not a game!

2008-01-14T14:53:00.000+07:00

Why are there no sanctions on Burma? Simple! China blocks all security council decisions! DON'T go to the China Olympics this year!

Stop the Clash of Civilisations

2008-01-14T13:40:00.000+07:00

So I'm writing a research essay on Myanmar and instead I find this cool video by Avaaz.org... Check it out!

Cold figures

2008-01-10T13:34:00.000+07:00

I peered out between an arm and somebody's legs at the amassing pile of bodies around me, and saw my mother dieing of grief. I wondered if to join me on this amassing pile of undernourished and cold bodies might be a relief for her. I wondered whether her aching heart could be beyond numbness and starvation in a state of morbid solidarity with ten thousand more grieving mothers. The weight of featherweight bodies crushes my limbs, and I can no longer see a world which consumes without limit, yet is hungry for more tender flesh.

Inspired by the following:

"For example, a survey in Baidoa, Somalia, found that approximately 75% of displaced children under 5 years died within a six-month peoriod and the proportion of children under 5 in the displaced population fell from 18.3% to 7.8% during this period."

The stats hurt me more for what they represent: The treatment of human lives as a series of numbers. How ugly our world is for all the hurt that we keep bottled up as a series of statistics! Being empathetic and truly helping requires more emotional truth, even if it's the stats that help us know how to act!

Only in Spain...

2008-01-03T19:45:00.000+07:00

Mikko and I supposedly had a flight from Bilbao to Barcelona at 11:55 this morning.

At the airport, the flight billboard had boarding time listed as 18:20 with a big "Retrasado" (delayed) flashing on the screen. A typo of some sort? Surely the delay meant boarding was at perhaps 12:20.

But no. The flight had been delayed by over 7 hours!!!

Me: "Y porque esta retrasado?" (Why is it delayed?)

Check-in: "Una problema tecnica"

Me: "Que es?"

Check-in: "Habia que estar un avion, pero no esta."

(There was meant to be a plane, but it's not here.")

Only in Spain.

Pillar(s) of love?

2007-12-20T15:06:00.000+07:00

Pillar 1. Understanding

Pillar 2. Compatibility? - Acceptance? Both?

Or is there only one thing? The quest for understanding and knowledge, which is parallel and necessary for the quest for love?

Raj - we had a discussion about this! Need your input!!

P'Or, Shu Qing, Bettan, Rong Yao, Mimo, Simon and Sachin (TZ), Ilie, Fazal, and Emma - Thanks for the belated birthday wishes! Ooops... and to Marjo and Miika who wished me on the 19th, but to my klubitus account which I almost never check!

Thanks!

2007-12-19T20:01:00.000+07:00

A big thanks to (in temporal order!) all the NOHA crew (I LOOOOVE you all!), Corey, Janina, Richard, Ronnie, Joe, Alex (Puppy), Aggie and Mikko (Elvis!), ... who all wished me before my birthday!

And now Henry, "Bodo", Michael, Cherrine, PK (aka, daughter), Krish (di baba), Mikko (Elvis, again!), Addy, Nic, Sunny, Sid (my Daeshious!!), Ness, Adrian, เเม่, Isak, P'Kunyen, Aseem, Tomo, Sarinda (Dood!), Vivi, Olguita, Sachin, Isä, Sneha, Ei Phyu, Ginny, Philip, Hanni, Katie, Clive, Smedley/Tavis, Julian O, Pras, Chyngyz, Pancake, David S., Luca B. (the eternal child!), Lucy, AK, Xavi, Narot, Richard (again!!), Kaveen, P'Sally, Eki, Marco, Nora, Fernando E., P'Ed, Raj, Anish, Marta P., Riikka, Kirsti, Eirik, Mimi, The Nykters (Oona, her dad and two brothers), The Sorsas (Mikko and Liisa), Julian, Kari and wife, Aleksi, Anni, Pauliina, Heini, Nick, Gaia, and Thyvane for wishing me a happy birthday on my day!

I hope I haven't forgotten anyone...

So... completion of the second cycle (yes, I've completed 24 years of life!)... born in Water element, lived through wood and am coming to the end of the year of the Fire pig... Next year the Earth cycle begins!

So what does that mean? What has the 'fire' year meant for me? It's been a year of incredible upheaval! I don't know if that's what the horoscope says, but well...

It's seen me graduate from my undergraduate in Linguistics and Philosophy a postgrad cert in Asian Studies... it's meant acceptance into a UNESCO internship, into the NOHA master of humanitarian action... The end of a 2.5 year relationship, the renewal of family ties, remembering the girls, saying goodbye to them again, constant moving from country to country and meeting someone a little more special, who seems to have cured me of my cynicism...

But on a more mundane level... thanks Raj for taking Mikko, Oona and myself out the the Irish karaoke joint.... next time I'll save my best singing for last!! I had a blast... I think Mikko and Oona did too! So awesome to be reunited with old childhood friends!!!

Hash in Dar Es Salaam

2007-12-19T03:58:00.001+07:00

To all you potheads out there.... I DO NOT mean the smokable stuff! Haha! But it definitely gets you on a kind of high!

I haven't been to a hash since Zambia... and my, it was fun to go yesterday! So what is Hash? Apparently it's a drinking club with a running problem... yes. That's right. So primarily, it's an excuse to socialise and drink.... but it also involves something like a 5 kilometre run, more or less, all whilst shouting obscenities and searching for the 'correct' way to the end. With a couple (alcoholic) drink stops on the way.

And more beer/wine/spirits at the end.

Well, I guess you don't want to accidentally actually get in shape! That would be terrible!

Last night was the Christmas Hash... which meant obscene Christmas songs at the end.

Here's one:

To the melody of "Winter Wonderland"

Walkin' 'round in Womens' Underwear

Lacy things, the wife is missin',
Didn't ask for her permission,
I'm wearin' her clothes, silk panty hose,
Walkin' 'round in womens' underwear

In the store, there's a teddy
Little straps, like spaghetti
It holds me so tight, like handcuffs at night
Walkin' 'round in womens' underwear

Later on, if you wanna,
We can dress like Madonna,
Put on some eye shade and join the parade
Walkin' 'round in womens' underwear

Lacy things the wife is missin'
Didn't ask for her permission,
I'm wearin' her clothes, silk panty hose
Walkin' 'round in womens' underwear
Walkin' 'round in womens' underwear
Walkin' 'round in womens' underwear

Hash House Harriers - Highly recommended! Just watch out you don't end up sick at night!

Stardust

2007-12-16T05:19:00.000+07:00

I feel like the worst fan in the world. I watched all of stardust on thie airplane, thoroughly enjoying the movie, and wondering what was so familiar about it… and at the end: Neil Gaiman. Doh! Just my favourite writer and one of my favourite books by him!

Once again, a journey would not be a journey if it wasn’t for misadventures on my part. Right, so all my flights were between the hours of 10 p.m. and 5.50 a.m. What does this mean? No shops, no banks open, no duty free shopping. Also, my card from Australia suddenly stopped functioning – I figure my bank in Australia thinks that my card has been stolen due to the sudden peak in internet transactions involved in planning my post Tanzania trip. So whilst there is money on my account, I am unable to withdraw it.

So I got to Madrid airport and managed to withdraw from my almost empty Finnish account an amount of 20 Euros after walking around for an hour looking for an ATM to add to the 23 something I had in my wallet (40 was overdrawing it!). The visa in Tanzania costs US$50 on arrival. So my next mission was to find an exchange and hope that 43 Euros was enough for US$50! But when? Madrid in the middle of the night was impossible. And the check-in lady said I had 25 minutes to make a transition to my next plane.

I spent a few hours in the plane to Amsterdam honestly wondering how I would get it communicated to my father that I was stranded in Dar Es Salaam airport without money to get out…. I had considered already writing him an e-mail from Madrid, but you need to pay for internet view credit card… so that wouldn’t have worked either, my credit/debit not functioning… I thought if I waited long enough, my dad would surely find some way of finding my whereabouts (Daddy can do anything!!)

For once, I am grateful for Dutch efficiency. I think the lady was trying to freak me out, because the truth was I had a little over an hours to make it to my gate… so having reached the general vicinity, I managed to find an exchange and still have time to practically fall asleep at the gate waiting for boarding to start!

How much did it cost me to get US$50? 40.17 Euros. I can’t believe how lucky I am. After watching Stardust, I am convinced that I’m also protected by some magical charm…. One that allows me to sort things out almost by accident when I screw things up (screwing things up is a daily activity for me). Emma has been known to call it serendipity on many occasions.

Anyhow, don’t want to say I’m at my parents’ place until I actually am, even though I’ve gotten as far as flying over Sudanese territory. If this is published, it means that I’ve survived my insane journey.

*** Yes, I've survived!***

And it's a good thing I exchanged the Euros for Dollars.... cos the rule here is 50 dollars or 50 euros... Doh!

Dad's humour...

2007-12-11T14:46:00.000+07:00

Nobody understands us, and why it's funny, nor why we are smiling, but at least me and my dad understand our special brand of exceedingly dry humour!

Dad (in a reply to an e-mail informing him that M. Sorsa will also be in Tanzania the same time as me): "Yes, thank-you, my daughter has already informed me, and her birthday party preparations are underway. The location is still uncertain, and it is also unknown whether the children will drink red wine, or soft drinks like the last time."

Hahahaha.... if nobody else gets it, I don't care, cos I do!!!

By the way, I haven't seen Mikko and Oona since Zambia - 15 or so years (except maybe I saw Mikko once briefly in Finland 8 years ago)...!

A good trajectory ...

2007-12-09T16:17:00.001+07:00

They say bad things happen in threes, and last week I was dreading they third bad thing that was surely to occur. First of all, the Friday before last my phone went missing, then I had a huge inflammation of my wisdom tooth which caused an indescribable amount of pain... and then.... well, I was dreading #3.

But incredibly, it didn't happen. Instead, I had an amazing time with Helsinki. I saw my aunt, and for the first time in a long while, I really felt like family with her again! I surprised Emma (and was worried, for a moment, that I'd give her a heart attack!). The next day, I felt incredibly loved at Nolla, and Sunday was a day for bitter-sweet goodbyes... but nothing BAD happened at all!

And this weekend? The good vibe simply continues! All week, I've been smiling, in my own little world... And I seem to have incurred the same reputation here as I had in Australia: CONFUSED. Ooops. 5 minutes into Real Madrid vs Athletic Bilbao game last night: "Ah, han cambiado lados" (They switched sides!). Hehe. Stijn and Edmer couldn't stop laughing.

After that, I got happy birthday sung to me (that hasn't happened in years, because my birthday is so close to Christmas that nobody is ever around to celebrate it - perhaps this year I'll make my mom and dad sing in Tanzania... and perhaps I'll have to invite the Sorsas and the Nykters over for my birthday, so I'll get a rendition in Finnish!)... that was at a December birthdays party though ... so HAPPY BIRTHDAY to FERNANDO AND LUCY (with me in two photos below), and to EDMER (above, the chilled out looking Peruvian at the football match). Love you all!

... and after that, we went out to Salsa... and my handbag was stolen within a few minutes, literally from right in front of my friends!

But then I hear this "Valisa" announced over the P.A. system...??! And an awesome undercover policewoman had caught the thief and recovered the bag (the thief got away again though)... and NOTHING was missing! So Adri, Jose and I took a lot of photos at the police station, even though I'm not entirely sure that's allowed. So, match, birthday and police station, all within the space of about 4.5 hours!

A couple only in Spain-isms this past couple of weeks:

1. I paid an extra 20 Euros to have my box of books arrive by Friday, and instead, the normal parcel arrived first. The books better arrive on Monday, or I'm a bit screwed for my presentation!

2. I try to pay for a ticket in Tanzania, and the flight I booked just didn't exist. Meaning, of course, that prices meanwhile went up by 100!

3. I went to the hospital to see a doctor about my tooth, and the receptionist gave me a long scolding about my missing health insurance card, but still waves me through.

4. The doctor at the aforementioned hospital first showed me photos for half an hour before giving me a prescription, after I told him I felt nauseous from pain and that I had a presentation to prepare for the next day.

5. My copy of the economist went to 11, 2C instead of 9, 2C, and the neighbour brought it over (this is a great feature of Spain!)... and happened to be the ex-director of the Human Rights Institute at Deusto! What coincidence!

There were more... but I've just woken up, (to a very sweet text message, which I only thought I dreamed I replied to - but I actually did in reality, too)... so perhaps I should go back to sleep in order to remember the Spainisms - after all, it's only 11 something, on a Sunday... mmmm :) Or perhaps I should drink that coffee and see what happens next...

A lack of organ trust

2007-12-08T19:24:00.000+07:00

Note for vegans who try to maintain a little bit of flexibility while out of home:

Your stomach will rebel if you eat nachos with cheese. Flexibility, good, sharing a plate of nachos with cheese = foreign objects stomach does not appreciate. This will result in stomach losing its trust in you and expelling everything, even water, that you may want to give to it.

I must make peace with the stomach today. It is not good to argue with those that you can't live without, or that you don't want to live without.

This applies to people, too. My girls - Emma, Mimo, Kirsti: we've definitely had some really cranky days towards each other, but at the end, we've made it up, and I guess even though we're going to be far apart in the future, we'll still have our involuntary (but beautiful) connection!!

I think Aggie and Kelv kinda got that point really well, too... last time I asked if they ever argued, they'd been together for over a year... and the answer was no. Best couple ever, no? I guess one just has to realise that one has the will to keep things going... and not jump overboard (or make the other walk the plank)... not the way I've done things... Got a lot to learn about relationships!

And relatives, most importantly... I really wish I could be more considerate to relatives. They are relatives no matter what, so I guess one kinda takes them for granted a little easier... but as a main principle of being a human being, shouldn't I reciprocate all the love that I get? I've been working on saying 'sorry'... I did that a few days this summer. Why? I think it's just as important to work on family relationships as it is on friend relationships! Sorry shouldn't be a hard word to say!

Ok... how did this turn all sentimental after I was technically discussing a stomach mutiny? Oh, well, LOVE YA ALL! Stomach included!

Going to see Real Madrid vs. Bilbao Atletic tonight! Are you jealous Sid, Tenzing... all the other soccer fanatics I know? Jimena sent around an e-mail asking who was in... in the end I think it's just me, Stijn and Edmer... hehe... then I ask "Erm... quien estan jugando?" (who's playing?) and Stijn burst out laughing. What the hell? I'm really just going to see what all the fuss is about!

Altruism

2007-12-06T08:14:00.000+07:00

A few years ago, I attended a particular lecture, with a particular monk... The monk was talking about finding our path, helping ourselves to find balance within the world. About setting our own lives straight (this does not mean in terms of material gain - but rather, in terms of finding 'peace') At the time, I recall being worried about a friend who I felt was 'straying' from his path, and perhaps suffering as a result. At the end of the talk, I asked the monk what I should do about this friend I was worried about. Whether I should help him first. The response?

"Be absolutely sure your own house is clean before you clean his house."

What does that mean in practice? Especially in terms of a humanitarian worker?

On of the biggest criticisms that we'll face in this field is this: What makes us think that we are actually helping? Even as it is, we are acting under the impression that we are 'doing something'. But what is this 'something' that we are doing?

Leaving behind the mess of our own lives in order to put the lives of others in order?

Spreading an ideology?

It seems like what we are doing really isn't so far removed from that which the missionaries once did in the times of colonialism. We have a certain vision of what is right and wrong - which is internally debated - but on the front of the 'suffering' masses of the world, we are united in a desire to 'do something'. Does this sound like 18th century missionaries to you? It does to me.

So now, instead of imposing a western god in order to 'civilise' the masses, we are are imposing another form of pure ideology that seems to come, after all, from a disorganised house. But when we are out there 'helping others', we pretend that everything is ok back home. After all, we can't have them losing confidence in our vision.

If I'd understood his answer better, perhaps I would have asked of the monk - 'so - can we ever be sure that our own house is in order?'

I imagine his answer would have been 'no'. We can't even be sure.

But does that mean we should never try to help?

I think that's not the conclusion that we should come to - but rather, that we shouldn't be forcing any ideologies on anyone.

After all - monks do community work, too, but don't function the same way as workers of western NGOs. The assumption to make should be that those who need help are the the experts, not us.

And doesn't that apply to the friend in need? All you can really do is offer my hand, I can be there, I can wait and see if they ask for help... but how can I assume that he wants/needs that help?

So, altruism. If I am at my friend's house, assuming that he needs help, I'm there wanting him to accept what I have to give, so maybe I will feel useful.

But altruism is the unselfish concern for others. So it seems that many people don't have their own house in order, and 'need' to help others. So although there is no material gain, there is still gain to be had from thinking that one has helped...

Hmmm... I kinda have a western audience in mind in writing this, although I don't know if I have the words to explain it ... *sigh* One word: DHARMA.

But Dharma is not the same as DUTY which is how it is translated directly into English. I leave this entry at that.

She is such a good friend that she would throw all her acquaintances into the water for the pleasure of fishing them out again.

- Charles Maurice Talleyrand

Happy Birthday to His Royal Majesty on the Occasion of his 8oth Birthday!

2007-12-05T17:29:00.001+07:00

(This will not be visible through facebook - must be viewed directly on my blog)

Shoot Anton.

2007-12-04T07:06:00.000+07:00

There was a pistol on the wall.

Mus thought about his journey through Greece, 25 years ago, and stopped mid-sentence as he stared down at his coffee. He had just finished telling her about the rocks in his head. Those rocks of Arabic, Greek, English, Finnish that grinded through his mind painfully.

But yes, Greece – when he had arrived as a refugee from Syria so long ago, speaking a kind of pidgin English, with no choice but to communicate. He had learned to listen, and that’s when those rocks started entering his head. Greek, English, and whenever he could Arabic. Cutting through his brain and reopening the wounds just as they were healing, slow rounds of sharp rocks, grinding, grinding.

Greece, finally getting those words out. Finally able to say a few lines, to express some of what he felt, to write down a few rhymes, and most importantly, finally allowing those rocks to become pebbles, only kneading and prodding, but never cutting. But unable to stay there for long. And at the end of the rocky, paper littered tunnel, Finland. And how the rocks there cut, and were covered with ice.

She looked at him sympathetically as he told her about the rocks. Yes, it seemed that she could imagine the rocks in his head as he counted them on to the table – 1, 2, 3, 4, 5 … mixed with the tears. Why could he so easily cry in front of this young girl who said nothing to him, but simply listened patiently to his broken Finnish?

There was still a pistol on the wall.

The rocks. The rocks were worth it. They were worth the pain, and they were worth the tooth-gnashing grinding as the synapses in his brain were formed and broken and healed over again. Each day Mus let them surface for a few minutes, and make a few cuts, but today…

- Are you sure you don’t want to use a tissue?

She held out a yellow napkin to him. The rocks were worth it. At the end, he felt how great it was to be able to say, with sincerity, a simple ‘hello’. And to know that at the end, he could still look with dignity at this girl across the table and say:

- Chekhov is wrong. I don’t have to use the pistol.

BAD Bunny

2007-12-01T03:40:00.001+07:00

No menus to spare

2007-11-30T13:19:00.001+07:00

I’ve realised that I’m quite resourceful at entertaining myself… My flight was delayed, so I decided to have a little glass of wine at an airport lounge. To my delight, I noticed, in front of me, an Euskera-Spanish bilingual menu, so I started concluding meanings of morphemes, analysing phonetics, and looking at grammatical structure of noun phrases (menus are not normally written in full sentences).

Ok. Does that sound geeky to you? Well, when it was finally time to board my flight, I asked the bar lady if I could take the menu with me (a simple printed piece of paper wedged between two pieces of plastic – printable off any computer), and was deeply hurt by the resounding “no”. Not even when I explained that I was a linguist doing an analysis of Euskera. That really made me sad for a moment. Now that’s geeky. However, now I’m happily in mid-air, on a few too many painkillers (wisdom tooth coming out), and not the least bit perturbed by the untimely end of my scientific/linguistic research. Time to enrol myself in Euskera classes, methinks.

But despite all that, I have drawn a few basic conclusions:

There is no [v], or else if there is, I have a suspicion that it is not distinguished from [b] as in Spanish, and that this seems to be reflected in the spelling. There was no evidence of any “v”, even in places where the words were borrowed and the ‘proper’ spelling required one (eg. Spanish Vermouth → Euskera Bermuti). I would conclude that Euskera does have a [v], but that it has fallen out of use, so that v → /b/ and that it has been reflected orthographically. I wonder if the French Basques do have a [v], because if they do, it would be evidence of one effect Spanish has had on Euskera pronunciation (v → /b/). However, [p] and [b] are separate phonemes, as are [k] and [g], [t] and [d], the usual “unvoiced-voiced” suspects. Also, generally, there is a CNC structure – Euskera avoids consonant clusters.

NP = (Adj.) N / N (Adj.)

This means that Basque must be an inflectional language – as the word order didn’t seem to be so important.

Euskera morphemes:

Edo = Or
Eta = And
Garagardo = Beer (or possibly the partitive form)
Ardo = Wine (again, possibly the partitive form)
Barazki = (Adj.) Vegetable/vegetarian
Ogitartekoa = Sandwich (probably inflected)
Ogi = Bread
Ogian = Bread + an (inflection)
Gazta = Cheese (may be inflected)
Erdionduzko = (Adj.) Semicured

*** *** ***

Final note... ONLY with Mimo, do I arrive in Helsinki to be taken straight to a Gothic party (with all my suitcases!). At least in Porvoo with my Aunt, I relaxed, did useful stuff and went to a poetry reading...

Not that it isn't useful to do spontaneous, relaxing things! I definitely enjoyed my surprise gothic night!!

The Parable of Ernie and Bert

2007-11-27T22:58:00.000+07:00

I was feeling more depressed after class today than I've been since I've gotten to Bilbao (I really need to start being able to express myself more and stop being so hard on myself - I hardly know who I am anymore!)... and well, I thought I'd come home and do something silly to cheer myself up a little... so I decided to google something obscure in quotation marks in the hopes of finding something funny to read... and instead, I found a blog full of zen quotes, and little things that can be related to Buddhist thought. Let go, fon, let go. (p.s. I googled "where is the cow?")

The parable of Ernie and Bert and the painting of the cow eating grass

8. Ernie and Bert were at home. Ernie was standing before a blank canvas wearing a smock and a beret and holding a palette and a paintbrush, as though painting. 9. Bert approached Ernie and asked Ernie what he was doing. 10. "I am finishing a painting," he replied. 11. "But what have you painted? I see nothing," said Bert. 12. Said Ernie: "It is a picture of a cow eating grass." 13. "Where is the grass?" asked Bert, pointing at the blank white canvas, 14. to which replied Ernie, "The cow ate it." 15. "And where is the cow?" asked Bert. To which Ernie replied 16. "Why would the cow hang around if there is no more grass?"

Sesame 6:8-16

Two Monks

Two monks were walking down the street after a heavy rain that left the streets quite muddy. They came upon a a lady of very easy virtue vainly attempting to find a dry path across the road without soiling her kimono.

One monk, more compassionate than the other, picked up the woman and carried her across the street, setting her down on the other side of the road. He returned to his companion and they continued down the road for some minutes until the second monk chided the first with the remark, "You really shouldn't have done that."

"Done what?"

"Why, you contaminated yourself by touching that impure woman."

"Oh, are you still carrying her? I put her down on the other side of the street."

When I was a little boy...

2007-11-26T05:29:00.000+07:00

Txoco was awesome... and man, Fernando can SING! ;)

(by the way, if you are viewing this as a posted item in facebook, in order to see the videos, you'll have to read the original entry by clicking "view original")

More pictures on facebook, of course!

Ok, so niño = little boy, niña = little girl. I generally get the genders all wrong in Spanish, because they differ with just a/o... so we were talking about drag shows, and I wanted to mention that it's quite normal - family thing - to attend drag shows in Thailand... "When I was a little boy..."

Since Marta started us off in a sentimental mood today, I shall continue.

Life is short,
Break the rules,
Forgive quickly,
Kiss slowly,
Love truly,
Laugh uncontrollably,
And never regret anything that made you smile.

Well, that was corny, but has a ring of truth... you know. Little chain thingies from Mimosa on facebook... :)

p.s. Sid, my dear, it was awesome talking to you again today... will really have to think about that trip to Oz in June/July if you are still thinking of inviting me by then!

Mistaken cats & the dangers of babelfish : I (heart) NOHA

2007-11-24T22:13:00.000+07:00

Trusting internet translating tools is fatal. As part of a presentation I had in class, I presented the following slide (I'm missing Euskera, but otherwise, there are all the languages of the class represented on the slide (the majority Latin languages, as you can see).

Can anyone tell me what's wrong with it? Well, first of all, I used babelfish for the majority. This means that there are two errors - one with the Portuguese, and the other with the Dutch.

"Withdraw me a cat" in Portuguese.

In Dutch... Apparently, I'm suggesting that we engage in sexual activities with the poor (male) kitty.

Well, at least Tessa was very amused. Fortunately, the cat she drew did not reflect the mistaken nature of the instructions.

I definitely am having a lot of fun with the course. I'm only sad that this semester is almost over...well, half over. Let's just say that it's only in Spain where your lecturers come out and get drunk with the whole class, and dance the night away with their students! ... and it's only in a programme like NOHA where an entire classroom is so helpful towards each other, and mutually enjoy each others company, despite the fact that all are from different corners of the world (but I still think Colombians are the most awesome ;P!)

Viva la NOHA :) *sniff* (I'm getting nostalgic)

(and if anyone's seen my phone after last night, please tell me!!)

Universalism, utilitarianism in the context of Human Rights

2007-11-19T21:39:00.000+07:00

-- I only ask questions, in hope that the truth may be revealed through the process of blowing away grains of sand from the surface. I do not 'seek' the truth, because that implies that I already know what I am looking for, and thus, what I dig up may not in fact be the truth. --

After a chat with Joana Abrisketa and Adriana today, I feel a little more convinced that I am NOT a universalist, even though Joana definitely is.

If we say that human rights are universal, it means that we are finding a zone where there are a priori principles that ALL cultures agree upon:

This excludes the logical possibility of there being a culture that wouldn't share this universal zone:

Before I continue - let me explain the distinction between a logical possibility and a physical possibility:

A physical possibility denotes the limits of a system: If I were to jump out the window right now, what would happen? I would fall to the ground.

A logical possibility denotes the limits of the imagination: Can you picture, in your mind, me jumping out the window and floating to the sky instead of falling to the ground? The answer should be "yes". However, if I ask you to imagine a triangle with 5 sides, or that 2 +2 = 18, you are unable to, because these are logical impossibilities.

But there you are - above you have a logical possibility of there being a culture that doesn't share that zone. You can visualize it - there it is. So, because it is not necessarily true, it is no longer universal in the classical sense.

Thus - the conclusion that we come to, is that Universalism is something relative. It only is true within the 'box' that is called "Universalism":

However, even if we are to accept the universality of humanitarian principles, within the physical boundaries of this world, surely we can't believe that they are applicable in every case? Thus, if the principles are universal, but their applicability in certain areas is almost impossible, this makes the argument for universal human rights very weak. This is not to say, of course, that we should be rejecting them all together - it is simply pointing out that what we call 'universal' is still, logically speaking, relative. And also, to pose the question of whether there is any utility for a right that cannot be applied?

Here, I have a quote by Socrates, from Republic 9:

"In heaven, I replied, there is laid up a pattern of it, methinks, which he who desires may behold, and beholding, may set his own house in order. But whether such an one exists, or ever will exist in fact, is no matter; for he will live after the manner of that city, having nothing to do with any other."

This poses a new question for the universalist: Do you want to live in that city? What does it mean, if you live according to those 'universal' principles?

So - on to relativism. For those of you who find universalism unsatisfying, we can examine the dichotomy.

Relativists accept that there are many points of view, and that each point of view is correct, and fully justifiable:

Which means that we have a big problem already, for the relativist:

.
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Universalism must be correct and fully justifiable if relativism is correct!

So where does this leave us? We have logically rejected both extremes of the dichotomy. Perhaps, we should, instead, be questioning the rigid framework that working with dichotomies imposes upon us? Accepting dichotomies, and defining the world in terms of yes/no, good/evil, black/white delegitimizes everything in between as somehow watered down versions of the two 'pure' extremes. However, it is us that create dichotomies. They are not created in juxtaposition to each other! We have drawn the boundaries ourselves. Thus, there really are a lot of solutions that we don't have to view as 'compromises'. They can have a strength of their own.

If you ask me, I subscribe to a utilitarian school of thought. I don't think that human rights exist a priori (for those of you not of a philosophical background - 'a priori' means 'first' - in other words, if something exists 'a priori', it's existence is not dependent on anything else, and so there is no question of whether or not it is true), and we are simply in a process of discovering them.

I think there are no a priori truths, ie, in this case, a priori human rights. What we have is social contract. There are certain compromises that we should all come to in order to maximize the benefit for all. There are certain individuals who would choose to ignore these agreements that we come to, and therefore we exclude them from our society, or, having strength in numbers, we punish them for not accepting our point of view. But they are not universal, a priori rights. There are always people who think differently, and within their society, if they have one, they are not wrong.

The weakness here is that I would thus have to accept in a society where it maximised the overall benefit to abuse women, ignore environmental degradation and trample over labour rights, that we should still act to maximise benefits.

I don't believe that such a society ever existed. All it means is that a handful of more powerful persons claimed that such a society existed in order to maintain the status quo. That's what I believe.

But, otherwise - just a small thought to keep in mind: Most western nations did not sign many, if any at all, treaties or conventions affirming the inviolability of 'universal' rights for workers, women, children or humans until they had built up a strong capital base.

So, a couple more questions:

Is it fair to demand of developing nations certain standards that developed nations never themselves applied whilst they were themselves developing?

Or is it, in reality, a mechanism that developed nations have developed in order to maintain their status quo of global economic disparity?

Alcibiades on love and a chat on vulnerability...

2007-11-18T17:05:00.000+07:00

So, here's the story: Phaedrus, a humanist scholar; Pausanias, a sophist; Euriyximachus, a physician; and Aristophanes, a comic playwright; and Socrates, the philosopher are having dinner.

Socrates opens the theme of debate amongst the men, and it is the theme of love. Keep in mind, though, that this is ancient Greece. So, by way of analogy: People get together nowadays, and have heated debates about sex whilst drunk or high or just generally socialising. Back then it was love. And so Socrates poses the question, "What is love?"

And this has several responses.

Phaedrus argues that love is a part of human nature, and it is something beautiful, to be admired. His is the classical notion of romantic love, highly idealised:
"Love is the oldest of all gods, the benefactor of humankind, the inspiration of honor (a man would rather die than appear as a coward in the eyes of his beloved) and the spirit of self-sacrifice."

Pausanias distinguishes between base and noble love, whilst Euriyximachus, the physician sanitises love and gives it a very mechanical spin. Aristophanes reckons that we were split apart by angry gods, and we are wandering around looking for our other half (to which Socrates asks whether one would REALLY want to joined with the 'other half', physically and mentally, inseperably) if we were to find them. Then, finally, Agathon makes a few comments on the essential nature of love, at times agreeing, at times contradicting Phaedrus.

But then, in crashes Alcibiades, perhaps the only one actually IN love (with Socrates), completely drunk, and shares what he feels about the topic. And in it, he encompasses the rage, the desire, the admiration and frustration that no amount of theorising can capture.

"When we hear any other speaker, even very good one, he produces absolutely no effect upon us, or not much, whereas the mere fragments of you and your words, even at second-hand, and however imperfectly repeated, amaze and possess the souls of every man, woman, and child who comes within hearing of them. And if I were not, afraid that you would think me hopelessly drunk, I would have sworn as well as spoken to the influence which they have always had and still have over me. For my heart leaps within me more than that of any Corybantian reveller, and my eyes rain tears when I hear them. And I observe that many others are affected in the same manner. I have heard Pericles and other great orators, and I thought that they spoke well, but I never had any similar feeling; my soul was not stirred by them, nor was I angry at the thought of my own slavish state. But this Marsyas has often brought me to such pass, that I have felt as if I could hardly endure the life which I am leading (this, Socrates, you will admit); and I am conscious that if I did not shut my ears against him, and fly as from the voice of the siren, my fate would be like that of others,-he would transfix me, and I should grow old sitting at his feet. For he makes me confess that I ought not to live as I do, neglecting the wants of my own soul, and busying myself with the concerns of the Athenians; therefore I hold my ears and tear myself away from him. And he is the only person who ever made me ashamed, which you might think not to be in my nature, and there is no one else who does the same. For I know that I cannot answer him or say that I ought not to do as he bids, but when I leave his presence the love of popularity gets the better of me. And therefore I run away and fly from him, and when I see him I am ashamed of what I have confessed to him. Many a time have I wished that he were dead, and yet I know that I should be much more sorry than glad, if he were to die: so that am at my wit's end."

Symposium is just two pages long, but enough to give us something to think about: http://www.ellopos.net/elpenor/greek-texts/ancient-Greece/plato/plato-symposium.asp

So leading on from that, the topic of cruelty - well... I see an obvious link, anyhow... Getting into the head of Alcibiades (if you read Symposium, you'll understand, I think)

Anyhow, perhaps this conversation does start out on the topic of the causes of cruelty. However, it moves on to show that perhaps, the unfortunate fact is that there is no sincerity in the world, or if there is, it's in very negligible amounts. Here, Fon the undying optimist is shown that her 'leaps of good faith' in people are, in fact, not good things as she would like to believe they are...

fon: why are some people so cruel when they are hurt?

p: cos they are afraid

fon: of?

p: and they need to make themselves feel better
p: afraid of looking vunerable

fon: and what's wrong with looking vulnerable?

p: it's not an attractive atribute in this world
p: look at me

fon: what do you mean?

p: well i am indecisive . . .as u know, that means I have a weakness, which can be expolited, if someone chooses to . . .
p: so out of fear I may try to hurt someone elses feelings to make them feel no better than me
p: hypothetically of course

fon: and you think that is attractive?

p: no I think it is unattractive

fon: Here's what I think: Someone who is vulnerable can be either attractive or unattractive.

p: oooh I see

fon: By being honest, they are attractive

p: ooooh, so that is good for me, now i know why ur in love with me . . .:D
p: haha

fon: By trying to look strong, when they really aren't, they become very unattractive - especially if they do that by being cruel to others

p: i see

fon: What do you think?

p: i think people will always try to appear better than what they are and attack people who aren't - it's human nature
p: it's not a question of attractive or unattractive
p: it's a fact of life

fon: All people?

p: i am very surprised that u have problems - u seem to be sooo . . . strong and assured
p: yes, most people in my experience

fon: Well, I do tend to be quite 'strong and assured' as you put it - but i don't have a problem admitting if i feel weak

p: well . . .be careful who u admit this too
p: if u admit it to the wrong person . . . it can be a very bad thing

fon: I'd rather be honest with everyone... and if somebody wants to abuse that trust, well, what can i say... at least i am not the one living with secrets

p: very noble

fon:is it?
fon: it seems logical to me

p: yes, ur like a prince in a fairytale

fon: by harbouring negative feelings, am i not just making life more difficult for myself?

[after some random banter, a return to the topic]

fon: i value the kind of people who like to find out the truth for themselves

p: very noble

fon: stop saying that!
fon: it's just logical!

p: like i said u live like a olden day knight
p: unfortunately this logic may not serve u soo well in this day and age

fon: if you look at the big picture, it makes more sense to have principles that guide you than live in sordid self-interest!

p: sordid self interest?
p: wow
p: very profound

fon: ok, maybe you are right.... i live in my own fantasy world with principles in it

p: i think people like you, are the type that are usually describes as "taking the high road"
p: do u understand?

fon: high road?
fon: oh shit

p: it means moral high ground
p: unfortunately this is "the road less travelled"
p: haha, wow, I am very philosophical too eh?

fon: so i'm screwed in other words

p: no ur not, as long as u only associate with people on the same road as you

fon: hehe.... well, you get philosophical, talking to someone somewhat bent on philosophy

p: u got me talking in metaphors tonite
p: :D
p: philosphy is good, but don't get caught up in it too much

fon: lol... but there's no fun in associating with moral people

p: ooooh i see, so u want someone different? someone exciting?
p: then ur setting yourself up to for a "big fall"

fon: oh, i've taken that big fall many a times

p: and u'll probably take it many times again I think

fon: it's like bunjee jumping though
fon: you don't really fall, and there's no limit, really, on how many times you can do it

p:yes but u know what happens with bunjee jumping?

fon: what?

p: after u go down u get quite as high as what u originally were, and over time the stress slowly damages ur joints and muscles
p: from the strain

[more banter]

fon: well, let's call it a strength, to be able to be open about weaknesses then!

p: oooh haven't u listened to anything I said

fon: nope, i'm really stubborn
fon: aren't i?

p: i know i know

fon: haha

p: even what u told me can now be used against u
p: if i choose to

fon: yeah, but i trust you

p: don't u understand?
p: u can't trust me, that's the point

fon: but i DO

p: got it?
p: but u can't, what if I turn around and betray ur trust?

fon: I trust everyone until they prove otherwise, and even then, I prefer to give them another chance

fon: so what?
fon: I won't die if you betray my trust
fon: I'll get over it and live another day, and I'll try to understand why you wanted to betray my trust

p: NO!
p: u don't let people make mistakes, cos oneday u lose something more important than what u experienced before

fon: There's nothing wrong with losing things

p: oooh fon fon

But if anyone would like to be encouraging, please defend my argument for trust!! I believe that there is no reason to distrust anyone until they prove that they are really not worth trusting - and that by trusting people, they will, in most cases, live up to that trust. But if you start off not trusting them, you are not giving that person an opportunity to show that they are trustworthy either... My "naive" conclusion: As a general rule, trust people.

This is my own version of rule utilitarianism.

Quick rundown: Utilitarian philosphy: "maximise overall benefits"

This means, in principle, that if I borrow $20 from you, and on my way to return it to you, I see a starving beggar, I should give it to the beggar. And then, I should tell you that the beggar needed it more than you, and therefore, I didn't return your money.

So, there's something wrong with that, no?

Thus, I should extract myself from everyday situations and look at general rules that maximise benefits, instead. So now I have a rule that says, "Always return what you borrow"

Thus, when in doubt, I have a rule to fall back on (thus, rule utilitarianism).

So now I do return you the money, if I live by those principles.

Ok... so in this case, trust. I don't know whether or not to trust you - but because I have a rule that says that the best way to maximize benefit is by trusting people (if you don't trust them, you'll never ask them for anything, and thus, never benefit), now I will trust you. Obviously, this doesn't mean that I ALWAYS have to trust everyone, but at least, now I have a guiding principle. Good, no?

Cooking... Por fin!!

2007-11-07T00:33:00.000+07:00

As I was mentioning in my previous post, I feel like I am a clumsy foreigner unable to express myself... and for some strange reason, that makes the act of cooking undeniably important to me. It's a form of expression that has become central.

Or rather, it's become more central than it's ever been (for those of you who've been eating my food for years, you aren't going to believe that I love cooking even MORE now)... No cooking = sad Fon.

Communication is something important to all of us... and failing that, I suppose feeling useful is?

So please... anyone, everyone... invite yourselves over to eat!!

Lacking lemongrass, a true culture shock!

2007-11-04T17:47:00.000+07:00

Of all people, I never thought I'd be the one to go through culture shock, or have difficulties settling in anywhere. I never have.

But all of a sudden, I feel this bumbling foreigner, totally imbalanced, and in a grey area of existence. I'm not me, I can't be me - I can't find the cultural contexts within which to express myself. Hell, I can't even find lemongrass!

I'm trying so hard to think and speak in Spanish, that when I finally do speak Thai, English or Finnish, it's a bit difficult to express myself again. I'm finding myself 'non-lingual'.

But I shouldn't be whining, should I? Lots of international student in Australia went through that all the time in Monash. But, in defense of my situation, and that of the few non-Hispanics and non-Basques living here, I guess I'd like to mention that, well... at least they had other people from their own countries to form communities with, to speak their own language with, to make their own food with. Like I said, I can't even find lemongrass here. Lime, coriander, and fresh basil are rare commodities. I brought back ginger from Barcelona, even! Oolong tea? Forget it? Spring onion, Kaffir lime leaf, Galangal? What's that?!

Ok, so that's just food. But if you take the culinary culture as a reflection of the population here... Well, you know where I'm headed. No lemongrass = no Thais.

Not much intention of letting foreigners feel comfortable, either. Barcelona is so nice and international. They all want you to feel like you are part of the group there. They try to teach you Catalan. Here? Well, "Euskera [Basque language] is too difficult for you - don't even try."

Like the obstinate creature that I am, I set out on a mission to find the one store selling any Asian commodities in town. It was a sad little shop, barely a quarter the size of my room, with some dry and frozen Chinese ingredients. Well, I did find a big sack of Thai jasmine rice. That's a start, at least!

Am I the village fool - refusing to just blend in and behave like everyone else? Should I stop trying to be comfortable just being me?

The days grow longer...

2007-11-02T20:14:00.000+07:00

Another day with Autumn Leaves stuck in my head... "I miss you most of all my darling, when autumn leaves, start to fall". I think that song was plaguing me two months ago... and well, it's doing it again now. Except this time I haven't exactly said good-bye to anyone recently. Or, well... maybe I have. And maybe that's why I'm feeling down.

The days grow longer... not only in the sense that it is autumn in Spain [I've had autumn in four countries this year - Finland (August), Germany (September), Holland (September), Spain (October-November)], but that I'm also leaving things to the evening. I was going to go to the post-office before 1.30, but then I here I am, on my sofa, reading "Zones of Peace" (ed. L. E. Hancock and C. Mitchell)... and it's 2.20.... siesta time. I guess that means it's not until 4.30 or 5.00 that I should worry about moving myself from this spot. It's always mañana, mañana here... I love it. I still haven't opened a bank account. I haven't registered with the town hall or police. I haven't paid my school fees, and I haven't enrolled at uni. And nobody cares...!

So... Zones of Peace, waiting for Green Leaf Christmas Tea from Sweden (thanks to IKEA), listening to Bay Smooth Jazz Internet Radio, and well... Mañana, mañana.

The only problem is that tomorrow never really comes. Not the tomorrow that I'd like to see, anyhow.

Bloody África. She's back from a walk, and has jumped on my lap with muddy paws.

Did I mention that Bilbao is NOT sunny all the time? Just cos it's in Spain, it doesn't mean it's nice. I mean, it's nice, of course, but certainly not in the cliché Spain sense. Here it's about the landscape, and the antiquity... For those of you who don't quite get me - and are not on facebook - here's some photos from San Sebastian (on a rare but much appreciated sunny day)

It makes me look forward to the day when I move to Bkk to work. I won't be suffering from many days of overcast skies, anyhow.

This is África:

Of all jobs to have gotten in Bilbao...

2007-10-22T22:24:00.000+07:00

Ok. So I teach Finnish now.

[pause]

[this is where you burst out laughing]

So yes, I have a linguistics degree and in theory can teach any language I know well enough.

But, seriously, who the hell wants to learn Finnish in Spain??! A Spanish first year history student who thinks Finnish is a very nice language...

[stunned silence]

Yes, be amazed, be very amazed. And to make matters even more interesting, this guy is like a genius at languages - I mean, he positively absorbs everything I teach in like two seconds flat! I prepared about three hours worth of lesson (for 1.5 hours) just to be sure I had enough material (last time he was done with 1.5 hours worth of stuff in about 40 minutes), and he went through almost all of it!

Whoohoo! It's good fun to be a teacher of such a rare language though!

Funky boots save the day!

2007-10-21T19:20:00.000+07:00

You know something is wrong when random strangers are telling you that you shouldn't be walking home alone at night, as they graciously send you home in their (very flash) car, as you apologise for being exceedingly out of it. Aargh! What was I thinking?? I suddenly decided at around 4:30 that I want to go home and that I wasn't waiting for anyone to walk the same direction as me, and that it was too late, etc. etc. But of course I started walking the wrong way, and must have looked very lost because this guy just pulls over and asks me what I'm looking for.

Aaargh! I can't believe I accepted a ride from a total stranger! I've never done such a thing in my life. But he was totally nice - he didn't even ask my name (only where I bought my boots from - cos he owns a chain in Bilbao and Barcelona and thought my boots were super funky!).

Thank-god I survived that! *Slaps own hand disapprovingly a few times*

Torture, privacy, civil liberty - a small investigative rant

2007-10-18T20:45:00.000+07:00

The "funniest" thing I've seen today:

NY Times quote of the day:

"Torture is unlawful under the laws of this country. It is not what this country is all about. It is not what this country stands for. It’s antithetical to everything this country stands for."

MICHAEL B. MUKASEY, President Bush’s nominee for attorney general.

Well... not exactly funny. But it does raise some interesting questions. Like, for example, what about Guantanamo? So torture is unlawful in the USA, but US citizens are at liberty to detain and torture non-US citizens as long as it is not on official US territory? Or, could Mr Mukasey actually be taking a stance on the issue, condemning the practices at Guantanamo Bay? It seems highly unlikely.

As candidate for Attorney General of USA, does Mr Mukasey believe that the detainees at Guantanamo Bay should be tried and have their verdicts "pronounced by a regularly constituted court, affording all the judicial guarantees which are recognized as indispensable by civilized people" as per Article 3 of the Geneva Conventions (which USA has signed). If so, should detainees not be allowed private (re: non-military) lawyers and to see what evidence there is against them?

And of course, Does Mr Mukasey believe that the detainees should and "shall in all circumstances be treated humanely"? (Also Article 3 of Geneva Conventions)

After a brief google search on Michael Mukasey and Guantanamo, I was unable to link the two. Thus, he appears to have no public opinion on the matter. He does, however, have a public opinion on the USA Patriot Act ("Uniting and Strengthening America by Providing Appropriate Tools Required to Interrupt and Obstruct Terrorism"), which he fully supports, and which, many argue, allows (albeit not explicitly) for the covert spying-on of citizens.

In his opinion piece, he states:

"The statute also codifies the procedure for issuing and executing what are called "sneak and peek" warrants that allow agents, with court authorization, to enter premises, examine what is there and then leave. These warrants had been issued by courts ... on the fairly simple logic that if it is reasonable under the Fourth Amendment to enter premises and seize things, it should also be reasonable to enter premises and not seize things."

This is not fairly simple logic at all. It does not follow that if it is acceptable to enter and seize things from private property on the basis of strong suspicion of criminal activities that it is acceptable to enter and not seize things.

The problem is that whilst it may endanger an investigation to allow a potential criminal to know that s/he is being investigated, it also creates an atmosphere whereby any citizen may be watched without their knowledge of it. To broaden the argument, I hereby reproduce an article from The Economist, September 20, 2007

What the article is trying to say, and where I have strayed to, is that nobody should have the right to secret surveillance over individuals. As Mr Mukasey states in his opinion piece "If you leave behind a note saying "Good afternoon, Mr. bin Laden, we were here," that might betray the existence of an investigation and cause the subjects to flee or destroy evidence." However, I'm in agreement with The Economist on this one: "Dozens of plots may have been foiled and thousands of lives saved as a result of some of the unsavoury practices now being employed in the name of fighting terrorism. Dropping such practices in order to preserve freedom may cost many lives. So be it."

The question is really whether you prefer to live a safe and highly restricted and regulated life, or be free to negotiate your own relations with your neighbours but have some risks?

I don't know about you, but I'm certainly not in favour of totalitarian, authoritarian rule.

Still no pictures. Lots of cooking. Moments of solidarity.

2007-10-02T16:04:00.000+07:00

I'm still incredibly averse to the idea of taking pictures, for some odd reason. Other than of food. I took a total of two pictures on Sunday. Love-bit-me-Anjalai: You'll approve, methinks :)

This is Sunday dinner: Coconut eggplant dahl, rice, and stuffed green peppers

And the best Sunday chill drink ever! Blended home-made piña coladas with real coconut milk - and not the cream that they like to substitute it with at some bars!

*** *** ***

Solidarity? At the moment, there are 4 of us left homeless currently at the NOHA programme. So Fanny, Nacho, Luca and I set off on a house-hunting expedition yesterday afternoon, and over an incredibly long walk-about, crossing over rivers and climbing vast hills (albeit, one of the hills had an ascending conveyer-belt type thing cutting through an old 'barrio' of town - like those escalators they use at supermarkets for shopping trolleys). Still, we came to the conclusion that we are all in this together, .... like we're in some sort of perverse battle against xenophobic landlords...

*** *** ***

Well, my boxes have arrived in Spain, so I'm done with waiting.... the market, and then some more cooking adventures, await me! I'm glad I've got some food-friendly guinea pigs to test things out on as I adjust to Spanish materials!

2007-09-28T15:20:00.000+07:00

I hadn’t realised I could be so happy returning to something familiar (that’s not where my family is) until this morning. Coming into Palma de Majorca airport, looking at the signs, I realised I was back in Catalan territory. Although I’d never visited Majorca whilst living in Barcelona, seeing Catalan signs was a dose of happiness. Despite not really having slept the previous night, and the morning fiasco at the airport (involving arriving a month early for my flight, a name change and change in marital status) I suddenly found myself grinning at all the passers by and humming to myself.

And now, I’m sitting outside a café on a little square near a hospital (I’ve deduced my location from the nurses sitting inside the café) licking my lips after a very satisfying pan con tomate, tapa de champiñones and café americano. Yes - I’m happy to be back in Spain again! The sun is shining, but it’s windy and a little chilly, but hey – no pasa res (that’s Catalan, not Spanish). I’m happy, and I’d like to share that little bit of joy with everyone! I’m glad I have this (what would otherwise be tedious) seven hours stopover in Majorca. And I’m glad I decided to venture out of the airport (even though I’m already lost and I’m not sure where the bus going back departs from).

Mercedes Sosa (an Argentinian singer) comes to mind:

“Gracias a la vida, que me a dado tanto”

[more updates when I get to Bilbao!]

*** *** ***

I’m in BILBAO!

And I’m loving it!

(Thanks Sunra for getting me from the airport and letting me stay at your place :) Much appreciated!)

Pics:

http://monashedu.facebook.com/album.php?aid=24431&l=d6575&id=533997463

http://monashedu.facebook.com/album.php?aid=24433&l=eeda4&id=533997463

Les Feuilles Mortes...

2007-09-24T21:04:00.000+07:00

I don't want to elaborate on the title of this post too much, other than to state that I've spent today watching those leaves from my window, and finally realise that autumn is here...

And that in a few days, I'll be terribly off-season, and starting something new again, instead of shedding my summer leaves! Cheers to a beautiful summer, and all the people who've made it gorgeous, in Finland, in the Netherlands, in Germany, and soon, in Spain, too! To a never-ending summer (and I don't mean weather-wise - it is currently 13 degrees and raining in Bilbao)!

All I'm missing is the champagne... ah, well... back to packing...

Tragedy of the past

2007-09-22T00:57:00.001+07:00

So here I am, having a bottle of wine with Petre... and I discovered an old music video I appeared in almost ten years ago. It's hilarious. I speak no more. And I won't try to defend it, either.

Bwahahahaha!!!

Ping-pong!

2007-09-21T03:17:00.000+07:00

You know that mysterious way that ping-pong balls just kinda bounce in every possible direction once they are off the table? Well, I feel a little like that right now. So... this year has been a bit crazy - my route, since July, has been Australia -> Thailand -> Finland -> Sweden -> Denmark -> Germany -> Netherlands -> Germany -> Netherlands, and now to Spain. That isn't really that odd, considering that many people backpack these days and travel, etc. Only, I wasn't traveling! I was moving. Ok, so really ->Australia -> Finland -> Holland -> Spain. I still say that moving countries (not traveling, but lugging around my whole life) three times in the space of three months is a little excessive.

But that's not the only reason I feel like a little featherweight white ball. As you may know, I was meant to study in Groningen. But due to some shifting demographics (namely, an Italian person in Spain hopping off to Uppsala in Sweden), it just so happened that I managed to get a little foot in a little door in Spain. And initially, I got my foot stomped on and the door slammed in my face after some deliberation as to whether I should be let in ("We're sorry, but that's not possible"). Then, after reconsidering their position, vis-a-vis the disappearing Italian, they after all felt that perhaps I should be let through ("We had another meeting and thought, why not?"), and held the door open for me with a smile.

So, between having my hopes entirely crushed on one day and jumping up and down for joy the next, I'm now almost certainly going to Spain. I've gone through all the crappy bureaucratic formalities and bought a ticket, gotten myself somewhere to stay when I get there (and even someone to greet me at the airport!). Heh. Even though I'm not such a huge fan of Paulo Coelho's universalist thesis, I do have to agree that right now it feels as though I wanted something and the universe conspired to make it happen.

¡Hola Deusto!

Now I just have to figure out a way to eat as much food as I can before flying to Bilbao (with a seven hour stop-over in Palma de Mallorca - better hope for good weather so I can sleep in the sun for a while) because my cupboard is STILL absolutely stuffed with food that my parents helped me bring over, and I hear EU regulations on flying food can be pretty stringent. And Sam's getting my blue inflatable chair (random comment).

Hmmm.... and a big big big thanks to Begonia, Isabelle and Olga for helping me iron out the kinks in my terrible written Spanish in my correspondence with the Deusto gatekeepers! *MWAH* I owe all these girls a drink of their choice!

To pack or unpack?

2007-09-16T21:51:00.000+07:00

First things first: HAPPY BIRTHDAY ISÄ (aka DAD)!!!

My dad doesn't need an excuse to have a party, and the last time I checked, he was busy having a party with a whole bunch of friends and relatives at the house! (and my parents wonder where I get it from??!)

Right now I'm in a sort of a limbo between settling in and decorating my room, or packing up and heading off to Spain. It's frustrating and I don't know what to do with myself. I keep thinking: "Now I'm going to go to the store and buy... oh, wait, shit... no... I should wait until Tuesday or Wednesday .... aaargh!" I really want to go, too, and I've gotten my hopes really high (and I'm trying not to get them any higher by checking out prices for flights, etc)... but at the same time I'm practically paralysed in front of the computer screen (other than the random going-outs I've been doing)... good thing the NOHA crew is around. I think I'll go and sit in Petre's room for a while and bug him, so that I'm not just listlessly staring at a pile of laundry waiting to be folded and hanging underwear.

Pictures from last night: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=22969&l=2d6c2&id=533997463

¡No puedo mas!

2007-09-15T16:39:00.000+07:00

Home, relax, unpack... yes? No... How mistaken I was! Instead of waking up refreshed and ready for a new day, I feel like a raccoon (re: smudged eye make-up) with a decidedly strong craving for tortilla chips. And it was none other than the post-lady ringing my doorbell - "I have a delivery for 101!" Despite my insistence that I'm not 101, I'm 102, she adamantly insisted that I come down immediately and pick up the parcel, because she didn't care what room I am from and that she wants to go home. Is this normal for the Netherlands?

So I live in an international student house for postgraduates. You know, us quiet masters, doctors, research fellows, etc. I mean, how much more dull can you get?

Well, apparently not so when a bunch of Latinos are around and the student manager is an undergrad who doesn't impose rules! Yesterday, I met Carlos and Carlos (how convenient that they both have the same name), this German guy called Dirk ('Dee-eck'), Shaun ("Soy Americano, yo hablou espanyoul"). Well, the good thing is that I got to practice my Spanish. The bad thing is that I probably came across as rather strange when I was begging people to go home at 2 a.m. after having been out for about an hour and a half. All after they had to wait half an hour for me to get ready"Es que ya he salido por la noche 12 dias conseguidos…. ¡Por favor! En serio, ¡hombre! no puedo mas. ¡Ya tengo muchas ganas de dormir!" And despite my insisting that really, I can take a cab home, no... the whole group had to bike home together. What a party pooper I am.

This bike thing in Groningen is quite worrying, though... I had the first ride of my life on the back of a bicycle, veering through Dutch canal roads with a somewhat intoxicated Carlos as the driver on the way out. On the way back, I opted for German safety and went with the somewhat more responsible Dirk. Good thing for that, as I kept hearing the sounds of man falling off bike and "¡JODER!" from increasingly mystifying directions as I was struggling to stay on the bike.

Sido - our student manager - must be having a blast watching us internationals navigating our way through Dutch nightlife.

But on another note... IP Bochum is over. Now I'm worlds away and glad to have had a few confronting experiences - both in terms of learning, and personally. I've perhaps gained the base to consider my motivations for doing the work I plan to do, but also, have *winks* gotten to know some people very intimately without ever having a real conversation with them, as well as developed a certain fondness for gibberish.

IP Bochum photos:
http://monashedu.facebook.com/album.php?aid=22825&l=bc168&id=533997463

Bochum stories and Mr. Chicken!

2007-09-12T04:24:00.000+07:00

Two and a half days left of this conference/IP and we are still living it up... we students are going out every night (almost) - I'm staying in tonight though, and bonding with the Groningen girls and with my beautiful laptop... And I have internet, all thanks to the wonderful restaurant next door to my hotel that goes by the name of "Mr Chicken"... and has the 'creative' network name of "MrChickenHaveFun".

"MrChickenHaveFun" had a realisation earlier today that I wanted to talk to my mother, and as a result, instead of cutting off every 3 minutes, decided to allow me a completely undisturbed conversation with my mother and my brother until a huge contingency of IP participants who didn't skip the activities of the day (as I did - needed a rest after celebrating Isabelle's birthday last night) came trooping back in from the day's field trip. I later heard from some French participants (who were arrested for not carrying ID) that we didn't miss anything.

We? I spent a very nice day simply relaxing with a fellow 'escapee' - had Turkish food for lunch, Shisha and Lebanese coffee for tea and SUSHI (made by Koreans) for dinner. I went back to my room to find that Isabelle was STILL celebrating her birthday with a bunch of Groningen girls in our room. We were sharing stories of past romances (awww.... how sweet). Two of the stories had happy endings (or rather, work in progress), whilst me and Isabelle only had the sad (?) reality of the present single condition to share. But then again, the end of a love affair is not necessarily a sad thing, is it? I rather enjoy my newfound freedom, but perhaps resent the hints of cynicism that are creeping in.

Although I've been moaning about the boredom, slowness and confusion of this week, now that these days are drawing to a close, I have started to feel that I will be missing all the amazing people that I've met. One thing is particularly striking to me - whilst in the past, I have felt the need to justify my ethical grounds for my actions and decisions in life, here I am meeting many like-minded people who may disagree with me on small details, but in general, are in agreement in principle. This is a huge difference. Where I'm used to preaching my ideology, here I am happy to sit back and listen, simply because I've found that when I start defending my ideas - people simply respond with "I agree with you 100%". So it's good to listen.

Last notes: Congratulations, Väiski, for becoming a dad, and Isabelle - HAPPY BIRTHDAY!

Bochum Blues...

2007-09-08T01:52:00.000+07:00

I'm sleepy, tired, and pissed off at the Germans for deliberately swapping the place of the y and z one the keyboard just to make me type slower. And for not having anyone in the country that knows how to configure an apple computer.

But besides that, I'm having a rocking time in Bochum. I've recently elected myself the head of delegation for USA at a red cross and crescent (simulation) conference, and of course, nobody wants to talk to me cos we are the US team. That means I get to take a lot of verbal abuse and a few nuclear attack threats, but otherwise don't do very much for a couple hours in the afternoon. My idea of a great time.

We are highly welcome in Bochum, it appears. We've had a welcome session every single day, and two today! We've heard at least 10 times that the weather in Bochum isn't really that horrible, (so we should come here for semester 2), and that NOHA is really the greatest Erasmus Mundus programme in existence. We are very proud, yes, thank-you.

But cynicism aside, I am, of course apologising to all for not responding to e-mails. And I am having a good time. Naturally. I think I'm going to enjoy this course thoroughly and meet some very fascinating people (well, I've already met quite a few). And I'm now not quite certain whether I would rather go to Ireland for my second semester, or to Bilbao.

For all those interested, Niklas is returning to Helsinki from DR Congo on Sunday, so you guys can call him on his old number yourselves...

Girls, ... I mean, Lay-des! - I miss you. Mimo, thanks for that sweet post about me. Summer was perfect, despite the bruised eyebrow and almost missing wedding ring (I think that actually made things even more fun!

This post is uber-boring. It ends here.

On the road

2007-09-02T17:16:00.000+07:00

Yesterday (Wednesday), the first thing I did when my computer found an internet connection on the road was…. to blog. Well, other than frantically tell my dad to “Stop the car! There’s internet here!”, yes. I blogged first. I quickly copied and pasted the scathing review I wrote yesterday into my browser and posted it, then only checked my e-mail.

I can see where my priorities clearly are. lol.

I’m currently in Otterndorf, a charming little town near Cuxhaven (another little town), and finally had a good night of rest. For half the price of the crappy farmhouse in Denmark, we now have a two-story suite that’s big enough to accommodate 4. And is clean. And has good facilities. And most importantly, doesn’t have floorboards that start thumping in the middle of the night!

Our sightseeing today was slightly inhibited by the heavy rain, but we did find a nice museum to walk around in. Bremerhaven, where we were, was the first emigration port of Germany, but otherwise, there is really no claim to fame as such. There were a grand total of two old buildings (the rest must have been destroyed during the second world war).

Here’s a couple funny quotes from this trip:

Dad: “This is the most uninhibited part of Sweden.”
Me: “Uninhabited, isä, uninhibited means like there are naked people running around and stuff.”
Mom: “Naked people?? Where? Where?”

Mom [to Dad]: “Valisa is so stubborn, she wouldn’t follow!”
Dad: “She’s right behind you…”

And why do all German townnames have to be so similar? Less than 100 kms away from each other are the towns of Wremen and Bremen. Both are voiced bilabials, so you can imagine the amount of confusion that caused when both were somehow signposted on the way to Bremerhaven today.

Me: “Yes, we are going right to Wremen”
Dad: “No, Bremen is not on the way – we agreed not to go there.”
Me: “But Wremen is on the coast and you said you want to go the coastal way!”
Dad: “Bremen is not on the coast!”
Me: “DOUBLE-U, Isä, Wah-remen! Not Bah-remen”
Dad: “Ah…”

Well, road-trip aside, we are now back in Otterndorf, and my parents have left me in our nice room (Dad: “Can we leave her without a babysitter?”). I’ve had one strawberry and a beer in their absence, and a little bit of tofu. Definitely need a babysitter.

So, Groningen tomorrow. Or rather, by the time I actually post this – it’ll be today. I started writing this post in the morning before heading off on the road-trip, and now we are back home. Tomorrow I shall update more, I suppose. Unless I’m out having a jolly good time somewhere.

**update**

So now I’m spending Sunday afternoon in my dorm. Alone. I feel kinda weird with it being so quiet here. I mean, isn’t it a student dorm? But then, it’s the postgrad and researcher dorm. It’s kinda spooky, really… the average age here seems to be around 30+ I’m one of the youngest inhabitants! My parents have left me with a mountain of food… and I just kinda feel like stuffing myself at the moment. Stress-eating, I guess…

Never Visit This Place

2007-08-30T16:53:00.000+07:00

Never visit this place

Every business must have a selling point – a reason a customer chooses the service or good. The same applies to hotels. For a place to lay your head, Tokyo offers little cells to sleep in. France has automatic credit-card check-in joints for the simple and budget-conscious travelers. Inner-city luxury hotels with in-room Jacuzzis whet the appetites of the over-night romantic splurgers… et cetera.

One could imagine that in a rustic, converted farm manor such as Sonnerupgaard Gods that the main point of paying exorbitant prices for a hostel-style (re: shared bathroom facilities) bed and breakfast would be to ‘get away from it all’. Thus, the smell of cow dung, heavy on the air (interestingly, there was not a single farm animal to be seen – only a few ducks); the mosquitoes; the lack of internet facilities, and the curt manner of the staff would only add to the charm of the place.

However, if after 11 p.m., the walls and floors start shaking and the sound of exceedingly loud and tacky disco-pop start floating into your room, one begins to wonder why one drove out 3 hours from Copenhagen to find this place, surrounded by peaceful hills. Does this not defeat the purpose of the stay? So, a peaceful, relaxing night of rest did not materialize until 4 a.m. And a rude awakening followed shortly after seven with the sound of hung-over (or not yet slumbered) party guests of the previous night) shouting in the hallways as they prepare for breakfast.

I would have gained free-entrance into a nightclub (and perhaps even a complimentary drink), heard the same music, slept at the same time, picked up a wireless connection, and avoided a few mosquito bites. I also imagine they would have a more talented DJ that could at least mix records seamlessly. The only thing in common between a night at Sonnerupgaard and a nightclub would have been the smell of shit.

Haikea olo = nostalgic feeling

2007-08-27T22:27:00.000+07:00

Some messages I got over last night and this morning:

"... thanks for the awesome party. Cheers ya. :)"

"Kiitos juhlista! Nyt vähän haikea mieli mutta uudet tuulet odottavat. Oli ihana kesä sun kanssa." "Thank-you for the party! Now a little nostalgic, but new winds are waiting. It was a lovely summer with you"

"Hey babe, I wanted to apologize again for this riehuminen [mucking about] yesterday. I'm so sorry I made you cry in your party and gave you a black eye! I'm a pain in the ass when I'm that drunk...."

(Just to clarify, I didn't get into a fight, and nobody really gave me a black eye ... We were just trying out some complicated dance-moves and I ended up hitting my eye on the corner of a chair ... and it's not really black... more like red - someone also ended up also almost losing a diamond ring as a result!)

I had a little bit of a "It's my party and I'll cry if I want to" situation at the party, and I'm so glad all the girls (and one certain 'gentleman') were there to make me feel loved, and got me back partying in moments!

I'm going to miss everyone soooo much after this summer!

Other than that, there's been a few nights of various activities, as you'll see from the photos:

High-so and Hobos theme farewell party:
http://monashedu.facebook.com/album.php?aid=20349&l=a65b6&id=533997463

Last days of misbehaviour:
http://monashedu.facebook.com/album.php?aid=20357&l=a6899&id=533997463

I STILL haven't packed. Maybe it's about time now.

The difference set in rain

2007-08-24T11:15:00.000+07:00

The rain outside is falling so hard that I feel it contains a note. In fact, I'm sitting up and humming it now. What a fabulous way to wake today! The note is not on any scale, and can't be juxtaposed to any other, yet it's many notes at the same time. See, if told you it was an F#, that would immediately place it within the context of a western tonal system, and you might think that it's a member of a minor chord, with a D# and A# accompanying it with full melancholy on either side.

But it's not. It's just a note. It's every note on a spectrum of sounds. The sound of rain falling is the same in Indonesia, but one may find a hundred notes to describe it, beaten out in a gamelan orchestra, whilst a master of strings in Japan plucks out a note that slowly vibratoes on the biwa.

In India, the sustained and fluctuating alap finds many notes in one breath of the nadaswaram, and the African thumb piano makes single plinks and ploinks and is sometimes an entire choir of high and low voices on its own.

Yet, no matter how we all hear the rain, it's an unmistakable sound, and it sounds exactly the same to every listener. The rain has subsided now, to a distant murmer, and I wake up thinking that today we'll forget the differences we ourselves carved into the unwitting rain.

Ajo-ohjeet Sipooseen

2007-08-20T22:36:00.000+07:00

Vassvikintie 41

Paikkamme on 60 astetta 14.111 minuuttia pohjoiseen päiväntasaajasta ja 25 astetta 27.128 minuuttia itään Greenwichistä.
Se on 50 km (linnuntietä 25 km) Helsingin rautatieasemalta, Etelä Sipoossa, Fortumin öljynjalostamosta n. 7 kilometriä etelä-lounaaseen Kitön ja Löparön välisessä salmessa Kitön puolella. Tie (Vassvikintie) kääntyy meille vasemmalle puoli kilometriä ennen salmessa olevaa siltaa jossa asfalttitie loppuu. Puhelin 09 8767043.

Maanteitse Helsingistä: (Eniron linkki Aleksanterinkadulta)
http://kartat.eniro.fi/query?what=route&rform=1&lang=&fname=&fzip=&fx=&fy=&tname=&tzip=&tx=&ty=&turnaround=0&mapstate=1%3B0.0000%3B0.0000%3B0%3B0.0000%3B0.0000%3B0.0000%3B0.0000%3B&ax=&fstreet=Aleksanterinkatu&fnr=2&fcity=Helsinki&tstreet=VASSVIKINTIE&tnr=41&
Mahdollisesti joudut kirjoittamaan osoitekenttään VASSVIKINTIE 41, 06880 KÄRRBY

Paikallisempi karttaviite on seuraava web-linkki: http://www.sipoo.fi/kartat/map.html?xo=2580586&yo=6681318&skx=2580586&sky=6681318&sr=4000&uusi=4000&teksti=Seppo+%26+Nuanwan&data=kartta&shaku=sipoo (Tämä kartta kun olet jo lähellä)

tai seuraavien ohjeitten mukaan:

1. Helsingistä Porvoon moottoritietä 30 km. Keltaiset viivat puutuvat tiestä kokonaan.
2. Sipoonlahden kaarevan sillan jälkeen pari kilometriä ja liittymä no. 57 osoitaa ulos suuntaan > ’Kalkkiranta’ / Kalkstrand; ’Söderkulla’. Ylitä moottoritie, sitten tietä 1533 vasemmalle ja jatka oikealle rinnakkaistiellä no. 170, Porvoon suuntaan. (Ei Kalkkirantaan oikealle, eikä Söderkullan suuntaan vasemmalle. Vaan > 'Porvoo').
3. Vain kaksi kilometriä itään tietä 170 (’Porvoo’) sitten suunta: > 'Spjutsund' 'Nevas' Boxissa, jossa risteyksessä Shell. Spjutsundintien numero on 1534.
4. +Yhdeksän kilometriä mutkia mutta hyvätasoista asfalttitietä. Tiessä on kaksi keltaista keskiviivaa ja laitaviivat.
5. >’Kitas’ (oikealle). Tiessä on vain laitaviivat osoitamassa ojan alkua.
6. +Yksi kilometri > ’Kitö’ (vasemmalle). Tiessä on vain keskiviiva.
7. +Viisi kilometriä > ’Vassvikintie’ (vasemmalle). Aja keskellä tietä - viivat puuttuvat kokonaan!
8. +410 metriä ja > 41 (oikealle)
9. +300 metriä vasemmalle kaartaen, ohi 39n ja olet perillä

Tervetuloa

PS Pohjoisesta (Lahti, Nikkilä ym.) ja idästä on suositeltavaa ajaa Nesteeen jalostamon kautta. Eniron linkki ohjaa, kuten tämäkin:
Kun yleinen tie päättyy jalostamoalueella, seuraa suuntaa Svartbäck . Runsas kilometri jalostamolta, (alamäessä kapeneva mutta asfalttinen) tie menee sitten maatalon pihapiirin läpi; toinen pitkä kilometri siitä ja mennään Svartbäckin puukirkon editse. Pian tullaan T-risteykseen ja (kolmion takaa isommalle) Spjutsundintielle. Siinä käännös oikeaan ja 300 metrin (puun sahauspaikan) jälkeen vasempaan, punaisen seurojentalon, eli ’Byarsborgin’ editse. Tässä vaiheessa (pihan kautta oikaisten) liitytään ylläolevan ohjeen kohtaan 5 - 6.

7 full days to go! (and my route to Groningen)

2007-08-20T15:47:00.000+07:00

How fast has this summer passed by? So much has happened behind all those fun photos I've posted (don't want to shock any readers by revealing all!). As they say, every picture is worth a thousand words, and I've taken a thousand photos this summer!

But I've got one week left! It's really just begun to hit me that I really just gotta thank all my friends, and my parents for this awesome summer (which isn't over until the very last of my hungover guests leave on Monday the 27th!)

So, anyhow, I'm going to Turku on the 28th, and from there, my parents are driving me down to Denmark, and then to Holland. We might be making a day-trip into Belgium or something. Heard some rumour about that. Dunno.

But when winter break comes, I want to do a eastern block tour before I (hopefully) go to Spain for my second semester. Anyone up for that? Care to join?

So the idea is to delay freezing my ass off for as long as possible until hitting Finland in the middle of winter (just to remind myself that the human is, indeed, capable of some pretty amazing feats!). Nothing is set in stone at all, other than the line in red. That's my trip to Holland. I'm driving down there with my parents, so they may keep with the programme. The loop at the end of the red journey is because I'm going to Groningen first, then to Bochum, then back to Groningen.

What's in a weekend?

2007-08-20T07:05:00.000+07:00

Things you must do for a perfect weekend:

1. Check out this link (because all the bloody pictures are the wrong way around)
http://monashedu.facebook.com/album.php?aid=19206&l=cc472&id=533997463

2. Attend flow festival next year (in Helsinki, of course!)

3. Compliment me on my new sunglasses

4. Juggle many drinks at the same time

5. Book airplane tickets online in a totally foreign language (I did it in Latvian for Alex today!)

6. Drink juice on the roof of a church

7. Make out with a girl (especially if you are a girl!)

8. Have a 'vodkabröd'

9. Get a plastic pink kinder convertible

and last but not least:

10. Congratulate Mimo and Antti on their 2nd wedding anniversary!!

Ouch, it is beginning to hurt...

2007-08-18T18:17:00.000+07:00

So... I broke up with Sid. And I didn't feel anything at first. And now I just feel shitty about it. But at the end of the day, I can't really be in a relationship for another, can I?

At least that's what Kangana told me.

But I can't help feeling a bit ... a lot ... nostalgic. But it's a good thing I've got good friends here who are always there for me. Especially the girls. I love the girls. You make my life happier, Mimosa, Emma, Kirsti. You fill my heart with little kisses, and my god, you know how to be gentle!

Thank-you for reminding me what it is like to truly care about people.

I love you!

Click here for more photos

Done.

2007-08-14T23:32:00.000+07:00

This has really been a week of honesty for me.... my second to last blog spoke of the nature of lies, and I mentioned that the kind of lie I'm most guilty of is the kind where I'm saying things because I think that's what the person would like to hear.

Well, today was another moment of dispelling such behaviour and hopefully becoming a more genuine person. I broke up with Sid. I no longer feel like I'm in a relationship with him because that's what he wants. I feel that now, as a friend, I can finally be myself with him.

It's strange. I got in touch with my old friend, Kangana, after many many years, and she has recently broken up with a boyfriend of 8 years. I said that it'll take forever to get over the relationship, to which she replied that, no - in fact, for the last few years, she was only in the relationship for him, and had lost the desire to share everything with him first. That he just wouldn't grow up.

I guess that means something like all the things that disturbed her about the relationship just never got better. Or perhaps I'm just interpreting it the way that I'm seeing my situation right now.

In any case, I believe I'm through with telling people what they want to hear. I'm sick of misunderstandings and mishaps. I've discovered that trying to hard to please people may prolong relationships with people, but is more likely to lead to sad endings when one hasn't really been telling it to people straight.

The road may be more bumpy now, but at least it's not a winding road that leads to a dead end.

Misunderstandings and mishaps

2007-08-14T14:20:00.001+07:00

After getting off to a start on the wrong foot, I'm glad to say that Alex and I are once again best of friends! Better earlier than later, huh? At one stage, I spent a full 24 hours trying to avoid him (Aleksi's couch is very comfy), but when I got home, we finally had a discussion that cleared all the clouds that had gathered since about four months ago in Australia. Hurrah for that (And THANKS ILPO!!).

Some photos (please do click on the links):

Alex's first day in Finland

Saturday picnic at the beach, and a Saturday night and Sunday of avoidance

Sunday was awesome, though - I saw the kids I used to look after 6 years ago! They are now 7 and 9 year olds! How awesome is that? I'm really glad I got to see them.... and I'd like to continue to do so in the future, too! After that, I hung out in a small park, where a Jone had organised a DJ-booth and some games for his birthday party, then spent a couple hours back at Aleksi's place before finally heading home before midnight. But going home was definitely worth it, even though I dreaded it all day. I hadn't expected things to take a positive turn like that. Apology accepted... and sorry Alex *hugs*.

The one person I'd really like to talk to now is my Daeshious. But he's too busy for lil' ol' me :(
Or reply to messages... I wonder how long we can actually go on like this?

must must must must must and a philosophical waxing

2007-08-09T14:12:00.000+07:00

It isn't that there is nothing going on at the moment. There's plenty going on (those who stalk me on facebook would know that).

I just finished reading the most beautiful book, called "The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night" by Mark Haddon. It's written from the point of view of an autistic teenager. But that's not really the point. The book explores the nature of lies, and asks "When is it ok to lie?" and whilst it doesn't particularly provide an answer, it explores the nature of lies and their effects (both positive and negative) on peoples' lives and feelings - all through the eyes of a boy who cannot technically lie, but has no understanding of the 'text between the lines'

It's really made me reflect on my own life somewhat. There are many 'white lies' that I've told. The book reflects at length on white lies, too. What is a white lie? There are times when you know you aren't lying, but you also know that you are intentionally concealing the truth when it would be better to reveal it.

Then there are the lies that you tell because you want to please people. The book doesn't really talk about that - but that's what I'm most guilty of. Telling people what I think they want to hear, because I don't want to upset them. And then I end up going to great lengths to make what it is that I lied about a truth. ie, "Can the chef please make my dish with only one potato, and the rest vegetables, and change the sauce on the dish to the mole sauce, which he should put to the side? Oh and less cream if at all possible." me: "Not a problem at all!"

Later, chef: "WHAT THE F****???"

But this doesn't apply only to work. It applies to personal relations, too. Don't we all prefer to cater to what people would like to hear. I think we must do it to a large extent. I spent a recent time telling someone something that person didn't want to hear, and it only confused the person intensely. We tend to expect certain outcomes, and it's difficult to realise outcomes aren't as expected, but that through the barricade, there's another possible path, one that could be better, worse, happier, grayer... anything!

Viva la sorpresa en la vida, I say!

crawly dream

2007-08-06T13:39:00.000+07:00

I'm working somewhere, and I can't find anything anywhere, and I forget the place is closed keep offering customers drinks... very frustrating...

I'm trying to change around settings and nothing is working out.

But the worst is these two insects, little black things, that crawl into a pot on a flame. They don't like the hot water, so they crawl out, but they grow bigger as I stand there trying to get rid of them. They crawl into the fire and now they look like two huge, cockroaches, except they are slimy and they survive the fire, and they crawl all over me.

**wake** I'm feeling itchy and creeped out. Can't get back to sleep for a while. Need water.

I go back to sleep and next time I wake up, my mouth is tingly... I never knew mouth muscles could fall asleep!

My mother and father had some lovely guests over last night :) Had a nice long day on the terrace, enjoyed a few bottles of wine, including a Thai mangosteen wine! Lots of drunken bugs by then end of the day - maybe that's why I dreamed of insects?

The usual suspects:
Photos of friends and good times in Helsinki
Photos of my little darlings playing in Bangkok

arzel

2007-08-01T04:57:00.001+07:00

The gloomy nature of relationships, was the hot topic of today's conversation. Arzel just got back from the Philippines yesterday, and so I caught up with him today, and somehow we started philosophising over beer, just like in the good old days.

It seems that what is needed for two people to remain in a genuinely working relationship is a degree of repulsion. We came to the conclusion that in order for a relationship to work, there needs to be that need to dominate somewhere in the mix - that 'I wish I could change him/her' element. Point is, when you are attracted to someone, part of what attracts is the flaws, or those things that make one feel insecure. So after a while, you try to eliminate those things that make you feel uncomfortable. And once that person is 'just right', they just aren't so exciting anymore, and the mind wonders elsewhere in search of the next 'conquest'. There's been too much gravitation towards each other. Boom. Blast. Nothing.

On the other hand, sometimes there's too much push, and people just drift apart, not really caring about the other that much, other than on the rare occasions when there's some spark.

Maybe that's why so many people of this generation are a bunch of 'degenerate nymphos' :P. Or are we?

The analogy that we came up with was protons and neutrons, with the relationship being the nucleus. There needs to be just the right amount of push and pull, positive and negative. Too much, and you get a relationship that explodes and dies (ie, like the atom bomb), and too little, and you get an atom that just doesn't hold together. Bye bye atom. Ciao relationship. Peripheral meetings?

Maybe that's why I tend to be on the restless side in my relationships. I'm too much of a control freak who just wants things my way. That doesn't bode well in love, now does it?

cinema paradiso

2007-07-30T19:23:00.000+07:00

Who says we shouldn't watch old movies? After all my partying, working, generally doing stupid things around Helsinki, I finally got around to some proper relaxation and watched the film.

Listen to the theme - it's absolutely beautiful!

The movie was as beautiful as the theme song. Just in case you don't know, the director (Giuseppe Tornatore) is the same as the director of 'Malena', another stunningly beautiful movie.

That's my bit for today... if you really want to see picture of all the crazy crap I did over the weekend, here's this weekend:

http://monashedu.facebook.com/album.php?aid=16439&id=533997463

Also, I seem to have found myself from the following location:

http://www.summerheat.fi/galleries/sh070720/

Series in my mind

2007-07-26T11:51:00.000+07:00

I guess it's about time I had a couple nights of restless sleep again. Again, a series of three dreams over two nights.

Dream 1, weather: sunny: I betray a loyal friend. I can't remember how right now, but the important part was the feeling of disgust at myself for having done the deed, and the deep feeling of powerlessness that came with the knowledge of being capability.

Dream 2, weather: cold & crisp: It's winter. A gang of about a dozen robbers come to our house and we fend them off. But in the end, we feel sorry for them and become their friends. Then I get stuck in this strange wooden elevator. I'm trying to go down, but I'm taken to some place called "Vuorijoki" where I am to participate in experiments concerning an endangered species of bear. [after I woke up, I discovered through google that yes, there is indeed such a place in Finland - but I have no idea about the endangered bears].

Dream 3, weather: gray and overcast: Sid excuses himself (perhaps to go to the bathroom) at a rather spooky train station, and I'm waiting for him for about an hour. But he doesn't come... and when he does, he's with two friends, having a great time, and I ask him why he couldn't have at least called. He pretends like nothing ever happened. I feel like he doesn't care anymore. I'm crying. Later on, we are sitting on this rooftop bar, and it starts raining everywhere else, but just not on this roof. He's doodling some shape that resembles a mouse on a piece of paper whilst I try to talk to him. So I grab his mouse drawing, and draw a speech bubble, writing inside it "I don't love you anymore." The mouse is meant to be him, and I'm inconsolable as he looks up sadly and says "it's true". It starts raining over us, too. I think I woke up in tears. But when I fell asleep, the dream continued. He wanted to keep being friends, but it was too difficult for me at the time, and I kept telling him not yet....

I'm awake now. What does all this mean?

Getting over "Suomimasennus"

2007-07-24T02:28:00.000+07:00

So here's me and some and random chick on the beach...

Aleksi's sets ("DJ Alex" - see below, on the right) really made my weekend... had a great time :) I did this quiz/test sort of thing where I had to assign people to colours, and on the basis of that... well, on my left is someone I'll never forget, and on my right, someone I'll always remember... I'm not sure if there's actually any difference between the two, but at least it's true! Hehe, gotta love the Arajarvi bros!

For more fun pics of the beach and the party, click here

So here's the Lappland look on me ... :P

I'm working there again next Wednesday (1st August)... bwahahaha!

Lappland chick!

2007-07-21T05:32:00.000+07:00

If you want to see something funny, come to Annankatu 20. So here's the update. When I was told to bring black shoes and stockings... well, ... guess what? I got to wear a traditional Lappish outfit!! I am SO going to take my camera to work tomorrow and take a picture. The place mostly caters to Japanese and Russian tourists... few brits (who ask for advice on where to go out from me, who hasn't been back to Finland for 4 years - I told them to walk up and down Eerikinkatu... ooops!).

The outfit got me thinking though... well... all the wait-staff were female. So what I asked a colleague was this: "Do they take any male employees? I mean, I can't really imagine many guys being happy with the Lappish dressing."

What was the answer? Well... The guys get to wear a t-shirt that says "Lappland" on it.

Hmm... it brings to mind what one lecturer had said about women's rights in SE Asia. E.g., Thai Airways. The women wear the traditional looking outfit, whilst the men wear the western suit. The role of the woman is to 'uphold tradition' whilst the men 'venture forth into the modern world'. Perhaps I should buy a pair of handcuffs along with me to work tomorrow and take a picture chained up to a stuffed reindeer or something (not that there is one at work or anything).

But is it necessarily so bleak? Ok, point taken, that when it comes to work uniforms, the female role is entirely constructed. But on the other hand, I really like the fact that I can keep in touch with my roots, AND stay in touch with my roots at the same time. For example, the NLCAC conference ball in 2005 and was comfortable both as a student leader and as a person proud of my roots. What so wrong with that? Could it not be said, in a counterargument to certain feminists, that women have that additional choice then?

And do I not have the right, and the opportunity to walk away from the job that I'm doing now? Yes. I do. Whilst that may seem simplistic, and one may argue that I may find it more difficult to get more jobs in the future... I also think that the more jobs I find unacceptable, the more trouble employees will have finding workers that will bend to their established rules and norms (even if it's only by a small percentage).

The point to all this is that every action we take, we are encouraging some sort of behaviour. I like my new work-uniform, so I'll wear it. It gives me the freedom to recognise my roots. But if someone were to force it upon me, perhaps I would not be so happy. And the only thing I'm unhappy about is that maybe it's the men who are restricted by having to hide their backgrounds in order to succeed in the world. They have to be scared of pink. They have to avoid bright colours. They have so many norms and rules to fit into... maybe we can view this as a global repression of men, as opposed to a culture-specific conformation of women. Just a question. What do you think?

This is a traditional Lappish outfit. Mine's the cheap version - to be seen tomorrow!