Mummimamma's kitchen

Unexpected horrors

2008-07-22T15:05:20Z

I just ordered internet connection and a phone-line for my new flat. And it will take 3-6 weeks until I have my connection. Horror!!! What shall I do with my days if I can't spend them idly surfing?!?

Also I got stung by a wasp yesterday and had an allergic reaction, took my first-aid antihistamines, and today I feel like I've run over by a truck, or perhaps that the truck run down my throat. Since antihistamines makes me sleepy, I fell asleep on the sofa, woke up about 3 am, and crawled over to my bed and slept some more. And I had ice cream for breakfast.

And I still haven't finished packing, and I'm moving tomorrow!

Lesson learnt

2008-07-19T18:37:12Z

Paint dry much faster when you drink beer while watching it dry. The second coat may be somewhat sloppier though. (Yesterday: Kitchen, sans beer. Today: Sitting room and bedroom, avec beer.)

Nuff said

Pictures from a amputated car trip

2008-07-14T21:09:30Z

Here I am, back from an exiting road-trip with my mother.We planned on travelling north to Nordfjord, and then into the middle of Norway, and then down to Halsnøy were our family comes from. On our first day a thing broke on our car, can you spot it? (click pictures for bigger versions)

So after waiting for some time, both we and the car got a lift with the towing truck. The car was put in a car hospital, and we were lent an old car for a couple of days.

We had a lot of weather, most of it spectacular:

So mostly we stayed in the Stryn area, since that was where our car was hospitalised, and made shorter day trips, first we had a wonderful trip to Kjenndalsbreen

Then we went to the way more popular Briksdalsbreen

Currently Briksdalsbreen is very small. We were there 17 years ago, and then the glacier snout (which am told is the correct English term, and find a delightful way to describe the front of the glacier - because it really looks like the snout of a dog or fox or something, don't you think?) covered almost the whole lake in front of it. Not so anymore:

That is my mother in the front and centre there.

But since it's so small one can easily walk up to it. Although it is strongly discouraged, because glaciers are really dangerous when they move. But since it seems like it's nothing there to move or break off, everyone gets up there. On my way up I met, amazingly no one on stilettos, but at least two people on crutches. And one women who stumbled and twisted/broke her ankle. And even though I am not the biggest hiker-hero in the world, but even I use a backpack when I hike, sometimes you have to use your arms people (this is to the middle-aged man in leather trousers, with a matching leather tote bag, whom I had to help up.)

Anyway, here is the dirty glacier:

And this is me taking a picture of myself in front of the dirty glacier.

I kind of like this picture, so you may have seen it on my facebook. I actually uploaded this over the hotel's wireless over my cellphone.

We did a couple of other trips, but on those I mostly took pictures of the flowers (one, two, three), tall mountains and lakes/fjords (one, two, three.)

But I'll end this national-romantic picture odyssey with a über-Norwegian picture.

Of course it's taken in a museum! Sunnfjord museum to be precise.

Sloth

2008-07-02T11:59:37Z

My sin of choice is sloth. Well, choice and choice, it's the one I suffer from. When I do not have anything specific to fill my days with I don't do anything. There are lots of things I could do (write that article I have to write before September, start packing, cure aids, save the world etc, etc), but since I don't have to do them, there are no specific deadlines, I don't even get started. When I have something specific to do, i.e.. work, I have no problems jumping out of bed, feeling cheerful, refreshed and ready to start the day (well mostly). Now, I wake up at wake-up time 6.15 -since I am a morning person in my heart- and just stay in bed, napping, reading, napping. On a couple of occasions I didn't crawl out of bed until mid-afternoon. This constant oversleeping makes me lethargic and gives me a constant low grade headache.

I need something to organise my days, because I am hopeless at doing it myself. I know that that is one of the reasons why I had problems writing my thesis (combined with the absent supervisor and the fact that my two fellow students were decidedly introvert).

Also my computer has had problems lately, and I had to to things&tm; to it. And now I have no virus programme, and no Microsoft. Openoffice is probably all right, but why is it using to much memory?

In house-related news; Friday I met with the bank, and signed thousands of papers filled with words like "loan", "mortgage" "payment", "soul", "interest rate"... And at 5 pm today I am meeting with the house broker to sign the contract and stuff.

I am sure that this domesticity is what have made me have worrisome dreams lately, like tonight I dreamt I got pregnant with one of my former students (ew), and we were so happy (although we had this serious discussion that we had to stop with the orgies). We spent the rest of the dream expanding the flat to make room for the child. Because dreaming of painting and hammering is so fun! Well, at least we didn't get a dog, which dreamt the other night, a irish setter. And I don't like dogs! Although the exercise would do me good.

OMG!!!!1111

2008-06-24T20:24:56Z

I own a flat!!!!

~~Lots of Norwegian text~~ (dead link) or Head straight for the pictures. (Permanent location of pictures)

Cyprus & cash flow problems

2008-06-19T14:21:52Z

I am not alive, and not in some Cyprus hospital after an ill-fated attempt at driving on the ~~wrong~~ left side of the road. Actually I was rather amazed at how civilized the traffic was, well, since my points of comparison were Norwegian, Italian and Greek traffic.

I will not say so much about the holiday, because holiday it was - at least by my standards, sleep late (until 830!), go for a swim in the ocean, have a long an leisurely breakfast. (optional; place mother at the beach) relax (two hours in a bus across the island to have a look at some ancient stones), lunch (eat fast before the bus leaves), home again, (optional - pick up mother from beach) leisurely swim, beer at the balcony, dinner (and football), sleep. The relaxing was done in the Troodos mountains (which I'd love to go walking though in early spring), and two days in North Cyprus; one day in Salamis and Famagusta, one day in Nikosia (where we had the best lunch ever). We would have liked to go to Pafos too, but that would have made the itinary to busy. And then I spent a day trying to get to Larnaca, but forgetting the thing about driving on the left, losing that morning's bus, and decided to take the bus in the opposite direction instead, ending up (via the infamous Agia Napa) in Paralimni, where I had lunch. And one more lunch, before going back.

In other news, I am kind of broke at the moment. Since I have taken four weeks holiday this year(one week in Marrakesh, two weeks now, one week in October), I am not getting much wages this month. And since I went form one contract to another in December I got my holiday money then, instead of in June. And I didn't even think of that. And since I was thinking I'd get 25.000 kroner this month I went ahead and paid my ticket to St. Petersburg. In October the choir is going to St. Petersburg. I have now paid the ticket. And I am currently waiting for yet another house broker to call me and tell if my bid has been accepted. As if I wasn't broke enough already...
(ETA: Bid was rejected. Too low.)

There was something more I was going to say... hmmm... I can't remember, it must have been important.

live from Cyprus

2008-06-11T10:45:10Z

stealing somebody's bandwidth to tell the world I am alive, but not in Larnaca where I was supposed to be, but in Paralimni, coming from Famagusta. Hopefully I'll find a bus, because the town seems to be closing down now.

Come, come summer (and postcards)

2008-06-04T21:40:37Z

Phew. All the written exams have been graded, and the students mostly did well. Tomorrow I'm holding the last of the oral exams, and after that it is time to relax. And write those ground breaking articles I have been planning. But before that I'm going to Cyprus, where I have never been before , for a week. With my mother. Brushing up on my Greek (or whatever they speak there), relax, and yes, write postcards.

Some of you are already on my postcard-list, and will receive (or not) a postcard, even if you don't want one. But if have moved since March, or really, really want a postcard, leave your address in the comments. This goes for those of you with book-recommendations too. Not the address, but "leave" and "comment"

Comments are screened.

Sherlock Holmes' home, now from a slightly more relaxed mummimamma

2008-05-29T17:27:37Z

This one is for niora A floorplan of 221B Baker Street, via Strange maps

Slightly decompressed now, after some therapeutic teaching. And having contemplated and recounted the strange story about my mother and her idea that I wanted to move to the suburbs to everyone and their grandmothers. According to all the people who've been listening to my whining today (thank you!), it may have something to do with the fact that she lives about 10 minutes walk away.

And I am wondering how people in India are able to do yoga. It's 20°C outside, and I even the thought of doing yoga is repulsing (but it's yoga-practise day today...)

Confused now

2008-05-29T08:58:23Z

After some contemplation I have (almost) decided to push the serious flat hunting forward in time about 6 months until I know whether or not I have a permanent position at NHH. Currently I have a temporary position going until the end of December. So I could stay where I stay now, and save a lot of money, Furthermore I will receive some back-pay for the administrative work I did initially, since I worked on a per hour-taught basis last year. So, since the house marked is slow, and I could save up rather a lot of money in a short time. Of course, this resolve is occasionally rocked by dishes towering up in the kitchen and flatmates wanting to talk when I want to be grumpy.

But this entry is again brought to you from by mother. You see, I told her about my decision, which she thought was a good one. But just now I got en email from her. She had found a perfect little house for me, she said; kjempebra og sentralt "great and centrally located" also referencing acquaintances who live there.

What totally confused me is that this house is not central at all, it's in Åsane, the suburb I grew up in, and still detest. I have absolutely no friends there (since she (one person) moved abroad several years ago), and there is nothing interesting to do there except hang out on Ikea, or the other huge shopping centres, or play handball (which is another bad hangup from my school years, everyone in Åsane played handball. Except me.)

On top of that she also wrote that she'd be out of office until the afternoon, but I could call her later.

I just feel like the ground was pushed out under me. Even the idea of moving to Åsane is so totally impossible to me, I don't understand how someone can even contemplate for it themselves, mush less recommend it to me. And my mother!!

Shopping with my mother

2008-05-23T14:05:20Z

Don't get me wrong, I love my mother dearly, but I have realised that bring my mother on my house viewing stunts is really, not so much a waste of time as totally detrimental to any attempts at house-buying. Whereas my insights into the house market, and what one can get for my allotted sum of money, is fast expanding (as the possible number of flats dwindle), my mother's idea of how my flat should seems somewhat inflated to me. Whereas we have the same ideas concerning how the flat should be organised, my mother seems to stuff at least 10 extra square metres, a balcony, and preferably an extra room into it. Of course, any of these accessories puts the flat outside my economic reach. It should also be newly refurbished and repainted, Although she scoffs, loudly and occasionally embarrassingly, at anything she deems overly fancy, which is well... a lot of things.

In one way I can understand why she scoffs this way. Many of these apartments are styled with trendy rented furniture, but still the walls have holes after nails, the floors are badly put down and millions of other details. On the other hand, chances I will find something that is perfect in her eyes, within what I can afford is highly unlikely.

Of course, it is probably my own fault for bringing my mother along, but she owns the car, and all the viewings are at the same time, so a car to zoom between places is a good idea.

On the other hand, the longer I stay in the shared flat, no matter how it can stress me out, I have a lot of money to ~~spend~~
save for the extra 10 m².

In other news, I have understood why people who blogs occasionally write blog posts on the strange hits and weird search terms people have used to get to their blog. I have a small wordpress-blog where I occasionally write about strange words I encounter. Lately i have been rather amused by the search terms people use; Some people seems to be obsessed with "pretty words in X language", which I have several hits from. "Italian words on m" is also a favourite, along with "hooker in latin". People are weird. Today I have been linked to from a wikipedia-debate article (along with 8! hits). Will I be famous now?

Well, time to return to the exam grading...

Link: Tjeldcam - mummimamma goes Cute Overload

2008-05-19T08:18:39Z

The first chick has hatched for the oyster catchers living on top of the science building at the University of Bergen - just across the street from my house.

Have a look at them at tjeldcam - (Tjeld is the Norwegian name for oyster catcher.)

Cuuuute!

Life of a Norwegian teacher (33), famous Norwegians, panic of a teacher

2008-05-18T18:10:28Z

Thank you everybody for your birthday wishes. And a specially big thank you to hierophantrix for the birthday cake! And to niora for the calorie-free cake :)

Birthday was spent in the office while the students on the beginner's level wrote their exams. In the evening I had extra choir practise for our 17th of May concert, and afterwards I went for beers with my friends, quite successfully (compared to some other attempts) trying to mingle new colleagues/friends with old friends (all language nerds). I came home late and somewhat drunk, but not feeling particularly older.

So when I - eventually - got out of bed on the 16th I had to wash my bunad-shirt before going to work, and when I arrived there I realised with some horror that I had to make all the preparations for the oral exams on that day. For some reason I had gotten the idea that I had a work day before the oral exams would start. Which I hadn't... Eventually out of the office it was home and fix the bunad.

So, 17th of May, up at 545, breakfast and getting into the bunad (still looking like this) and of join the morning parade. I went with a friend in the parade. We joined joyfully in all the singing and eviscerated equally joyfully the speeches. That is what happens when you present sloppy speeches to classical philologist before coffee. After the parade we ran around partaking in the the various wreathings of famous Norwegians and Bergensers. First it was Christian Michelsen, which was short and sweet, although without singing. Then we hurried down to the statue of (my guy) Ludvig Holberg, where we were too late for the speech, but just in time for the singing, and even better, beer. Then we wanted to join Petter Dass's wreathing, but here there was some mix up with the time. Eventually the wreath arrived and we got to listen to the most boring speech of the day, it was more or less a encyclopaedia-article of the life of Petter Dass* I have no idea who the speaker was, but she didn't know the first rule of speeches - know the audience. If people get up at horrible o'clock to watch somebody lay down a wreath at a dead person's memorial stone, they do not need to be reminded of who the person was, nor where and when he went to school.
*Actually, having read through the above-linked Wikipedia-article I have to correct myself, she was more boring than an encyclopaedia.

After this we went down to the harbour to join the wreathing of Shetlands-Larsen's statue commemorating him and all the Norwegian sailors who died during the second world war. Shetlands-Larsen being a war hero, this was a much bigger affair with people in uniform present, mostly from the Naval College which is situated here in Bergen. The speech was way better than the last one, but then I guess that they do actually learn something about holding speeches in Naval College, although it contained slightly too much politics (more money to the defence please) to my tastes.

By now it was 820, and your heroes were in dire need of coffee, so we hit the first place we found. Now 17th of May is a a day were a lot of people is up early here in Bergen, even if you don't join in the early morning parade, the main parades (there are two) starts around 1030, so if you're joining the parades or watch them you need to be up and about quite early. Also 16th of May is one of the big party nights, so pubs, cafees and anywhere that serves anything opens early. This to tell you that when we were the only ones drinking coffee in the place. And I spilt coffee on my shirt...

The coffee break was short, because the next part by the theatre where actors read poems by (play-)writers Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson, Nordahl Grieg and Henrik Ibsen by their statues.That was quite fun. Especially since a lot of russ - high school graduates - were slumbering in the morning sunshine by the foot of the statue of Ibsen. The actor poked some of them with the foot, and told them to listen, he was going to read a poem, one by Ibsen, that guy up there, he said, pointing at the statue.

The last wreath was laid down to commemorate those who died at the hands of Gestapo. This was by far the best speech we heard during the day, both in content and rhetorically. It managed to take the "never again"-cliché and transcend it. Very moving.

After this the city was most definitely starting to fill up. People crowded up along the route of the parades, and the bands, groups and various people who were going to join the parade started marching in. I ran along to my 17th of May-breakfast with some friends. It was the whole traditional affair, smoked salmon, cured meats, potato salad, scrambled eggs, cheeses, fruits, and of course lots and lots of champagne (or the cheaper sparking wine). We ate, drank and had a great time. I had to leave around 1430, sicen I had to go home and sleep and get ready for the concert the choir was going to hold in the evening. I went home, took off my bunad and fell into a somewhat buzzed sleep.

At 1705 I suddenly awoke. I was due in church at 1730. Never has anybody gotten into a bunad this fast, and let me tell you that getting into a bunad is a tricky thing with all the little catches and jingly silver-bits to be fastened.

Then there was concert, post-concert beer, and home to bed before 2200, since I was so, so tired.

And at 0239 I got a text message, and woke from it having forgotten to turn off the sound. It was from the woman who was going to be my censor at the oral exams which start tomorrow (as suddenly realised on Friday). She was stuck in Oslo, and couldn't get home in time for the exams. There is a strike which has closed down several airports, and of course all the trains and buses and all the other modes of transportation are full. So I didn't sleep well for the rest of the night, because finding a new censor so close to the exam, in the middle of the exam-period can be tricky. But I managed to find one after a couple of phone calls. *Phew*. Hopefully the paperwork will go easily.

So, life is busy, but good. I don't feel older, and I have got a new mobile phone. It is a Nokia E51, and so far I quite like it.

A mobile phone shaped entry

2008-05-09T16:50:03Z

Some months ago my old mobile stopped feeding, and and since the warranty had expired I had to buy a new reasonably cheap phone fast. After all I can't live without one! So I decided on a flip phone, since they looked kind of cool. So far I had only owned candy bar telephones. Now I have had my flip phone for about four months, and to tell you the truth, I do not like it much. I can't say I hate it, but unlike the old ones I wouldn't be sad to see it gone. I find the endless flipping annoying. And since I live in a country where text-messages is the normal way of communicating (gossip, making arrangements, getting job-offers, sending in tax reports....), there is a lot of flipping during the day. So, since I at the moment is slightly not-poor I planned on using some money on a new phone, which I really do not need, but would very much like. I have contemplated a slide phone, but am worried that the sliding will annoy me equally much as the flipping. So I turn to you my wise LJ-friends, slide or bar? Or is it just me who hasn't understood the beauty of the flip phone?

View Poll: Phone-shaped poll

As you understand - my life is really hard at the moment...

ETA: Perhaps I should go for this lovely Buddha-phone? Although I need to brush up on my Chinese (if that is the language it uses) first...

Self portrait of not-artist as a young Mummimamma

2008-05-07T09:17:46Z

There is one thing I can not do, and that is to draw. I suck at it. I wish I could draw. I always fill my notebooks with horrible attempts at sketching. Since I am an avid writer - and even more so when I am travelling - I wish I could draw.

Anyhow - I have committed drawings. Several in fact, of myself. And I am going to inflict them on you. The background for this is davario's meme to draw oneself as a teenager. I spent several hours last night looking at the various representations of selves. I was rather amused how many showed themselves as so much sleeker and trendier now than in their youths. Yes, being a teenager is a horrible thing, filled with angst and acne. But I bet a lot of them were way trendier stressed back then than now - it is just that who, who I ask, want to admit today that they found the late eighties fashion the coolest ever? Also a lot of girls stressed how their hair was much better now. There is nothing as bad as old fashion....

Or it may be that I am strangely unchanged. I haven't undergone a huge external change, I have shorter hair and slightly less acne*, but I still fit in some of the clothes I wore as a 16 year old. And I have worn scarfs and books most of my life...

* My mother tells me that it gets better after menopause...

Back in 1992 I went to music school and wanted to become a composer and conductor. I wrote an opera (parts of which were performed) and two symphonies. I spent a lot of time dragging my tuba back and forth on the bus.

In 1996 I went to study in Athens and tried the best I could to fit among the locals. On the bus...

Still waiting for the bus...

I realised while drawing that both in my childhood and youth I spent a lot of time on the bus. I had an hour each way to school, and did most of my homework there (this accounts for the ugly handwriting). In Athens I again had an hour back and forth to the Univeristy, and I spent it rehearsing vocabulary and stomping groping men on the feet. So, for sake of continuity I had to draw myself waiting for the bus on my today picture.

Attack!

2008-04-25T20:22:03Z

This last week my house hunting has been seriously impeded by an attack of witches, that was the learned opinion of the learned doctor at least. Hekseskudd in Norwegian, Hexenschuss in German according to my students - which is called something as boring as lumbago in English. So what can you do when attacked by witches? Not sitting I have found, but it is all right to lie down, walk or stand. While listening to Terry Pratchett's stories about witches of course.

But in better news, my article has at long last been published!

Happy author

And since the wonderful place I work for have this incentive to write articles, I will get a nice bonus for it by the end of the year. Obviously it works, because I plan to write another one now, to another and even more famous journal (more money!). Of course I've forgotten everything about long harrowing evenings of lonely writing...

Also I've finished teaching for this semester - now only I only have to make the exams, correct the exams, prepare the oral exams and hold the oral exams. And ~~scare~~ calm the panicking students of course.

sigh part 2

2008-04-22T10:06:25Z

Now I am just fed up with the house hunt, and am seriously planning to use my savings on whisky and trips abroad (to buy more whisky).

Flats are expensive - yes, I should have bought in 1992. But why are all the refurbishments so sloppily done? Fast and sloppy to earn more money. The walls are covered with plates of plaster instead of fixing up the walls, often the plates are rather badly cut and fitted with holes and crack. And in general all that the skirting is improperly done. In one flat they had just nailed one moulding on top of another without fitting them. And yes, that left a bent moulding and a crack a centimetre wide. Amazing.

Boring people. A users guide. 1: House hunting.

2008-04-13T16:16:25Z

Currently I must be the most boring friend in the world. Whereas I usually am an enthusiastic and spiritual conversation partner in topics as varied as my students, languages, Norwegian language, Latin language, Greek language, etymology, Finnish language, second language acquisition, science fiction books, science fiction films, lack of women in science fiction in general, badly written woman roles in science fiction films, badly written women characters in science fiction books and science fiction and languages, I currently have only one topic; house hunting.

All right house hunting topics can be broken down into various topics;

Economy; How much capital do one have, including debate on BSU, a Norwegian home investment saving scheme with tax deduction for young people. How big a loan can one get. And even more important, how much will the interest rate increase, or will it decrease? Discussion of national and international financial politics may ensue. Also I get to talk union politics, since I get a lower interest rate as a union member. Related topics, renting versus owning.

The house hunting itself; Currently I think most of my surfing time is spent here, browsing for apartments. When I have found some that seems reasonable, well not too unreasonable, I make a list and go to the viewings. I have realised that the people who take pictures for the brokers are really fond of the wide angle lens, there is also a photographer who likes to take pictures of the bathroom in a bird perspective. Most of the flats I have a look at have been styled. Which means that it in no way resembles a flat I would ever inhabit. I have seen one - ONE - flat where they had bookshelves. Some of the stylists have certain strange ideas, one likes to have a guitar in the room, one likes to arrange pillows on the floor in a corner, and there is this one stylist who obviously likes dragging the hide of a dead cow around. I am also slightly puzzled by the fact that most flats seems to have been refurbished within 12 months of selling it. In general I think many of the new refurbishments are ugly and boring. Current trends are the colour white, downlights and open plan kitchen/living room (is that what you call it? When the kitchen is a part of the living room). I am not a fan of either.

What I want; After three months of viewings I have decided that I have a lot of things I want in a flat, but I have some thing that are absolutes:
* I shall be able to walk naked from my bed to the bathroom without meeting or being seen by anybody. This is the result of sharing a flat for 8 years. I do not want to buy a new bathrobe.
* I want a separate kitchen. It don't have to be huge, but I want a separate kitchen, preferably with a door I can close and a window I can open. I like to cook, I don't like cooking grease on my books.
* I want a separate bedroom. I have had too many people occupying my bed without offering having sex with me. Friends should sit in the sofa, at the kitchen table, not in my bed.
* I don't want to live in a cellar. I have lived in a way to humid flat where I never had to water my flowers and I got systemic pneumonia. I don't want to live below ground. Preferably not at ground level either, but this is renegotiable.
* It should be within walking distance to the centre of Bergen, but preferably not in the centre itself. And accessible to my workplace, NHH, without changing buses

Obviously these are difficult demands, especially the kitchen one it seems. Mostly the market is going slow, excepting just the kind of flat I am looking for, I've found two that where great, both in the same area (Solheimsviken, an area built 1930-1960, which means a separate kitchen is the norm), and the same price 1.2 - 1.4 million kroner i both went approximately 200.000 kroner above the estimate, whereas most of the other flats are currently going below, if at all. 1.2 seems to be the loan one gets without any savings.

So I was contemplating, what are your absolute demands in a flat - or do you demand a house?

View Poll: Absolute house

Emptying the mind of questions

2008-03-27T15:42:22Z

When I haven't been busy fattening myself on Easter food, I have been walking around looking at flats. I am getting the hang of it now I think (although I just got overbid). As you understand - life is exciting...

But I have question! I have been thinking about myths and stories lately; How some myths become the "official" version - the one that everybody knows - of the myth, and how some are only live in the margins. I guess it works for fairytales as well, our collections of fairytales are just that, collections. Editions and collections.

The fairytale collectors walked around, collecting tales. Then they decided between the versions, quite possibly did some merging, or cutting to make them to the standard they wanted them to be, before publishing them for the general consumption of the people. Here you can add layers, like a famous rewriting or a film version, becoming the main reference point for a story (I'm looking at you Disney). For some time the oral traditions and the written tradition lived side by side, but - at least in Norway the oral tradition is dead. Those who seek to revive it draw upon the written material.

What I has been pondering is whether anything has been written about the process of making this "official" versions. Or if this mechanism has a name.

I other news a cd is stuck in the cd-drive at my work computer. There is no little hole to put a paper clip. I have called and e-mailed the it-department to ask for help. I think they think I am stupid. Can I throw the computer through the window now?

Going to Marrakesh, the red, and surprisingly green, city

2008-03-18T19:12:58Z

So, my trip to Marrakesh. Unlike our trip to Istanbul we really didn't have much of an idea what we wanted to see and do. The tickets where bought mostly on whim. I wanted to listen to the storytellers at the Djemma el-Fna*, which I heard about a couple of years ago when I attended a course in storytelling. Hilde wanted to smoke waterpipe, and these were our plans at arrival.
*Djemma el-Fna, also known as Djemaa el Fna, or Jemma/Jami/Jeema/Jema/Jmma/Djmma/Djema el Fna. I follow the age-old Norwegian tradition by writing it the way I think it should be written based on how I pronounce it.

We had reserved rooms at a small hotel in the old part of the city - called Jnane Mogador, since we were slighty late in our reservation they only had a quadruple room available, but it was all right, clean, cheap and centrally placed. The breakfast wasn't the greatest, but since the Djemma el-Fna was just a couple of steps away food really wasn't a problem.

Jnane Mogador, your home away from home.

The first day we spent getting lost in our immediate neighbourhood, the central part of the medina and the souqs. The old city of Marrakesh is all rose-red, the streets are winding in strange directions, and the archways are many.

And the souqs can bring out the shopper in everyone - even me...

And then there is spices, ceramics, jewellery, lamps, scarves, of all and every quality..

They are dying red today, in the dyer's souq.

And of course, carpets...

Djemma el-Fna is the centre of the medina, the whole medina is on UNESCOS world heritage list, but the Djemma el Fna is on the list of Masterpieces of the Oral and Intangible Heritage of Humanity .

It is a strange, weird place. It's like a place taken taken from 1001 Nights, except with French (and the occasional USanain and British tourists). During the day the place is filled (as far as I have documented) with stalls with orange juice sellers, spice sellers and pirate copied music. Around the place people sit selling peddling strange objects and services; snake charmers (yes!), fortune tellers, artificial teeth sellers, normal henna artists, and guerrilla-henna artists. The guerrilla-henna artists does not take no for an answer. If you refuse they say, "Ok, take my hand", and holding your hand they bring out their application syringe, and starts hennaing you. Had it been me I would hav pulled back my hand with force and walked away , but not all members of my company are grumpy like me. But I am not the person who spent 200 dirhams on an ugly henna tattoo.

And then there is the (I think) water sellers, which doesn't sell anything, but demand money to be taken a picture of. Sadly we didn't realise that this guy's feet, because he was wearing Crocs!

In the afternoon the food stalls are set up

Hungry?

And everything smells grilled...

In the evening the storytellers (yay!) also set up camp along with various drumming groups. The stories are strickly in Arabic, and mostly for men. But I found a nice guy who translated for me, or should I say bowdlerised because the storyteller that I watched the most was really good and told his stories in such a way that you didn't really need much translation, and I think he glossed over many of the ruder parts. Or "I will call the fire department" something one says when a person pulls down his trousers? (My French may also be the reason for this though)

Aside from souqs and storytellers Marrakesh also has some old stones that I just had to visit, namely the Ben Yussuf Madrassa. It's beautifully decorated, and after spending about one hour trying to find it - since it's in the middle of the souq, and maps were of little use, it was lovely to sit in the courtyard and relax.

And then there was the Marrakesh Museum, which was worth the visit for the wonderful building alone.

The toilet is also worth a visit, it is beautifully decorated:

Gardens
Marrakesh is also famous for its many gardens. Here people wander around (keeping off the grass), and young people go on dates. Of course chaperoned, which made the gardens a great place for people-watching and relaxing.
>

The Koutoubia mosque is one of the landmarks in Marrakesh. It has the typical square minaret, and we never figured what the scaffolding on top was supposed to be used for, but all the other minarets in Marrakesh had the same thing. And speaking about minarets. We lived - of course - close to a mosque. But not only that but we lived just by the mosque with the overzealous muezzin. So every morning at horrible o'clock we were awakened my the calling for prayer:
Allah akbar!(...)
It's better to pray than to sleep!(...)
This was lovingly translated by a loving arabophone friend who sat up spluttering ten minutes into the calling with the words "No, it's not better to pray than sleep, go to bed!" The muezzin didn't listen, of course, and continued singing for another 10 minutes. My arabophone friends didn't quite catch what he was saying, but he was reading from the Qur'an they think. Thankfully I had brought lots and lots of earplugs for everyone.

Sick
Then I spent one and a half day in bed, until the heavy duty diarrhoea-medication my fellow travellers got me started working, and I was able to eat again. During this time I read almost all the books we had collectively brought to Marrakesh, including all three of the travellers guides from cover to cover. And on top of that I read Jerusalem by Selma Lagerlöf, The Yaoubian Building by Alaa Al Aswany and When languages die by K. David Harrison

The Atlas mountains
After getting on my feet again we went on a day trip to the Atlas mountains. We had arranged through a agency to get a driver, and we had said several times that we did not want to see the waterfalls, and we were reassured again "No waterfalls". So of course we , and the compmay that suddenly arrived and was supposed to join us, ended up in Setti Fatma and the waterfalls. We were more or less thrown out of the car and into the arms of a "guide" who spoke some English and some French, but sisn't make much sense in either. And he said "wtaerfall, just 15 minutes", and we were just grumpy and thirsty but followed grumpily. I have no idea where these fifteen minutes comes from, but after half an hour I totally collapsed, unable to breathe, and retching. I hadn't eaten or drunk properly in two days, and didn't quite deal with the height. The wonderful guide didn't even care, and only urged "come, soon waterfall!" I just sat down in one of the many water and soda-selling places along the path and refused to move, After a while we continued a bit, before turning back to the village. And sorry, but waterfalls must be pretty amazing to impress Norwegians. But the trip back to the village was nice, and the scenery was beautiful.

Back down in the village we went to the first, and quite possibly the best tavern in the village, and ate a wonderful meal - according to the others. I only managed to eat a bit of bread, but Hilde ate both her and my tagine with meat and white beans, and she's still talking about how wonderful it was.

We also went to the Novelle Ville, the new part of Marrakesh, where getting alcohol was easier than in the old part. Here we also had a wonderful dinner at Grand Cafe de la Poste. Because even though tagines can be tasty, they do get a bit boring after a while...

We also went to hammam a couple of times, once we got a real scrubbing, the kind when the layers of dead skin is rolling off your back. The other time we went to one of those up class, touristy places and weren't scrubbed at all, but the massage and the beer afterwards made up for it.

All in all it was a great trip! Not too hot either, although I bet it can be scorching later in the year. I was also amazed at how relaxed everyone was. People kept warning us for the aggressive sellers, but apart from the guerrilla-henna woman, and one annoying man who wanted to us to come with him to the dyeing pits, everyone was very polite and nice. Also we were kind of surprised that we managed to live in our rather small quadruple room without wanting to kill each other for a whole week!

The whole gallery is here.

Nice day for a white wedding...

2008-03-15T11:50:09Z

In between my trip to Morocco and Easter break one of my best friends has planned to have his wedding. He, and his wife to be (which is also a friend, since the world of classic philology is rather incestuous) are people who've been reading wedding magazines since long before they had anyone to wed. So it's going to be a rather big affair. (He also finds it hilarious that their wedding day is the Ides of March.)

Whereas I love the food, gossip and dancing at the wedding itself, I'm not very fond of everything I have to do to get there, which is one of the reason why my, purely theoretical wedding, is going to be a informal affair with lots of food and friends. So today I've had my hair cut, and had to buy some stuff like a black underskirt, a couple of extra pantyhoses, and a new black bra because I haven't gotten around to wash the (nice) one I have yet, new lipstick and a million of other things that I only wear at weddings. Thankfully I bought my outfit before I went to Marrakesh, I just went into a shop and said "I'm going to a wedding. I hate shopping. Dress me." It worked I think. At least I got clothes. And my friend Liv, whom I travelled with to Marrakesh, is the Shopping Goddess, and she found me some nice accessories in the souqs.

All right, I have to be in the church in two hours, time to hit the shower.

Look! She is back!

2008-03-13T21:31:32Z

I am indeed back. And did you know that there is a limit to how many entries you can skip backwards? It's 1000 if you wondered. But hey, I'm back from Morocco, which is, in my experiences, a lush green country with nice people, yoghurt that give you diarrhoea and badly placed street signs that attack you out of the blue (or red since it was Marrakesh) and make your head bleed a lot. Also I get height-sick.

Has anyone gotten any postcards yet? The post-office in the Medina was under refurbishment, so I'm not sure the post box I stuffed my cards into, is actually working...

Sadly, even though I went away, my work didn't, so I've been cooped up in a backlog of administrative trivialities and papers that need to be graded. But pictures of the lush and green country are forthcoming. Eventually.

Postcards again

2008-03-01T20:55:33Z

We've now had several (at least two) planning meetings about our trip to Marrakesh. So far we've established that there will be shopping, eating, hammam-ing, relaxing and postcard-writing on our holiday. And perhaps and perhaps a day trip out of town.

And since my contributions are the postcard-writing (and the hammam-ing, eating and relaxing), I present you with the traditional postcard poll:

View Poll: Postcards from Marrakesh

Home & Away

2008-02-26T20:49:02Z

I just made a bid for a house - well a flat to be precise. It's really scary.
But I am totally fed up with sharing a flat, so it is about time.

In other news, Monday next week I'm going to Marrakesh with three of my friends, two of those I was in ~~Konstantinopolis~~ ~~Byzantium~~ ~~Istanbul~~ ~~Miklagard~~ The City with, and another friend of us.
So, if you think there is anything I must see and do there, this is the time to tell me. Also, if you really long to tell me about the book I ought to bring, no time better than the present.

ETA: Urk, if the seller/broker calls me one more time now, urging me to raise my bid I will scream. Don't they learn in broker school that some people don't like aggressive sellers and reacts negatively when wheedled, urged, - pressed - into decision? I suck at this house buying business.

Writer's Block: Last Twenty Bucks (and some more)

2008-02-19T15:33:20Z

List three things you'd buy with your last $20. One practical, one frivolous and one of your choosing.

View other answers

20 dollars? That is 106 kroner by today's exchange rate. Except that I will probably have to pay about 60 kroner in exchange fee. So for the 46 kroner that is left I can buy a big plate of chocolate (24 kroner; frivolous), a newspaper (15 kroner; own choice) and a pencil (3 kroner; practical) so I could do the crossword while eating chocolate. Then I have 4 kroner left. I'll put them in my piggy bank.

In other news I talked to the bank yesterday and have a loan limit on about 1,4 million kroner - about 260000 dollars/178000 euro. Now I only have to find a flat...