Prelude No. 11 (in F-minor) OR melting pot

10-09-09 OR talar du engelska?

Ostra Torn is filled with international students. Actually, inhabited by, not filled - if I have created the impression of Monkeys in a Barrel then I have failed. There is a healthy representation of students from each and every continent: Oceania, Eurasia, Eastasia - everywhere except Antarctica (although I could have sworn I saw a dancing penguin the other day [although it may have been a midget in a tuxedo]). Many of the students/penguins/midgets have come to Sweden to improve their English. My neighbour, Wally, can speak three languages. I have another friend, X (I forget her name), who can speak seven! Imagine that! I feel so uncultured. I can barely speak one language, let alone any other positive integer.

I'm in the middle of a race war. There's the Spanish quarter, the French quarter, the German quarter, the South-East Asian quarter... Then there are the rogues: Australia, Switzerland, UK, US, Canada, India, Kazakhstan, elsewhere. Unofficially, the Cosmopolitan quarter. How many quarters is that? It is a case of the sum of the parts being greater than the whole. 25% greater, in fact. Ironically, there are no NZ'ers, so it's not really a race war at all.

The layout of Ostra Torn is fairly simple. There are three main clusters of low-rise apartments: North, West, and South. In the centre of the open-ended rectangle thus formed is a grassy area that, with the careful positioning of a few spare shoes, can be transformed into a football field. There is also an adventure fort, but you must be under this height _ to play.

Every other afternoon, there is a football game. Teams are improvised, or in my case, the interchange is improvised. If there's one thing I've never been good at, it's soccer. My foot skills are woeful, and don't even bother explaining offside. I am, however, good at chasing balls and being a general nuisance to opposing players. I have a feeling that, before long, I will become a dangerous footballer. (I am reminded of the monk-like scientists in Danum Valley who played badminton every night - what else is there to do in the middle of the rainforest?)

Today, I played a game of football. It was a lot of fun until the ball exploded.

12-09-09 OR toothpaste sandwich

Do not worry, mother, I am eating well. Actually, I am feeding well. For this, I have Walter to thank. This evening, for dinner, I prepared a delicious meatball pasta with lemon-scented potatoes and peppered-onions, delicately countered by a bowl of marmalade gelato. I had finished perusing my lecture notes and was wearing my legalise gay shirt - it was time for bed. My bedtime ritual is something like: 1) brush teeth 2) floss teeth 3) rinse mouth 4) fall asleep. There is also an intermittent step between 3) and 4) where I move, with the grace of a slender possum, from basin to bed - very rarely do I fall asleep in the bathroom. So, there was I, in bed, teeth radiating, when the doorbell rang. It was Wally. Andy, you must join us for dinner. It will be ver' special. Who am I to refuse! Two dinners in one day, or however the Crowded House song goes. Wally and Vasco had prepared a real dinner with real ingredients. Beans, tomatoes, capsicum, onions, potatoes, spinach, extra-virgin olive oil, the lot. If there was a difference between the two dinners, it was that mine came from a packet. I forgot to mention that earlier.

Tonight, we dine like Princes!