I'm so not going to go on about how I hate saying goodbyes since it's such an old news in this blog, but I do hate it. Just for the record, and I feel so lost now without my friend, sister, flatmate who was here all year and now is on her way to the world out there. And I'm happy for her and things change, life goes on, bla bla bla, I know this, I did it already a few times I tell you, but the bottom line here is partings don't stop hurting when we have found someone we feel good with, can share thoughts and life and good and bad and to be honest it doesn't happen all that often we could just spare them all away, does it?
Really, generally thinking about life and people in it, we are so messy nowadays. In the old days, so they have made us believe, people had their families and circles tightly around them all their lives long. They didn't move about every year and brag about being independent and globally conscious and whatnot. It's me I am critizing so don't worry, I live and let live since it seems I've got no different future ahead of me in this sense. I cannot stay in place, at least not now, and many of my friends are the same. I don't care to ask for the reason for it anymore either, it must be somewhere in this world and time, in our up-bringing and culture, in the so called globalisation we have grown into... And some goodbyes are already so often said I survive better after them, but the first round always tears worse. And it should, too. Getting too used to goodbyes makes us cynical and that's what we want to avoid, right? Feeling sad because people we care for are not here makes us human. Who would like to have a friend who doesn't feel anything anyways?
I once wrote about the fact of going up and down too fast and how it makes life somewhat more complicated but also more real. I would not be anything else and yet I would sometimes like to take the place where emotions locate out and let it sink in for a while before replacing it back again. Not looking for the easy way round, but hey, the school things and other work don't wait for being human. Productivity and capitalist world, you know. We can't afford to stop anymore.
Anyway. Glass half full and stuff, after the goodbye there is always the next reunion, which would not exist in the first place without the goodbye. And thank God for friends and tea and crêpes au chocolat just two houses away.
Saturday, January 31, 2009
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
All we need is...
Humanity.
Outside my window there's a real life winter wonderland. I was ill last week and just watched this lovely scenery develop like a nature show on TV. I was happy not having to be staying in alone: since the general epidemic of cold also hit my flatmate, there was someone to compare the feeling in the morning with, drink litres of tea and juice and force ourselves to eat something (mostly ratatouille, the favourite self-made fast food). Getting slightly better later in the week made us creative: two language-addicts took Boggle to another level by allowing all the world languages in the game. This naturally resulted mixed lists of Japanese, German and Swedish, among others. And dude, what's with the 'tude? Yep, we watched just a tad tiny bit of Gilmore, too.
Today so far I have replied to some emails around the world, helped my exchange-leaving flatmate to move and eaten pancakes and fruit salad for breakfast. In reverse order, actually. I also read my favourite international news page in the morning and was struck by the unfairness of the world and the unknown paths of it once more and again. There was a girl, my age, university student, keeping a blog of her life and thoughts, considering normal stuff like rollerblading and computers, amongst that thoughts and criticism towards the political police system of her country. She was murdered by a contract killer a week ago, together with a known human rights lawyer. Not so far away from my own country, not at all actually. Less than hundred years later after gaining our independece I do have the freedom of word in so many senses and yet I am out of words in here... Why are we so out of words and action while we have all the possibilities to see and to hear?
This is exactly the reason why I pick up my international relations course readings considering human rights even more eagerly today. There is just no way the unfair version of this game is going to win.
Outside my window there's a real life winter wonderland. I was ill last week and just watched this lovely scenery develop like a nature show on TV. I was happy not having to be staying in alone: since the general epidemic of cold also hit my flatmate, there was someone to compare the feeling in the morning with, drink litres of tea and juice and force ourselves to eat something (mostly ratatouille, the favourite self-made fast food). Getting slightly better later in the week made us creative: two language-addicts took Boggle to another level by allowing all the world languages in the game. This naturally resulted mixed lists of Japanese, German and Swedish, among others. And dude, what's with the 'tude? Yep, we watched just a tad tiny bit of Gilmore, too.
Today so far I have replied to some emails around the world, helped my exchange-leaving flatmate to move and eaten pancakes and fruit salad for breakfast. In reverse order, actually. I also read my favourite international news page in the morning and was struck by the unfairness of the world and the unknown paths of it once more and again. There was a girl, my age, university student, keeping a blog of her life and thoughts, considering normal stuff like rollerblading and computers, amongst that thoughts and criticism towards the political police system of her country. She was murdered by a contract killer a week ago, together with a known human rights lawyer. Not so far away from my own country, not at all actually. Less than hundred years later after gaining our independece I do have the freedom of word in so many senses and yet I am out of words in here... Why are we so out of words and action while we have all the possibilities to see and to hear?
This is exactly the reason why I pick up my international relations course readings considering human rights even more eagerly today. There is just no way the unfair version of this game is going to win.
Sunday, January 18, 2009
18. tammikuuta
Tänään on Nalle Puh -päivä, vuoden 18. päivä (jäljellä 347), sama jona filosofi Montesquieu syntyi ja Versaillesin rauhankokous alkoi. 18. tammikuuta on myös Sir Elwoodin hiljaisten värien yhdeksäs albumi ja päivä, jolloin röntgenlaite esiteltiin maailmalle.
Legenda kertoo, että 26 vuotta taaksepäin 18. tammikuuta oli talven lumimyrksyisin päivä. Kymmenen vuotta sitten samaisena päivänä eräs yläastelainen sai koulumatkaa kävellessään viestin kännykkäänsä tasan kello 8.32: "Onnea, nyt olet sweet sixteen!"
Tänä aamuna pannukakkuaamiaisella minulle esitettiin marakassien säestyksellä onnittelulaulu kolmella kielellä. Sittemmin olen leiponut täytekakkuja ja silittänyt lumihiutaleita.
Ei ole ihan itse keksitty idea käyttää allaolevaa synttärikappaleena, mutta minkäs teet, Jamie ehkä osui johonkin kirjoitellessaan näitä sanoja. Nostalgikko katselee vihdoin tulevaisuuteen: 364 uutta ja jännittävää päivää edessä. Ehkäpä tämä on se vuosi, kun valloitan maailman.
After years of expensive education,
a car full of books and anticipation,
I’m an expert on Shakespeare and that’s a hell of a lot
but the world don't need scholars as much as I thought.
Maybe I'll go travelling for a year,
finding myself or start a career.
I could work for the poor though I’m hungry for fame
we all seem so different but we're just the same.
Maybe I'll just fall in love that could solve it all,
philosophers say that that’s enough,
there surely must be more.
Love ain’t the answer nor is work,
the truth eludes me so much it hurts.
But I’m still having fun and I guess that's the key,
I'm a twenty something and I'll keep being me.
(Otteita Jamie Cullum: Twentysomething.)
Legenda kertoo, että 26 vuotta taaksepäin 18. tammikuuta oli talven lumimyrksyisin päivä. Kymmenen vuotta sitten samaisena päivänä eräs yläastelainen sai koulumatkaa kävellessään viestin kännykkäänsä tasan kello 8.32: "Onnea, nyt olet sweet sixteen!"
Tänä aamuna pannukakkuaamiaisella minulle esitettiin marakassien säestyksellä onnittelulaulu kolmella kielellä. Sittemmin olen leiponut täytekakkuja ja silittänyt lumihiutaleita.
Ei ole ihan itse keksitty idea käyttää allaolevaa synttärikappaleena, mutta minkäs teet, Jamie ehkä osui johonkin kirjoitellessaan näitä sanoja. Nostalgikko katselee vihdoin tulevaisuuteen: 364 uutta ja jännittävää päivää edessä. Ehkäpä tämä on se vuosi, kun valloitan maailman.
After years of expensive education,
a car full of books and anticipation,
I’m an expert on Shakespeare and that’s a hell of a lot
but the world don't need scholars as much as I thought.
Maybe I'll go travelling for a year,
finding myself or start a career.
I could work for the poor though I’m hungry for fame
we all seem so different but we're just the same.
Maybe I'll just fall in love that could solve it all,
philosophers say that that’s enough,
there surely must be more.
Love ain’t the answer nor is work,
the truth eludes me so much it hurts.
But I’m still having fun and I guess that's the key,
I'm a twenty something and I'll keep being me.
(Otteita Jamie Cullum: Twentysomething.)
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
La grève and some other aspects of my French week
"First we strike, then we negotiate, then we strike again", my friend explained me the system of the French society when the third strike of my week there occured and I wondered aloud aren't they obliged to give out a warning first and take up negotiations. Well of course not, that's way too organized and unpassionate, so very Finnish indeed.
It wasn't so funny when my co-Finn in this circle of friends arrived to Paris, some days earlier than me and the train workers were on strike. My friends survived well since one of them was French, but the rest of the poor tourists taking the RER from Charles de Gaulle to the city of Paris were probably stroke too by their visit's shortness, when the train turned back from Gare du Nord and took them to the airport again. With no announcements, of course.
The comical aspect was more obvious one evening when we were watching TV and waiting for the national news broadcast. Finally we got the news, but it was from somewhere middle of nowhere, a place the French themselves didn't recognize, a regional news about how some road was being repaired again and a mayor of a small town proudly presenting the process. By the time of the weather forecast that was presented by no one we had figured out there must be a strike in the national television.
The third strike was on the morning of my leaving - the high school students. They were marching around the Bastille. "People here seem to like walking on streets", my friend concluded.
Once again I liked walking on the Parisian streets, too. Even though it was cold, colder than it had been so far in Finland either, and the wind was dry and almost arctic and there was even some snow, yet I liked the city more than ever. And I never get tired of being impressed by the breathe-taking grandness of Notre Dame cathedral, my favourite spot. We witnessed the Eiffel tower being frozen and most parks being closed due to the slippery ground. It was my first time there in the winter time and maybe it was the weather that made it even more home-like, this time Métros being the ones in which to seek for warmth instead of to escape from due to the suffocating hotness in July. And the music of Métro announcements that bring memories of European railway stations in summer...
And apparently, I look like a French. I was waiting on the top of Métro stairs on Boulevard Saint Michel, waiting for my friend when I was called by a young man speaking in French and probably looking for directions. To which I immediately responded that my French is not that good and actually I am not from here anyway. He seemed to forget the question while continuing insisting my French seemed perfectly well and that I actually had the style of a Parisienne. The conversation turned to English when my French finally met its borders (pretty fast, I assure you), and even though I tried to look down the stairs, hoping to see my friend coming up and saving me any second, she didn't show up just yet and the guy went on. He looked decent and nice but all those stories of not talking to strange men in Paris have stuck to my head well. (To be honest, I don't even know why.) Finally, assuring him kindly I did not want his email address and that I was about to leave soon so that there was not really time for him to take me for a coffee either he left, wishing me bon séjour. What did we learn? Don't know, except that I am such a Finn. (I tried to correct my subconscious fear of strangers today by starting a conversation with an apparent exchange student sitting opposite to me in a student restaurant. Worked well for both of us I guess, since it is probably always nicer to eat with someone than alone. However, I would never do that with another Finn. Why is that?)
And so a week went by, faster than ever since it's like that I guess: in a new and strange place days go slow but somewhere we enjoy and know our way time flies. And I returned, kind of numb to feel any sadness anymore of those goodbyes we've said so many times during these past years, luggage filled with teas from my favourite tea shop and books from my favourite English book shop and my mind settled more than ever to live in that city some day. In spite of the strikes and the almost impossible language and my sticking Finnishness I still find something familiar in the French culture that I enjoy so much and would like to know more of. Paris grows on you, I conclude.
It wasn't so funny when my co-Finn in this circle of friends arrived to Paris, some days earlier than me and the train workers were on strike. My friends survived well since one of them was French, but the rest of the poor tourists taking the RER from Charles de Gaulle to the city of Paris were probably stroke too by their visit's shortness, when the train turned back from Gare du Nord and took them to the airport again. With no announcements, of course.
The comical aspect was more obvious one evening when we were watching TV and waiting for the national news broadcast. Finally we got the news, but it was from somewhere middle of nowhere, a place the French themselves didn't recognize, a regional news about how some road was being repaired again and a mayor of a small town proudly presenting the process. By the time of the weather forecast that was presented by no one we had figured out there must be a strike in the national television.
The third strike was on the morning of my leaving - the high school students. They were marching around the Bastille. "People here seem to like walking on streets", my friend concluded.
Once again I liked walking on the Parisian streets, too. Even though it was cold, colder than it had been so far in Finland either, and the wind was dry and almost arctic and there was even some snow, yet I liked the city more than ever. And I never get tired of being impressed by the breathe-taking grandness of Notre Dame cathedral, my favourite spot. We witnessed the Eiffel tower being frozen and most parks being closed due to the slippery ground. It was my first time there in the winter time and maybe it was the weather that made it even more home-like, this time Métros being the ones in which to seek for warmth instead of to escape from due to the suffocating hotness in July. And the music of Métro announcements that bring memories of European railway stations in summer...
And apparently, I look like a French. I was waiting on the top of Métro stairs on Boulevard Saint Michel, waiting for my friend when I was called by a young man speaking in French and probably looking for directions. To which I immediately responded that my French is not that good and actually I am not from here anyway. He seemed to forget the question while continuing insisting my French seemed perfectly well and that I actually had the style of a Parisienne. The conversation turned to English when my French finally met its borders (pretty fast, I assure you), and even though I tried to look down the stairs, hoping to see my friend coming up and saving me any second, she didn't show up just yet and the guy went on. He looked decent and nice but all those stories of not talking to strange men in Paris have stuck to my head well. (To be honest, I don't even know why.) Finally, assuring him kindly I did not want his email address and that I was about to leave soon so that there was not really time for him to take me for a coffee either he left, wishing me bon séjour. What did we learn? Don't know, except that I am such a Finn. (I tried to correct my subconscious fear of strangers today by starting a conversation with an apparent exchange student sitting opposite to me in a student restaurant. Worked well for both of us I guess, since it is probably always nicer to eat with someone than alone. However, I would never do that with another Finn. Why is that?)
And so a week went by, faster than ever since it's like that I guess: in a new and strange place days go slow but somewhere we enjoy and know our way time flies. And I returned, kind of numb to feel any sadness anymore of those goodbyes we've said so many times during these past years, luggage filled with teas from my favourite tea shop and books from my favourite English book shop and my mind settled more than ever to live in that city some day. In spite of the strikes and the almost impossible language and my sticking Finnishness I still find something familiar in the French culture that I enjoy so much and would like to know more of. Paris grows on you, I conclude.
Friday, January 9, 2009
Here we go again
I'm back. So far I've spent approximately 80 to 90 % of the new year abroad, which feels kind of great. While the weeks will start going by, the number will, eventually and unfortunately, decrease. In the need of a new plan, eh? I'm glad to be back at home, in a sense, thinking of good friends and things I know and the unbelievable easiness of living in Finnish. But I once again miss my French friends unbearably, and the culture of the controversial but ever so lovely town I already begin to know so well. I do have some plans considering it but we will see what happens within the next few weeks. In the meanwhile I'll start my first Finnish week in 2009 by dancing, dancing, dancing.
And I do know what's going on in the world, but I just don't have words to say anything about it. Today I read the main newspaper where one of the stories was about four children, left to starve in some house in the middle of their dead mothers and other people while the soldiers just some 80 meters away knew what was going on. Well they were finally found and rescued as well as you can in those conditions but who knows how many more real life tragedies are going on right at this moment, while I dream of Paris and drink tea in my maybe cold but perfectly safe and comfortable home in this silent afternoon of white January. Sometimes I cannot bear what they say to be the guilty of a white man, or well, a woman, which was given to me when I was born, and that sometimes just paralyses me instead of pushing me into the real world where I could actually do something. Something real... My tendency is to read everything I can of the catastrophes going on and then feel the unbearable need to fly in and be in the middle of it. Why? To feel that I am DOING something concrete instead of turning to the culture pages. I believe I could bear sorrow and troubles and fear and bad things of all kinds well enough but only if I am doing someting for those who suffer from it without an option. It's the silence and being alone in my peace that depresses me, because then I have time to think. And sometimes thinking is, even for a philosopher, the last drop.
Anyway. The new year for me so far has been a good one, hope it's been the same for you. More about Paris and my thoughts in France maybe later.
And I do know what's going on in the world, but I just don't have words to say anything about it. Today I read the main newspaper where one of the stories was about four children, left to starve in some house in the middle of their dead mothers and other people while the soldiers just some 80 meters away knew what was going on. Well they were finally found and rescued as well as you can in those conditions but who knows how many more real life tragedies are going on right at this moment, while I dream of Paris and drink tea in my maybe cold but perfectly safe and comfortable home in this silent afternoon of white January. Sometimes I cannot bear what they say to be the guilty of a white man, or well, a woman, which was given to me when I was born, and that sometimes just paralyses me instead of pushing me into the real world where I could actually do something. Something real... My tendency is to read everything I can of the catastrophes going on and then feel the unbearable need to fly in and be in the middle of it. Why? To feel that I am DOING something concrete instead of turning to the culture pages. I believe I could bear sorrow and troubles and fear and bad things of all kinds well enough but only if I am doing someting for those who suffer from it without an option. It's the silence and being alone in my peace that depresses me, because then I have time to think. And sometimes thinking is, even for a philosopher, the last drop.
Anyway. The new year for me so far has been a good one, hope it's been the same for you. More about Paris and my thoughts in France maybe later.
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