More Scandinavian Wildlife

If you remember, I told you about some of the fauna I encountered this summer, while on holiday home in Sweden. I'm here again (now for a funeral, but I'll tell you more about that later), and this time I've got a real treat. Or two.

On Wednesday night we had to drop off the Thermoses at the caterer, and her place was quite far off the main road. Which meant we had to use small, unlit roads to get there. Shortly after we'd turned into the darkness we saw something on the road, and we were very surprised to see an owl sitting there, motionless. I drove as slowly and carefully as I could and figured the bird would fly away as we got closer, but he didn't. Maybe he was injured? I stopped completely and thought I'd take a photo of him, but before I'd managed to bring out my mobile the owl lifted off the ground, and away he was... Remarkable. Sitting down he seemed so small, but as soon he spread his wings we could see he was quite impressive in size. I felt blessed; not every day you see an owl.

Next brush with wild animals happened on Friday, and these were much larger; even when they're standing still they seem big. Out on the field (spotted from the car as well), we saw two Alces alces - a mother and her young calf. She was just standing there, intently watching us, while her offspring was grassing. Doubled blessed. The most common encounter with moose is usually a too close one; you sigh in relief when you miss them by inches crossing the road at dusk.

All this talk about wildlife, when there's actually been a funeral! And for a funeral to take place there also has to be death, I'm sorry to remind you about that. But isn't it ironic that the only certain thing in life - our own death - is so difficult to talk about, so taboo? And when it then happens to someone you care about, and you're the one in charge of the arrangements afterwards, you might be so struck with grief that the last thing you can recognize is how to set out the navigation points for your loved one's final journey. More than often I suppose, the service is done by tradition, following the funeral director's guidelines. How relieving isn't it to not have to think, and lay the burden on someone else...

Now my mother had collected things that had some significance to her man, and to them as a couple, and on the day I helped her decorate the coffin. First we spread out the woolen blanket which she had woven and given him last Christmas. (He was wrapped up in it all summer as well, as he was freezing so much.) Then she arranged some of the flowers to a heart shape with a picture of him inside, and next to it the moss and chantarelles found in the forest, while I arranged more of the moss behind that (a delicate kind which look like long strands, hanging down), together with the twig of apples from the garden, and the large and withered old root they picked up one time traveling through Norway. And more flowers. The final result was personal to say the least, but also very, very beautiful. Even the funeral director said so; and she (or the bureau she's working for) didn't make that much money from this one, as my mother didn't want any of their extravagant silver candelabras or any other "special offers". What she did want though, was her niece (my cousin of course...) to sing, which she did just so amazingly well, accompanied by her father on piano and fiancé on guitar.

After the service at the chapel we met at the old school which local householders are running together. Not as a school of course, but it's very charming old building that's now used for different activities for the locals. It was probably a first for a funeral dinner though. But it worked out just fine. Nice food, and a warm atmosphere; the last obviously the most important. This day was as good as a day like that can be. Now the rest of my mother's life starts, and on Tuesday when I go home to Norway her house will be quite empty. I already look forward to welcome her in a few weeks time when she'll be visiting me for her 70th birthday. And I got something planned... (she's not reading this blog so my plans are safe!)

In the meantime I'll have to get my act together, seriously, as I've been neglecting my studies for far too long now. To be honest it doesn't look promising; first coming weekend I have a new course weekend with the Angelos Method coming up, and the following weekend I'm traveling myself again. Insane perhaps, but

a girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do... ;)

Beating The Blues

That's the problem with a open heart and soul - they're easy targets. The advantage though, is that they respond well to sincere and competent input. A good friend is someone who not only listens, but more importantly, helps you to see where you're going, and acts much like a guide dog, who stops the blind man as he's about to turn the wrong way.

And my sweet lady friend did just do that. But sticking with the previous metaphor I think my vision was only temporarily impaired, so what she said was still familiar to me, I only needed to be reminded. It's finally time to let go of some old ghosts who are haunting me, scaring away every other possibility of happiness.

This little chat we had at her house. I was there for taking some measurements, helping her out with a practical job; she's putting up a curtain for covering up a shelf, and on Monday we're going to IKEA. Anyway, I'm derailing again, but when we were finished we drove to town to meet two other women, friends of my friend, at Café Sanaa. This is not as much a café as a pub, they're fully licensed, but what's more important is that it's "alive". Alive with music from every corner of the world, and yesterday they had this Gambian griot playing his kora there. Every sad thought I could possibly have was carried away from me with this beautiful music, leaving my soul free and happy again.

After the first song, the kora player was accompanied by a percussionist from Chile. I sat there watching them, and was mesmerized by the sight. Obviously the sound too, but watching them was very special. A communication which needed no other language than the rhythm; the concentration of the Chilean drummer to follow the African tones and beats was to say the least intense. I could see him heaving his chest, taking breaths in full synchrony with the music, and his eyes steadily following the hands of the Gambian man.

Then suddenly we heard a saxophone tuning in - the owner of the place is a man of many talents. During daytime he works as a doctor and researcher, but at night he runs the cafe with his wife and as mentioned, he plays the saxophone. Often as a planned event at this very place, but I guess just as often when he just can't help himself. There's no way stopping the music...

A Taste Of Luxury

Friday night and I'm back where I'm safe; in front of the screen, fingers on the keyboard. I'm starting to understand why some writers live like recluses and show strange eremitical behavior. At least if they feel anything like I do sometimes. I can get to a stage where the written word almost feels more veridical than real life. Reality is too fantastic too be real, or too painful. A dream illusion which you can't have, or a nightmare you wish to wake up from. And sometimes both at the same time... When writing I'm in control, and nothing can hurt me. With words I can do anything, as long as I don't have to step outside for a reality check. OK, "Earth's calling" - enough of this high-flying! Yesterday I went to a happening with my dear Toril, and what a nice evening that turned out to be!

Tom Marthinsen is a well known writer, wine connoisseur and author of wine books, and in conjunction with the launch of his guide to wine tasting he's doing a lecture/wine tasting tour. I'll try to be short here and go straight to the important stuff - the wine. First we were offered a chardonnay from Australia, and reminiscing days gone by I said "Mmmm, just like home". I had no problems picturing myself on a patio Down Under, sipping a glass of white wine at lunch. A chardonnay from the New World is often fresh and laden with tropical flavors of peaches and citrus fruits, and for me it's often been a preferred style. Of course I'd never say no to a nice Chablis but as they're more expensive, I rarely buy them. And then we're only talking about the Petite Chablis, which also was the second wine we got for tasting.

After those two I still thought the Penfolds Koonunga Hill was quite a nice acquaintance, but then came the masterpiece - a Grand Cru Chablis which blew us away. Delicious. Thick-textured yet very refined. Full-bodied and layered with pleasurable flavors, and long on the finish. An open, elegant style, with a juicy structure. Balanced and fine, with depth. And absolutely nothing a student like me can afford. But I just thought it was nice to have tried it, and wasn't thinking I'd have any problems drinking "cheap" wine again. Until Tom told us to have one more sip of the Aussie... We could hear people laugh a little around the tables, 'cause we could all see where he was going; and my sudden vision of having a glass filled with sweet and sticky juice from a can of fruit cocktail was confirmed, as I poured some of it into my mouth... Need I say more?

I just came across this wonderful quote from Franz Werfel, and I thought I'd find a way to intertwine it to the story. I couldn't but I'd like to share it with you anyway, and standing on its own the impression might be even better, leaving it all up to you for interpretation. I'm not saying anything.

"Between too early and too late, there is never more than a moment."

I think it sounds even better in its original language German, so here it is:

"Zwischen zu früh und zu spät liegt immer nur ein Augenblick." (Thanks my friend, for sending it to me.)

But you know me, it's real hard not to say anything, and I do have a few questions as well that could fit in here... ;)

Spa Break

Certainly something every woman should enjoy at least once in her life!

Despite a few travel hiccups (what's new...) I arrived safely late Monday evening, and the resort even had a pickup service at the airport. Pure luxury! And from there it only got better. Imagine being spoiled and pampered beyond belief, from the moment you wake up until you go to bed at night. Steam baths, foot massages, and other body treatments. All meals included, accompanied with beer or wine. No alcohols for breakfast of course, which consisted of an outstanding selection of cold cuts, energy bread, coffee (both regular and espresso) and fresh juice.

The spiritual side of it shouldn't be underestimated, and the emotional boost I received will follow me forever. I've also learned a thing or two about myself, which will be very valuable for me in the future. In a few hours I'll be back home more relaxed and confident than ever. And do you know why? Because I'm worth it! At least that's what I'm told; and experienced and competent aestheticians like that shouldn't be questioned.

Fly On The Wall

My favorite thinking place is often the shower, and so it was this morning. It has been pointed out rather strongly to me that I have a lot to keep track of these days, and that's probably true. So a daily shower keeps me clean - and sane.

As I stood there under the flowing water i felt quite alright, 'cause I had just sorted out one of my "problems". Or potential problem anyway. The insight that led me to that conclusion would most likely help me out with more than a few situations later on as well, and that too made me happy.

Suddenly I had a visitor behind the curtain. A midge came flying and landed on the wall. Euphoric as I was I actually smiled at him! Sounds silly, I know, but from my standpoint he was a living thing, only trying to make contact of some sorts. (No, I don't smoke weed...)

But can you guess what the stupid Chironomidae did? Don't know if he thought I was irresistible or something, but he flew right towards me! Oblivious to the water spray that eventually would flush him down the drain. Poor thing. Hopefully bigger creatures have the strength to stay head above water if they're close to me...

Long And Winding Road

How often do you get the chance to see a potential disaster coming your way in time to make a decision about an appropriate reaction? And this one is coming fast?

Yesterday I paid a visit to "my friend by the sea", and we had as usual a very good time. We've known each other for 18 years now, and seen each other through ups and downs. Well, my friend hasn't that much to do with latent hazards, but it was on my way home from her something happened.

It had already turned dark, and it was a bit rainy as well, so the street lights were reflected on the wet roads, making the conditions a little bit hard. The area out there is a kind of desolated with not that many houses, except from a few small villages. As I approached one I noticed a lit up soccer-field on my right, and more - I saw a ball being kicked over the fence. I guess I could have been a 100 m away, but even if I saw the ball it was very difficult to decide which way it was going. So I just kept on driving. Only seconds later the ball hit the front window bang on, and then bounced away. I almost laughed, while I continued down the road.

But my imagination also told me what could have happened had I not seen the ball coming. Instead of calculating the risks and passing this danger with determination, I could easily have been freaked out and lost control over the vehicle. Yet another car crash.

Jumbo Dumbo

Sometimes I have quite a vivid imagination (except for when some people ask me about certain likes and dislikes...), and this morning I had a film rolling in my head that totally cracked me up. Talked to my father on the phone, and for some reason he told me about a nature program he'd watched on the telly. I must admit I only listened with one ear, but when he said the program had been about African elephants, more specifically the lesser known Forest Elephant, the first scene suddenly opened up in my mind. Instantly I imagined Attenborough's accent and hushed, excited delivery guiding us through the African Wilderness: "He-eah... in the rain forest of the Congo Basin... we can find... the Hidden Giants." So far this could actually have been authentic, but to Attenborough's narration I also added the drawings of Larson, which made all the difference... In perfect Far Side-style I could see program host lurking among the trees, while trying to spot the elephants. Attenborough explains about these animal's peculiar behavior and tilts his head upwards. "There... hiding in the crown of the tree... an elephant is sitting... cautiously looking down on us." In my head now the whole herd is doing strange things up there - some are awkwardly climbing the boles of the trees; one or two are sleeping, hanging down like bats, only using their trunks to hold on to the branches; and others are peeling bananas like chimps.

Reminds me of one of those jokes I learned as a kid (why do I always remember the old bad ones...):

-Why do elephants wear red sneakers?
-Don't know.
-So, no one can spot them while stealing cherries in the cherry tree.
-Have you ever seen an elephant in a cherry tree?
-No.
-Well, there you go. It works!

Weekend

Dinner was good, and the conversation was even better. How glad I am I have my wonderful friends, and spending a Sunday evening like this was a nice way of rounding off the weekend.

Friday I went to a party downtown. There were almost 50 people there, but I knew only one from before. Luckily for me though he offered great support in this new environment, and next morning a nice breakfast too. ;) Yes, real lucky I am. The rest of Saturday was spent trying to get rid of a terrible headache, and I didn't do much at all. The beginning of Sunday was quite lazy as well, except for the little work I contributed with at this voluntary thing we had where I live. I was saved from most of it by a phone call (talked for an hour...), and after that I did some odd jobs around the house, right up until I went to see my friend for dinner.

But the last thing I did on Sunday was actually buying tickets for next week; I'm treating myself with a few relaxing days up north. It'll be like a spa break. And I deserve it, right?

As Sure As Eggs Are Eggs

No time for any lengthy posts right now, I'm off to meet my dear friend Kari, who's invited me to dinner. And she'll probably get the full report on recent events, poor thing. Some of it might be a little too much...

So instead of writing an essay here about a complicated love-life, I'll share with you a little thing that happened earlier. With no reference what so ever to anything at all.

My daughter made cookies today, and on the kitchen counter she left the empty egg carton. Or so I thought. I put it down on the floor to step on it. Make it flat for the paper recycling bin. Well, it wasn't empty. Talking about treading on eggs here! Or did I just lay an egg? And then left with egg on my face?

Anger Management

I realized something today, and that is that I find it hard to write when I'm angry. I write when I'm happy, I write when I'm sad. And at most other times too. But it seems I'm not that good with anger. A feeling I usually suppress, if I can't see the reason for it. I do know it can be used creatively; anger is a strong feeling , and even if you can't figure out why you're mad, you can still use the energy of it. A talent which I don't fully possess. So when yesterday I felt like screaming and shouting - I could even hear the words in my head - I didn't know what to do with it. Instead I'm sitting hear today, calmly analyzing my emotional state on an abstract level. Not the best way to handle it I guess. Always being rational.

Am I thinking too much? Oh yes, definitely, at times. And now I have even more people telling me that. But what the hell am I supposed to do then? (Did you notice? An expletive. Progress one might say.) I feel 'thinking' is the only thing I can do at times. But since much of my thinking sooner or later emerge in text-form anyway, I just better have to find a way to express this fury in words too. But it might take some time, 'cause my cursing never lasts long, especially when I have this fantastic Courvoisier X.O. to sooth my mind. A tiny sip and I'm quite content.

Had We Only Known...

Imagine how a single piece of information could change 30 years in an instant. How a few facts you've known all the time suddenly turns into a lifelike movie in your head just because you've learned something new about what happened back then. All you knew before was that this boy had been quite a fragile boy with asthma; he lived with his mother who spoiled him beyond belief. You were also told that the mother was a little nuts as well, and died when the boy was 8 or something. He then moved to his father. These were the "facts", and you grew to hate this boy.

He was a nightmare, totally unaware of other's needs or feelings, always living in his own world. Very intelligent, but a failure at school, and he could never finish anything. Quiet and withdrawn he would just exist to close to you for comfort. Hard to understand, except for the times when music talked for him. He was passionate about music and sounds, and he was a true technical whizkid.

You've spent so many years trying to avoid any confrontation with this boy, the irritation and uneasiness he provoked in you was just too much to bear. Until the day his half-sister tells about those last years of the boy and his mother.

The mother had cancer, and went in and out of the hospital for a long time. Of course she wanted to be with her son, but she was all alone, and there was no one to help out. Or explain anything to the boy. All he could do when his mother laid bent over the bucket and threw up her intestines, was to shut out the world with the headphones on. There he stood upright next to the record player, letting the music into his mind to subdue the fear and despair. The sound of his mother's sickness was replaced by guitars and drums.

When he was hungry he was sent to the nearest kiosk with money in his pocket for a hot dog. How this little boy must have hurt! No wonder he almost turned autistic as his half-sister now tells. All this considered we now realized this boy has turned out remarkably well. He's got a fantastic daughter, not raised by him though, but I guess he hasn't spoiled her either. He's also finished some education, and got a good job. (In computers of course...) And he's got a girlfriend, who's been with him for quite some time now.

But had we only known...

I had in mind to continue here with something about learning & communication, but I don't have the time now. Have to rush out and feed my son, they're serving fish at the base today... Hopefully I'll find the time and inspiration this weekend to write a whole new post instead.

Bright & Shiny - Not...

...to early for that.

Usually I don't write blogposts this early in the morning, then again- I'm usually not awake at all at this hour. I may be in upright position, getting my daughter school and such, but awake? Not that often.

So what's the occasion? Wireless connection at the hotel. I thought that was so fancy I just had to make use of it. (Kinda obvious I don't stay at hotels that often, ha?) And also I'm wide awake now after the Tylenol has kicked in, I've had a splitting headache most of the night. Probably the tension was too much. But I'm fine now, and looking forward to a nice breakfast before I continue my journey.