21-09-09 OR the horror at camp jelly jam
Ecology camp! Imagine—five days in Kivig; five days by the Baltic Sea. There were thirty of us, all students of ecology. By the end of the week, after we had become the closest (and farthest) of friends, it seemed like a lot less. Each morning, in the crisp Swedish air, we adventured into the wilderness. We explored; we investigated. Biodiversity, competition, predation, adaptation, evolution: no biological concept remained untouched. Also, in the afternoon, we threw a frisbee, so it wasn't a complete waste of time.
In Australia, the movement of thirty-something students requires—at the very least—a medium-sized bus. Also, you have to fill out at least an infinite number of forms just to get anywhere near the bus. Even then, you will probably find that the trip has been cancelled. In Sweden, small vans are the people-mover of choice. (For the mathematicians among you, a common or garden bus equals five small vans.) Best of all, students are allowed to drive—no forms necessary! Jessica was my chauffer for the week. She nearly crashed, twice; she is French-Canadian.
Kivig, as you know, is the apple-growing capital of Sweden. By some miracle, Applefest (literally, Festival of Apples) was nearing its juicy climax and I was fortunate to glimpse the famous Apple Picture (literally, Picture of Apples) before its grand unveiling. Imagine—the biggest apple mosaic in the world! Once again, man has triumphed over fruit, and gravity. I also visited an apple museum. The big barrels of apples at the entrance seemed to say help yourself. Later, I realised they actually said we're for decoration, please don't eat.
For whatever reason, I was not looking forward to the excursion. In my mind's eye, I imagined myself cold and wet and miserable—weeping uncontrollably in a ruined tent, tired and hungry. On the contrary, the weather was perfect, the accommodation was exceptional, and I ate like a glutton.
When I returned on Friday I was pleased to see some familiar faces. Benny, Wally, Vasco... I wonder if they missed me. V: Andy, how are you? A: I'm well. I've been away all week, in Kivig. V: You were away? No, they didn't.
23-09-09 OR shir-leen
For the second time in however long I forgot my mother's birthday. It's a shame, and I am sorry, mother. The first time was in 2004, on my school’s ski trip. I forget exactly what happened but I remember seeing mother through my dormitory window and telling her to kindly go away, but in fewer words. In my defence, I was a teenager, and teenagers are idiots. My defence this time is that I'm in Sweden, which is a long way from Australia. Also, it's a different time zone, so I got confused. Although I may have forgotten to wish mother a H.B. I did sing compleanos felit to Nacho, my Spanish friend. Does that count? I think so. In a way, I'm the best son ever. Also, my phone was out of service and I didn't have internet access. Kivig, if you recall, is powered by apples, and I don't mean Macintosh.
26-09-09 OR the worst day
Twelve years ago I kicked my toe on my grandparents' concrete driveway. I was angry, and sad. Today, I kicked my toe on the bottom of the stove.
What could have been is now not.
(When will the Saints march in?)
30-09-09 OR exactly
Suddenly, Lund is very cold. Worst of all, the wind always blows in the same direction, which is towards me. I rode down a hill today—it was steep, nearly vertical—and the wind stopped me in my place. This evening, when I returned from a quiet drink at Kalmar Nation, I made a cup of tea. But I wasn’t just cold, I was hungry, too. I needed something sweet. On my bedside table, I noticed a box of Turkish Delights. It had been given to me by Can (John), my Turkish classmate, although it is entirely probable that I stole it. The box was covered in white powder—icing sugar. I do not envy the Turks for eating their delights all the time, but when supplies are limited and your tea is losing it edge, you take what you can get. Here's the rub: now I have white powder all over my black shirt.
(Moral: never trust a Turk.)
Ecology camp! Imagine—five days in Kivig; five days by the Baltic Sea. There were thirty of us, all students of ecology. By the end of the week, after we had become the closest (and farthest) of friends, it seemed like a lot less. Each morning, in the crisp Swedish air, we adventured into the wilderness. We explored; we investigated. Biodiversity, competition, predation, adaptation, evolution: no biological concept remained untouched. Also, in the afternoon, we threw a frisbee, so it wasn't a complete waste of time.
In Australia, the movement of thirty-something students requires—at the very least—a medium-sized bus. Also, you have to fill out at least an infinite number of forms just to get anywhere near the bus. Even then, you will probably find that the trip has been cancelled. In Sweden, small vans are the people-mover of choice. (For the mathematicians among you, a common or garden bus equals five small vans.) Best of all, students are allowed to drive—no forms necessary! Jessica was my chauffer for the week. She nearly crashed, twice; she is French-Canadian.
Kivig, as you know, is the apple-growing capital of Sweden. By some miracle, Applefest (literally, Festival of Apples) was nearing its juicy climax and I was fortunate to glimpse the famous Apple Picture (literally, Picture of Apples) before its grand unveiling. Imagine—the biggest apple mosaic in the world! Once again, man has triumphed over fruit, and gravity. I also visited an apple museum. The big barrels of apples at the entrance seemed to say help yourself. Later, I realised they actually said we're for decoration, please don't eat.
For whatever reason, I was not looking forward to the excursion. In my mind's eye, I imagined myself cold and wet and miserable—weeping uncontrollably in a ruined tent, tired and hungry. On the contrary, the weather was perfect, the accommodation was exceptional, and I ate like a glutton.
When I returned on Friday I was pleased to see some familiar faces. Benny, Wally, Vasco... I wonder if they missed me. V: Andy, how are you? A: I'm well. I've been away all week, in Kivig. V: You were away? No, they didn't.
23-09-09 OR shir-leen
For the second time in however long I forgot my mother's birthday. It's a shame, and I am sorry, mother. The first time was in 2004, on my school’s ski trip. I forget exactly what happened but I remember seeing mother through my dormitory window and telling her to kindly go away, but in fewer words. In my defence, I was a teenager, and teenagers are idiots. My defence this time is that I'm in Sweden, which is a long way from Australia. Also, it's a different time zone, so I got confused. Although I may have forgotten to wish mother a H.B. I did sing compleanos felit to Nacho, my Spanish friend. Does that count? I think so. In a way, I'm the best son ever. Also, my phone was out of service and I didn't have internet access. Kivig, if you recall, is powered by apples, and I don't mean Macintosh.
26-09-09 OR the worst day
Twelve years ago I kicked my toe on my grandparents' concrete driveway. I was angry, and sad. Today, I kicked my toe on the bottom of the stove.
What could have been is now not.
(When will the Saints march in?)
30-09-09 OR exactly
Suddenly, Lund is very cold. Worst of all, the wind always blows in the same direction, which is towards me. I rode down a hill today—it was steep, nearly vertical—and the wind stopped me in my place. This evening, when I returned from a quiet drink at Kalmar Nation, I made a cup of tea. But I wasn’t just cold, I was hungry, too. I needed something sweet. On my bedside table, I noticed a box of Turkish Delights. It had been given to me by Can (John), my Turkish classmate, although it is entirely probable that I stole it. The box was covered in white powder—icing sugar. I do not envy the Turks for eating their delights all the time, but when supplies are limited and your tea is losing it edge, you take what you can get. Here's the rub: now I have white powder all over my black shirt.
(Moral: never trust a Turk.)
if my attention span wasn't so short i'd encourage you to write books, ando. lots of them.
ReplyDeletemy mum linked from my blog to yours the other day..
after reading yours she doesn't think i'm that odd anymore.
way to get her off my back. thanks :)