Torgnyworld

Sorry

2011-04-03T23:28:00.001+02:00

Torgnyworld is currently on a hiatus. But its Norwegian equivalent Torgnyland is still alive and kicking. With a little help of Google Translate you might even understand some of it.

Time Passes - Christmas Remains

2010-12-25T14:17:00.001+01:00

Christmas will always be my favourite holiday. The Christmases of my childhood must have made an indelible impression on me. Back then everything was permeated by an atmosphere of utter calm and harmony.

The preparations and expectations played an important role. I vividly remember the baking before Christmas. My brother and I helped mum and gran rolling coriander cookies. We weren't really allowed to taste the pastry, but we were still frequently standing by the tap to have a sip of water. Coriander pastry makes you thirsty.

Lots have happened since then. And I realize the Christmases of my childhood will never come back. Lately I've often decided to spend my Christmas abroad. It's nice to get away from the winter cold for a while. But at the same time it almost feels like skipping the festival. You go through Advent, and then suddenly you're on summer holiday!

Consequently, I guess I prefer celebrating Christmas in my homeland after all, with winter, cold and maybe even snow. It may sound a bit sad sitting on one's own on Christmas Eve. And - yes! I'd much rather celebrate Christmas the way I did before, with mum, dad, my brother and gran... But of obvious reasons this is no longer possible. And instead of crying over spilt milk, I guess one should rather try to make the best out of it.

And that's what I do. On Christmas Eve I prepared the traditional pork ribs, with potatoes, sauerkraut, prunes and sauce. And afterwards I relaxed in front of the television, watching various Christmassy programs, my regular cognac replaced by aquavit. It's Christmas, after all.

The days between Christmas and New Year's Eve are often a slight anticlimax. But recently my closest relative invited me home to him and his family on 26 and 27 December. Many other relatives were also coming. Family is important, and one should stay in touch while one still can. Unfortunately, I had already booked a trip to the US in this period. But there will be other Christmases. And hopefully also more opportunities for family reunions.

I wish you all a Very Merry Christmas, and all the best in the New Year!

Winter Wonderland

2010-11-25T21:00:00.000+01:00

Sundays can be sort of boring. But this time I decided to "visit myself". As some of you may know I've just bought my own flat (although I haven't moved in quite yet). Consequently, I thought it might be a god idea to get more familiar with my new local environment to be.

According to the ad you're "only 150 metres away from the woods. Here you can enjoy leisure activities like kayaking, swimming, mountaineering, mountain biking and skiing in greatly groomed ski tracks during the winter season". This sounds great. Although I'm not generally an outdoors guy, I don't mind having forest and field nearby.

Consequently, this Sunday I took the tram to my new soon to be habitat and went into the woods. At first, I walked along "a greatly groomed ski track". But then the Capricorn within me got the better hand of me, making me set out into the woods along a narrow and hardly trodden path. The snow lay soft on the ground, and everything was quite and peaceful. After having struggled through a pretty rugged terrain, I finally found myself on top of a rock, beholding my new realm, the district of Østensjø.

It was getting dark, and I started to worry I might not find my way back. (I have many good sides, but a sense of direction is not one of these.) After having messed about in scrubs and bushes for a while, I could finally see the city lights in the distance. I got on the tram to my own district, where I made myself a cup of lovely hot chocolate. That has always been a part of wintry hikes in the woods.

In The Night Garden

2010-11-13T19:42:00.004+01:00

Dreams are a fascinating phenomenon. Sometimes they seem more real than reality itself. For a while I was determined to form a band playing ethereal dream pop and calling ourselves As Real As Dreams.

Some claim that you don't dream in colours. Some claim that you can't have tactile experiences in a dream ("pinch my arm!"). Some claim that those who dream never are aware of it themselves. Well, I've just realized that neither of this is true.

The other night I was lying sleepless in my bed, desperately trying all kinds of sleeping techniques. I've gradually discovered that a good way to enter slumberland is emptying your head of all your thoughts. It requires a bit of concentration, but it's not as hard as you might expect. Instead I try to imagine a scenery, an abstract figure or something like that, and then focus completely on this image. (I guess it's some kind of "zen"...) With a bit of luck (and concentration) I then sink deeper and deeper into this image until I'm sound asleep.

This time, however, my technique failed. I tossed and turned for hours with no result. But suddenly I found myself in a luxuriant garden. I knew that I'd been lying in bed only a few minutes earlier, and realized right away that this had to be a dream. But this only made me even more attentive of my surroundings. The colours were strong and sharp - paradoxically even more "realistic" than what you experience when you're awake. I was surrounded by green trees and shrubberies, walking (barefoot, I think) through soft, dewy grass while tiny insects were whirring around my face.

As I said, I was fully aware of the fact that I was dreaming. Lately I've had some dreams in which I've sort of floated along some feet above the ground. Quite pleasant, actually. Since this obviously was a dream, I decided to find out whether I was able to accomplish a similar glide here as well. No sooner said than done. With my strength of will I started levitating from the ground and gliding like a ghost through the garden. But then I must have got a bit overconfident. After a few seconds I lost control and crashed into a tree!

My sleep probably wasn't very deep, because now I started to reascend to the waking state. Right afterwards I opened my eyes and once again found myself in my bed. Damn! But I had at least made a few empirical observations of existence in dreamland, and can hereby deliver a report to you, the residents of the world of the awake.

R.I.P. Mac

2010-11-11T20:04:00.002+01:00

Last weekend my Mac collapsed. First it caughed a little, then it hawked a little, and finally it died completely. It was heartbreaking.

The last few days it's been examined. And now they've made a diagnosis. It needs to be fixed. And it turns out the costs will be higher than buying a new Mac! And then what's the point? Grrr, a phrase rhyming with "clucking bell" comes to mind...

Well, now that my Mac is dead at least I can spend the evenings in the company of a digital, text-based medium from the good, old days before the internet: Teletext. There's nothing like 7-bit graphics in eight glorious colours.

Trends & Transport

2010-10-31T02:55:00.023+02:00

As you know, this blog has a hang-up on contemporary movements. Torgnyworld wants to feel the pulse of the latest trends and tendencies.

An important yardstick in this connection is popular culture. Not least pop music and its promo videos. Consequently, we think that an important trend in 2011 will be (roll of drums) non-motorized vehicles!

One important indication of this phenomenon is found in Mark Ronson's song "The Bike Song", temporarily on high rotation on MTV. As the title suggests, the song is dedicated to the joys of the two-wheeler. And the music video includes an almost fetishist fascination of bicycle seats, bicycle bells and bicycle lights.

Another recurrent artist on MTV's playlists is the new pop comet Eliza Doolittle (although her name sounds curiously familiar...?). In her song "Rollerblades" footwear including a vehicle device is primarily in focus. While her video is almost as fixated on bikes as the one of Mark Ronson's.

Our prediction is consequently that muscle powered conveyances will be the next big thing. We expect a considerable boom regarding the use of bikes, rollerblades, scooters and kicksleds in 2011. Remember where you read this first!

Home, Sweet Home

2010-10-25T20:47:00.001+02:00

As some may have noticed, I've been searching for a new flat for some time now. I had a rather active period about this time last year, going to some public viewings in downtown Oslo. (At that time I felt like living in an "urban environment", while still being pretty close to work.) But after a few months my inspiration waned, and during spring I put my hunt on ice.

After summer holiday, however, my inspiration returned. And this time I changed my strategy slightly. I had come to the conclusion that it could actually be quite cool living outside the city centre too. Every day I take the tram to work, and I've discovered that it can actually be pretty nice in the suburbs too. Light, airy and green. So, the last couple of months I've been to some viewings in this area. And now I've even gone so far as too - lo and behold - make some bids!

Until now, however, there has always been someone else winning the bidding round. And this is always a downer. If I'm going to make a bid for a flat, I sort of have to "fall in love" with it. One does invest quite a lot of emotional capital in these cases, you know. It's a bit like having a crush on a girl, and then someone else comes along and takes her from you. After that, you don't move on to the next love interest right away, do you?

Well, after a month's heartache after my last setback on the house front, I was once again on a few viewings last week. One flat in particular appealed to me. And since I'm getting a bit fed up with my perpetual existence as a flat searcher, I took a deep breath and made a bid. Soon after the blasted bidding round started again. But after some counterbids - and a 10 percent price increase - I actually ended up as the winner of the round!

Since there was an option involved, it was still too early to rejoice, though. There was still a chance someone with a higher priority might snatch the place right out of my hands. But after two days of nerve-wracking waiting I got the message: The flat was mine! :-D

By the way, I was very surprised by the overwhelming response this news generated. When I told my colleagues that I'd become a flat owner, I was showered with congratulations. And during the day I got lots of offers from my friends about lending me their car, assisting me during my relocation, coaching me at Ikea etc. People are so kind! Thank you so much! :-)

From The Family Album

2010-10-09T20:12:00.000+02:00

Here you see me as a toddler, surrounded by parents, aunt, uncle and cousins. Unfortunately, great family gatherings like this were a rare thing. They usually occured in connection with important seremonies. Such as christenings, confirmations, weddings - and funerals.

Gradually, most family members have passed away. Grandparents, uncle, aunt and parents. Last week we also received the sad news that cousin Grete had been added to the list. In a way it feels a bit strange. She is the first of the family members I have lost who actually belonged to my generation. Now my brother and my cousin Petter are the only ones left of my closest relatives. And my little nephew Bo, of course.

On Tuesday I attended her funeral. Ceremonies like these are seldom a real gas, but personally I liked the fact that the commemorative words focused on Grete's relationship to our family cabin. This is the place were I too spent my first (and greatest) summers. I guess the cabin meant just as much to her.

A good thing about such sad events is the fact that they bring together people who usually see each other much too seldom. During the funeral I had a re-encounter with the girl from the neighbouring cabin, who used to baby-sit me during my first, happy summers. Both she and I had got a bit older since then, but I think we both appreciated seeing each other again. Such events remind us of the fact that what's most important in life is the people you have met.

Three generations enjoying the view from the cabin. Granddad, dad and me.

A Time For Scarves and Cardigans

2010-09-30T20:33:00.000+02:00

Spring is probably my favourite season. And summer is lovely. But I sort of like autumn too, with its crisp air, subacid scent of apples and multicoloured leaves.

This weekend the weather was much too nice to stay inside, so I went to a lake nearby, along with joggers, families and dog owners. Some kids were selling coffee and lemonade. A happy dog came by to say hello. A cute girl smiled at me. A nice walk.

The seasons return every year. But of some reason the current season always evokes associations to one particular autumn: The one in '94.

This year I finished my studies, got my first job, and moved out to no man's land. I guess you often experience things more strongly when you change your environment. And since the initial part of this "new life" of mine took place during the autumn months, I've always associated my memories of this period with this particular season.

During this autumn sixteen years ago I also got the first record with The Cardigans. I listened a lot to it in this period, but hardly ever later on (like most music from the '90s). Consequentely, I'll always associate "Emmerdale" with cool mornings and golden leaves. And vice versa.

Indie Nights

2010-09-27T21:59:00.003+02:00

Two weeks ago I had a lovely stay in Stockholm with my colleagues. There was, however, a fly in the ointment, as the trip coincided with a planned visit to my brother. (Social gatherings often seem to come "en bloc".

Fortunately, I managed to kill two birds with one stone. As soon as the plane from Stockholm had arrived at Oslo Airport on Saturday afternoon, I jumped aboard the first available bus to Fredrikstad, and thus got the chance to see my brother for the remainder of the weekend after all.

After my brother moved back to Eastern Norway, it has become somewhat easier to get together. This weekend he was a grass widower with little Bo, but it all worked out just fine.

On Saturday evening we made our famous Koren pizza™, and on Sunday we had a nice excursion to the neighbouring (and our childhood) town of Sarpsborg. We strolled in the city park, which now had got a nice playground which Bo seemed to enjoy.

What I enjoy the most with our brotherly get-togethers, however, is just chilling and talking about this and that. Mostly music. In the evenings we often end up like two Beavis and Buttheads, commenting music videos. Great fun. But maybe a bit passive.

This Saturday night, however, we chose a slightly different variety. My brother's (and my) cable company offers various radio channels playing non stop music in several different genres. This evening we ended up listening to the channel "Indie Classics", playing music we both can relate to ("independent" music from the punks' "Year Zero" until the millennium shift). Quite a lot of it we knew from before - or were at least able to identify (The Smiths, The Cure, XTC, Siouxsie, Pistols, Jam, Beck, Costello etc.). But lots of it was also new to us.

Eventually we ended up trying to identify the artists. The fact that there were no intros or outros to the songs made it a bit of a challenge. The solution was noting down fragments of the lyrics of the songs we didn't know, and then google them. It turned out we've actually got a rather good intuition about indie music we've never heard before. In the small hours we concluded that this had to be a great radio concept: Two brothers discussing songs they don't know what is...

At any rate, it was a great weekend. And little Bo seemed to appreciate a visit from "unca" Torgny. When I had to leave on Sunday evening, he seemed almost a little dishearted. I guess that's a good sign. :-)

Stockholm in September

2010-09-21T23:58:00.007+02:00

As you probably know by now, I've got lovely students at work. But my colleagues aren't too bad, either. Unfortunately, we don't see each other that often outside work.

Last week, however, we went on a four-day trip to Stockholm, Sweden. A welcome opportunity to socialize with one's workmates in a slightly different setting than usual.

A great deal of the stay naturally had a professional focus, like visiting some of the city's adult education centres. In this respect, I'm not really sure how fruitful this stay really was. We could probably get similar insights without crossing national borders. In fact, I think visiting the classroom of a colleague could have been just as informative...

But personally I appreciated the stay of other reasons. Firstly, Stockholm is a lovely city - with its islands, bridges and water. And secondly, it's nice seeing one's colleagues outside the four walls of our workplace. Travelling abroad does something to you. Getting away from the routines of everyday life tends to make you a bit more open and relaxed.

In addition to the professional content, we also had several social activities, including a lovely three course meal at a nice restaurant in the Old Town. And on Friday we got all afternoon at our disposal, giving us plenty of time to stroll around in the shopping streets, and then spend the night at cozy bars.

It all was really nice. And hopefully this might inspire me and my colleagues to more social gatherings here in Oslo as well...

Frustrated House Hunt. Again

2010-09-09T20:47:00.005+02:00

As some may remember, last year I decided to start looking for an apartment. After several viewings, however, my inspiration faded, and I put my house hunt on ice.

I'm not sure if it's because of my summer holiday or something else, but during the last month my motivation for finding a place of my own has to some extent returned.

Until recently I've mostly focused on flats in the central area of Oslo. I guess I'm basically a rather urban kind of guy, preferring asphalt under my feet.

Lately I've changed my strategy a bit, though. On the tram on the way to work I daily pass nice and green areas in the more suburban parts of the town. Charming houses with gardens and flagpoles.

Consequently, I recently went to this year's first viewing. The place was idyllically situated between a lake and the Oslo woods, but still with enough asphalt to make the urbanist happy. Besides, I liked the flat itself - an "exclusive and attractive apartment with a balcony facing west".

To be honest, I hate looking for a flat. Viewings, bidding rounds etc. I actually just want to get it over with. But as a flat searcher you obviously either 1) sit on the fence forever, or 2) settle quickly and make a bid.

Until now I've stuck to the former strategy - with no results so far. Consequently, this time I took heart and made the first bid of my life! I may have swallowed heavily and wiped off a bead of sweat from my forehead. But I did it!

The next day hell broke loose, with phone calls from the estate agent with continual counterbids every second minute. The other guy kept adding a few thousand every time, until my wallet was scraped. If that's how it's gonna be, then screw it all!

Cure, Culters & Classmates

2010-08-29T22:01:00.002+02:00

According to the somewhat spaced-out psychologist C. G. Jung we occasionally experience coincidences which have to arise from something more than just coincidences. This phenomenon he refers to as "synchronicity".

Yesterday I was at the record shop and came across a Greatest Hits collection with The Cure (consisting of a double CD and a DVD) for just a few bucks. An offer no music lover can turn down.

At the underground right afterwards I was sitting opposite three teenage girls with a style I sort of liked. Black clothes, black mascara and big black hair. Mini versions of Robert Smith, all of them. Maybe they're called emos today, but for me they were reincarnations of the little nine-graders dressed in black (then called "culters") hanging outside the local record shop in the mid-80s.

As I walked down the main avenue a bit later, I - much to my surprise - bumped into an old classmate visiting Oslo (now she's got vampire teeth and tattoos all over her body; a reminder that the most exciting people are those I'd probably never even get to know today).

From The Cure, via the "culters" of my youth, to an unexpected encounter with my old classmate. Could this be caused by pure coincidences? Or was this some kind of Jungian synchronicity?

On the other hand: In a rare whim of humility Freud once admitted that "sometimes a cigar is just a cigar". Maybe his colleague Jung on his part would agree that "coincidences sometimes are just coincidences"?

Well, no matter what I had a nice Saturday afternoon.

Another School Year

2010-08-27T23:44:00.004+02:00

Although I wouldn't mind prolonging my summer holiday with one or two additional weeks, I guess it was ok getting back to work again. It all started with a two-day course at a conference hotel last week.

Since the participants came from all the adult education centres in town, I also got the chance to see my nice colleagues from my former workplace again. True, the very first person I ran into was my personal nemesis. But after having survived her basilisk gaze I was actually quite glad to get that over and done with. And afterwards I could socialize with my ex-colleagues. I don't regret leaving my former workplace. But it was a pity losing so many nice colleagues.

The program offered many relevant/interesting topics, although I personally didn't always find the relevant stuff that interesting. And vice versa.

An element which may not have been that relevant for the daily work in the classroom, but which still caught my interest, was a presentation of Holland's six personality types: Realistic, Investigative, Artistic, Social, Enterprising and Conventional (or for short: RIASEC).

During the presentation we were encouraged to find our own personality types, and it turned out that both I and my neighbour defined ourselves primarily as S-, I- and A-types. On the other hand, I guess it's no surprise that teachers usually have a social, investigative and artistic disposition.

All in all these days were a rather good start of the new school year. And of course it felt great being able to eat as much soft ice and pop corn as we wanted. Teachers aren't exactly pampered with fringe benefits.

Back To Life, Back To Reality...

2010-08-18T21:04:00.006+02:00

Yesterday I had the last day of my vaacation. And after two months I guess it might be a good idea to get back to the everyday life again. Holidays easily make you develop bad habits. Like watching tv all morning.

As for me, old reruns of Frasier and Judging Amy have lately become part of my morning ritual. I sometimes feel like a lazy housewife. The only things missing are the housecoat, hair roller and a cigarette in my mouth. (But I guess things could be EVEN worse. I could be watching Oprah and Dynasty instead...)

Well, since this was my last day off, I decided to make the best out of it. I got up rather early, watched my prescribed Frasier and Amy episodes, and then eventually went out into the Oslo summer - which unfortunately wasn't very summery. But after having read the paper at the local library I still decided to explore the fjord.

There hasn't been much beach life this summer, and now that everyday life is on its way again, it's hard to say when (or if) there'll be another chance. So I took the bus to one of the islands and had a nice, refreshing dip. (When I almost collided with a 100 pound sea nettle, however, I realized I better get out of the water again.)

In the evening I enjoyed a chicken salad and some wine. The wine was kind of sour, and the salad didn't agree with me very well. But what the heck! I enjoyed this day of my vacation as if it was my last one. Probably because it was. But fortunately there are only 10 months until my next summer holiday. Yay!

The District & NYC

2010-08-12T12:07:00.007+02:00

One might think my three-week InterRail should have satisfied my need to travel. But now I've just returned from yet another trip, this time to Washington DC and New York City.

I didn't really have that many expectations about DC. I was mostly imagining lots of public buildings. But although Washington is the administrative centre of the US, it was far from boring. Escpecially since the "public buildings" also included the White House and Capitol!

Another sight was the Smithsonian Institution's many exciting (and admission-free) museums by the Mall. We didn't have time to see them all, but visited the Museums for Natural History, American History and Air and Space. Interesting and informative.

After four days in DC, New York was our next stop. Compared to DC's relatively low buildings and modest pace, the skyskrapers and swarming street life of The Big Apple seemed like the diametrical opposite!

On Saturday we spent most of the day at the Metropolitan Museum of Art, but still only got time for a fraction of the collection: Greek, Roman and so-called Primitive art, plus paintings from the 19th and 20th centuries. All the same, I got the chance to see several of my favourite artists (Surrealists, Avantgardists and Impressionists, plus the occasional Pre-Raphaelite...).

It was a great stay, but every time I visit New York, the last day has always a certain bitter-sweetness to it. I won't bother to explain why. It has to do with goodbyes.

Southern Discomfort

2010-07-31T23:24:00.003+02:00

There aren't really that many things I'm that opinionated about. I'm supposed to be an "intellectual", but often have no clear conviction what books, movies etc. I actually prefer. And when it comes to clothes, furnishing and so on, I'm even less opinionated.

However, I do have rather clear opinions when the existential stuff is concerned - the things that give meaning to life. Such as the opposite sex. And not least music.

Although I grew up in the 70s, the music from that decade is actually the one I like the least. The 60s were a golden age, and the 80s are much better than their reputation. But the music from around 1968 and onwards is in my view a real bummer. I blame the hippies.

All afternoon I've listened to my neoghbour's musical preferences from an open window. It started bad, with Creedence Clearwater Revivals' "Have You Ever Seen The Rain", and went from bad to worse, with Nazareth and "Love Hurts". When "Living Next Door To Alice" followed, I hardly believed my ears. What kind of person was this, playing all my most hated ballads from the 70s?!

At that point I actually started betting with myself what could be the next tune. Rod Stewart's "Sailing"? Or maybe Bonnie Tyler with "It's A Heartache"? It turned out, however, that the guy now had decided to dedicate the afternoon entirely to Creedence. One by one, "Bad Moon Rising", "Rolling On The River" and "Down On The Corner" sounded from the open window. Finally, however, he went on to play The Wall in its entirety. And in all fairness, I don't hate Pink Floyd. I just dislike them strongly.

Sometimes I wonder how one actually knows what one knows. Even about things one's not interested in at all. When I hear names like Creedence Clearwater Revival, The Nitty Gritty Dirt Band or Lynyrd Skynyrd, I don't know one single song title. But I still "know" that these are bands I definitely don't like, and which all can be categorized as "down to earth Southern rock'n'roll... (Even the term gives me a bad taste in my mouth... Ugh!)

I guess many may disagree with me. We all have different tastes (or in this case: distastes). But as I said, music is one of rather few topics about which I can be quite opinionated.

InterRail 2010

2010-07-26T16:45:00.016+02:00

After my return from my InterRail trip through Central Europe, here's a little summary:

30 June - 4 July: Berlin, Germany

The first day I spent, according to tradition, just walking up and down the streets, in order to get a gist of the city's "nerve". I went along Kurfürstendamm, through Tiergarten, past the Reichstag and Brandenburger Tor, all the way to Alexanderplatz. It's always like that when I visit new places: I walk until my feet are sore. (But that doesn't matter as long as der kleine Laden um die Ecke sells lovely Orangina. In 1 litre bottles, even!)

The last time I visited Berlin, an ugly wall went through the city. It had disappeared since then, but entering the former East Berlin I still got some of the same old feeling. Some may remember the postcards you could get until quite recently, with photos of the local sights, apparently hand-(Techno)colored, all with car models from the 50s! Well, entering the eastern parts of Berlin I got a bit of the same feeling. The spirit from the GDR days was still in the air. The only thing missing was the blue Trabi's.

But there's still one reminiscence from the GDR era I kind of like: "der Ampelmann". As opposed to our western, stylized matchstick traffic light man, East Germany had a much more charming chap. He looked as if he was taken from some ultra-educational cartoon (and maybe he was, too). And you can still see him at several of Berlin's pedestrian crossings.

During these days I also got a chance to visit a couple of museums. Including the "Wall Museum" by the old Checkpoint Charlie. Lots of interesting information about the personal stories and fates associated to The Wall of Shame.

I also visited the "Museumsinsel" - an island (or rather an peninsula) containing several museums with cultural historical treasures from antiquity. Once again I was reminded of these names that tend to turn up when I'm out travelling and visiting the local museums (and then forget again): Schliemann, Champollion, Ventris, etc.

I really enjoyed Berlin. But after four days I started dreaming of German conjugations and dative forms, and realized I maybe ought to get somewhere I wouldn't even try to speak the native tongue... :-)

4 - 6 July: Prague, Czech Republic

Although I had four great and eventful days in Berlin, it still felt as if my InterRail travel really started when I entered the train transporting me southwards through eastern Germany.

When means of transport are concerned, I guess trains are my favourite. Planes may be more efficient, but they only bring you from A to B. On the way you're just sitting in a tin can high up in the air. Travelling by train, however, you're really on your way. You see cities, railway stations, sceneries and people's houses passing by. It's not hard to understand why the guys in Kraftwerk made musical homages to travels by train and car (but as far as I know never by plane...).

I was in Prague only a few years ago. Maybe that's why this visit didn't feel quite as new and exciting as the others. Charles Bridge was still there, and the Old Town was still nice. But I did enjoy sitting on the town square watching tourists applauding the astronomical clock's strikes every hour. Especially when I realized that the café would only serve their wine in large bottles.

However, Prague's nightlife may be not totally without its dangers. Fortunately, I soon realized I probably should avoid dark joints with red plush on the wall and one lightly dressed lady by the bar. (17 January 1968 I might have thought: "Hey, this seems like a nice place". But then I was born yesterday...)

6 - 9 July: Munich, Germany

After Prague I went on to Munich - a city characterized by Bavarian Gemütlichkeit... Of course I had to check out the city's famous beer houses and beer gardens, but ended up in the same Bierstube as all the other tourists. I have nothing against Japanese girls (on the contrary!), but they don't exactly give me a sense of genuine Münchener authenticity.

The second evening in Munich, however, I participated in a four-hour "Beer Challenge", which was basically an arranged pub to pub tour. Judging from the other participants this would be more appropriate for Torgny's InterRail tour 1990 than ditto 2010. But it was a nice change enjoying one's Augustiner Edelstoff in the company of other, fun people.

9 - 11 July: Zürich, Switzerland

Big city holidays are great. But after having visited Berlin, Prague and Munich I was starting to reach a saturation point for museums, pubs and cafés. Instead I was now ready for beautiful sceneries.

Consequently, it seems my next destination - Switzerland - was quite appropriate. On the tenth day of my European tour the train arrived at Zürich Hauptbahnhof.

Zürich seemed like an ok city, but I had problems detecting any obvious sights. So, on my second day I decided to use my InterRail pass for what it was worth.

I initially wanted to see all of Switzerland. The country isn't that big, but still offers lots of different sceneries. And no less than four official languages. Being a language geek I was tempted to visit all the language areas during my stay. "The great language journey - in little Switzerland".

However, I realized this might be a bit too ambitious for a one-day trip. Instead I went to the neighbouring city Luzern, whose Renaissance architecture offered much more character than Zürich, and then went on to Interlaken, with a great view of the alpine Jungfrau massive from its (extremely touristified) avenue. Maybe not die ganze Schweiz. But at least das Herz der Schweiz.

Still, the greatest Swiss experience was the travel itself. We passed deep woods, little villages and grand alpine sceneries. What impressed me the most, however, was all the lakes (the kind that English Romantics tend to drown in). Usually I think lakes are rather dull, but the Swiss ones had a peculiar azure colour. I don't know how they do it. (The only thing I regret from this stay, is not having a dip in any of them.)

11 - 13 July: Vienna, Austria

After Zürich I decided to pay a visit to Vienna, resulting in a long journey through all of Austria (via the Tirol city Innsbruck and Mozart's native town Salzburg). But since the journey involved many scenic experiences on the way, this didn't matter much. (As an extra bonus the trip also included another country I've never visited before - Liechtenstein. The travel through the principality took about five minutes...)

In Vienna I admired St Stephen's Cathedral, had my Sachertorte and walked along the Danube canal.

Usually I'm no fan of romantic comedies. But a personal favourite will always be "Before Sunrise" (1995), in which Ethan Hawke and Julie Delpy, after meeting at a train to Vienna, decide to spend their next hours on a nocturnal walk through the streets of the city.

This film reminds me of what it was like being 23. You could meet a girl on a train and spontaneously decide to get off with her at the next station. During my walk along Vienna's landmarks I almost imagined myself starring in this movie. The only thing missing was the pretty, French girl.

After Vienna there was a long and rather tedious stretch westwards, but the Rhine valley presented more scenic surroundings, with slopes covered with grapevines and castles on every hill. In Koblenz I had to change to a local train towards the Mosel valley, but I didn't mind. As I've said before, I prefer trains to planes. (And this has nothing to do with aerophobia. I just think planes are cold, cramped and clinical.) Of the same reason I like local trains even more than express trains. They make you feel you're really on your way.

15 - 16 July, Luxembourg City

Exactly thirty years ago my family went on a legendary car ride through the north-western part of Europe. During the last week of this summer's InterRail travel I decided to repeat this trip - albeit in reverse.

My first stop was Luxembourg. Until then most of my destinations had belonged to the Germanophonic part of Europe. Luxembourg City, however, turned out to be more characterized by French. Frankly, I'd hoped to hear some interesting phrases in lëtzebuergesch, but apparently the capital wasn't the best location for such observations. Luxembourg-Ville wasn't that big, but it had a nice and characteristic Old Town with narrow, paved alleys.

16 - 18 July: Bruges, Belgium

The next day I took the train through the beautiful Belgian Ardennes and eventually reached the Medieval town of Bruges. Of some reason I found the 17th Century buildings even nicer now than when I visited the town as a 12-year-old.

Belgium isn't that big, so I decided to visit some of the neighbouring towns as well. After almost three weeks in Central Europe I was starting to feel an urge for the ocean, so I went to Oostende, enjoying the sea air and the sandy beach. Afterwards I visited Gent, a city filled with litter and holes. I didn't care much about it, and soon returned to my base in Bruges.

18 - 22 July: Amsterdam, the Netherlands

My InterRail pass was running out, but there was still one more place I had to see. 18 July I arrived in Amsterdam. This place is really something else, with its canals, house boats, flower boxes and bicycle terrorists. Ever since my first visit in 1980 I've liked the Netherlands. The Dutch are in many ways quite similar to us Norwegians (and also have some additional social intelligence).

During the stay I visited the Rijksmuseum and the Artis Zoo. I also made the wise choice of purchasing a 24-hour pass for hopping on and off various canalboat routes. The best way to experience Amsterdam is probably by the canals.

After four days in Amsterdam it was finally time to return home. It had been an eventful journey (and I really recommend InterRail!). THANK YOU, EUROPE!

But I must admit it feels great sleeping in one's own bed once again. :-)

Europe At My Feet

2010-06-29T13:55:00.003+02:00

20 years ago I went on my first InterRail trip, ambitiously planning to cover vast parts of the European map. True, I only ended up covering France and the UK, but it was still a great and eventful journey.

Ten years before this I went on another, just as momentous travel: My family's car ride through the BeNeLux countries and Germany, including the beautiful Mosel valley. This too was definitely a memorable experience.

Now it's 2010, and once again it's summer and time for travelling. After last year's Tibetan extravaganza I had decided to take it more easy thie year. Maybe just a few days in a European city or something. But Europe has so many interesting cities. I was considering Berlin, London, Amsterdam and many others. But then I realized that there's actually a reasonable way to visit two, three and many even more European cities within a few weeks. Namely InterRail!

So, now I'm considering just jumping on the first train available and go wherever the European railway network might lead me. I hope to revisit several nice places from both my InterRail 1990 and my family's car ride 1980. And if any of you should happen to be somewhere on the continent this summer, just give me a call. Maybe I could drop by for tea or something? ;-)

Bafana Bafana

2010-06-22T09:19:00.003+02:00

No one can claim that I have any interest in sports! The only time I've ever had the correct answer in the sports category of Trivial Pursuit was when I was asked about the abbreviation of the International Boxing Assciation. (That's right, brainiacs. The answer is IBA.)

Consequently, I hardly ever watch soccer. But the World Cup is an exception. Then all the matches are more than just a match. All the results count. Besides, I find this a nice pastime during some idle summer weeks. It's a bit like the European Song Contest, really. Most of the songs performed there, I would never have listened to under normal circumstances. Likewise, the World Cup is more entertaining than an ordinary soccer match. Simply because it's the World Cup.

So far the cup has involved a few surprises: Spain was beaten by Switzerland. North Korea "only" lost 1-2 to Brazil. And Germany has got a style of play that does NOT immediately prompt military and machine-related metaphors. Personally, I don't have any favourites, but tend to support the best playing team at any time. (If Norway sucks, I cheer for their opponents. No mercy.) All the same, I do put on Brazil's shirt when the samba lads play. Mostly because it's the only football shirt I've got. And because this gives me a welcome opportunity to air it. I never wear it in public. Yellow doesn't become me.

Bitter-sweet Summer Party

2010-06-19T13:04:00.006+02:00

Yesterday was the last day before the summer holidays, and according to tradition my class and I gathered for an end-of-term party with delicious dishes, exotic music and pleasant company. Kat had prepared a lovely plate of sushi. Lovisa performed cheerful folk dances from her native country. And poor Endah spent so much time preparing food that she didn't get to the party at all. Instead she came later that day to present the dishes to her teacher. (Do you understand what kind of people I'm dealing with? They're so lovely they almost make my heart hurt!)

These parties are always nice, but at the same time there's also a bitter sweetness to them. The students are so sweet and grateful I almost get a bad conscience. I want to tell them I'm the one who should be grateful for the privilege of spending some hours with these guys every day. The hours in the classroom are usually the most stimulating ones during the whole day. Of course, this might indicate that I should get better at making life more fun also during the rest of the day. But it also means that I'm one of those lucky guys who really feel they've got a meaningful job. When the party was over, and I was left with nice presents and a full heart, I felt both happy and sad at the same time. After so much loving company you easily get a sense of anticlimax afterwards.

Later in the evening I went out with some of my colleagues. Personally, I often feel that these monthly get-togethers to some extent depends of my mood, the topics discussed and the mix of people. But yesterday was really nice. First we had dinner at a restaurant, then we watched soccer at a pub, and finally we had a couple of drinks at a nice café. A pleasant conclusion of the school year - and a ditto start of the summer holiday. I hope for more experiences like these also during the next couple of months... Stay in touch, dear friends - and HAVE A GREAT SUMMER! :-)

Salsa At Skullerud

2010-06-10T22:25:00.005+02:00

I recently read somewhere that most people are happier at work than at home. At their work place they experience recognition and acknowledgement, whereas they often feel stress and exhaustion in their family life. Although I don't fully identify with the latter, I must still say that the most stimulating hours of the day are those I'm at work. But this may also have something to do with the fact that I've got a job where I meet fun and inspiring people every day.

This fact becomes particularly evident when we take a break from our grammar exercises and essay writing, and rather do something more sociable instead. Summer holiday is approaching, and today the student council arranged a summer party with a quiz track, activities, joint lunch and entertainment. There were hot dogs and lemonade for everyone, and the Ethiopian ladies served dishes from the motherland. It was exquisite (although a bit hard to consume for a Norwegian used to forks and knives...).

The students also put on a great show. One of the highlights occured when the Latinas entered the stage with seductive rhythms and suggestive dancing. I had strategically found a seat in the front row, and experienced (I think) some "dangerous" looks from one of the beauties. (I was instantly reminded of a similar arrangement from my Berlitz days, when the lovely Ana Paula insisted on dancing samba with me. The teacher immediately legged it and was never seen again...)

There are lovely ladies all around the world. But from an objective point of view, I think the Latinas are the loveliest of them all. No wonder I'm happy at work! ;-)

Israel's Apartheid

2010-06-08T21:39:00.003+02:00

Those of us who have been around for a while, might remember the period when South Africa generated connotations of suppression, racism and apartheid. In this country one part of the population had all the power and privileges, while the rest of the people was suppressed and browbeaten.

Fortunately, South Africa as an apartheid state is history, but in another part of the world there's still a country basing its policy on the supremacy of one people. The state of Israel was established as a result of the bad conscience of the West after the holocaust. What they forgot, however, was the fact that the area was already populated by another people.

Today's Israel acts in many ways like an apartheid state similar of the one people once faught in South Africa. The Jewish population has all the political and military power, and the Palestinians are treated like second-rate citizens. The parallel to the South African racist regime seems obvious: In the same way that South Africa wanted to remain a "white" island on a "black" continent, the Israeli have by political and military means established a Jewish state in the midst of an Arabic area.

The atrocities the Jews had to endure during WWII must never be forgotten. But this still doesn't give them any right to suppress another people. (No other nation lost as many citizens during the war than the Soviet Union. But this of course doesn't justify Stalin's colonization of Eastern Europe in the following years.)

Israel's military arrogance seems to know no limits. Their recent invasions of Lebanon and Gaza - not to mention last week's piracy of civilian ships in international waters - are just a few examples. It almost makes you wonder if the establishment of the state of Israel in the first place was actually a mistake.

I will not go as far as Iran and various radical Arabic states and demand the wiping out of Israel from the map altogether. This seems disturbingly close to Anti-Semittism. But just like South Africa still exists as a nation, I think today's Israel (being a de facto apartheid state) should somehow be replaced by a state with equal rights for everyone, regardless of their ethnicity. A state where the Jews don't become the new "master race", with the Arabs as some kind of "subhumans". If there's one people that should know the possible outcome of such a policy, it would be the Jews...

Sharing The Moment (ESC 2010)

2010-05-29T16:58:00.015+02:00

We're getting ready for the greatest European cultural event of the year: EuroSong 2010. True, most songs in this competition are incompatible with my personal musical taste. But you don't have more fun than what you create on your own.

During the two semifinals a lot (but not all) of the rubbish was wiped out. But I think a couple of the songs that didn't make it all the way deserve an honourable mention. For instance, I kind of liked Estonia's song. It had a certain character that appealed to my alternative heart. Besides, I think Sweden's song were one of the better ballads.

Ok, then we're off. I really ought to watch the ESC final at a shabby hotel room with half a bottle of whisky on the table. (I've done it once, and consequently it's a tradition.) But it's ok watching it in the comfort of one's own home, too.

01. Azerbaijan: Safura: Drip Drop

Nothing special. The verse is rather vapid, and the chorus lasts for four seconds.

02. Spain: Daniel Diges: Algo Pequeñito

Spanish circus melancholy. It's ok, although I'm not really that crazy about sawdust and trapezes. And as we all know, when the laughter has stopped and the spotlights have died, the little clown goes home and weeps...

03. Norway: Didrik Solli-Tangen: My Heart Is Yours

The most boring ballad Céline Dion never sang. What a personality! What a charisma! Yes, I'm being sarcastic. I'm pretty sure our national broadcasting company won't have to book Telenor Arena for the next year.

04. Moldova: Sunstroke Project & Olia Tira: Run Away

I don't fully catch this up-tempo pop tune. Terrible stage show. And much too much sax.

05. Cyprus: Jon Lilygreen & The Islanders: Life Looks Better In Spring

Neat and proper guitar based ballad from the isle of Aphrodite. Pretty dull in my ears.

06. Bosnia & Herzegovina: Vikasin Brajic: Thunder And Lightning

Guitar based again. Electric guitar this time. Rather rocky. It's ok, I guess.

07. Belgia: Tom Dice: Me And My Guitar

What? Do Cyprus play an encore of their guitar ballad? No, it turns out it's another song after all. Just almost as boring. It reminds me of James Blunt or Savage Garden or various other artists whose names I don't even bother to remember.

08. Serbia: Milan Stankovic: Ovo Je Balkan

Balkan trumpets at last! I don't quite catch the verse. It's a bit too exotic sounding for my ears. But the chorus kicks ass. The choreography is also pretty cool! A clear favourite so far.

09. Belarus: 3 + 2: Butterflies

Bel canto from Belarus. And look at those pretty butterfly wings! Pure euphony, and I have a thing for stuff that's sweet and sticky. I love chocolate. But sometimes I eat a bit too much. And then I have to vomit.

10. Ireland: Niamh Kavanagh: It's For You

"Grand", "beautiful", "Irish" ballad. I'm sure this is good handiwork. And I'm sure this is a nice experience for those who like this kind of stuff. But it doesn't move me much. Besides, I think tin flutes have become the new pan flute.

11. Greece: Giorgos Alkaios & Friends: OPA

Ageing Greek surrounded by rutting testosterone bombs. I get an urge to cover my nose. And to give them one on the kisser.

12. United Kingdom: Josh: That Sounds Good To Me

The song Rick Astley refused to record in 1988. Now Stock/Aitken/Waterman have warmed up the stew again, 20 years later. I think you can imagine what it tastes like...

13. Georgia: Sofia Nizharadze: Shine

Pretty much the same as their neighbouring country Azerbaijan (see above). My brother just sent me an sms: "Kate Bushism!"

14. Tyrkia: maNga: We Could Be The Same

Some kind of nu metal? Not my favourite genre, but I don't mind a bit of rock'n'roll in between all the ballads.

15. Albania: Juliana Pasha: It's All About You

It appears things have changed in Albania since the days of Enver Hoxha. This is modern and catchy pop with a punk rocker on violin and three Albanian Supremes. Quite good, actually.

16. Iceland: Hera Björk: Je Ne Sais Quoi

90s disco with trance influences. Hera is as statuesque as the Statue of Liberty. Unfortunately, she's also as stagnant (although she occasionally raises her hand and at some point even walks three steps to the left). But the song itself isn't that bad.

17. The Ukraine: Alyosha: Sweet People

Not quite sure what to think of this. It's definitely "different", and that's often a good thing. Soulful in a rock'n'roll kind of way, sort of. But of some reason I also associate the song with "heavy metal ballads" à la Scorpions, and that's definitely not good!

18. France: Jessy Matador: Allez Olla Olé

Catchy rhythms from the Colonies. Lots of rump shaking and acrobatics. France's contributions are often quite original. But I suggest they save this one for the Football World Cup.

19. Romania: Paula Selling & Ovi: Playing With Fire

This is music I really shouldn't like at all. Pure pop. And a lady by a grand piano inevitably generates associations to Alicia Keys. But I have to admit this gets me going. Regardless of the final results, I suspect this is a song we'll hear a lot of in 2010.

20. Russia: Peter Nalitch & Friends: Lost And Forgotten

Bloody hell, what a lot of whining! I hope this is meant as a joke. But in this case my sense of humour is overruled by my taste in music. Or... maybe not? I've heard this song a couple of times by now... And it may be a bit better than the first impression. In any case, this is a song it's hard to be indifferent about.

21. Armenia: Eva Rivas: Apricot Stone

A 6 ft 5 beauty with a hair almost equally long sings about an apricot stone from the motherland. Oriental tones and catchy thythms. Not bad at all. But I don't like her stressing ApriCOT.

22. Germany: Lena: Satellite

Bouncy pop and Sprechgesang in an imaginary accent. This is really swinging. Yet another favourite.

23. Portugal: Filipa Azevedo: Há Dias Assim

Nice, little ballad, performed by a very pretty, young lady. Moreover in Portuguese, which I find a very "musical" language. Hard not to like, although I guess poor Portugal will end up in the 15th position, as always.

24. Israel: Harel Skaat: Milim

Lots of Hebrew plurals here. Although ballads isn't my favourite genre, I'm actually touched by this song. A strong song with strong singing.

25. Denmark: Chanée & N'evergreen: In A Moment Like This

He looks like Sting. He sounds like Sting. And he sings a song that's almost identical with a song Sting once wrote. When they finally get to the chorus, and the "Every Breath You Take" bass movement is toned down a bit, it gets downright boring.

Well, all the songs have been presented, and now it's time for the interlude. Madcon and all of Europe dancing. Impressive. I always get a bit worried when Norway's about to arrange big events. Will we manage not to make fools of ourselves? Well, watching the ESC final actually made me feel a bit proud. Not because of the Norwegian contribution (on the contrary!), but because the NRK have pulled off a great production. Thank you, Nadia, Haddy and Erik. You're good, fun and pretty.

Ok, we've come to a conclusion: Next year's ESC final will be in Germany. I can definitely live with that. And the best thing of them all: The UK ended up in a well-deserved last position!

Seven Hours In The Meeting Mire

2010-05-22T16:30:00.004+02:00

Wednesday started ok with the daily highlight; teaching my morning class. With fun students like these the rest of the working day is bound to be an anticlimax.

The comedown started as soon as I returned to the staff room. Once again we're approaching the date for the national exams. The students have just got their confirmation letters, but several of them have been signed up for the wrong exam. I've tried to contact the people in charge, but they just say that it's too late to make any changes now - even though it's probably they who have f**ked up! The arrogance! The disrespect! Grrrrr!!!

Wednesdays are generally the big meeting day, and this time the activity was particularly extensive. Firstly, there was a joint meeting for the whole staff, during which our new headmistress was introduced. That was actually rather nice, and the woman made a good first impression.

In addition, our union had summoned a meeting this afternoon. There were lots of (probably just) frustration. It seems like we're fighting on two fronts: On the one side against our employer (which is ok, I suppose). And on the other side against an unsupportive federation (which is not ok). In any case, after three consecutive hours of meetings I really thought enough was enough.

But it wasn't. In addition I had to attend the general assembly of the housing cooperative the same night. Bloody hell, what an exercise in futility! Most of those rising to speak were either morons, windbags or foreigners with no understanding of this country's rules of order. Usually all of the above. After four hours (!), the assembly had finally gone through all of the agenda, and I staggered into the fresh evening air, praying that I'd never have to go through a similar marathon of meetings again.

Hot Chip - I Feel Better

Workers Of The World, Unite!

2010-05-12T19:14:00.007+02:00

For several years I worked at the worst workplace this side of Auschwitz. Already on Day One I felt that something was wrong. It's hard to say exactly what. The students were nice, and my collegues seemed ok. But all the same I sensed a vague humming of evil (like the low-frequency, hardly audible drone from an electric transformer). It took a while, but gradually I localized the evil humming at my boss' office.

The other day I met a former colleague, a sweet and cheerful lady. But her eyes were crackling when she told me about the conditions at my old workplace. Since I left, it seems things have got worse than ever. The admin cynically execute their Machiavellian divide and conquer policy, and no one dares to speak out, fearing that they'll lose their jobs. My friend referred to her boss with the same adjectives I most willingly use myself. It's too bad that it's got to be like that, but at the same time it's liberating to know that I'm not the only one who's had traumatic experiences with this b*tch.

Strictly speaking, I guess this stuff doesn't really concern me any more. I now work at a place where I'm more than happy with almost everything. But I must admit I get very provoked by the fact that a boss can continue recklessly like this, with no one interferring. Everyone knows what she's like. All the same, the department still let her continue taking the joy out of her subjects' life. The union also appear like a bunch of whimps. They've got at least one case going between her and one of their members. But they don't get anywhere.

It's things like that which make me want to become a revolutionary. Not really one of those ardent, communist revolutionaries from the October revolution or the '68 revolt. I'd let capitalists and the bourgeoisie keep their heads. I rather become a revolutionary of the old school, one of those who'll guillotine the aristocracy and throw homemade bombs (with a fuse!) at the Czar. Let's crush all useless dictators suppressing the people with their irrational whims and commands!

These words may seem harsh. But sometimes I want to rebel against all of the despots great and small that we experience in our daily lives. Although we generally live in a safe and egalitarian society, there are still some petty kings and queens that ought to end up at the scaffold!

Pythonesque Anarchy

2010-05-09T11:11:00.014+02:00

Due to reasons I'll get back to, I've recently started to wonder about what the term "anarchism" actually implies. Some may associate it with "revolt", "chaos" etc. I guess that's why I've never really identified with this concept until now.

Right from my first day at school, I guess I've been a "nice and conformal boy", with no strong inclination to confront the establishment. (I guess he closest I ever got to becoming a punk, was when I attached a safety pin to my trousers in 6th grade.)

Also during my studies and at work I've seldom felt a great urge for anarchistic rebellion. Although various bosses and authorities have proved incompetent, I've seldom been subject to any real supression. (But at the same time I must admit that I generally do have a problem with bosses who obviously have less intellectual ballast than me and my colleagues...)

At any rate, it might actually not be political anarchy I have in mind. I'm sure people who know more about this stuff than me, would be able put anarchism into lots of impressive eco-political models. But personally I'm not very interested in that kind of stuff.

More than "theoretic" anarchism I guess it's rather "practical" anarchy that recently has caught my interest. According to my (probably extremely simplified) understanding of the term this simply implies not following any rules. Or creating one's own.

Recently our national television has been showing a documentary about the British comedy troupe Monty Python. Of course, I remember their Flying Circus series from the 70s, but it's only later on I've realized how ground-breaking their comedy actually was. Some might even call it - yes, exactly - anarchistic!

(The same weekend as the first episode of the Python documentary was broadcast, I also incidentally watched Lindsay Anderson's dark public school movie "if...." (1968). And it was not hard to understand how such obdurate environments might generate anarchistic ideas. Instead of running amok with a machine gun from the roof, luckily the Pythons chose comedy as their weapon.)

Monty Python's anarchistic approach gave a free rein for creative madness and absurd ideas. In retrospect one might claim that two thirds of their skits are pretty bad. But on the other hand the remaining third (and that's what you remember!) are timeless classics.

In addition to the Flying Circus series, the Pythons also made three great feature films. The best one is perhaps "Life Of Brian". (It was in fact so good that it was initially banned in my home country. Bloody Norwegians!) But my personal favourite is "The Holy Grail".

I'm not entirely sure what I think of anarchism as a political ideology. But it can obviously generate amazing results in the service of comedy. Personally, I think humour is more vital than politics. And I guess that's why anarchism's total disregard of rules and traditions has a certain appeal to me.

In Wind And Weather

2010-05-06T22:44:00.005+02:00

The school's parking lot on 4 May.

On Tuesday our school arranged spring's most beautiful event: Our annual excursion to the local lake. I was in the excursion committee, preparing colourful posters with questions about the fauna and flora of the area, to hang up along the trail.

Last year's excursion was an unconditional success. Students and teachers enjoyed the beautiful spring weather while solving questions and having luncheon on the grass.

This year things were tougher. In the early morning there were snowflakes in the air, and when the excursion committee arrived at the lake to hang up their posters, the weather had got so bitter we decided to shorten the trail to one third.

Despite the awful weather quite a few students turned up, and we all went in a body from the school to the lake, while the storm gradually developed into a true blizzard.

After a while a bunch of wet and cold - but sporty - students were gathered down by the lake. Some had a go at our shortened trail, and a couple of them even walked the whole round! But most of them - understandably - decided to return to the school after first base.

As a substitute for the rest of the excursion day we showed a nature documentary in the auditorium. The crew's hardships in the snowy wilderness weren't much more impressive than the one's our brave students had to endure that day...

Happy Campers

Buzzing Like A Bumblebee

2010-04-30T12:33:00.011+02:00

Spring is finally here. The air's getting milder, and the white wagtail has returned. Today I even saw this year's first bumblebee. It was huge.

I like bumblebees. There's something good-natured about them, buzzing genially from flower to flower. But make sure you don't step on them. I've done that a bit too often. The sting of a bumblebee is no fun. It hurts like hell.

All the same, I do like these shaggy insects. You can't blame them for protecting themselves when people don't watch their step, can you? In a way, I sort of identify with these fiery yellow flyers. I too tend to buzz good-naturedly about (although not necessarily "from flower to flower"...). But just like the bumblebees, I won't let myself be trampled on!

On reflection, I guess this blog is also marked by the geniality of the bumblebee. The topics are usually quite trivial: Clever students, pretty girls, good music... But at the same time some of the postings concern topics of a more dismal kind: Racists, criminals and tyrannic bosses... And then the tone may not be quite as genial any more.

Writing is fun, but being read is even funnier. Sometimes I'd wish this blog had slightly more readers. You sometimes hear (with a hint of envy) about bloggers with thousands of followers. But these are usually "pink blogs" about make-up, parties and reality shows. Deliver me from this kind of readers! On the other hand: You, dear reader, are obviously quality-conscious! ;-)

Lately, however, I've gradually realized that Torgnyworld is actually being read. In some of my postings I've articulated various not very flattering characterizations of a certain former boss. This is why I get a bit nervous when some of my present superiors suggest a slight knowledge of my blog. Is it possible that they (maybe from a loyal solidarity with a colleague) might dislike this kind of harangues from their employees?

Owing to my previous traumas, it's easy to forget, however, that I now have leaders with both a head and a heart. When they on a few occasions have mentioned the contents of my blog, it has felt neither unpleasant nor inappropriate. More considerate, really. (I've said it before, and I'll say it again: The difference between my present and my previous workplace is like heaven and hell. Literally.)

True, at the same time another worry emerges: What if the witch herself got the wind of this blog? Not a dream situation for a guy who wants to please as many as possible. But on the other hand: If someone actually were to make me the object of their hatred, there's no one I would care less about than this termagant!

But in general, I'll keep on buzzing genially like a bumblebee. In this blog - and in the Oslo spring.

A Personal Voyage

2010-04-29T22:24:00.004+02:00

During a recent visit to my local record store I came across a dvd box with a familiar title. Some of you may remember the tv series "Cosmos: A Personal Voyage", broadcast in the early 80s? Here Carl Sagan presented important aspects of astronomy and science.

Now the series has obviously been made available on dvd, and I quickly decided to get myself a copy. Even 30 years later, it turned out still to be up to standard. By means of illustrative models, fascinating dramatizations and a pretty Vangelis heavy soundtrack, "Cosmos" gives the viewer an interesting insight into science and natural philosophy through the ages (not least do the Plato and the Pythagoreans get a regular scolding).

It might very well be that my interest in popular science arose from watching this series. Now I've got myself a turtleneck sweater and acurduroy jacket, looking exactly like uncle Carl circa 1979.

Gordon Brown Going Down

2010-04-29T01:04:00.001+02:00

"I don't like him! He's so fat and... Scottish!"

Sugababes v 4.0

2010-04-24T17:36:00.006+02:00

Some may still remember 2 Unlimited, the Dutch dance duo topping the European charts in the early 90s. Personally, I wouldn't be seen dead dancing to their tunes (dead can dance), but I did listen to them. Besides, I think the chick was pretty hot...

Well, after some years the duo split. But greedy producers die hard. Instead they hired two new songstresses, still sticking to the 2 Unlimited label. Personally, I found this a bit too silly, and it appears their fans did too. As far as I remember, the "new" 2 Unlimited went down the drain almost instantly.

Anyway, watching the Sugababes' latest video I'm reminded of this dynamic duo. When the 'Babes got started at the end of the 90s, they consisted of a redhead, a black girl and a chick with Asian features. The redhead was soon substituted by a blonde, and it's this line-up that I associate with the Sugas: Heidi, Keisha and Mutya. They had some pretty decent songs as well.

A couple of years ago, however, Mutya quit and was replaced by yet another new girl. And watching their newest video, I now realize that Keisha too has left the group. Consequently, today's Sugababes have none of its original members left! In other words, they've "gone 2 Unlimited". Albeit a bit more gradually...

To be honest, I personally think the Sugababes line-up has become more and more attractive through the years. But beauty isn't everything. Besides, due to my general conservatism I prefer the Sugababes the way they once were. Just like I once insisted that 2 Unlimited should be Anita and that other dude, and no one else.

PS. Why didn't The Beatles think of that? They could still be alive and kicking! Four long-haired guys from Liverpool: Jim, Pete, Geoff og Ronny.

Between A Rock And A Hard Place

2010-04-11T17:43:00.003+02:00

As far as I know, high schools still have their final examinations once a year, whereas universities arrange exams every term. When students in Norwegian for foreigners are concerned, however, they can on top of everything sign up for the national "Norwegian tests" three times a year. Resulting in a stressful hype every time. Poor students.

And poor teachers. In many ways we're in a squeeze. Between students nagging about registering for Norwegian tests they're still not ready for. And bosses who constantly hammer in the importance of not presenting students for any exam unless we're 99% convinced they'll pass. (That would look bad on the school's statistics, of course...) Stuff like that gives a poor teacher sleepless nights every time the deadline for the exam presentation is approaching. Which we've already established is three times a year.

In addition to that, we also had a union meeting the other day. These meetings are always filled with various frustrations. Sure, it's important to claim one's own, and we're fortunate to have representatives who courageously sponsor our cause. But I think I soon may have to skip these meetings. Union issues obviously get too conflict-oriented for my delicate nerves...

Besides: Everything's relative. Earlier worklife experiences have shown me that we could have been much worse off. When you've been to the central circles of Inferno and almost been swallowed by Belsebub skin and all for several years, you're not very bothered by a bit of poking from some small demons once in a while.

Happy Easter!

2010-04-04T19:48:00.004+02:00

Easter is not really my favourite holiday. Historically, it has too many connotations to untimely death and suppers with an awkward atmosphere. I'm not too keen on long ski treks to ice-cold cabins, either. But I do like chocolate eggs.

One advantage about Easter is getting a chance to relax. I started the holiday with a Friday pint accompanied by a nice selection of good colleagues. And the day after I was invited to dinner by a charmning Latina who'd once been a Berlitz student, then become a friend of mine, and now - five years later - once again has become a student at my present workplace. Well, we did had a good time at any rate.

"Tony, you hava to kissa the girls. It's a lotta fun!"

On Monday I got a visit from my ex-colleague Marit. I served some lovely pitas, and we spent the evening watching old police series and discussing linguistic subtleties. It was all so nice we decided to repeat the success the next day as well. Then, however, she brought some noodles from the local Asian take-away shop. Don't quite know how to interpret that...

The last two decades my brother has lived in exile on the west coast. But now he's finally come to his senses and moved back to the eastern part of the country, naturally making it much easier to see him. On Good Friday I went down to our native county to visit my brother and his family in their new home. We went for a long walk in the city's swamps, and prepared/consumed the brothers' classical pizza. I soon discovered parents of little kids tend to get sleepy already around 8 o'clock, so I had a rather early night. But it was still a very nice Easter meeting with my brother, my sister-in-law and not least my little nephew Bo.

At any rate, I wish you all a really HAPPY EASTER!

Reading hour with Bobster and Uncle T.

Easter Fright

Winter In The West

Bo In Bergen

One-Week Stand In N.Y.C.

2009-11-17T13:27:00.006+01:00

Hm, this is almost starting to look like a a pattern: In the autumn every eighth year Torgny goes to New York to meet pretty girls. About a month ago I visited Manhattan for a week, and I was very pleased with the stay.

The first day we walked through an autumnal Central Park amidst Americans dressed in suits and sneakers. Afterwards we visited the Guggenheim Museum, filled up with a disproportionate amount of Kandinsky paintings. The next day we took the ferry from Battery Park to Liberty Island and the Statue of Liberty, and then went on to Ellis Island, the main gate for immigrants in the 19th and early 20th centuries. A fascinating document from days of yore.

On the third day it was about time to visit the Empire State Building. From the observatory on the 86th floor we had a great view of the whole city (and several of its neighbouring states). In the afternoon we visited Madame Tussauds, socializing with celebrities like Lou Reed, Albert Einstein and Barack Obama. Later in the evening we joined a sightseeing under New York's moon in an open double-decker bus. An interesting, but rather cold experience. It's quite windy on the Brooklyn Bridge at night.

After having done some of the main attractions, we took it easy the next days. We went in the park, strolled along 5th Avenue, experienced the crowd around Times Square, and went to free evening concerts in Bryant Park. (Interesting, but a bit cold, there too.) We also visited the TV & Radio Museum, which could offer re-encounters with half-forgotten tv serials from the 60s and 70s. And on our last night together, we enjoyed a lovely dinner at our newly discovered hang-out Tony's at 43rd St.

The stay in the stronghold of Western urban life exceeded all expectations, not least since I also experienced the mysteries of the East opening up to me...

XTC - Statue of Liberty

Searching For A Dwelling

2009-11-15T22:34:00.009+01:00

I've finally decided to try to get an apartment of my own. This week I've been to my first public view, and also had councelling appointment in my bank concerning (oh, horrors!) a prospective house loan...

I sort of dreaded them both a bit. Ringing the doorbell to the view, I felt a bit like going to a house party with people I didn't know that well. But the estate agent was a nice guy who let me look around without feling much too stupid and green.

And let me just say it right away: I liked the apartment a lot! There was virtually nothing I did NOT like about it, and that's pretty unique for someone like me. In most cases I think things are ok... BUT! And then I get caught up in some minor detail.

Something tells me I probably won't find an apartment I'll like more than this. But at the same time I ask myself if it's such agood idea jumping at the chance so soon, without checking out any alternatives. Besides, some acquaintances of mine have actually warned me against buying a flat in this area.

Susceptible as I am, this kind of things instantly makes me a bit uncertain and disheartened. But at the same time I almost feel a bit in love with this 50 square metre beauty. And as you know, love is blind - and deaf!

To be continued...

In The Garden

2009-11-12T21:21:00.003+01:00

Recently my class and I had another excursion, this time to the Botanical Garden at Tøyen. This is usually a popular trip. (I took my previous students to the same place both last year and two years ago).

The students seemed to enjoy it. They photographed each other like crazy in the autumnal garden. I have liked all my classes, but this one seems even livelier than the somewhat indolent ladies in shawls and sandals. (It also doesn't hurt that there are several fun Thai ladies in the class.)

After an hour's walk in the garden the students had got a bit frozen, but they soon got warm again in the tropical hothouse, filled with exotic plants. Afterwards we visited the Zoological Museum, exhibiting stuffed animals from both Norway and more distant skies, as well as the rock collection and the dinosaurs at the Geological Museum.

Afterwards the Thai girls invited me and the other students to a restaurant with delicious food from their home country (and also gave me some suggestions of which of Oslo's Thai restaurants you should/should not go to). A pleasurable and savoury conclusion of a nice excursion. I've realized that I'm never in a better mood than when I'm with my students! :-)

I'm Only Sleeping

2009-11-10T20:08:00.002+01:00

"I was dreaming when I wrote this, forgive me if it goes astray" (Prince)

Lately the days have passed without many exciting experiences to write about. In bed, at night, however... (HAR-HAR! wink, wink...)

Nope. If you think I'm going to share juicy details about nocturnal experiences, you'll have to think again. Or maybe not. Except these experiences have taken place while I've been asleep!

Ok, I guess most people think listening to other people's dreams is just as exciting as watching paint dry up. But this is MY blog, and here I'm the boss! You other guys will just have to look another way for a while. :-)

Digression: For many years The Beatles (despite their indecently long hair) were a nice and neat boy band who mostly sung about holding your hand. One of the first signs that something was about to happen, might have been John Lennon's far-out "I'm Only Sleeping" on the Revolver album (1966). In retrospect most people consider Lennon's sleep a metaphor for - hm - certain "psychedelic" experiences (the guys are known for having drunk rather strong tea at the time...). But reportedly, the song simply reflects the fact that John loved lying in bed! And who doesn't?

Sometimes I wonder where all the dreams come from. And not least where all the PEOPLE in our dreams come from. On various occasions I've got a crush on people I've met in my dreams. And then woken up, only to discover that their only excistence was in Slumberland! :-(

I recently had a very vivid dream. I seemed to be on some kind of pleasure trip to Denmark with my colleagues. There was sun, summer and long, white beaches. I have no idea where all this came from. I haven't been to a pleasure trip in ages. And never to Denmark. And certainly not with my colleagues. But there we were, all the same.

Everything wasn't pure bliss, though. One of my colleagues - a grumpy and stupid hag - noticed something I've written, and blatantly criticized "my poor handwriting" (she was particularly dissatisfied with my Norwegian Ø's). I was taken totally by surprise (and got pretty annoyed, too), but tried to explain that this was just something I'd scribbled down in a hurry.

A bit later I was down on the beach, and was approached by a rather impertinent, but at the same time dangerously alluring lolita with long, blond curls... (Un)fortunately I woke up before I got the chance to do anything I might have to do time for... Even though you naturally can't be held responsible for the contents of your dreams, I felt (as Sting says in his creepy, clumsy and pretentious way) "like the old man in that famous book by Nabokov". Or like Roman Polanski.

Ok, this may not have been the world's most exciting dream. (Don't tell me I didn't warn you!). But with its epic course it was very vivid. I still have both the beach, the thick colleague and the Danish maid under my skin. But none of them exist anywhere else than inside my own head. You might say this is the REAL Torgnyworld...

The Beatles - I'm Only Sleeping

Activity Day

2009-09-26T22:30:00.007+02:00

Today our school had an activity day. I haven't participated in such arrangements for ages, and had actually mixed feelings about it. But when we got started, it turned out there was no need to worry. On the contrary. The committee had prepared various fun activities, such as football, volleyball, potato races, darts, barbecuing and lots more.

Me, I ended up playing frisbee with the students. I can't remember the last time I had so much fun. For the first time in a long time I was totally careless and happy. For anyone who thinks life seems dead boring and utterly pointless, I really recommend some rounds of frisbee. I promise it'll make them change their minds.

Still, the climax was probably the soccer match between the teachers and the students. Even here I was originally a bit reluctant to participate. After all, I haven't touched a football for twenty years, and traumatic memories of my gym classes reappeared. I was clumsy with the ball back then, and I'm hardly less clumsy now...

Since the teachers' team had problems recruiting players, however, I eventually decided to join in. The result was some rough rounds of good, old meadow football. Extremely exhausting. Extremely fun. And although we lost disastrously, I actually think we played rather well. Our tactics only failed on two points: Our ability to make goals. And our ability to save them.

All in all, I can't remember the last time I had so much fun. This day really was a refreshing change in an everyday life that often tends to be dominated by routine. A reminder of the fact that happiness can often be found in the little things.

(Photos courtesy of Peter at Skd VO)

UK vs US

2009-09-19T23:32:00.005+02:00

Norwegian popular culture has "always" been influenced by the Anglophone cultural sphere, especially the US and the UK. When pop music is concerned, my impression is that these two countries have been more or less equally dominating through the years.

Personally, however, I've always felt much more attached to the British music scene than its Trans-Atlantic counterpart. This may be an after-construction, but I would say that the music I mostly associate with my "musical awakening" (post punk, new wave, and various kinds of indie pop), in 9 out of 10 cases would be British. I wouldn't dream of dissing Devo or the B-52s, but the great majority of post punk bands to which I feel a relationship seem to come from the British Isles.

There may be various reasons for this. One of them might be that Norwegians (or at least I) were more exposed to British than American artists in the early 80s (at least when the genres discussed here are concerned). This may have made me feel more at home within the British cultural sphere later on as well. (The fact that I was a fan of the English indie label 4AD until well into the 90s probably didn't hurt, either...)

Another reason may be the fact that many American bands seem to be more "rockist", hanging on to "authentic" rock ideals (or clichés). And since my personal taste in music is more "anti-rockist", preferring music that's not necessarily a direct result of old skool r&b, I tend to prefer artists promoting a similar attitude. And most of these seem to be British.

Or maybe it's just as simple as the fact that the UK was the first country I ever visited outside Scandinavia, resulting in lots of memorable experiences, such as left-hand driving, double-decker buses and meat pies (not to mention the buxom receptionst Janet at Hotel George, unknowingly giving nine-year-old Torgny his first erotic experience...) The US, however, I first visited as a grown-up, no longer with such an impressionable mind. In any case, the conclusion is that I simply feel more at home in British culture, and not least in British music. Rule Britannia, Britannia rule New Wave!

The Selecter - On My Radio

Meetings and Re-encounters

2009-09-10T01:19:00.009+02:00

O, happy days! Berlitz 2005

After a long, relaxing summer it was quite nice returning to my work, colleagues and not least students. I've had my new class for a few weeks now, and it turns out they're a great gang (as always). Some I knew from before, and it was great seeing them again. Others came from other classes, but getting to know new people is also nice.

Actually, it's a bit of a coincidence I ended up just here. Looking back, I've probably been more lucky than I deserve. It all started eight years ago, when I, acting on a sudden impulse, applied for an engagement as a freelance at the private language school Berlitz. The company offers pricey language courses to companies and private individuals (I would never be able to afford my own classes...). Consequently, most of the students are well off European and American business people (primarily Dutch who learn perfect Norwegian just by browsing the text book, and Anglophones who never learn anything no matter what...).

I enjoyed working with this clientele. And since the classes usually were on a one to one basis, I also got rather well versed in the noble art of conversation. In 2004, however, we experienced a rather dramatic change in our clientele, as the public adult education started outsorcing some of their courses in Norwegian for foreigners to private companies, such as Berlitz. As a consequence we suddenly got lots of "culturally distant" students (a horrible word, but great people!).

This was a kind of students with whom I had little experience from before, and the education also became rather different (bigger and more diverse classes...). But it didn't take long before I realized I liked these courses (and students) just as much as clever Dutchmen. Naturally, the cultural differences were bigger than the ones I experienced with my traditional Berlitz students, but at the same time this made it all even more interesting.

This is what made me to go the whole way four years ago, applying for a job as a Norwegian teacher for foreign learners in the public adult education system. The students and colleagues are great, and in addition the administration are of a sound mind. Now that I've even got a permament position, I look forward to an inspiring and stimulating future at Skullerud Adult Education Centre. As I said, I think I've been really lucky.

When we started a new school year three weeks ago I got a pleasant surprise: At Berlitz in 2005 I had the pleasure of teaching a group of particularly clever Latin American beauties. We got really well along - and we've also stayed in touched afterwards. Now it turns out that one of them has decided to resume her Norwegian course. When I met the charming Ana Paula in the corridor last week, it definitely was a surprising and pleasant re-encounter! :-)

PS. I might add that it's not JUST because of the pretty girls that I enjoy my job so much. It also gives me a welcome opportunity to pass on the fascinating subtleties of Norwegian grammar... A language geek and a ladies' man - Torgny has many sides... ;-)

September

2009-09-09T01:12:00.005+02:00

The sun shines high above

The sounds of laughter

The birds swoop down upon

The crosses of old grey churches

We say that they're in love

While secretly wishing for rain

Sipping coke and playing games

September's here again

(David Sylvian)

Bye-bye, Summer!

2009-09-07T20:52:00.004+02:00

We've entered September, the first month of autumn. I like marking occasions like this in a proper manner, so last weekend I decided to bid summer goodbye by taking this year's last dip! (To me, summer and swimming have always been synonymous.)

In the afternoon I was by the beach. Even though it was rather cloudy, the air was quite mild. But as I approached the sea and was no longer sheltered by the pines, the wind came on, and the greyish waves didn't look too inviting. When I eventually got into the water, however, it wasn't that bad. It was a refreshing and worthy farewell to a nice summer. We'll meet again next year!

Air - Mer du Japon

Aschehoug's Garden Party

2009-08-29T21:09:00.007+02:00

For Norwegian culture vultures Aschehoug's garden party has an almost mythical ring to it. An arena for the country's cultural elite to meet and chat, fight and fool around...

Consequently, I felt quite honoured when I in my capacity as a literary debutant was invited to this year's party in sir William's garden. The party happened on Thursday night, and it was quite a memorable experience. Among the guests you'd find several distinguished politicians and well-known authors, as well as various other artists, media workers and people in the trade. Plus me. (Wonder why the press photographers didn't shoot when I entered?)

The party was no doubt a nirvana for culture bearers on an ascending and free white wine intoxication. And by all means, it was interesting watching the posh people at display. Being "a writer of current interest" I may have been expected to mingle, network and promote my amazing publication. But unfortunately, that kind of stuff isn't in my genes. Sorry, marketing department. Still, it was an interesting experience! :-)

Pump Up The Volume!

2009-08-18T15:26:00.016+02:00

At a Chinese hotel room I recently came across a J-pop-video on one of the local music channels: a song called "Positiv E Loop" [sic]. It occured to me that I probably havent't heard a song with an "E" in its title since 1992...

Lately I've been reading the book Generation Ecstasy by the British music journalist Simon Reynolds (Routledge, 1999). It gives a thorough account of the development of the house and techno culture in the late 80s and beyond. Personally, I've always been in the periphery of this movement. For instance, during the "Second Summer of Love" in 1988 - rave culture's real breakthrough - I spent what seemed to be the hottest summer of all times tidying up the welfare office's warehouse at my army camp. And while blissed-out ravers were popping smiley pills and dancing to acid house, I had to make do with flat beer at tacky discos with "Living Next Door To Alice" as the musical highlight...

But although I've never been to crazy raves, it still seems like I've got the gist of some of the music. True, as electronic dance music has gradually split into more and more specialized subgenres, it's all got rather complex for an outsider. (Until recently I had no idea of the difference between, say, bleep-and-bass, hardcore, darkcore and gabba...) In this respect, however, Reynolds' book gives a good introduction into the various varieties and their features. And although 90 percent of the artists that the book refers to are totally unknown to someone like me, it's easy to get a sample via the internet.

All the same, it turns out that the artists and genres I already knew, still are the ones I prefer. During most of the second half of the '90s, for instance, I particularly identified with the trip hop sound. Most of the time I've also been into genres like big beat, electronica and the more melodious varieties of drum'n'bass. And I already knew that the hardest nosebleed techno wasn't my cup of tea. With the "blackest" house and the "whitest" techno as the extremes, I guess I prefer the grey area somewhere in between (black + white = grey). But I still find gaining a better insight into rave culture's many subgenres quite interesting.

Friends - At All Costs?

2009-08-12T13:37:00.011+02:00

As always, I'd planned to get slightly more sociable during the summer holiday than what everyday life usually allows. And as always these plans went down the drain. But typically: During the last few days of the holiday I suddenly had three different nice get-togethers with various good friends. :-)

Again and again I notice the importance of friendships. A brief chat with an acquaintance is often enough to save the day. And should it take too long between each social stimulus, I tend to end up feeling miserable. You can do without a house, a car or a lover. But without friends? I don't think so.

All the same: Here (as always) I tend to prefer quality to quantity. I'd much rather have a few, good friends than lots of crappy ones! And to be honest, there are certain people in my circle of acquaintances I guess I could do without. People I actually don't really care that much about - and who probably don't care that much about me, either.

Is there any point in spending time with people with whom you hardly have anything in common? People you basically find more annoying than stimulating? Such relationships may not hurt, but they probably don't do much good, either. As my friend the gardener says: To make the flowers blossom, you need to get rid of the weed!

PS. To those of my (sligtly paranoid) friends who might be reading this post and start wondering if I might be referring to them: Take it easy. The people I'm thinking of are so full of themselves they wouldn't read their friends' blogs anyway. :-)

Lily Allen - F**k You

Crescendo of the Elements

2009-08-09T19:23:00.003+02:00

Ok, so maybe I'm slightly bonkers. When it starts raining, I tend to get this uncontrollable urge to get out and splash in the pools.

Last week I was in downtown Oslo, enjoying an ice cream with three balls and chocolate sauce. Gradually the sky got ominously grey, and soon huge, heavy raindrops were falling down on the street. Most people hurried home, but I suddenly decided that I wanted to experience sea spray and green-glistening foliage. So, I took the bus to the coast and started pottering along a forest path towards the beach.

I had imagined this could be quite cosy, but soon the rain was trickling down my back in a really unpleasant manner, and soon after I was soaking wet. Then it wasn't that nice at all any more. During the next, stormy hours one ship was to go down with all hands, and another to run aground and pollute the south coast with its oil.

Still I walked towards the sea. The madman within me got an urge to swim in the grey, cresty waves. I hadn't brought any trunks with me, so I sought out the nudist area. Not that it really mattered. There was no sign of life anywhere (except some seagulls that had gone ashore because of the heavy sea. Sissies!).

I was soaking wet in any case, and throwing away the clothes and diving into the salty waves was just wonderfully refreshing. The waves were foaming, the wind was whining, and in the distance you could hear threatening thunderclaps. It was truly an amazing late summer afternoon, when heaven, earth, sea and thunderbolts all met in a crescendo of the elements. The happiest moment of a madman.

XTC: Seagulls Screaming Kiss Her Kiss Her

China & Tibet, Part II: On The Roof Of The World

2009-07-31T14:49:00.002+02:00

The retrospective travelogue continues. After having experienced China's refined traditions, with its silk dresses and jasmin tea, now was the time to visit Tibet, a much more hardbitten culture, 3700 meters above sea level, consisting of proud mountain people in garments made of yak wool.

18.07: Plane from Chengdu to Lhasa

Norbulingka

The first day in Lhasa we visited Norbulingka, the summer residence of the Dalai Lamas. In the evening we had dinner in downtown Lhasa and walked in the old city, Barkhor, watching pilgrims waving their characteristic prayer wheels. Finally, we admired the magnificent Potalá Palace at dusk (one of Tibet's very few traditional buildings that weren't destroyed by rabid red guards during the cultural revolution).

Potala by night

19.07: The Jokhang Temple

View towards the Drepung Monastery

In the morning we made a little pilgrimage (Kora) around the monastery Drepung, situated in the mountainside outside Lhasa. After lunch we visited Jokhang, Lhasa's and Tibet's holiest temple, followed by a short Kora around the temple, in the old town Barkhor.

On the roof of the Jokhang temple

20.07: Bus from Lhasa to Shigatse

Riding a yak bull by the Yamdrok Lake

This day we had a looong bus ride through glorious sceneries from Lhasa to Tibet's second largest city, Shigatse, passing the Kambala pass and the holy Yamdrok lake about 4000 meters above sea level. Afterwards we crossed the Karola pass (5045 meters above sea level - and with a view to snowclad mountains at more than 7000 meters!). We made a stop in the little, dusty town of Gyantse, with a pagoda and a market, before we checked in at our hotel in Shigatse.

Wading at 4000 meters above sea level

Shigatse is the traditional place of residence of Tibet's second highest ranking cleric after the Dalai Lama: the Panchen Lama. When the previous Panchen Lama died from a "heart attack" in 1989, Dalai Lama appointed his reincarnation and successor, but of course the Chinese occupation authorities couldn't have that. They kidnapped the 6-year-old boy (making him the world's youngest political prisoner...), and picked out another Panchen Lama instead.

When we got to Shigatse, we disovered that the governmentally approved (and fake) Panchen Lama was visiting the city just then. He was even having dinner at our hotel the same evening, and we could virtually sense his (fake) presence...

21.07: The Tashilhunpo Monastery

The Tashilhunpo complex in Shigatse

In the morning we visited the Tashilhunpo Monastery, the headquarters of the Panchen Lamas. Then we went by bus back to Lhasa. Along the way we visited a Tibetan family, serving yak butter tea (yuk!) and the Tibetan daily fare tsampa (not that bad...).

22.07: The Potala Palace

Back in Lhasa we visited the Potalá Palace, the traditional residence of the Dalai Lamas, which the Chinese now have turned into a museum.

In the afternoon we visited the Sera Monastery, watchingh monks debating lively and chanting their mantras. After having visited so many temples and monasteries during our stay in Tibet, it was interesting finally to gain insight into the practical life of the monks as well.

23.07: Plane from Lhasa back to Beijing

Then it was time to leave Tibet and go back to the real China. I had a long flight and an early night.

During great parts of my stay in Tibet I'd had some trouble with altitude sickness (headache, nausea and fever). Suddenly reaching 4000 meters above sea level obviously takes its toll! It was all rounded off with a delicious dose of diarrhoea the last couple of days...

24.07: Last day in Beijing

The flight from Lhasa to Beijing had been rather exhausting, so I took it easy during most of the day (but treated myself to a McDonald burger - after two weeks I felt an urge for "normal" food again). In the evening we had a common dinner - with Peking duck! - and a nice goodbye party with the other travellers.

All in all it was a great travel. All travellers got well along (although I did feel that one shouldn't get too involved in political discussions with all of them...). And I had more exciting experiences in these two weeks than I usually have in two months (or two years...). Although it was nice coming back home again, I already miss all the experiences and impressions of this amazing travel. China - and particularly Tibet - 4Ever!

China & Tibet, Part I: In The Middle Kingdom

2009-07-26T23:18:00.008+02:00

As I now have returned from two amazing weeks in China and Tibet, here's a retrospective travelogue. I was originally hoping to publish updates along the way, but it turned out to be impossible. The rumours are true: The Chinese authorities efficiently block access to websites like Facebook, YouTube and Blogger. I guess it's only natural to prevent everything that might be a "threat to the nation". Such as freedom of speech...

11.07: The Summer Palace

The summer palace Yiheyuan: The Empress' residence

Anyway. In the morning of 11 July I landed at Beijing International Airport ( with its 1 million square meters, one of the world's largest buildings). After a long flight I felt most like getting to a hotel room and brushing up, but the tour operator had prepared a crammed program from Day One: After being introduced to our courier and the other 20 Scandinavians I was going to travel with for the next two weeks, we were immediately transported to our first adventure: A visit to the Emperor's summer palace. After crossing the Kunming Lake in a "dragon boat", we were able to admire Empress Cixi's residence and have a 700 meter long "romantic promenade" along the lake. Afterwards we had a common dinner with many small dishes on a rotating table. There'd be quite a few of those during our stay...

12.07: The Great Wall

The Great Wall by Badaling

In the morning we visited a pearl factory/shop. Then we went to Sisanling ("The Thirteen Tombs"), where thirteen of the sixteen emperors from the Ming dynasty (1368-1644) are buried. In the afternoon it was time for one of the travel's many highlights: An excursion to The Great Wall! We walked up a strikingly steep stretch for about an hour before turning around. It's said that walking on the Wall makes you a whole person. Don't know about that. Me, I just felt like a worn person. On the way home we visited a cloisonné shop (vases decorated with copper threads filled with mineral colours) before being brought back to our hotel.

13.07: The Forbidden City

Tiananmen Square

Early in the morning we went to the Heaven's Temple, surrounded by a park that was popular for activities like couple dances, taiqi, qigong, ball games etc.

Then we visited the monumental and almost agoraphobic Tiananmen Square, filled with uniformed and plain clothes police everywhere. We also entered The Forbidden City, with lots of impressive imperial buildings.

14.07: Flight Beijing - Xi'an

The Wild Goose Pagoda in Xi'an

This day was mainly a transport lap, going by plane from Beijing to the old capital Xi'an a bit further west. Personally I didn't find Beijing a particularly charming city per se. Due to his discontent for anything old, Mao, that sod, decided that the old city wall should be torn down. Instead the city was to be modernized with Los Angeles, of all ugly places in the world, as a model. The result is several separate districts, connected by diffuse traffic machines. - Fortunately, Xi'an, on the other hand, has kept its old city wall and a lot of its distinctive features.

15.07: The Terracotta Army

The terracotta army in Xi'an

After visiting a jade factory it was time for yet another of the highlights of the travel: Visiting the excavation area of the many thousands of life size terracotta soldiers from Emperor Qin's era (210 BC).

In the evening we had a common dinner and enjoyed a spectacular show with singing, music and dancing from the days of the Tang dynasty (618 - 907).

16.07: Flight Xi'an - Chengdu

Xi'ans city wall

After a walk on Xi'an's city wall, we had a flight further westwards to Chengdu in the Sichuan province.

The Sichuan population seemed much more friendly and extrovert than their compatriots in the east. The food was rather different, too. At that time I was getting a bit fed up with the tasty, but slightly colourless dishes we'd been served in Beijing and Xi'an (but I was really getting the hang of using chopsticks!). The Sichuan food was much hotter, but that suited me just fine right now. It was about time for some slightly more explosive culinary experiences.

17.07: The Panda Reservation in Chengdu

This day we visited a panda reservation, where we met many cute and cool giant pandas. Afterwards we paid a visit to the house of the famous poet Du Fu. We also dropped by at a factory/shop with silk embroidery/brocade. Dinner consisted of a Sichuan "hot pot", at which we made our own sauce and boiled the ingredients ourselves in a pot on the table. A hot experience!

In the evening we went to a Sichuan opera, with singing, dancing and playing, plus a "finger shadow show", a puppet show, and a fascinating "mask theatre". I still don't understand how they manage to change their masks so quickly!

18.07: Flight Chengdu - Lhasa
After a week in the "real" China it was now time to visit Tibet. In many ways these two weeks were two travels in one. Tibet turned out to belong to an entirely different world, when culture, nature, history and religion were concerned. A travelogue from this amazing country follows soon...

Sun, Sea and Skerries

2009-07-09T13:18:00.002+02:00

The first sixteen years of my life, summer was synonymous with our holidays at the cottage. A carefree time. And I still associate this season with ice cream, Disney magazines, the fragrance of wet flagstones after a nocturnal shower, cinnamon buns in the sun wall, excursions to Storesand (the world's best beach), fishing trips in the boat, and card fames in the evening, while we were watching the flashing lighthouses in the skrerries.

These memories instantly return during my excursions to the islands of the Oslo fjord. The other day I was told about the renovated "sea spa" at Bygdøy, and I decided to go there. I went off the 60 bus at the Royal Estate, and discovered a footpath trough the woods. After a while I got to a road totally without any pavement or shoulder, and consequently mortally dangerous for us pedestrians. (This too brought back memories from my childhood's summers...) Soon I was surrounded by tall, slender pine trees - a clear indication that I was approching the sea.

It turned out that Bygdøy sea spa had become quite inviting, with a nice sandy beach that reminded me of the legendary Storesand. And the water was salty and refreshing, with a pleasant temperature for these latitudes. Lovely days like these, with swimming and sun bathing, make you as carefree as the summers of your childhood.

Happy Summer, Skullerud!

2009-07-07T18:19:00.004+02:00

Better late than never: Almost three weeks have passed since my class had their end-of-term celebration. As always, the students brought with them lots of tasty food (an Indian woman had been cooking for 5 hours!), and we had a great time together the last day before the summer holiday. It's always a bit sad, but hopefully I'll get a chance to teach at least some of my students in the autumn as well.

Afterwards there was a joint ceremony for all the classes. The program included a video documentary from our hike around the Østensjø lake, a touching Burmese birthday song for Aung San Suu, and a cool rap and dance performance from one of the classes. Creative teachers. Clever students.

Right now I'm happy to have my holiday, but soon I'll probably start missing my students. I haven't been as happy at a working place for many years. And now that I've got a permanent position, I have an even stronger feeling of belonging. In the difficult question concerning what's best: a despotic tyranny or an administration with human features, my conclusion is that the latter is preferable. Have a great summer, Skullerud! I'll see you in the autumn!

:-)

I
SKULLERUD

Sweet Students, Bitter Rain

2009-06-22T09:37:00.003+02:00

Every year about this time I enter a state of bitter sweetness. The summer holiday is at hand, and naturally you're starting to look forward to several months of relaxation. But at the same time one year of company with your nice students is drawing towards its end, and you never quite know whether you'll see them again in the autumn.

Since life at school often gets a bit more relaxed the last couple of weeks before the holiday, it's possible to take the students to slightly more excursions. About a week ago my class went out to the isle of Hovedøya, admiring cloister ruins, lush flora and white sails on the fjord. Unfortunately, the weather was rather cloudy and heavy with rain, but after having found shelter under a tree we were still able to enjoy tasty dishes from Pakistan, Morocco and Vietnam.

As you'll see in the subject title, my inclinations to antithetical opposites made me put "the sweet students" against "the bitter rain". After a similar excursion last year I wrote about sweet students and rotten apples, and it's no secret what "the rotten apples" was referring to. Well, the students are still as sweet, but as you see, the most negative thing I can think of this year is a bit of rain. Things change - and, in this respect, in a good way! :-)

From Bohemia to Bourgeoisie

2009-06-15T22:09:00.008+02:00

Last year about this time I was extremely frustrated about the conditions at work, and ended up saying no thanks to yet another short-term contract. But at the same time it was a sad decision, as most of the colleagues are actually good people.

I don't know if it was due to good karma, the favour of the gods or just the devil's own luck, but at the end of my summer holiday I fortunately was offered a new job at an adult education competitor. Here I've been working and enjoying myself all this school year. So, when they recently published new vacancies, I handed in an application. Some weeks ago I was called in to a job interview, and afterwards I've been hoping to be able to continue my job also in the next school year.

Consequently, I was very relieved when my boss some weeks ago congratulated me on having my job prolonged into the next school year. In fact, I was so happy and relieved that I first didn't quite apprehend the fact that she was actually offering me a permanent position! I'm still not sure if I've fully realized it. During most of my career I've been a bit of a bohemian. Working as a freelance gives you a lot of freedom and independence, but it's hard to live that way in the long run.

With my newly acquired standing as permanently employed it might be about time to say good time to my life as a bohemian. No more absinth with artists and courtisans on the left bank. No more visits to opium dens in the harbour of Shanghai. About time to get a terrace house, a car, a pretty wife, tots (one boy and two twin girls) and a dog named Rufus.

The Sanguine Season

2009-05-30T20:15:00.003+02:00

Damn you, modern science! The earth is no longer the centre of the universe. The world wasn't created in seven days after all. And now it even turns out that our ancestor is a fossil called Ida. Th worst thing, however, is the fact that the four elements gradually have been extended to more than a hundred!

The roamticist within me still haven't given up the idea of the four elements, though. I sort of like the way they've traditionally been linked to the seasons, the body fluids and the humours (and basically everything there's four of...). Earlier in this blog, I've mentioned autumn's affinity to the earth element and the melancholy mood, and how winter reflects the phlegmatic qualities of the water. Don't we all experience a touch of melancholy when the trees shed their leaves? And don't most of us turn slightly indolent during the coldest months of the year?

But now it's spring, and other forces have taken over. Earth and water have had to yield to the air element, and neither slime nor black bile govern the humour any more. Now it's the blood that's rushing through our veins; this is the sanguine season! The girls let their garments drop, the air is filled with the fragrance of lilacs, and the heart flutters in the gentle breeze. Welcome back, o long-awaited spring!

We Are Stardust

2009-05-28T22:27:00.003+02:00

The other day I came across an outdoor exhibition of amazing photos of planets, stars, galaxies and stellar nebulae. It's all arranged by the The International Year of Astronomy 2009, marking the fact that Galileo had his first look in his telescope 400 years ago. If you're in Oslo and still haven't seen it, I strongly recommend it!

When I got home, I was inspired by this exhibition, and sought out my abundant (ah well...) book collection. Although I didn't find that much literature about astronomy, I did come across the book based on Carl Sagan's tv series about the Cosmos, which made a strong impression on me in the early 80s. It provided an informative introduction to the history of science, accompanied by fascinating dramatizations and a grand (and, I seem to recall, pretty Vangelis heavy) soundtrack.

I never came to be an astrophysicist. But one can still be fascinated by the mysteries of the universe.

The Lilac Time

2009-05-24T19:39:00.002+02:00

On Thursday was Ascension Day, and one advantage (and disadvantage) about holidays like that is your having to fill them with content yourself. Me, I went for a little stroll in the neighbourhood. The weather was mild and sunny, the air was filled with an exhilarating fragrance of bird cherries and lilacs, and before I knew it, I was walking by the city river.

Some summers ago I made the river area from my part of town down to the city centre my favourite promenade. A green, peaceful and forgotten oasis in the middle of the city. On Thursday, however, I realized that the area northwards has also a lot to offer. First I reached an area known for its postmodern mix (anyone who still remembers postmodernism?) of old mills and ultramodern buildings. Originally, I wasn't planning to walk any further, but my curiosity made me explore what there was to find in the upper course of the river...

The surroundings got less and less urban, and more and more forest-like. Gravel road took over for tarmac, and the sweet spring fragrance of bird cherries and lilacs was replaced by the slightly rammer odour of thickets, nettles and dandelions. I saw an angler wading in the river. I saw a woman walking her pig. And the stupefying scent of bird cherries was everywhere.

After a while it started to cloud over, and even to drizzle, but I don't mind a little spring shower. On the contrary, I often find this more refreshing than the clearest sky. In the end, however, it started pouring, thundering and even hailing! Then it wasn't that fun anymore. At that time, however, I had reached a bus terminus and could easily get a ride back to my house. Cold and soaking wet, but in very high spirits. And after having returned home, torn off my clothes, had a hot shower and enjoyed Supaporn's fantastic foot massage, I agreed that it had been a great walk.

The Moscow Process (EuroSong 2009)

2009-05-17T18:20:00.002+02:00

Ok, now it's just about to start. I'm of course talking about this year's EuroSong final. Being a straight postpunker I guess neither my tendency nor my taste ought to indicate an interest in this circus. But it is kind of fun. According to tradition I'll try to comment on the various acts during the night. So, open the champagne and bring forth the caviar! Here we go!

1. Lithuania: Sasha Son: Love
Soulful ballad performed by a man with a hat. Not my favourite genre, but this does the trick for me.

2. Israel: Noa & Mira Awad: There Must Be Another Way
A duet between an Israeli and a Palestinian, performed in both Hebrew and Arabic. This could easily get sickeningly PC, but this actually moves me. A beautiful song in nice harmony between the two singers. Hopefully, their message get through, rather than the politics of the pricks in power in their home country.

3. France: Patricia Kaas: Et S'il Fallait Le Faire
Very French, and no doubt fantastic for those with a fetish for French chanteuses in general and la Piaf in particular. I'm not among these, but I realize that this is considered to be good.

4. Sweden: Malena Ernman: La Voix
Carmen goes night clubbing. Coloratura and plastic disco in imperfect union.

5. Croatia: Igor Cukrov feat. Andrea: Lijepa Tena
Heavy Balkan ballad of the kind that many EuroSong enthusiasts love. Me, I'm hiding a yawn.

6. Portugal: Flor-de-lis: Todas As Ruas Do Amor

Poor Portugal have participated in the ESC almost from the start and never won. There's a reason for that. But this year's song is one of their best ones ever. A simple little gem with swaying rhythms, performed with accordeon, ukulele and congas, that goes straight to my heart. Obrigado, Portugal!

7. Iceland: Johanna: Is It True?
The beautiful ice princess Johanna sings a languorous ballad. Once again: It usually takes a lot for this genre to catch my interest. But when the melody is catchy, I'm not at all unreceptive. And cello accompaniment always touches a cord within my melancholy heart.

8. Greece: Sakis Rouvas: This Is Our Night
An ageing, self-absorbed beach bum doing various "sexy" moves. Oh dear, I can feel my supper coming up again!

9. Armenia: Inga & Anush: Jan Jan
Oriental rhythms and tones from the world's oldest country. Catchy and different for a Norseman. One of my favourites.

10. Russia: Anastasia Prikhodko: Mamo
A rather eccentric and hoarse woman singing dramatically and empathatically about "mama". A bold and fascinating contribution, although the primal screams may get a bit out of hand towards the end.

11. Azerbaijan: AySel & Arash: Always
More Caucasian soda with a hint of ethnic tones. Disco pop with bouzouki-esque sounds. I particularly like the instrumental bridge midway through the song.

12. Bosnia & Herzegovina: Regina: Bistra Voda
Evocative tune characterized by subdued military drums and artists dressed in uniforms from the 19th Century. Not a bad song, this either. (What's going on? Where are all those pathetic contributions you could slaughter with sarcasms?)

13. Moldova: Nelly Ciobanu: Hora Din Moldova
Definitely this year's most folkloric act. Balkan trumpets and lively dance acrobatics. I'm sorry, but I actually think this song and maybe especially the dancing are just really cool! Yet another favourite.

14. Malta: Chiara: What If We
The fat lady sings. Does anyone remember those electronic home organs that could mimic the sound of real instruments, like "pan flute (with air)". This woman sounds like what you would hear if you pressed the "human voice" button. Wiseacres may praise the song and the voice as much as they want. Me, I don't like this at all!

15. Estonia: Urban Symphony: Rändajad
A mystic wood nymph with a Magica de Spell wig singing a suggestive song with a taste of the Ugrian woods. This is good, too.

16. Denmark: Brinck: Believe Again
Static and tardy Ronan Keating pop.

17. Germany: Alex Swings Oscar Sings!: Miss Kiss Kiss Bang

This year Germany focuses on swing, Heidis with legs up to their chin, and their national speciality: pervy outfits.

18. Turkey: Hadise: Düm Tek Tek

Feverish harem fantasies, as usual.

19. Albania: Kejsi Tola: Carry Me In Your Dreams

Young Kejsi has a good and strong voice. The song isn't too bad, either. But the stage show freaks me out: a creepy creature in an emerald suit and two pantomime dwarfs.

20. Norway: Alexander Rybak: Fairytale
A big grin, never failing eye contact and abrupt moves. Maybe I'm a cynic, but I'm not sure if his "natural charisma" is all that natural. On the other hand, in EuroSong, what is? Anyway, it's a nice tune and an even better stage show. Something tells me we won't end up with nil points this time.

21. Ukraine: Svetlana Loboda: Be my Valentine! (Anti-crisis Girl)
Hey, look! There's porn on the telly! Expensive and "sexy" show. It's this sort of stuff that tends to win the EuroSong. Sadly.

22. Romania: Elena: The Balkan Girls
The fact that this song survived the semifinals must be due to some mistake. A "party song" with no party factor and not much of a song, either. Besides, I don't like the look of the "sexy" dancing girls.

23. UK: Jade Ewen: It's My Time
For years the EuroSong free passengers UK have contributed with pointless crap. Quite disrespectful, really. This year, however, they've finally come up with a decent song. It would probably have worked well 3/4 into any musical - the great turning point: NOW I'LL SHOW THEM! But in the EuroSong context it all gets rather high-strung and pretentious.

24. Finland: Waldo's People: Lose Control
90s Euro-techno. Time for a revival already? I don't think so.

25. Spain: Soraya: La Noche Es Para Mí (The Night Is For Me)
There are those eastern tones again. This time from one of Europe's westernmost countries. Fortunately, the Spaniards dropped the Macarena this time. But this still isn't quite my kettle of fish.

12.13 AM: It's all settled. Norway has won! How nice. A good way to start our National Day. And it's also nice to see that favourites like Iceland and Estonia also did well.

Happy Campers

2009-05-14T19:52:00.002+02:00

The other day my school arranged an all-day walk for all the Norwegian classes. I was in all modesty one of the responsible in the "walk committee", and we'd concluded that a walk around the local Østensjø lake might be an interesting solution. The area is known for its fertile bird and animal life, and it's within walking distance from our school.

It seems our arrangement was rather successful. The students got the chance to see ducks, swans, geese and coots as well as coltsfoot, marigold and wood anemones. Hopefully this encounter with the flora and fauna of the locality made our students more aware of what the surrounding area has to offer.

Afterwards it was nice to get home and get some foot massage from my dear Supaporn (i.e. my electronic footbath, in case anyone wonders...).

Walking On May Day

2009-05-01T23:54:00.004+02:00

Comrades! Congratulations on Workers' Day!
(or "the working day", as my students tend to call it...)

I must admit I've neither participated in any May Day parade nor listened to fiery speeches on the Workers' Square. But I haven't been demonstratively raking leaves in the garden, either. I don't have a garden, anyway.

Instead I've spent the day on a long, relaxing walk through the city's charming residential areas. For the first time this year I got the chance to air my sandals and shorts. Spring really came to Oslo today. A proof of God's being a socialist?

During my stroll I could also sense a half-forgotten scent I've hardly felt since gran's garden circa 1975. A "green" and "try" fragrance of flagstones warmed by the sun... (Synesthesia is a lovely thing!)

On The Same Wavelength

2009-04-30T18:24:00.004+02:00

Hazy memories from the 70s: Me and my mate Lars sitting in the boys' room with an old radio, tuning through the short-, medium- and long-wave bands. In between crackling and distorted signals we occasionally hear voices in foreign languages. A taste of the world outside parish pump.

Today FM, DAB and all sorts of newfangled ideas have taken over most of the radio medium. And thanks to the internet all the stations of the world are just a click away. With a little, inexpensive gadget you can turn your computer into a world radio. Or just download some freeware that serves the same purpose.

Despite the superiority in quality, however, this still can't beat the good, old wireless; crackling signals from a transmitter in another part of the world, coming through the ether. These days radios with more than an FM reception are amnost obsolete, but lately I've decided to find a radio with all the classical wavebands. And finally I discovered an obscure distributor offering a good, old-fashioned world radio.

Now I've tried it out for a couple of days, and ascertained that my concrete apartment block doesn't exactly offer ultimate conditions for radio reception. On the roof, however, things work better. The short wave has a lot of rubbish, of course, but that too has a certain charm. On the medium wave, however, I sometimes receive signals that I guess you could call radio transmissions. In any case, you get a peculiar feeling tuning through the wavebands a late night under the stars...

Launching The Dictionary :-)

2009-04-23T22:40:00.004+02:00

Today (on World Book Day, even) I finally got a chance to behold my dictionary in all its glory, as the publisher sent me a copy - along with a nice bouquet to celebrate the launch. It has become a neat little thing with an appealing appearance. (Fortunately they managed to fix the dubious flag in time...)

At the same time I hardly dare opening it, worrying that it might explode in my face. Or at least be filled with silly mistakes. If the publisher is responsible, I'll be annoyed. And if it's my fault, I'll be embarrassed. I don't know what's worse. But at least it LOOKS good! :-)

Easter Fright

2009-04-13T23:53:00.010+02:00

Easter is sort of an indefinable festival. Christmas is less complicated in that respect. Then there are Santas and pressies and candles and cosiness and the company of family and friends. Plus a bit of Baby Jesus and Nativity sets for those who believe in the stories in the Holy Scripture.

As I said, Easter is a bit more difficult. Sure, you've got the religious part, with suffering, death and resurrection. There's also the typical Norwegian mountain Easter, going to the cabin to ski, eat oranges and drink hot chocolate. But neither of these is really my kind of Easter.

For those who neither feel like carrying crosses nor going to the mountains, there's also a third alternative, i.e. the kind of Easter characterized by fear and fright. Detective stories have for a long time been part of the Easter tradition over here, and it's probably also not a mere coincidence that the metal crew have made Easter the arena for their shock rock festival, Inferno...

Speaking of Easter fright: Last year I was rather pleased to see that the scariest of all Disney stories was republished during Easter. Ghosts, skeletons and Gothic castles are perfect for this festival. And this year I found it quite fitting to air Tim Burton's animated movie Corpse Bride by the beginning of Easter.

I actually hadn't seen this movie before, but since its predecessor The Nightmare Before Christmas is one of my all time favourites, it was actually about time. Some might say that its sequel is just more of the same, but when "the same" is as good as this, who cares? The humour of these "scary" movies fits me like knuckle hand in glove. Skeletons are awesome. There's something about the way they walk...

The plot, the imagination, the details, the characters - altogether it's almost ingenious! In its macabre way Corpse Bride have actually got more comedy and romance than most other "rom-coms" - and Burton's puppets more soul than most Hollywood actors in flesh and blood. (In this movie Johnny Depp and Helena Bonham Carter do some of their greatest performances...) Frightful and delightful Easter entertainment.

Ultimate Easter

2009-04-12T15:47:00.003+02:00

Easter is sometimes referred to as "the silent week". Silence is good, but can sometimes get a bit boring. I probably should have travelled somewhere on holiday, but instead I'm stuck here in the capital. And although I suppose Easter in the city isn't that bad, it does require a certain ability to busy oneself. Fortunately, I've got a long experience in this matter.

A quarter of a century ago, I remember spending great parts of Easter down in the basement. Our family had just got our first home computer - a technological wonder with breathtaking 32 kilobytes of memory! As a consequence we also got access to various computer games. These seem totally obsolete today, of course, but back then they generated hours of entertainment and adrenaline kicks.

I've got particularly nice memories about the games from the game manufacturer Ultimate. Despite the technological limitations this company made several legendary games with a peculiar atmosphere. Sure, I've encountered games with a hundred times better graphics later on, but none of them can compare with the experiences once generated by these 8-bit games.

And this Easter - 25 years later on - I've once again returned to these games, as it's possible to download most of them from the internet! Consequently, I've had several great re-encounters with classics like Sabre Wulf, Knight Lore and Underwurlde the last couple of days. It's almost like returning to the '84 volume of Computer & Video Games.

Besides, I've also encountered various PC-remakes of these classical games. Some people may be a bit sceptical about this kind of revisionism. I guess it's a bit like relaunching Casablanca in colour and with digital special effects... But at the same time it's a bit cool seeing classics like Atic Atac, Alien 8 and Lunar Jetman in slightly updated versions. All in all, fun pastime during Easter.

PS. Tonight I dreamt that I was in a 1st person/3D version of Sabre Wulf. Cool in many ways, but also a bit tiresome, constantly being hunted by spiders and Indians. I guess one ought to reduce one's PC-playing somewhat...

Everything and Nothing

2009-04-06T00:12:00.006+02:00

One of my all time favourite records will always be David Sylvian's Secrets of the Beehive (1987). It contains several melodious and acoustic gems, often with a hint of jazz that makes even someone like me feel benevolent towards this genre. (It also a plus that the cover is made by 23 Envelope, usually known as the house designers for the 4AD label...)

A lot of Sylvian's remaining work is a bit too ambient to my taste, though. There's probably a reason why my iPod automatically recognizes his tunes as "General New Age"... Some songs are also characterized by disordered art rock and wailing Robert Fripp guitars.

All the same, when our man released his first solo album in twelve years in 1999, Dead Bees On A Cake (the guy seems to have a fixation on bees...), I was curious to see if he'd got back to the vibes on the Beehive record. Well, at least the album shows that the then 41-year-old Sylvian was pretty happy with his life at that time. He'd got a pretty wife, had become a family man, and obviously had discovered spiritual harmony. (In other words, there's hope for all of us...)

Musically, however, I find this record sleep inducing rather than evocative. In this respect it reminds me a bit of Pink Floyd's notorious sleeping medicine Ummagumma (although the listener doesn't wake up in a state of panic by a diabolic tritonus chord midway through side 3...)

After this little disappointment I haven't really paid much attention to David Sylvian's later musical achievements. But the other day I dropped in at the library's musical department and started browsing through the ST-SY category of the cd rack. I was actually looking for a totally different artist, but suddenly I came across a Sylvian record I didn't know about, Everything and Nothing (2000).

It turns out that this is actually a compilation cd with several songs from the Japan era, his solo career, as well as various collaborations. For me it was a reminder of how many great songs the man has made. Never commercial, but often fascinating. Several of the tracks were also previously unreleased material, and made me realize that many of the best tunes from Secrets of the Beehive and Dead Bees On A Cake are actually those that never were included on the original albums...

When music is concerned, I'm primarily focused on the melody. The lyrics are usually subordinate. (It's not a coincidence that my all time favourite band is the nonsense babblers of The Cocteau Twins.) But although I haven't performed an in-depth analysis of David Sylvian's lyrics, I still intuitively feel that they have a timeless, classic quality that's substantiating the moods of his songs. Right now David feels both real and right.

and... Action!

2009-03-30T22:46:00.003+02:00

As I've said before, I've hardly been to the movies for ages. And I don't watch movies on the telly that often, either. Even though it does occasionally happen.

As an "intellectual" I guess I'm supposed to watch incomprehensible Antonioni movies. But when I do decide to watch a movie on the tv, I have to admit they're tend to be productions made for pure entertainment purposes. Such as action thrillers.

Now, I'm not really a great fan of this genre. Often they just seem like an orgy of spectacular effects, with no contents or substance whatsoever. Sometimes I also think the loss of life is a bit too big. That's why I didn't like a movie like Face/Off. It came across as a bit too cynical for my taste.

But of course, there are some exceptions. The other day The Bourne Identity was rolling across the screen, and I decided to kill a few hours in its company. This is what I'd call a good action thriller, with both suspense and brains, and where the drama isn't primarily based on slaughtering as many people as possible. Besides, they've got a rather cool car chase scene. (Car chases always look good in European cites, done with iconic cars like the DS. Or at a pinch, a Mini.)

Stupid Woman!

2009-03-27T23:43:00.003+01:00

This post might seem pretty tedious for most of you. But since I've been a bit angry all day after a little incident at work, I suppose including this stuff in my blog might have a slight therapeutical effect. At any rate, it's less expensive than visiting Dr Silverstein.

At my school they've just introduced some new routines in the recess areas, making each class responsible for cleaning up the kitchenette one day each. Yesterday the cleaning-up class was my own students, and I saw with my own eyes how they diligently and conscientiously cleaned the dishes before going home.

Today, however, a colleague from another department came into our class room and gave my poor students a thorough reprimand for allegedly not having done their job. After they'd cleaned up, it appears someone had made a mess in the school kitchenette once again. But that's obviously not my students fault. (Apparently, it's the afternoon class that has screwed up...). Naturally, I stood up for my students, because I definitely don't accept this kind of unfair accusations. If I'd only had a bit more presence of mind, I'd asked that stupid woman to apologize to my students for her unfounded accusations.

We all know how dog owners always defend their pets no matter what. Even if Rex has devoured half your leg, you always have yourself to blame: You looked at him for too long. Frankly, I feel a similar protective instinct about my own students. DON'T F**K WITH MY CLASS!

PS. Everything considered, I guess it's a good sign that what's annoyed me the most at work lately, is a silly trifle like this... :-)

A Comparative Analysis

2009-03-24T12:03:00.009+01:00

The other day my job contract was prolonged, so now my future's secured - at least until summer. I'm glad to be able to keep on working at S-rud for a little longer. The place has a pleasant atmosphere, nice colleagues, pretty attractive girls in the reception, and - not least - an administration with human features.

The contrast to one of my former work places is quite conspicuous. Last weekend I went out with my present colleagues, and it turned out that the conditions at this place are widely known. It's nice to know that it's not just me being paranoid.

But although I don't miss my old workplace, I do miss some of my colleagues. Besides, I seem to recall the nights out at my old work place being slightly more fun and crazy... :-)

عيد شما مبارک

2009-03-20T21:39:00.007+01:00

HAPPY NOWRUZ, EVERYBODY!
Today the Persians celebrate their New Year. It was one of my first and greatest favourite students, Fariba, who originally told me about the Nowruz tradition. That's one of the many advantages teaching Norwegian for foreigners: It's not only the students who learn Norwegian. The teacher learns a lot about his students' culture, too. :-)

Iran is definitely among the places I'd really like to visit. A civilization with a 9000-year long history must have lots of exciting stuff to offer! And even today The Islamic Republic of Iran is a fascinating phenomenon, being both a parliamentary democracy and a theocracy!

Quoting my good friend Barack (and Persians all around the world): Eid-eh Shoma Mobarak! Happy New Year! :-)

Words On The Road

2009-03-15T22:43:00.003+01:00

During the last year I've been working a bit to and fro with a Norwegian/English travel dictionary, but now now we're finally getting close to the actual publishing. The other day I signed the contract ensuring me my mind-bending 13 % royalty. (The publisher has managed to misspell my name, but hopefully the contract will still be legally binding...) I'm trying not to think so much about the fact that the publishing firm itself will cash in the remaining 87 percent...

I just received the final matter, and with a few reservations I think it looks quite good. The cover (depicting "typically British stuff" such as double-deckers, Big Ben and... A BARREL?!) is also rather fancy - although the designers have screwed up the Union Jack. It's actually a bit embarrassing not to be able to reproduce the national flag correctly, but fortunately it's not really ME making a fool of myself.

Aschehoug is a mighty fine publishing house. But they obviously don't know how to spell names and draw flags...

Torngy

Sushi With Putin

2009-03-07T09:23:00.007+01:00

Yesterday the media brought the news of Zimbabwe's new prime minister Morgan Tsvangirai being involved in a so-called car accident. "Luckily", only his wife got killed. A little snag there, Mr Mugabe?

Through the ages despots have always wanted to get rid of troublesome critics. Sometimes they succeed. Sometimes they don't.

September 2004: The Ukrainian pro-western politician Viktor Yushchenko falls ill after a bowl of KGB soup, just barely surviving. Tough luck for the eastern neighbour!

October 2006: The Russian journalist Anna Politkovskaya is shot and killed. The month after the Putin critic Aleksander Litvinenko is fatally poisoned at a sushi restaurant. It seems the authorities' henchmen have become more precise by now...

By the way, in a few days it'll be 50 days since Tibet's spiritual leader had to escape from the country after an unsuccessful rebellion against the Chinese master race. Still, he's had a better fate than Tibet's No 2, Panchen Lama, who "died of a heart attack" five days after a critical remark about the Chinese occupation...

Let the murderous despots get a taste of their own medicine. And sushi.

Sicko

2009-03-04T21:04:00.004+01:00

Dear diary.
The last week I've been a bit under the weather. Nothing serious, just a soar throat, a running nose and some fever at night. Which, by the way, can be bad enough. The other day I woke up, totally exhausted after a long journey with suitcases left behind and similar stressful experiences along the way. In slumber land, that is. Of some reason epic and boring dreams like these tend to turn up when I've got a fever.

My cold fills my head with wool, but that's not necessarily such a bad thing. You sort of get more numb and careless (in a positive way). It's a bit like being slightly intoxicated - possibly with a dash of LSD alongside. For a while I thought this pleasant indifference might arise from the painkillers I was munching the first couple of days, but the condition continued also after I cut them out.

In principle I'm actually against such pharmaceuticals. If you're ill, you're supposed to be in a bit of pain! Anything else is unnatural. Besides, I remember from my orienteering subject at school that fever is actually due to the body's fighting against the mean bacteria. And then I don't want to interfere, of course.

Until now I've still gone to work each day. I guess I've got a rather strong work ethics (I bet Max Weber could say a lot about this...). But today my school is having a skiing day, and even I realized that walking around in the snow for a whole day would hardly be very favourable for my present medical condition. So today I've actually decided to call in sick - safe in the knowledge that my capable colleagues will be able to protect my students from avalanches and hungry wolves just as well as I.

And it was nice to have a day off. Not least because I got a chance to sleep for almost 11 hours! I obviously needed that. In addition I've been a housewife during the day, washing my bedclothes, which had become a bit clammy and crumpled after various feverish dreams. Afterwards I slept for two more hours! No, Torgny is obviously not in perfect shape these days.

I guess this stuff may not be such an exciting read. But in any case, it will stay between you and me, dear diary.

Rotten Tomatoes and Running Mascara

2009-03-03T20:37:00.009+01:00

As I've mentioned before, I haven't been to the movies for ages. But at this time a year ago I stumbled across the Oscar Awards on my tv, which inspired a little posting in my, at the time, brand new blog. Last week it was once again time for the Academy Awards, and as an attempt to create a little blog tradition, I decided to follow the show this year as well.

If there's one thing the Americans know how to do, that must be extravagant and spectacular shows. To be honest, I'm not too crazy about glitter and glam myself. And award ceremonies actually tend to be rather boring. Especially when you don't know anything about the nominees in advance.

Another thing is the fact that the Oscars have a strong focus on commercial box office hits. It's a bit like watching the music industry's pendant: Grammy. Although I do like music, I'm pretty indifferent to whether it's Beyoncé, Rihanna or Mariah who'll draw the longest straw this time.

But during last year's awards I did appreciate master of ceremonies Jon Stewart's informal style. It made the stiff gala setting loosen up a bit. This year it was Hugh Jackman's turn to tie the acts together, with some funny (in various senses of the word) performances.

The awarding and the speeches mostly followed a familiar pattern. I've never been totally sure how genuine and impulsive these emotional outbursts actually are. After all, we're talking about actors here. But some of them actually seemed quite sincere. Despite their stardom, some still seem rather easygoing and down to earth. To me, the idea of Kate Winslet dragging a heavy suitcase at Heathrow wouldn't be totally unimaginable.

Of course, it's hard to really get involved (positively or negatively) in the jury's choices when you haven't seen the movies yourself. But at least the Oscar Awards may give an indication about what movies you should see. It was also interesting to notice that the only movie I have seen this year - the French movie The Class - was in fact one of the nomiees, in the category best foreign film.

Personally, however, I look more forward to the Eurovision Song Contest. Now, that's what I call a show! Although I'm no fan of glitter and glam, at least it's hard to be indifferent to yodl-techno from Transylvania.

* * *

For a long time I thought the Atlantic Ocean worked as a filter of sorts for the most appalling Hollywood productions. I couldn't possibly imagine everything being made over there, ending up at cinemas back here?

This may be true, but an experience from the dawn of the new millennium suggests otherwise. During a stay in New York, I and my love interest at the time sought out the local movie theatre. The movie we chose to see, however, turned out to be one of the crappiest productions of all time! Lots of Matrix-like special effects, but totally without any purpose and aim. For the first and - so far - last time I left the cinema midway through the film!

Afterwards, however, I thought "Ah well, at least we'll never see that movie at Norwegian cinemas..." I couldn't be more wrong. Half a year later it turned up also here at home... But at least it never got an Academy Award.

Happy days at Manhattan. Needless to say, the photo was shot BEFORE the crappiest movie experience ever...

Winter In The West

2009-02-23T21:14:00.004+01:00

Last week I had my winter holiday, and the last part of it I spent in Bergen, visiting my brother, sister-in-law and not least my 13-month-old nephew Bo. I was rather slow at getting around to see him for the first time, but this time it was "just" five months since my last visit... Although he'd naturally grown a bit, he was still his "old" self. A happy and friendly fellow who didn't seem to mind a visit from his uncle.

There was also time for brotherly bonding, for instance by various excursions in the Bergen area, both with and without Bo in our baggage. In addition to the compulsory Bryggen (The Wharf) and the Fish Market, we visited the fortress and Old Bergen, and also went on an expedition among the city's exotic car population.

During my previous visit to Bergen I could hardly eat solid food, but this time we fortunately got a chance to make the classic Koren pizza, consisting of a light and airy dough, covered with tomato purée, onion and... enormous amounts of minced meat! Plus some cheese on the top. A challenge for the digestion, but a pleasure to the palate.

All in all a great stay. But after having watched virtually all existing Night Garden episodes during four days, I was totally brainwashed. I'm pretty sure it'll be a while before I watch this show again...

Bert Bobbsey's & Brains Benton's Detective Agency

2009-02-19T01:47:00.009+01:00

In the 70s my pal Lars and I had - like any self-respecting 10-year-olds - our own detective agency. There we'd spy on mysterious men in nut-brown coloured cars. (Nut-brown was a totally acceptable car colour in the 70s.) We were greatly influenced by book series like The Bobbsey Twins, The Famous Five and Brains Benton. I think we even called ourselves "Bert Bobbsey's & Brains Benton's Detective Agency" for a while.

I'm not ashamed to say that lots of the literature I read during my childhood were books of this kind. In retrospect I realize that several of them were mass produced and not particularly well written, but at least they generated excitement and love of reading. And although I even at that time thought the Bobbseys might seem a bit too virtuous, I actually still think that especially the Brains Benton books have a go, a language and not least a humour that put them in a league of their own compared to many other suspense books.

Gradually, however, books like these were removed by zealous librarians, and replaced by novels about latchkey children with divorced parents. And my own collection was lost when we sold our childhood home some years ago. Consequently, I've hardly seen - let alone read - any of these books for almost thirty years.

But now I'm on my winter holiday, and then one gets some additional spare time that one has to fill with content. During my major subject, children's literature was one of my topics. In that connection I had some contact with the Norwegian Institute of Children's Books, and the other day I remembered their extensive collection of books.

On Monday I paid them a visit. It actually felt rather stimulating walking along the shelves, surrounded by thousands of children books. In addition to the "serious" works I also came upon a complete Famous Five series in various editions, and several Nancy Drew publishings from the 1940s, which I vaguely remember from my childhood home.

I also found what was the actual purpose for my visit: All of the books in the Brains Benton serial. Now I've brought them home and look forward to some exciting reading experiences during the late winter...

Wine, Women And Song

2009-02-14T14:49:00.008+01:00

In many cultures the number 3 has an almost magical status. In our own traditional religion, for instance, there's the doctrine of the deity's triple nature, and in the Hindu concept of Trimurti we find a similar trinity. The so-called central poetry, in its turn, accentuates the triad "the sea, death and love" (which sounds even better in French: "la mer, la mort, l'amour"...).

When the pleasures of life are concerned, people often refer to another tripartite motto: "Wine, women and song" - along with varieties like "rum, sodomy and the lash" and the more updated "sex & drugs & rock'n'roll". What they all have in common, however, is their associating pleasure with music, inebriation and love life.

With the possible exception of the most hard-boiled ascetics, most people will have to admit that these three ingredients make life a bit more worthwhile. As for me, there's no secret that I have an appreciation of both music and the fair sex. And by all means, a glass of wine can be nice too. However, this hedonistic hendiatris has also got its darker sides. Wine is not always good for your liver, and women aren't always good for your heart. In fact, I guess it's only music that has no adverse effects at all... Let's be grateful for at least having that.

* * *

It's Valentine's Day, and I had originally planned to have champagne and strawberries with my girlfriend. But then I remembered I don't have a girlfriend (and also that I'm a bit allergic to champagne and strawberries). I'll have a beer with the lads instead.

In The Name Of Naïvety

2009-02-13T09:10:00.011+01:00

Am I on my way into my second childhood? Recently I purchased a huge box of Lego bricks, hoping to recreate some of the joy I experienced from building with these bricks as a six-year-old. It was a pleasant re-encounter - although I wasn't too crazy about the fact that fancy colours like lime, orange and light blue had been included into the assortment since the last time. Lego bricks are supposed to be red, green, blue, yellow, black or white. Full stop.

Lately I've also been watching various children's television programs, out of which In The Night Garden is a particular favourite. And on second thought my slightly regressive behaviour may not be that worrying after all. Maybe it's just an indication that sincerely yours is keeping a childlike mind and still is able to re-experience the joy and fascination for flashing and rotating gadgets of a one-year-old.

At the moment I've got a one-year-old nephew, and although I've got little experience in buying presents to infants, it seems that uncle's choices tend to fall into good ground. Well, basically I guess it's all a matter of being able to go back to January '69 and trying to remember what I myself would have wanted on my own one-year anniversary...

In any case, In The Night Garden has lots of stuff that would easily stimulate a child's mind. For a while I wasn't sure if I really liked Makka Pakka's kisser, but after having watched a feature film with him pottering about with his rocks, I realized he's actually a rather charming bloke. To be honest, my former favourite Upsy Daisy (now on a charge for racism) can sometimes be a bit of a mouthful...

By the way, I just heard on the news that many kids are frightened by children's tv. I guess they were primarily talking about programs for slightly older children, like Pokemon, Digimon etc. But no matter how cosy the programs get, I suspect there'll always be kids getting freaked out by them. If it's not the Soup Dragons, it's the Ninky Nonk.

This time I've attached a clip from a Norwegian children's show that scared the crap out of a whole generation. You may not understand the dialogue, but you'll probably get the general atmosphere. Be afraid. Be very afraid.

Torgnyworld 1 Year!

2009-02-10T10:27:00.009+01:00

Today it's exactly one year since my first blog post, so HAPPY BIRTHDAY, TORGNYWORLD! :-) Since then my blog has grown to almost 100 posts, and hopefully there'll be many more this year. It's kind of fun publishing one's thoughts on the web - even if they're not read by anyone else. And in hundred years, when I'm 6 underground (let's be realistic), maybe these posts will at least work as a virtual diary from the 21st Century.

And in all fairness, I do have some visitors. Some of you may just have dropped in by a coincidence, while a handful others are friends and acquaintances. I have no idea who the rest of you are, but you're all welcome, no matter what. (I wouldn't mind some feedback, though; I'm a bit curious who you are, you mysterious returning visitors from Northern California, the East Coast etc.)

Recently I installed a little widget that's supposed to analyse the traffic on my blog. But relax, there's no reason to feel like you're under surveillance. The info is very general - and it doesn't seem to be very reliable, either. According to one of the functions - a map indicating the location of my visitors - it seems that one of you dwells in a Californian cemetary! So, now I've put garlic in my window and a silver crucifix under my pillow...

The Class

2009-02-07T19:40:00.004+01:00

I haven't been to the movies for ages, but on Thursday a nice colleague at my former workplace invited me out. The staff had received two movie tickets each for Christmas, and considering my traumatic experiences at the place, she decided that the one who deserved getting this treat the most, was me. :-)

We decided to see the award-winning French movie The Class (Entre les murs), depicting the everyday life of students and teachers at a Parisian junior high school. The movie made me realize how lucky I am myself: My lovely and diligent students are a great contrast to many of the argumentative and hormonal students we meet in this movie...

Considering all embarrassing acting performances in Norwegian movies through the years, the contribution of the young French actors is impressive. Maybe simply because they aren't given hopeless lines from adults who think they know how the kids talk. Norwegian films about teenagers may not primarily suffer from lack of talent, but rather from lack of instruction. In The Class, however, the kids are allowed to be themselves.

Where's Me Bones?

2009-01-30T23:01:00.005+01:00

While contemplating on the connection between winter and the phlegmathic humour, I suggested that this season is great for walks on rimy church yards. If this makes people think I'm a morbid goth with a death wish, that be as it may. But a cemetary can actually be quite athmospheric, not least at wintertime.

The other day I had decided to visit my local cemetary, but when I finally got there, it had already got dark, and the moon was shining behind torn clouds. Some might find the idea of walking ain dark church yards somewhat offputting, and if it had been around midnight, I would probably have had some second thoughts about it too. But since it was only 5 p.m., I concluded that aborting the plan just because of some superstition would just be silly.

Besides, it wasn't really that scary. On the contrary, it was rather atmospheric. The flickering lanterns on the graves looked friendly and reassuring in the wintry darkness. Having said that, however, I must admit that if I'd seen a group of ragged creatures coming towards me, I would probably have legged it. This didn't become an issue, though. Besides, since I was wearing my long, black, hooded coat, it's hard to say who would scare who. Next time I'll even bring my scythe.

Torshov Holding A Salon

2009-01-27T10:09:00.016+01:00

My season card to the National Theatre also comprises all productions at the local Torshov theatre - which is almost worth the money on its own! I've had some of my best theatrical experiences from this stage. The intimate setting seems to inspire interesting scenographical solutions and author/audience interaction. This is a theatre where you sit down on the first row at your own peril!

This autumn I attended two productions at Torhovteateret: Hamsun's Hunger and Strindberg's A Dream Play. The former staging turned a novel that I've never really cared that much about into a fascinating session. The latter, admittedly, never really caught my interest. This, however, might have had something to do with the unfocused guy sitting next to me. After a while his sighs, wandering eyes and restless movements caught more of my attention than the play did. FOR CRYING OUT LOUD, TRY TO SIT STILL IN YOUR CHAIR, WILL YA!!!

Anyway, last Saturday I went to yet another Torshov staging: Salong. It's a slightly parodical re-/deconstruction of those private concerts allegedly taking place in bourgeois homes. I sort of liked the concept. We, the audience also acted as "guests", receiving a hearty welcome by the actors/"hosts", who were also offering us drinks and delicious finger food throughout the "concert". One of the actors even sat down next to me, illuding a chit-chat. Much nicer company than my annoying neighbour at A Dream Play, I might add...

The play itself basically consisted of small observations of how such a "salon" might come about. To be honest, I'm not absolutely sure how successful this worked as a play as such. I guess the characters were supposed to reveal different sides of their personality during the night, but I don't really think we got to know them that well. One important exception, though, was definitely the role of the cultured, dominating and superficial hostess. She and the other actors made this an interesting and entertaining insight into the discrete charm of the bourgeoisie.

Salong: The hostess and the waitress

The Discomfort of Unsettled Issues

2009-01-24T02:38:00.005+01:00

Last month various loose threads in my life were generating a series of worries. My job contract was about to expire, so I didn't quite know if I would still have a job waiting for me after New Year's. At the time I was also experiencing some worrying visual anomalies evoking my latent hypochondria: Have I got a brain tumour? I bet it's glaucoma! Oh no, I'm gonna go blind!

The worst thing, however, was the fact that my new neighbours had got into the annoying habit of engaging in long conversations on the other side of the wall. At daytime this might not have been such a big deal, but of some reason they tended to start their discussions around midnight. At the very moment my sleepy head hit the pillow, they would start their mumbling, making all my sleeping techniques futile. You end up lying on pins and needles even when you don't hear anything. It's a bit like Chinese water torture, really...

Unsettled problems like these may seem inessential by themselves, but put together they might embitter your existence quite a lot. In my case they seemed to be gnawing in the back of my mind during great parts of December...

Fortunately these worries now seem to be over and done with, though. A few days before Christmas I was finally informed that I've got a new job contract for at least three more months (so, now I don't need to worry again until March...). And my visual anomalies got their explanation when I saw my doctor, was sent to the hospital, operated, and now seem to have fully recovered again.

When my noisy neighbours are are concerned, I finally took heart some weeks ago and politely urged them to lower their voices, at least after midnight. Although I still don't fully trust them and still feel a bit over-sensitive at bedtime, I now fall peacefully asleep most of the time. So now I'm entering the New Year safe in the knowledge that I'll expect less unsettled worries than I did right before the turn of the year.

Party After All

2009-01-18T17:13:00.005+01:00

On Friday I had my birthday, which calls for a celebration, of course. Last year, when I even passed a certain milestone, I beat the big drum and invited some good friends for a birthday party at my place. It was really nice. Usually, however, I'm rather slow at taking such initiatives, and this year I hadn't got around to planning any party at all. I was starting to envisage a quiet celebration in my own company.

But then it turned out that my birthday coincided with my colleagues' monthly salary dinner, giving me a chance to celebrate the day in the company of nice people after all. :-) And what's more: The next day my friend Marcia invited me to a Brazilian night on the town with some friends - which also happened to be a birthday party. True, not for me - another friend also had her birthday - but still! Meeting friendly people is always nice. Especially on one's birthday.

Lately, however, I've acknowledged the fact that parties where all the others are couples, may not always be that favourable for me. Especially not when the female half consists of Latin beauties...

On the Twentieth Day of Christmas...

2009-01-13T19:03:00.013+01:00

At my latitudes, 13 January - or the Twentieth Day of Christmas - is traditionally known as the rounding off of the festive season. And although I'm a sucker for Christmas, I guess the best thing is going out on a high note. There's nothing sadder than a naked Christmas tree.

I've kept my tree until now, though. I'm no materialist, but I do occasionally get sort of sentimentally attached to certain belongings. As a child I would often take my brand new Christmas gifts with me and put them neatly next to my bed. Good night, sweet pressies of mine... In a similar manner I've become quite attached to my Christmas tree this year. It's such a nice tree. But I guess it's about time to say goodbye now. Exit Xmas.

This year, mind you, I feel that the Twentieth Day of Christmas concludes my celebration also on another level. The Christmas rush took an unexpected turn when I was hospitalized for an eye operation right before the holiday. Consequently, a considerable part of my festive season was dominated by sore eyes, pirate patches and follow-up examinations. Today, however, I paid my last visit to the hospital, as the doctor declared the conclusion of my treatment. Finally I can remove my annoying bracelet, warning about explosive gas bubbles in me eye. It actually feels quite appropriate putting all my Christmiseries behind me on this particular date.

24 Hour Party People

2009-01-12T20:39:00.008+01:00

The telly recently broadcast the movie 24 Hour Party People, Tony Wilson's not entirely thruthful account of his life as a director of Factory Records, and of Manchester's musical life in general in the 70s and 80s, from postpunk to madchester. This might very well be my ultimate favourite "rock film", not necessarily because it's the best one, but primarily because it reflects an era, a zeitgeist and not least a kind of music that makes me feel at home. Although bands like Joy Division and Happy Mondays (which sort of constitute the start- and endpoints, respectively, of Wilson's epic) never really belonged to my top musical favourites, they still appear as obvious representatives of the music I've grown up with and that I consider "mine".

Consequently, it's hard not to smile when musicians and bands one knows well from one's youth (Ian Curtis, Shaun Ryder, New Order) appear as important characters throughout the movie. The sensation of recognition, the feeling of "knowing these people from real life" (although I never experienced Manchester in the 80s myself) makes one identify with the milieu that's being described in the movie. The mix of facts, myths and urban legends also contributes to making 24 Hour Party People an enjoyable experience for someone who "was there" - at least through his record player.

People Who Need People

2009-01-08T23:06:00.009+01:00

The last few days I've been a bit out of sorts. Small trifles and the general state of things have affected my mood to a disproportionate extent. The truth is I've felt a bit depressed, without really knowing why. Yesterday on the underground, however, I bumped into an old fellow student, and afterwards I was instantly in much higher spirits. Suddenly I realized that I'd hardly spoken to anyone for several days, and that my despondency was simply caused by a lack of social stimuli! Returning to work next week will be quite nice, actually.

For a long time I've wanted to visit my old workplace, but that's difficult when you work all day yourself. Although I've got mixed feeling about the place, it was not because of my colleagues or students that I eventually decided to find something else to do. On the contrary, it was these great people who made me endure Kafka-land for so long!

Well, being free as the breeze this week, today I finally paid a visit to my old colleagues. During the lunch break I was even persuaded to have a coffee with them in the staff room. To get there, however, you have to pass through a long, narrow corridor where the administration people have their offices, and among these there are certain individuals I did not have any wish to meet that day. When I somewhat reluctantly entered the corridor, the worst-case scenario became a reality: At that very moment the headmistress and the vice head both came out from their respective side doors in perfect synchrony. (I instantly had an association to a double guillotine.) However, after having run this gauntlet (or as my escort so pithily put it: walked through Purgatory...), I could finally have an enjoyable chat in the staff room with some of my nicest ex-colleagues. It was worth it.

I found it even nicer meeting up with my old students, though. Unfortunately, many were absent or had quit, but I did meet some of them, and they seemed to be happy to see their old teacher again. It's nice to feel that you've been missed, and I think they understood that I have missed them too. Life soon gets dull without social contacts, but it's gilded by all the lovely people you meet.

End of Holiday - Or Maybe Not?

2009-01-06T13:04:00.004+01:00

Today was the first school day, and although we've had a very long Christmas holiday this year, I must still admit that I'm experiencing a hint of post-vacational depression. It's always a bit of an anticlimax when the fun is over.

Besides, I've formally been on sick leave since the beginning of the holiday. I guess some would find it a bit annoying "wasting" your sick note like that, but maybe it was actually a blessing in disguise. Like most devoted teachers I always get a bad conscience when I have to "let down" my students. Next week I'll have another check-up at the Ward of Ophthalmology, which hopefully will be the last one (although the female doctor is sort of cute... I guess you could say I have only EYES for her... ha-ha!)

And since I got a three-week sick note, I can actually take it rather easy during this first working week as well. In a way the holiday is prolonged with another week. So the next days I've decided just to relax. Maybe chill at a café, or find some interesting books at the library. Today, however, the weather was so cold that after a brief, shivering stroll downtown I soon abandoned these plans. Hopefully, I'll be able to exploit my sick note more during the remainder of the week.

Thompson Twins - Doctor! Doctor!

It Was 30 Years Ago Today...

2009-01-03T22:03:00.006+01:00

Welcome to My Favourite Year. This is Garry Mulholland's introduction to the year 1979 in his chronological presentation of The 500 Greatest Singles Since Punk And Disco. True, at the time my musical awareness wasn't adequate to acknowledge the significance of this year. But reading Mulholland's list of 1979 songs today makes anyone instantly realize what a unique year this was, featuring several artists I still consider benchmarks for a whole musical generation (The Cure, XTC, The Clash, Madness, The Specials, etc.).

But 1979 gives me good vibrations on a more autobiographical level as well. This was the year I started to draw cartoons featuring the legendary character Rasmus. And it was also the year during which I and my mate Lars made our very first 8 mm feature films under the moniker Teko Film. Although the Rasmus and Teko era only lasted for a few years, both stand as some of the more important "sins of my youth".

By the way, today's date, 3 January, marks the 30-year anniversary of Teko Film's first production, so HAPPY BIRTHDAY, TEKO! When I figure out how to do it, I might try to publish our masterpieces on YouTube. But meanwhile you better content yourselves with some still frames. (Believe me, you're not missing out on much...)

"Welcome to My Favourite Year..." In 30 years, let's hope we can say the same about 2009! :-)

2008 In Retrospect

2008-12-31T18:17:00.004+01:00

Now, at the end of the year, I guess it's natural to look back on what has happened. I think 2008 was a rather good and eventful year. Already in January I had a nice 40th anniversary with fun friends, and I also became an uncle to little Bo the same month. The late winter offered several social events, including café visits with good colleagues and Latin beauties. And in the spring one could enjoy musical experiences, exciting reading and relaxation in front of the telly. One of the highlights in this respect was the scolded, but always entertaining EuroSong.

Moreover I had, as always, a nice and fun class, and we made many interesting excursions. But at the same time a crazy boss killed the joy to such an extent that I finally had to make the bitter decision to find something else to do. I don't miss my work place, but I do miss all the great people. Consequently, at the beginning of my summer holiday I didn't know exactly what my future might be like, but this didn't prevent me from enjoying the summer in Oslo and having nice trips to Estonia and Greece.

Fortunately I landed on my feet in August, as I was offered a job at another Adult Education Centre, with equally nice students and colleagues, and moreover an administration in their right mind. Here I'm happy and hope to continue working next year as well. In my autumn holiday I went on a short trip to Paris, and I also got the chance to meet my brother and sister-in-law in Bergen - and not least: see little Bo for the very first time!

This autumn the new class and I have made several nice excursions, and I've also had many cultural experiences both downtown and at home, with a theatre card and the cable company's generous tv package, respectively.

Although my health is still ok, there have been some minor malfunctions this year, resulting in some small operations in my mouth and my eye. But I guess that's what you must expect when you've reached the 40-year mark...

Christmas has been nice and relaxing, with some pleasant get-togethers both before and after the festival itself. I wish all of you an eventful and fruitful New Year. See you in 2009!

Happy New Year!

The Fourth Element

2008-12-31T15:22:00.008+01:00

Although modern science has long ago rejected the doctrine of the four elements, you don't have to be a Jungian to realize that this conception reflects ancient human archetypes. Particularly fascinating is the idea of the elements' connection with the bodily fluids, the seasons, and the humours. I suppose most people feel their blood fizzing sanguinely in spring, whereas the melancholy of the black bile tends to dominate their mood during the autumnal months.

Now that winter is at its darkest and coldest, however, another element and humour has taken over. The cold makes you turn towards the within and view your surroundings with a higher degree of distance and detachment. This, combined with an afterglow of the quiet bliss of the festive season, may evoke a sense of contemplative serenity. This is a time for walking in rimy cemeteries, listening to the Cocteau Twins at their most spectre-grey, and having crushes on pale girls with an inscrutible look and Eastern European features.

Childhood's Christmas

2008-12-30T16:16:00.012+01:00

I hope the festive season has matched all your expectations. Although I had some nice, social get-togethers before and after the festival, I took it easy on Christmas Eve, cooking pork rib and watching the traditional Christmas programs on the telly.

Well into my adulthood I always felt that Christmas Eve was sheer bliss. Then nothing bad could happen. Our parents must have done a good job making us feel so happy and secure during this festival. Usually I liked withdrawing to my room from time to time, but on Christmas Eve I wanted to be with my family the whole day.

An ordinary Christmas Eve in my childhood home would usually start with the kids waking up at the crack of dawn and scuffing down to the Christmas tree in our living room to see if we'd got any "morning presents". And we always had. Usually it was a cartoon book intending to shorten the waiting period ever so slightly. Although we at that time had developed a healthy scepticism regarding the existence of Father Christmas, we still didn't understand how someone had managed to sneak these presents under the tree during the night without us noticing. And I still don't.

Around 9 the telly would start broadcasting animated films, something we'd been starved of the rest of the year. In the seventies that sort of stuff (with the exception of "proper" cartoons from the Eastern bloc) was frowned upon by the broadcast monopoly. But at Christmas time it was obviously ok going a bit wild, also in this respect.

Around noon we'd take the car, pick up Gran along the way, and go to the churchyard to put down garlands on Grandad's and our great-grandparents' graves. After returning home, Mum would fetch out the Christmas cakes: Fruit loaf, coriander cookies and ginger snaps. We'd watch Disney's traditional Christmas Parade, and - not least - Three Nuts For Cinderella. I don't know what it is about that movie, but every time I see it, I still get bitter-sweetly romantic. And still fall in love with Cinderella just as much as when I was twelve. It is a great movie. With humour, warmth, good actors, great costumes and wonderful music. And the loveliest lass in the world.

After Disney and Cinderella it would be about time for the Christmas dinner. We could smell a delicious fragrance of pork rib and sauerkraut from the kitchen. Then we'd sit down at the table and enjoy the lovely meal, so much and for so long that we eventually would almost burst. Around 8 it was finally time for the definite highlight of the day: The distribution of gifts. We'd sit down around the tree, close to the crackling fireplace. Mum would find a present under the tree and pass it on to the lucky recipient, who would unwrap it with the rest of us watching. Consequently, this ceremony could go on for hours, but that's precisely what made it such a unique experience. It was almost just as exciting to see what the others would get! Maybe this contributed to the basic attitude I've still got when presents are concerned: It really isn't the material value that matters, but rather the thought behind.

The remainder of the evening we'd relax together, and maybe potter around with the new stuff we'd got: Labyrinth games, Disney books, drawing pads... Usually there would be sufficient pastime for the whole holiday.

I know these Christmases will never come back, but the memories are still there. Along with the desire to recreate some of the joy, bliss and anticipation one experienced oneself during the Christmases of one's childhood.

Xmas Atmos

2008-12-28T04:19:00.010+01:00

On Christmas Eve I ended up in front of the telly, filled up with pork ribs and aquavit. I had originally planned to watch a comedy or a talk show or something like that, but instead I started to watch the Roman-Catholic Midnight Mass. Earlier that evening I'd watched the movie about Narnia, so there was quite a lot of Jesus stuff going on that night. Luckily, it didn't spoil the Xmas atmos.

Although I'm neither a Catholic nor particularly God-fearing, I must admit I did find this ceremony quite moving. To me, an ordinary Norwegian church service comes across as a rather dreary affair, with uncomfortable wooden benches, groaning organs and hymns slightly out of tune. Not much spiritual sublimity about that. The Catholics, on the other hand, are obviously much better at creating an aesthetic whole: In St Peter's Basilica there were candles, censers, angelic singing and (with the exception of Bernini's hideous Baroque columns) beautiful art. Regardless of faith or philosophy of life, it was also hard not to approve of the Pope's conspicuously inoffensive speech.

The tv cameras' various close-ups of remarkably photogenic worshippers also gave evidence of the fact that faith is still important to a huge amount of people around the world. Belonging to a world-embracing denomination with an almost 2000-year-long unbroken tradition, undoubtedly creates a unique sense of community. To be honest, our own national Mickey Mouse church appears pretty pathetic in comparison.

If you decide to relate to something as archaic as a religious institution in the first place, I guess you might just as well go for the most hardcore option. And in this context I guess there's nothing more hardcore than the Catholic Church. For better and worse. Although I'm still a tepid humanistic ethicist of sorts, this probably can't go on forever. It might very well happen that I on my deathbed as a 98-year-old will convert to Catholicism, before father O'Hara performs the last rites. If not before.

From All Of Me To All Of You

2008-12-25T14:58:00.004+01:00

As some of you know, I sometimes enjoy making my own cd's with my musical favourites. This can also be a fun and personal (and, not least, cheap) Christmas pressie. This Christmas some of my friends have received this year's TorgnyMix: "Klubbland (The Sound Of Sort Of Nowish)". But then I realized that I might just as well share this mix with all of you here on my blog (technology willing). Consider this a little Christmas gift. Hope you'll enjoy it, and

Have A Very Merry Christmas!