Bamse Zindabad!
| The Daily Show With Jon Stewart | M - Th 11p / 10c | |||
| The Stockholm Syndrome | ||||
| ||||
Part 2
| The Daily Show With Jon Stewart | M - Th 11p / 10c | |||
| The Stockholm Syndrome Pt. 2 | ||||
| ||||
Showing posts with label Sweden. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Sweden. Show all posts
Wednesday, April 22, 2009
Does America really want to be Sweden?
Stewart in Bamseland.
Bamse Zindabad!
Part 2
Bamse Zindabad!
Part 2
Tuesday, June 10, 2008
Real Swedish men (and one Egyptian-American) wear Björn Borg underwear
Hullo! I know, I know, there's like some 1008 posts that I need to do. But the past few days have been busy with the Kid visiting and some other stuff going on. Net net there's so much material that I cannot decide which one I should post first. But wait. Bamse has threatened to call from Stockholm so I need to make this a Rooster post. Especially with this Nadal chap making a habit of following Borg man, someone should tell him (Nadal) what is in his future. So here is a post in which moi's a silent spectator.
Malmo. Its the day of the Rooster's party. The Rooster's conned his very responsible sisters to take care of all the party work and he has got nothing to do. All that's been asked of him is to turn up. Rooster and M Antonius in deep discussion in balcony on foothills of Turning Torso early afternoon.
R: I need to pick up some clothes
M.A: What's wrong with what you are wearing now?
R: I need to change for the party
M.A: You got no clothes to change into?
R: I do. But I need to buy new underwear.
M.A: What happened to your laundry machine? Or don't they exist in Sweden?
R: This is a special occasion. I need to get special occasion underwear.
M.A: What do you Swedes do in your birthday parties? Is there something I should know that no one has told me yet?
R: No, you don't need to know. There will be a couple of chicks from my dorm.
M.A: Why do you still live in a dorm? Who lives here?
R: I stay in the dorm some days. The chicks are all there.
M.A: That sounds like a good reason. Can we go there on my grand tour of Sweden next week?
R: No.
M.A: Why?
R: Because we have to take a train to get there. Do you know what that is?
M.A: No, what is it? Wait, I know. I think I have seen it in a museum.
R: It is a vehicle with lots of coaches and an engine. It is huge.
M.A: Like a SUV? And its all just for one person?
R: No, lots of people travel in it. Hundreds. Its called public transportation.
M.A: Ah. Silly Swedes. No, can't do.
R: That's why we can't go to the dorm. And now, I am going to Björn Borg. Do you want to come?
M.A: Who is Björn Borg?
Rooster nearly falls off the balcony.
R: Did you ask who is Björn Borg?
M.A: Yes. Who is he?
R: Everytime I try to forget that you are American, you come up with something like this.
M.A: Well, who is he and why are you going to see him?
R: He sells underwear.
M.A: Oh, he is a Swedish underwear designer. Why should I know this Swedish underwear designer? So he is like a big brand in these parts?
R: You can say that.
M.A: I am in. Let us go see Björn Borg.
Twenty minutes later. Björn Borg store in Malmo. (People: Did you really think I was making all this up? Go click the link. Go on)
M.A: What is going on here? Where do these people come from?
R: Sweden
M.A: I know that, thank you. You don't see anything strange with the salesmen?
R: No
M.A: You mean you don't think that they have jumped out of a gay music video?
R: No
M.A: Dude!
R: What? Here, I am done. I am getting these.
M.A: What's up with powder pink and blue? What happened to blacks and whites?
R: They are all here
M.A: Yeah, there are two solid blacks among thousands of pink underwear. Where are we dude?
R: Bamseland. Here, men are comfortable in their sexuality.
M.A: Yuck. Yuck.
R: What now?
M.A: This is like lycra. This is porno underwear, that's what it is. You wear porno underwear.
R: The cotton ones are here. If you look at only porno underwear there is nothing I can do.
M.A: I don't believe this. We are in a store that sells pink underwear with floral patterns on them.
R: You need to get outside your country once in a while and see what real men wear.
M.A: Real men? Yeah right.
R: I am done. Let's go.
M.A: Wait
R: I knew it
M.A: It isn't what you think it is.
R: I know it is. Which ones are you getting?
M.A: I just want to show people back home what goes for men's underwear in Sweden.
R: I am sure that's why you are buying powder pink.
M.A: Why can't I be comfortable in my sexuality?
R: We aren't comfortable in our sexuality because we wear Björn Borg. Its the other way around.
M.A: Do you know how these sizes work? Relative to US brands?
R: Why would I?
M.A. accosts salesgirl (SG).
M.A: Hello! Would you happen to know what size I should get?
SG: Sir, you can try them on. The fitting rooms are this way.
M.A: Oh. Thanks.
SG runs away.
M.A: Why are you laughing?
R: She didn't want to hurt your feelings. No need to try on anything.
M.A: What do you mean?
R: Björn Borg doesn't sell XXXS. For that matter, nobody does.
M.A: Very funny. I am getting medium.
R: It is your money. Are you sure?
M.A: Yeah, absolutely. Sure looks the size. Where do we pay?
A few minutes later.
M.A: 90 bucks. I paid 45 bucks for one of these?
R: Porno stuff costs a little more.
M.A: A little? This is the most expensive pair of underwear I have ever owned.
R: I am proud of you. Btw, Björn Borg.
M.A: Yeah, bastard.
R: He plays tennis.
M.A: Yeah right. And I wear porno underwear.
M.A. was more than happy to showcase his $40 underwear to all and sundry over the next couple of days. If this weren't a family blog, I would surely have put up pictures. But since it is, you will have to go see the yellow & pink flowery ones here.
Malmo. Its the day of the Rooster's party. The Rooster's conned his very responsible sisters to take care of all the party work and he has got nothing to do. All that's been asked of him is to turn up. Rooster and M Antonius in deep discussion in balcony on foothills of Turning Torso early afternoon.
R: I need to pick up some clothes
M.A: What's wrong with what you are wearing now?
R: I need to change for the party
M.A: You got no clothes to change into?
R: I do. But I need to buy new underwear.
M.A: What happened to your laundry machine? Or don't they exist in Sweden?
R: This is a special occasion. I need to get special occasion underwear.
M.A: What do you Swedes do in your birthday parties? Is there something I should know that no one has told me yet?
R: No, you don't need to know. There will be a couple of chicks from my dorm.
M.A: Why do you still live in a dorm? Who lives here?
R: I stay in the dorm some days. The chicks are all there.
M.A: That sounds like a good reason. Can we go there on my grand tour of Sweden next week?
R: No.
M.A: Why?
R: Because we have to take a train to get there. Do you know what that is?
M.A: No, what is it? Wait, I know. I think I have seen it in a museum.
R: It is a vehicle with lots of coaches and an engine. It is huge.
M.A: Like a SUV? And its all just for one person?
R: No, lots of people travel in it. Hundreds. Its called public transportation.
M.A: Ah. Silly Swedes. No, can't do.
R: That's why we can't go to the dorm. And now, I am going to Björn Borg. Do you want to come?
M.A: Who is Björn Borg?
Rooster nearly falls off the balcony.
R: Did you ask who is Björn Borg?
M.A: Yes. Who is he?
R: Everytime I try to forget that you are American, you come up with something like this.
M.A: Well, who is he and why are you going to see him?
R: He sells underwear.
M.A: Oh, he is a Swedish underwear designer. Why should I know this Swedish underwear designer? So he is like a big brand in these parts?
R: You can say that.
M.A: I am in. Let us go see Björn Borg.
Twenty minutes later. Björn Borg store in Malmo. (People: Did you really think I was making all this up? Go click the link. Go on)
M.A: What is going on here? Where do these people come from?
R: Sweden
M.A: I know that, thank you. You don't see anything strange with the salesmen?
R: No
M.A: You mean you don't think that they have jumped out of a gay music video?
R: No
M.A: Dude!
R: What? Here, I am done. I am getting these.
M.A: What's up with powder pink and blue? What happened to blacks and whites?
R: They are all here
M.A: Yeah, there are two solid blacks among thousands of pink underwear. Where are we dude?
R: Bamseland. Here, men are comfortable in their sexuality.
M.A: Yuck. Yuck.
R: What now?
M.A: This is like lycra. This is porno underwear, that's what it is. You wear porno underwear.
R: The cotton ones are here. If you look at only porno underwear there is nothing I can do.
M.A: I don't believe this. We are in a store that sells pink underwear with floral patterns on them.
R: You need to get outside your country once in a while and see what real men wear.
M.A: Real men? Yeah right.
R: I am done. Let's go.
M.A: Wait
R: I knew it
M.A: It isn't what you think it is.
R: I know it is. Which ones are you getting?
M.A: I just want to show people back home what goes for men's underwear in Sweden.
R: I am sure that's why you are buying powder pink.
M.A: Why can't I be comfortable in my sexuality?
R: We aren't comfortable in our sexuality because we wear Björn Borg. Its the other way around.
M.A: Do you know how these sizes work? Relative to US brands?
R: Why would I?
M.A. accosts salesgirl (SG).
M.A: Hello! Would you happen to know what size I should get?
SG: Sir, you can try them on. The fitting rooms are this way.
M.A: Oh. Thanks.
SG runs away.
M.A: Why are you laughing?
R: She didn't want to hurt your feelings. No need to try on anything.
M.A: What do you mean?
R: Björn Borg doesn't sell XXXS. For that matter, nobody does.
M.A: Very funny. I am getting medium.
R: It is your money. Are you sure?
M.A: Yeah, absolutely. Sure looks the size. Where do we pay?
A few minutes later.
M.A: 90 bucks. I paid 45 bucks for one of these?
R: Porno stuff costs a little more.
M.A: A little? This is the most expensive pair of underwear I have ever owned.
R: I am proud of you. Btw, Björn Borg.
M.A: Yeah, bastard.
R: He plays tennis.
M.A: Yeah right. And I wear porno underwear.
M.A. was more than happy to showcase his $40 underwear to all and sundry over the next couple of days. If this weren't a family blog, I would surely have put up pictures. But since it is, you will have to go see the yellow & pink flowery ones here.
Thursday, May 29, 2008
Rooster stories from Malmo (1 of X)
There are way too many stories from last month that needs to get on to the blog that I have no idea where to start. Chronological order. No, too proper for me. Reverse maybe. Or maybe I should do the London ones first. In some order, I got to do posts on the following: Chotu Motu in Adrspach, Plzen (Cat: you are not a beer drinker, are you?), Budapest, Eger, Copenhagen, TR in London[1], Rooster stories in Malmo - the list is never-ending. I should just pick one? Okey, I shall do Malmo just to make the birthday boy happy.
So the story is that the Rooster boy (aka Emil who makes regular appearances on this blog under the Sweden, Bamse labels) turned 30 a week ago and decided that he wanted a party to celebrate the occasion. In the interests of diversity not to mention illegal immigrant labor to clean up after the party, Bill, moi and an Egyptian-American friend (M) were duly invited. When I mentioned that I won't be able to take off work as I was already taking most of May off, our man threatened the small island that if they did not give me days off, the Vikings (with horns) would come flying on SAS and pillage whatever's around. So it was all settled and Bill and I were to fly to Copenhagen and take the train across the Oresund to Malmo, the most continental of all Swedish cities.
The whole trip, needless to say, was entertaining from beginning to end as it is with most things the Rooster is involved in, and since I am not good at copious trip accounts, I am just going to do conversation snippets. The first one here:
The Present
Ten minutes before we were to leave for the airport.
Bill: Shoot. I forgot something.
Moi: What now?
Bill: His sister asked to write something for the scrapbook they are making. I haven't sent anything.
Moi: Write now
Bill: Ya ok. Can you pack my stuff?
Moi: Beg your pardon?
Bill: How will I write and pack my stuff in 10 minutes?
Moi: If you don't, you can come on the next flight
Bill: Yeah? Whose money will be lost then?
Moi: Okay write. I will pack. Hey.
Bill: What?
Moi: We haven't bought anything for him
Bill: Oh no. I forgot about that
Moi: What are we going to do now? What shall we get him?
Bill: Some Bamse stuff?
Moi: Yeah I thought about that. We could get him a Skallman time machine or something. But you can't get it here.
Bill: Yeah.
Moi: What else can you think of?
Bill: Let me think. What do you get a geek who is obsessed with graphs, trees, Bamse, saving the world and well, penises?
Moi: Do NOT go there. We are not getting any of the stuff that's swirling around in your head right now. I know what to get. Book.
Bill: Well, what book?
Moi: Geek. Double major CS and music. Likes graphs, trees and well, design. What book will you get him?
Bill: When you put it that way, yeah. Why didn't I think of it before?
Moi: Because you are useless. Lets go. Finish writing now.
Obviously it all worked out fine and the Rooster boy was in love with the Gödel, Escher, Bach. Except that he was a little too excited that he began to treat it like a picture book. He walked around with it showing everyone pages of theorems, and graphs and notes and claiming how its all too cool. Bill's pretentiousness rubbing off. Not a good thing.
Coming up next:
1. The Swedish obession with God's (or as they like to call it, Bamse's) own country
2. Real Swedish men wear Bjorn Borg underwear
[1] Yeah, a very entertaining time was had. Details when I get around to it. Man does people watching like no one else I know. And the only thing that I am certain of now is that tpb does not exist in real life. First, she wasn't coming, then she had to go to Oxford, and no, she is not going to Scotland with him, I mean, how many excuses can one come up with? He is most definitely making her up so that people would think he has this cool and interesting wife and since he has an interesting wife, he must have an interesting life etc. etc.
So the story is that the Rooster boy (aka Emil who makes regular appearances on this blog under the Sweden, Bamse labels) turned 30 a week ago and decided that he wanted a party to celebrate the occasion. In the interests of diversity not to mention illegal immigrant labor to clean up after the party, Bill, moi and an Egyptian-American friend (M) were duly invited. When I mentioned that I won't be able to take off work as I was already taking most of May off, our man threatened the small island that if they did not give me days off, the Vikings (with horns) would come flying on SAS and pillage whatever's around. So it was all settled and Bill and I were to fly to Copenhagen and take the train across the Oresund to Malmo, the most continental of all Swedish cities.
The whole trip, needless to say, was entertaining from beginning to end as it is with most things the Rooster is involved in, and since I am not good at copious trip accounts, I am just going to do conversation snippets. The first one here:
The Present
Ten minutes before we were to leave for the airport.
Bill: Shoot. I forgot something.
Moi: What now?
Bill: His sister asked to write something for the scrapbook they are making. I haven't sent anything.
Moi: Write now
Bill: Ya ok. Can you pack my stuff?
Moi: Beg your pardon?
Bill: How will I write and pack my stuff in 10 minutes?
Moi: If you don't, you can come on the next flight
Bill: Yeah? Whose money will be lost then?
Moi: Okay write. I will pack. Hey.
Bill: What?
Moi: We haven't bought anything for him
Bill: Oh no. I forgot about that
Moi: What are we going to do now? What shall we get him?
Bill: Some Bamse stuff?
Moi: Yeah I thought about that. We could get him a Skallman time machine or something. But you can't get it here.
Bill: Yeah.
Moi: What else can you think of?
Bill: Let me think. What do you get a geek who is obsessed with graphs, trees, Bamse, saving the world and well, penises?
Moi: Do NOT go there. We are not getting any of the stuff that's swirling around in your head right now. I know what to get. Book.
Bill: Well, what book?
Moi: Geek. Double major CS and music. Likes graphs, trees and well, design. What book will you get him?
Bill: When you put it that way, yeah. Why didn't I think of it before?
Moi: Because you are useless. Lets go. Finish writing now.
Obviously it all worked out fine and the Rooster boy was in love with the Gödel, Escher, Bach. Except that he was a little too excited that he began to treat it like a picture book. He walked around with it showing everyone pages of theorems, and graphs and notes and claiming how its all too cool. Bill's pretentiousness rubbing off. Not a good thing.
Coming up next:
1. The Swedish obession with God's (or as they like to call it, Bamse's) own country
2. Real Swedish men wear Bjorn Borg underwear
[1] Yeah, a very entertaining time was had. Details when I get around to it. Man does people watching like no one else I know. And the only thing that I am certain of now is that tpb does not exist in real life. First, she wasn't coming, then she had to go to Oxford, and no, she is not going to Scotland with him, I mean, how many excuses can one come up with? He is most definitely making her up so that people would think he has this cool and interesting wife and since he has an interesting wife, he must have an interesting life etc. etc.
Wednesday, December 26, 2007
Bamse in God's own country
See, its not just me.
The State Institute of Children’s Literature has put in place some plans to try and partly tackle this famine. The Institute recently brought out a set of books in Malayalam and is also eyeing the Swedish book market for children’s stories. Very soon, children in the State can feast their eyes on these stories.
From here.
PS: Yes, I am home. On my way back really - off to Nilgiris for a couple of days and then a day in Bombay before getting to London. While at home, managed to get Don engaged to amma all over again - major fun. Details when I get back.
The State Institute of Children’s Literature has put in place some plans to try and partly tackle this famine. The Institute recently brought out a set of books in Malayalam and is also eyeing the Swedish book market for children’s stories. Very soon, children in the State can feast their eyes on these stories.
From here.
PS: Yes, I am home. On my way back really - off to Nilgiris for a couple of days and then a day in Bombay before getting to London. While at home, managed to get Don engaged to amma all over again - major fun. Details when I get back.
Monday, November 05, 2007
Scenes from a Marriage: Bill's weekend junket
Friday night. I am dividing up weekend chores.
"So you have to go pick up clothes from the cleaners tomorrow..."
"I can't"
"You can't?"
"Yeah"
"I am assuming there's a reason why you can't"
"Oh, didn't I tell you? I am going to be out over the weekend"
"You are?"
"Yeah"
"You have to go to work?"
"Sort of"
"So you are going to Cambridge tomorrow?"
"No"
"Where are you going then?"
"To Malmo"
"I see"
"Yeah, I leave tomorrow morning and I should be back Sunday night"
"So you are flying?"
"I don't see how else I would get past the North Sea"
"This is work?"
"Yes"
"In Malmo? On a weekend?"
"Its bloody November. Why else will I go to Sweden in November if its not for work?"
"How do I know? Isn't Malmo the tropical part of Sweden?"
"Hello, its still Sweden. Way North of where you are"
"Whatever. Who is paying for this trip?"
"Not you"
"You can say that once we have settled accounts"
"It isn't going out of my bank account either"
"No?"
"No. The firm is paying"
"What firm?"
"Emil's firm"
"I see. Where did Emil's firm get the money from?"
"From Bamse"
"What?"
"He got some sort of seed funding. From one of the govt agencies"
"The Swedish government has nothing better to do than fund random startups?"
"Bamse knows best. He knows who to fund and who not to"
"Of course. But why is Bamse flying you?"
"Its a company meeting"
"A company meeting? How many people are in the company?"
"There's Emil and J. And then there's S~ and yours truly"
"S~ is in Europe?"
"Some conference in Brussels. He will fly back to India next week after this meeting"
"Hmm"
"He's going to run the India operations"
"India operations? Like how many people are there?"
"As of now, none. But once S~ gets back, that will change"
"I see. What are you going to do?"
"What?"
"I asked what were you going to do"
"I don't understand"
"Emil and J are running this thing in Sweden. Working like crazy. Hacking. Evangelizing. Building a brand. S~ is going to start dev ops in India. What are you going to do?"
"Oh, that way"
"Yeah, that way. Why are they flying you then? What is your contribution to this company? To this meeting you are going to go tomorrow?"
"I haven't thought about it"
"I should have known"
"Its not that bad. I am sure I can find something to do"
"Like what?"
"Do I have to tell you?"
"Yes"
"If you have to know, I am the academic advisor"
Two minute silence. Followed by howls of laughter.
"You are what?"
"I knew you would laugh. I am academic advisor"
"What does that mean?"
"That doesn't have to mean anything"
"Well, lets try it this way. What do you have to do?"
"Nothing much really. Once in a while, I email some kid who's doing research on this product about what to do next"
"Have you found a kid?"
"No"
"I see"
"What?"
"I feel a little better now"
"Because I am doing something useful?"
"No, and you are not doing anything useful"
"Then?"
"Because I am not alone in the world. There's people like S~ and Emil. Who make exactly the same mistake I make. Idiots"
"Well, what can I say?"
"Nothing at all darling. Just go have a good trip. I will go pick up clothes from the cleaners"
"So you have to go pick up clothes from the cleaners tomorrow..."
"I can't"
"You can't?"
"Yeah"
"I am assuming there's a reason why you can't"
"Oh, didn't I tell you? I am going to be out over the weekend"
"You are?"
"Yeah"
"You have to go to work?"
"Sort of"
"So you are going to Cambridge tomorrow?"
"No"
"Where are you going then?"
"To Malmo"
"I see"
"Yeah, I leave tomorrow morning and I should be back Sunday night"
"So you are flying?"
"I don't see how else I would get past the North Sea"
"This is work?"
"Yes"
"In Malmo? On a weekend?"
"Its bloody November. Why else will I go to Sweden in November if its not for work?"
"How do I know? Isn't Malmo the tropical part of Sweden?"
"Hello, its still Sweden. Way North of where you are"
"Whatever. Who is paying for this trip?"
"Not you"
"You can say that once we have settled accounts"
"It isn't going out of my bank account either"
"No?"
"No. The firm is paying"
"What firm?"
"Emil's firm"
"I see. Where did Emil's firm get the money from?"
"From Bamse"
"What?"
"He got some sort of seed funding. From one of the govt agencies"
"The Swedish government has nothing better to do than fund random startups?"
"Bamse knows best. He knows who to fund and who not to"
"Of course. But why is Bamse flying you?"
"Its a company meeting"
"A company meeting? How many people are in the company?"
"There's Emil and J. And then there's S~ and yours truly"
"S~ is in Europe?"
"Some conference in Brussels. He will fly back to India next week after this meeting"
"Hmm"
"He's going to run the India operations"
"India operations? Like how many people are there?"
"As of now, none. But once S~ gets back, that will change"
"I see. What are you going to do?"
"What?"
"I asked what were you going to do"
"I don't understand"
"Emil and J are running this thing in Sweden. Working like crazy. Hacking. Evangelizing. Building a brand. S~ is going to start dev ops in India. What are you going to do?"
"Oh, that way"
"Yeah, that way. Why are they flying you then? What is your contribution to this company? To this meeting you are going to go tomorrow?"
"I haven't thought about it"
"I should have known"
"Its not that bad. I am sure I can find something to do"
"Like what?"
"Do I have to tell you?"
"Yes"
"If you have to know, I am the academic advisor"
Two minute silence. Followed by howls of laughter.
"You are what?"
"I knew you would laugh. I am academic advisor"
"What does that mean?"
"That doesn't have to mean anything"
"Well, lets try it this way. What do you have to do?"
"Nothing much really. Once in a while, I email some kid who's doing research on this product about what to do next"
"Have you found a kid?"
"No"
"I see"
"What?"
"I feel a little better now"
"Because I am doing something useful?"
"No, and you are not doing anything useful"
"Then?"
"Because I am not alone in the world. There's people like S~ and Emil. Who make exactly the same mistake I make. Idiots"
"Well, what can I say?"
"Nothing at all darling. Just go have a good trip. I will go pick up clothes from the cleaners"
Wednesday, August 08, 2007
More Rooster stories
Once every couple of hours, the Rooster gets mocha frappuccino cravings and runs away to Starbucks. By the fifth time, we decided to go along with him just to make sure that its just the coffee.
We enter the store, the Rooster points out the mocha frappuccino and jumps up and down, bemoans the absence of Starbucks in Sweden, goes to counter, orders the frappuccino and a couple of Belgian chocolate brownies (yes, now you know why I like this guy),turns on full charm and makes small talk with the girl at the till. Nothing strange. Then,
"That's 6.80"
"Here, let me give you change"
The Rooster pulls out wallet which is the size of a football. He takes out a couple of bills, and then empties all his change on the counter. There are about 35 coins.
"Let me see now. Here's 50p, no, that's Swedish krona"
The girl at the counter, in an attempt to be helpful, picks up a couple of coins.
"This looks.."
"No, not that. That's Danish 20p. Here, take this"
She looks a little confused.
"50p..."
"This doesn't looks like..."
"Oh I am sorry, that's Finnish"
The girl is more than a little upset now.
"Here, take this"
"That's Euros Sir"
"Oh, I am so sorry but I always end up with different currencies in my wallet and its confusing"
I pull out my wallet, and take out a few coins and give it to the girl.
"Here, I have change. That's 2.80...that's enough, right?"
"Yes, thanks ma'am"
The Rooster glowers at me.
"What? You don't want this money now?"
"No, its alright"
Five minutes later.
(Bill) "What was that about?"
"Yeah, what was that I am Scandinavian, I travel all over vibes you were putting on? And don't look at me like that. What did I do?"
"What did you do?! I had this nice little thing going on there..."
"Yeah right. That girl was going to throw you out any moment"
(Bill) "Wait, that whole thing is your pickup line?"
"More like pickup process"
"Pickup process? But wait, Finland is Euro"
"Exactly"
"But why confuse the hell out of that poor girl by throwing out so much change?"
"Billster, don't tell me you can't figure that out"
"No, I see it but I was just thinking that I can't calculate tip"
"Nobody said you can do arithmetic"
"I see. Does it work?"
"Sometimes"
"Wait, hang on both of you, you are telling me that you pulled out all those coins because you wanted to test her arithmetic skills?"
"She is cute but you know, I have standards"
*********
This next segment isn't exactly funny and I am not comfortable posting all of it, so this might seem more choppy than usual. I couldn't resist posting this mostly because of the dig at the end!
An hour later, we are on the grass at Regents Park enjoying some rare sunlight and talking about the Rooster's future plans. Astute readers no doubt remember that our Rooster is another Sergey Brin in the making.
"Yes, if this takes off, then I will have to move to San Francisco for a while"
"Yeah, that makes sense"
"If I live there for a few years, its not unlikely that I will meet someone I like"
"If you stop working 255 hours a week, yes, that's probably true"
"That can be managed. Its also likely that she will be American"
"In San Francisco I won't be that sure. But I see your point"
"Anyway she would want to live in the States"
"That's a problem?"
"Yes, because if we decide to have kids, then they will be American"
"What?"
"They will be American. That's unacceptable"
"Why? You don't mind living there but you don't want your kids to grow up there!"
"Of course. Can you imagine your kids growing up to be American? Why are you both laughing so hard? What's funny?"
"Just thinking of people I know who don't want their kids to be American"
"Yeah?"
"No, just that they reach the same conclusion for diametrically opposite reasons"
"Oh, I see. Anyway, it is unlikely that I will end up with an American woman"
"I thought you just said it was likely"
"Yeah, but there are so many cultural differences. It will be difficult to make it work"
"Cultural differences? Between you and this woman you will meet in San Francisco? Right"
"No really. I agree, its not the same as A~ and M~ where one of them is Indian and the other is American but still there will be differences"
"Like what?"
"Gender issues, I guess. That's the main one"
"What?"
"How many American women do you know who are feminists?"
"Well, you are most likely to meet them in San Francisco than anywhere else in the country"
"That doesn't mean much to a Swede"
"You are telling us that you will meet no one in the States who has similar views on gender?"
"No, not that. Its easy to be that way right now"
"What?"
"When we are young and single and there's just two of us all this is easy"
"Yeah?"
"Yeah. This happened in Sweden during the second wave. But once people settle down especially once they have kids, women just revert to gender stereotypes"
"Stop working or switch to part time, move to suburban obscurity, become a soccer mom types?"
"Yes, that's all that happens in the States. That's a little difficult to take"
"Oh! So all you want to do is to sit at home while poor partner does all the work and brings in money"
"No, that's not what I said. That's your husband you are thinking about there"
In other news, a whirlwind trip to Chola land is happening tomorrow, so will be out of commission for the next 48 hours or so
And yes, just saw the Man Booker longlist. We will do a proper mela this time. There's so many authors in there I know nothing about and should rectify that. Will put up Mela post once I get back. Falsie, as usual, you are signed up for everything except the one you couldn't even finish.
We enter the store, the Rooster points out the mocha frappuccino and jumps up and down, bemoans the absence of Starbucks in Sweden, goes to counter, orders the frappuccino and a couple of Belgian chocolate brownies (yes, now you know why I like this guy),turns on full charm and makes small talk with the girl at the till. Nothing strange. Then,
"That's 6.80"
"Here, let me give you change"
The Rooster pulls out wallet which is the size of a football. He takes out a couple of bills, and then empties all his change on the counter. There are about 35 coins.
"Let me see now. Here's 50p, no, that's Swedish krona"
The girl at the counter, in an attempt to be helpful, picks up a couple of coins.
"This looks.."
"No, not that. That's Danish 20p. Here, take this"
She looks a little confused.
"50p..."
"This doesn't looks like..."
"Oh I am sorry, that's Finnish"
The girl is more than a little upset now.
"Here, take this"
"That's Euros Sir"
"Oh, I am so sorry but I always end up with different currencies in my wallet and its confusing"
I pull out my wallet, and take out a few coins and give it to the girl.
"Here, I have change. That's 2.80...that's enough, right?"
"Yes, thanks ma'am"
The Rooster glowers at me.
"What? You don't want this money now?"
"No, its alright"
Five minutes later.
(Bill) "What was that about?"
"Yeah, what was that I am Scandinavian, I travel all over vibes you were putting on? And don't look at me like that. What did I do?"
"What did you do?! I had this nice little thing going on there..."
"Yeah right. That girl was going to throw you out any moment"
(Bill) "Wait, that whole thing is your pickup line?"
"More like pickup process"
"Pickup process? But wait, Finland is Euro"
"Exactly"
"But why confuse the hell out of that poor girl by throwing out so much change?"
"Billster, don't tell me you can't figure that out"
"No, I see it but I was just thinking that I can't calculate tip"
"Nobody said you can do arithmetic"
"I see. Does it work?"
"Sometimes"
"Wait, hang on both of you, you are telling me that you pulled out all those coins because you wanted to test her arithmetic skills?"
"She is cute but you know, I have standards"
*********
This next segment isn't exactly funny and I am not comfortable posting all of it, so this might seem more choppy than usual. I couldn't resist posting this mostly because of the dig at the end!
An hour later, we are on the grass at Regents Park enjoying some rare sunlight and talking about the Rooster's future plans. Astute readers no doubt remember that our Rooster is another Sergey Brin in the making.
"Yes, if this takes off, then I will have to move to San Francisco for a while"
"Yeah, that makes sense"
"If I live there for a few years, its not unlikely that I will meet someone I like"
"If you stop working 255 hours a week, yes, that's probably true"
"That can be managed. Its also likely that she will be American"
"In San Francisco I won't be that sure. But I see your point"
"Anyway she would want to live in the States"
"That's a problem?"
"Yes, because if we decide to have kids, then they will be American"
"What?"
"They will be American. That's unacceptable"
"Why? You don't mind living there but you don't want your kids to grow up there!"
"Of course. Can you imagine your kids growing up to be American? Why are you both laughing so hard? What's funny?"
"Just thinking of people I know who don't want their kids to be American"
"Yeah?"
"No, just that they reach the same conclusion for diametrically opposite reasons"
"Oh, I see. Anyway, it is unlikely that I will end up with an American woman"
"I thought you just said it was likely"
"Yeah, but there are so many cultural differences. It will be difficult to make it work"
"Cultural differences? Between you and this woman you will meet in San Francisco? Right"
"No really. I agree, its not the same as A~ and M~ where one of them is Indian and the other is American but still there will be differences"
"Like what?"
"Gender issues, I guess. That's the main one"
"What?"
"How many American women do you know who are feminists?"
"Well, you are most likely to meet them in San Francisco than anywhere else in the country"
"That doesn't mean much to a Swede"
"You are telling us that you will meet no one in the States who has similar views on gender?"
"No, not that. Its easy to be that way right now"
"What?"
"When we are young and single and there's just two of us all this is easy"
"Yeah?"
"Yeah. This happened in Sweden during the second wave. But once people settle down especially once they have kids, women just revert to gender stereotypes"
"Stop working or switch to part time, move to suburban obscurity, become a soccer mom types?"
"Yes, that's all that happens in the States. That's a little difficult to take"
"Oh! So all you want to do is to sit at home while poor partner does all the work and brings in money"
"No, that's not what I said. That's your husband you are thinking about there"
In other news, a whirlwind trip to Chola land is happening tomorrow, so will be out of commission for the next 48 hours or so
And yes, just saw the Man Booker longlist. We will do a proper mela this time. There's so many authors in there I know nothing about and should rectify that. Will put up Mela post once I get back. Falsie, as usual, you are signed up for everything except the one you couldn't even finish.
Monday, August 06, 2007
Taking over the world, Svensk style
Two weeks ago. Saturday morning.
“When is the Rooster getting here? It thought he was supposed to be here by now”
“Yeah..maybe I should call him. Wait, here’s a text”
At
“The usual what?”
Just to give you an idea of what the Rooster looks like, lets say that if you were teaching a bunch of school kids in
“No, not mistaknen. Nowadays they are just careful about Swedes”
"Yeah right"
"No seriously"“Why is that?”
“Look around you”
Bill and I looked around.
“Because you are on some most wanted list?”
“No, don’t look at me. Look around you. Look at your apartment and tell me why Swedes are dangerous”
We looked around again.
“You don’t mean what I think you mean?”
“What else could it be?”
“What do you see around you?”
“I see both of you”
“Not us”
“I see two couches, this armchair, bookshelf, dining table and chairs..”
“Exactly”
“What? Oh, wait. You mean, you mean Ikea?”
“Yes”
“What has that got to do with anything?”
“Ikea. Ikea terrorists. That’s what they are afraid of”
“Because of the stampede that results when a new store opens? Or because people die every year in the process of assembling their furniture?”
“Yes, that definitely. But its not just that”
“Then?”
“They think Ikea is the first step”
“Towards what?”
“World domination”
“Sweden taking over the world? How many of you are there again?”
“Nine million. But that’s hardly the point. How many officers were there in the India service again?"
"Yeah ok. But Swedes aren't exactly Brits. And this is 2007"
"So? A country of nine million and we have Ikea, SKF, Volvo, Saab, Bergman, and Bamse. Among other things. And not to forget, Absolut!”
“Yeah, a state owned vodka company. I have always wanted to move to Sweden”
“If they let us in, they are afraid that soon the world will convert”
“To what?”
“Everyone will be a social democrat. All states will become welfare states with a thriving market economy”
“And that’s bad because? No one wants to have the Swedish quality of life, I suppose”
“You guys know that. But they don’t agree. That’s why we are hunted”
“Hunted? Did you say hunted?”
“Yes. You know that EU passport line in the airports for instance. The only people they are learnt to be careful about are the Swedes”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah, they ask us all sorts of things before letting us through”
“Like what?”
“They ask us whether we work for Ikea”
"They might just be curious. I would do that if I were this immigration officer. I mean, I have always wanted to know the two people who come up with names for the products.”
(Bill) "Wait, so what happens in immigration?"
“If we say No, we don't work for Ikea then they ask us if we plan to open a new store”
“Oh”
“And we have all been taught to say No”
“Taught? By whom?”
“Bamse”
“Of course”
Tuesday, July 31, 2007
Introducing The Rooster and The Bear
Yes, I know. Two posts in a day! No, I am not turning into Falstaff. That would be a little too depressing. I am off to India tomorrow morn[1] and there are so many posts to put up - one on Stockholm, a few on Berlin, a couple of conversations now that I don't have a job, etc., but I am not sure when amma will allow me near a computer, so I figured might as well put this up now.
By rights, this week should have a Bergman theme but since enough people will do that and I have nothing insightful to say anyway, I will do the next best thing and do a series on The Rooster and The Bear, both from Bergman's beloved Svenska. The Bear we will come to know soon enough. The Rooster, otherwise known as Emil from the Great City of Lund, turned up in London the past weekend and proved to be an endless source of entertainment, so I think its only fair that I spread the joy. Just to give you an idea of how much of a success The Rooster is, let me tell you how popular he was when he happened to be in India for a wedding a few years ago. Amazed (and more than a little puzzled, I guess) after seeing a few apartments and houses in some of our cities, The Rooster whenever he was introduced to anyone immediately put on his best Swedish smile and said: "Hi, I am Emil. From the Great City of Lund. Where do you fuck?" Needless to say, he was a great hit.
In case you think he is some sort of an uncouth fellow from the Northern parts of the world, The Rooster wants you to think about the question he raised. Please note that he did not ask people "How do you fuck?" - now that's just silly and plain rude. Instead, he asked "where", which is really a very thoughful question - these are all small, open style crowded apartments that he saw, how the hell does a country get to one billion people here, he really was puzzled, you see. And if you still not satisfied, the Rooster, among other things, hobnobs with the co-founder of the Feminist Initiative, alright? You better love this guy. (Emil, I know you are reading this. Happy now?)
So anyway, the Rooster comes back home after a hard day's work putting on his best Sergey Brin act (he had on the perfect pair of torn jeans) and impressing a bunch of City bankers.
"Did you hear the news? Its a sad day for Sweden, eh?"
"Yes, I did. He is so timeless. Can you believe that he's dead?"
"When did you hear the news?"
"I was in the meeting and I received a text message. I couldn't believe it. I said "Holy Shit. Bergman's dead" and these damn Brits looked up and said "Bergman who?". It was so painful"
"Yeah"
"I will read you the newspapers. Everyone's writing about it. In Sweden, Bergman's next only to Bamse"
"Bamse? As in Bamse, the Bear?"
"No, you don't talk that way about Bamse. Bamse is not just a bear. Damn. How do I explain Bamse to you? Bamse is just Bamse. Bamse is Svenska"
"Okay?!"
"Let me put it this way. You know how in America there are Republicans and Democrats and all those other people?"
"Yeah those bad people. Yes"
"If you take Bamse and introduce him to Americans, do you know what will happen?"
"What?"
"There will be no Republicans. There will be no Democrats. No bad people"
"Then?"
"There will only be Social Democrats. And everyone would ask What would Bamse do before going to stupid wars"
"Ah, I see. Bamse is a propaganda machine"
"No, No. Bamse is no such thing. Bamse is the strongest bear ever. He gets strong when he drinks thunder honey"
"He drinks what?"
"Thunderhoney. Now if you and I were to drink it, we will get stomach ache for three days. But Bamse gets strength"
"Oh"
"Bamse is not the just strongest bear, he is also the kindest bear in the whole universe"
"Of course"
"You can go read about him in Wikipedia if you want. Bamse has values. No racism, no bullying, no violence. He is very clear about his values"
"No capitalism too, I suppose?"
"Not really. But the villain in the Bamse stories is an evil capitalist"
"Obviously"
"Bamse is the reason we do so well. It is the reason for our high per capita income"
"Well, I thought its because the capita, which is the denominator in that calculation, is you know, close to zero"
"Zero? Nine million people. We are nine million people"
"If you say so. Bamse is also the reason then I suppose there are no Starbucks in Sweden"
The Rooster suddenly looks unhappy.
"I guess so. Bamse wouldn't approve of it"
Back story: The Rooster is actually the perfect example of how rampant American consumerism and capitalism destroys young, innocent boys from Bamseland. The Rooster, in his seventeenth year, spent a year in Seattle as an exchange student. Up until this point in his innocent life, he's had zero cups of coffee and two cans of Coke. Yes, in seventeen years of existence. In Seattle, he had one Mocha Frappuccino and spent two weeks roaming the streets of the city completely stoned. He became a convert and since then, he roams the world in search of mocha frappuccino and spends every night dreaming of the day Starbucks will open its doors in Sweden.
"So you have to choose between Bamse and Starbucks"
"Like that's a real choice"
"Yes, but you still fly to London for the mocha frappuccino"
"Once in a while, its okay. Bamse wouldn't mind"
"Are you sure?"
"Of course I am sure. Hey, I need to figure out what time I need to be at the airport tomorrow"
"International flight. They will say three hours"
"That's what BA says. I am flying SAS. They were brought up on Bamse. They won't lie"
"Oh"
"What are you guys doing? Tax returns?"
"Yeah, these Brits are crazy. There's about 35 sheets to fill"
"We don't do anything of this sort. We just have two lines A and B. You put what you have in your bank and all other savings and send it off. Thats all"
"And you never hear about it again"
"Yeah, they calculate everything and the money goes to Bamse"
"What does he do with the money?"
"He uses it to buy thunderhoney"
"And then he becomes strong"
"Yes, but he is also the kindest, remember? So he takes care of everything"
"It all makes sense now"
"Of course it does. Good night now"
Coming up: The friendly neighborhood Swedish terrorist, and The Scandinavian Pick-Up process
[1] Little over a week at home in God's own country, then to the city by the sea for a couple of days, and a longish weekend in the pretentious city by the river to see the in-laws. The first couple of places I can entertain myself but any suggestions on what to do in the East will be muchly appreciated.
By rights, this week should have a Bergman theme but since enough people will do that and I have nothing insightful to say anyway, I will do the next best thing and do a series on The Rooster and The Bear, both from Bergman's beloved Svenska. The Bear we will come to know soon enough. The Rooster, otherwise known as Emil from the Great City of Lund, turned up in London the past weekend and proved to be an endless source of entertainment, so I think its only fair that I spread the joy. Just to give you an idea of how much of a success The Rooster is, let me tell you how popular he was when he happened to be in India for a wedding a few years ago. Amazed (and more than a little puzzled, I guess) after seeing a few apartments and houses in some of our cities, The Rooster whenever he was introduced to anyone immediately put on his best Swedish smile and said: "Hi, I am Emil. From the Great City of Lund. Where do you fuck?" Needless to say, he was a great hit.
In case you think he is some sort of an uncouth fellow from the Northern parts of the world, The Rooster wants you to think about the question he raised. Please note that he did not ask people "How do you fuck?" - now that's just silly and plain rude. Instead, he asked "where", which is really a very thoughful question - these are all small, open style crowded apartments that he saw, how the hell does a country get to one billion people here, he really was puzzled, you see. And if you still not satisfied, the Rooster, among other things, hobnobs with the co-founder of the Feminist Initiative, alright? You better love this guy. (Emil, I know you are reading this. Happy now?)
So anyway, the Rooster comes back home after a hard day's work putting on his best Sergey Brin act (he had on the perfect pair of torn jeans) and impressing a bunch of City bankers.
"Did you hear the news? Its a sad day for Sweden, eh?"
"Yes, I did. He is so timeless. Can you believe that he's dead?"
"When did you hear the news?"
"I was in the meeting and I received a text message. I couldn't believe it. I said "Holy Shit. Bergman's dead" and these damn Brits looked up and said "Bergman who?". It was so painful"
"Yeah"
"I will read you the newspapers. Everyone's writing about it. In Sweden, Bergman's next only to Bamse"
"Bamse? As in Bamse, the Bear?"
"No, you don't talk that way about Bamse. Bamse is not just a bear. Damn. How do I explain Bamse to you? Bamse is just Bamse. Bamse is Svenska"
"Okay?!"
"Let me put it this way. You know how in America there are Republicans and Democrats and all those other people?"
"Yeah those bad people. Yes"
"If you take Bamse and introduce him to Americans, do you know what will happen?"
"What?"
"There will be no Republicans. There will be no Democrats. No bad people"
"Then?"
"There will only be Social Democrats. And everyone would ask What would Bamse do before going to stupid wars"
"Ah, I see. Bamse is a propaganda machine"
"No, No. Bamse is no such thing. Bamse is the strongest bear ever. He gets strong when he drinks thunder honey"
"He drinks what?"
"Thunderhoney. Now if you and I were to drink it, we will get stomach ache for three days. But Bamse gets strength"
"Oh"
"Bamse is not the just strongest bear, he is also the kindest bear in the whole universe"
"Of course"
"You can go read about him in Wikipedia if you want. Bamse has values. No racism, no bullying, no violence. He is very clear about his values"
"No capitalism too, I suppose?"
"Not really. But the villain in the Bamse stories is an evil capitalist"
"Obviously"
"Bamse is the reason we do so well. It is the reason for our high per capita income"
"Well, I thought its because the capita, which is the denominator in that calculation, is you know, close to zero"
"Zero? Nine million people. We are nine million people"
"If you say so. Bamse is also the reason then I suppose there are no Starbucks in Sweden"
The Rooster suddenly looks unhappy.
"I guess so. Bamse wouldn't approve of it"
Back story: The Rooster is actually the perfect example of how rampant American consumerism and capitalism destroys young, innocent boys from Bamseland. The Rooster, in his seventeenth year, spent a year in Seattle as an exchange student. Up until this point in his innocent life, he's had zero cups of coffee and two cans of Coke. Yes, in seventeen years of existence. In Seattle, he had one Mocha Frappuccino and spent two weeks roaming the streets of the city completely stoned. He became a convert and since then, he roams the world in search of mocha frappuccino and spends every night dreaming of the day Starbucks will open its doors in Sweden.
"So you have to choose between Bamse and Starbucks"
"Like that's a real choice"
"Yes, but you still fly to London for the mocha frappuccino"
"Once in a while, its okay. Bamse wouldn't mind"
"Are you sure?"
"Of course I am sure. Hey, I need to figure out what time I need to be at the airport tomorrow"
"International flight. They will say three hours"
"That's what BA says. I am flying SAS. They were brought up on Bamse. They won't lie"
"Oh"
"What are you guys doing? Tax returns?"
"Yeah, these Brits are crazy. There's about 35 sheets to fill"
"We don't do anything of this sort. We just have two lines A and B. You put what you have in your bank and all other savings and send it off. Thats all"
"And you never hear about it again"
"Yeah, they calculate everything and the money goes to Bamse"
"What does he do with the money?"
"He uses it to buy thunderhoney"
"And then he becomes strong"
"Yes, but he is also the kindest, remember? So he takes care of everything"
"It all makes sense now"
"Of course it does. Good night now"
Coming up: The friendly neighborhood Swedish terrorist, and The Scandinavian Pick-Up process
[1] Little over a week at home in God's own country, then to the city by the sea for a couple of days, and a longish weekend in the pretentious city by the river to see the in-laws. The first couple of places I can entertain myself but any suggestions on what to do in the East will be muchly appreciated.
Monday, July 30, 2007
Bergman
So okay, I am not this guy or this woman or anything, but I do like my movies. First day of not working and the sun is up in London town and what do I do? Go down to the park and do nothing for a while, then go to the library and max out my movie allowance and take out three movies. I am in the library on a weekday afternoon and there's no shortage of movies that I haven't seen and have been wanting to see. But maybe because there's been a Swede in the flat the last couple of days[1] or just some weird coincidence, I pick three that I had already seen since I felt that's what I should be maxing out on today. Then I come home and find this. And in my half-open backpack, I can see Wild Strawberries, Persona and Saraband. Fuck.
[1] Emil, he of the Great City of Lund is visiting and that's what I was going to post about when I saw this. More about that later
Wednesday, July 25, 2007
Part 2 (by popular demand)
Cat: You aren't going to like this. I decided to go with reality. Too much pain to make up stuff.
Dades Gorge, Morocco. The sun is slowly going down. MR and I were staying in a hotel inside the gorge that night. A narrow river by the side of the hotel and some super cool mountains on the other side of the river.
"Dude the mountains on the other side are cool. They have these canyon like things"
"What?"
"We have to get to the other side of the river"
"I know. I will get some really cool pictures"
"Lets walk by the river, we should be able to cross somewhere"
"Okay. But I don't think there's a way to get down to the bank"
"There has to be. Here. There's a ladder here. Lets go down this incline"
"Yeah, this is where they throw the kitchen trash from the hotel. Where are you going?"
"It will get us to the bank"
Five minutes later we are next to the river. It doesn't look too deep. Just a few metres to the other side. Yeah okay, it didn't even look like a river. More like a mountain stream.
"You think we can walk across?"
"Ofcourse not. It might be deep in the middle"
"Lets walk by the bank to see if there's a bridge somewhere"
"Hey, isn't that the Japanese girl who was in the bus with us?"
"Yeah man. How did she get to the other side?"
"I don't know. Did you talk to her? Apparently she travels all over the world by herself. Cool na?"
"Not that cool also. She used to travel with a friend but friend got married, so she travels alone"
"Full story you got"
"Of course. If she's on the other side, there has to be a bridge. Lets go"
A few minutes later we see our bridge. A tree stump from the other side that extends to just about a metre from where we are. The last metre is a little dicey - another very narrow log from our bank extends nearly to the big log; I say nearly because right before it meets the bridge log, it branches into two and these two narrowest logs go on to join the "proper" bridge. (MR, where is the "£$%^&* picture when I need one? You are the photographer, remember?)
"You think we can go?"
"Yeah, you go first"
"You think it will hold my weight?"
"Of course. They have this log so that people can cross over"
"Hmm...I want to. But with wallet, passport, camera and all it might not be a good idea, no? What if they get wet?"
"Of course that's what you are worried about"
"Look, that Japanese girl is looking at us. We have to cross now"
"She is asking us to cross"
"Maybe we should ask her to come to the big log and give us a hand"
"What? No way man. That's so silly. She will think we are some idiots"
"Yeah but if we stand here for an hour pondering about this, she will think we are into metaphysics"
"Why don't you go first?"
"I have the big camera"
"Of course"
"How will we ever tell people we didn't cross a silly stream? Such beautiful mountains too!"
"We won't tell people"
"When is this appearing on your blog again?"
"That's also there. If only we can get someone to give us a hand"
"I am sure we can find some kid who will do that for a buck or something"
"I wish Bill was here"
"Yes, then he has no choice but to cross and help us over, and we don't even have to pay him a buck. That's what husbands are for"
"Obviously. Even better for you na? He will give you a hand and you aren't even married to him"
"Yes, this is why you should travel with your friends' husbands"
"Yeah but the point is he is not here and its pretty clear that neither of us is going to attempt this"
"Yes, lets go. Just don't go about telling people"
"I will try"
***
Gallno, Stockholm archipelago. A month later. Read this first.
"You think there are life jackets inside that hood?"
"Hmm...there is a broken plastic can inside. I wonder what they use that for"
"To get the water out of the boat"
"Oh"
"So you want to go?"
"Well, what is there in that island?"
"More pine forests"
"So there's nothing new?"
"Not that I know of. But it will be nice to row there"
"I know"
Five minutes later.
"So?"
"So what?"
"Why are we standing here?"
"I am wearing sneakers"
"That's a sad reason. You can take my sandals. They will fit you"
"I guess. So you are not coming?"
"I didn't cross a bloody 3 metre stream. What makes you think I am going to do this?"
"We have a boat"
"What if one of those speedboats go by and we topple over? I am not going in without a life jacket. And anyway, someone needs to be here to call 911. Or whoever"
"Its not a big deal"
"I know. Get in, and I will push the boat out"
"What? You want to me go by myself now?"
"I thought it wasn't a big deal"
"Yes, you want me to die only!"
"But why are you afraid of dying? Didn't that walk on water guy you were following teach you not to be? Heaven awaits you, my son"
"Oh shut up. I don't understand why you can't row a few metres"
"Can you understand why you can't?"
"Who said I can't?"
Motu sits down on a tree stump. Pulls out camera and shoots randomly. Chotu pretends to tinker with the boat. A few speedboats and canoes pass by.
"When is the ferry?"
"6.30. But we can flag others"
"Yes, and I can watch you flip out when a couple of them do not stop"
"I thought you said they always stop"
"See what I mean"
Chotu walks up a mound and does some surverying. Yes, the real thing. Stand in one place. Measure. Go to another place. Figure out angle. Calculate distance.
Finally comes back down and taps the sides of the boat. Another ten minutes have gone by.
"So lets go. We have to catch the ferry"
"What's wrong with the boat?"
"I think there's a leak. Which is why they have this plastic can"
"Did you find the leak?"
"Do you want to miss the ferry?"
When we got back to the yacht bay, the suicidal woman was nowhere to be seen. All the the boats have also seem to have left for some reason. Someone left this behind though[1].
The walk back has been generally quiet. We entered the thick forest. Somewhere in the middle, pitch dark, no sun, Chotu finally decides to speak.
"Hey"
"Yeah?"
"This is not going on the blog, is it?"
"Of course not. How mean do you think I am?"
[1] No MR. This is not that deserted beach.
Dades Gorge, Morocco. The sun is slowly going down. MR and I were staying in a hotel inside the gorge that night. A narrow river by the side of the hotel and some super cool mountains on the other side of the river.
"Dude the mountains on the other side are cool. They have these canyon like things"
"What?"
"We have to get to the other side of the river"
"I know. I will get some really cool pictures"
"Lets walk by the river, we should be able to cross somewhere"
"Okay. But I don't think there's a way to get down to the bank"
"There has to be. Here. There's a ladder here. Lets go down this incline"
"Yeah, this is where they throw the kitchen trash from the hotel. Where are you going?"
"It will get us to the bank"
Five minutes later we are next to the river. It doesn't look too deep. Just a few metres to the other side. Yeah okay, it didn't even look like a river. More like a mountain stream.
"You think we can walk across?"
"Ofcourse not. It might be deep in the middle"
"Lets walk by the bank to see if there's a bridge somewhere"
"Hey, isn't that the Japanese girl who was in the bus with us?"
"Yeah man. How did she get to the other side?"
"I don't know. Did you talk to her? Apparently she travels all over the world by herself. Cool na?"
"Not that cool also. She used to travel with a friend but friend got married, so she travels alone"
"Full story you got"
"Of course. If she's on the other side, there has to be a bridge. Lets go"
A few minutes later we see our bridge. A tree stump from the other side that extends to just about a metre from where we are. The last metre is a little dicey - another very narrow log from our bank extends nearly to the big log; I say nearly because right before it meets the bridge log, it branches into two and these two narrowest logs go on to join the "proper" bridge. (MR, where is the "£$%^&* picture when I need one? You are the photographer, remember?)
"You think we can go?"
"Yeah, you go first"
"You think it will hold my weight?"
"Of course. They have this log so that people can cross over"
"Hmm...I want to. But with wallet, passport, camera and all it might not be a good idea, no? What if they get wet?"
"Of course that's what you are worried about"
"Look, that Japanese girl is looking at us. We have to cross now"
"She is asking us to cross"
"Maybe we should ask her to come to the big log and give us a hand"
"What? No way man. That's so silly. She will think we are some idiots"
"Yeah but if we stand here for an hour pondering about this, she will think we are into metaphysics"
"Why don't you go first?"
"I have the big camera"
"Of course"
"How will we ever tell people we didn't cross a silly stream? Such beautiful mountains too!"
"We won't tell people"
"When is this appearing on your blog again?"
"That's also there. If only we can get someone to give us a hand"
"I am sure we can find some kid who will do that for a buck or something"
"I wish Bill was here"
"Yes, then he has no choice but to cross and help us over, and we don't even have to pay him a buck. That's what husbands are for"
"Obviously. Even better for you na? He will give you a hand and you aren't even married to him"
"Yes, this is why you should travel with your friends' husbands"
"Yeah but the point is he is not here and its pretty clear that neither of us is going to attempt this"
"Yes, lets go. Just don't go about telling people"
"I will try"
***
Gallno, Stockholm archipelago. A month later. Read this first.
"You think there are life jackets inside that hood?"
"Hmm...there is a broken plastic can inside. I wonder what they use that for"
"To get the water out of the boat"
"Oh"
"So you want to go?"
"Well, what is there in that island?"
"More pine forests"
"So there's nothing new?"
"Not that I know of. But it will be nice to row there"
"I know"
Five minutes later.
"So?"
"So what?"
"Why are we standing here?"
"I am wearing sneakers"
"That's a sad reason. You can take my sandals. They will fit you"
"I guess. So you are not coming?"
"I didn't cross a bloody 3 metre stream. What makes you think I am going to do this?"
"We have a boat"
"What if one of those speedboats go by and we topple over? I am not going in without a life jacket. And anyway, someone needs to be here to call 911. Or whoever"
"Its not a big deal"
"I know. Get in, and I will push the boat out"
"What? You want to me go by myself now?"
"I thought it wasn't a big deal"
"Yes, you want me to die only!"
"But why are you afraid of dying? Didn't that walk on water guy you were following teach you not to be? Heaven awaits you, my son"
"Oh shut up. I don't understand why you can't row a few metres"
"Can you understand why you can't?"
"Who said I can't?"
Motu sits down on a tree stump. Pulls out camera and shoots randomly. Chotu pretends to tinker with the boat. A few speedboats and canoes pass by.
"When is the ferry?"
"6.30. But we can flag others"
"Yes, and I can watch you flip out when a couple of them do not stop"
"I thought you said they always stop"
"See what I mean"
Chotu walks up a mound and does some surverying. Yes, the real thing. Stand in one place. Measure. Go to another place. Figure out angle. Calculate distance.
Finally comes back down and taps the sides of the boat. Another ten minutes have gone by.
"So lets go. We have to catch the ferry"
"What's wrong with the boat?"
"I think there's a leak. Which is why they have this plastic can"
"Did you find the leak?"
"Do you want to miss the ferry?"
When we got back to the yacht bay, the suicidal woman was nowhere to be seen. All the the boats have also seem to have left for some reason. Someone left this behind though[1].
The walk back has been generally quiet. We entered the thick forest. Somewhere in the middle, pitch dark, no sun, Chotu finally decides to speak.
"Hey"
"Yeah?"
"This is not going on the blog, is it?"
"Of course not. How mean do you think I am?"
[1] No MR. This is not that deserted beach.
Tuesday, July 03, 2007
Chotu Motu's midsummer adventure
In the land of Absolut. And Ikea. Yes, Falsie, and Bergman. Abi, no, haven't forgotten, and the welfare state. A~, ok ok, and ABBA. Everyone happy now? Can I go on with the post? Thank you!
Midsummer day. The sun will not make an appearance this year, says Radio Sweden. Such luck we bring from the small island. The city has pretty much shut down; everyone has left for the countryside to dance around the maypole[1].
M: Islands! That's where we should go today!
C: Yeah, sounds nice
M: What better way to spend the day than at the archipelago?
C: This same archipelago that you didn't know existed until yesterday afternoon?
M: Oh c'mon, I knew about the Stockholm archipelago. Just didn't know this one has over 20,000 islands.
C: Yeah, where you come from an archipelago has only one island. The archipelago of Sri Lanka! There, right on your backyard.
M: Enough! You think we can take over a little island and call it my own?
C: Yes, but only if you have a cool-looking flag. Do you have one?
M: Shut up. Run along and find out ferry timings now. Go.
So we landed in front of the Grand Hotel[2] early in the morning looking for a ferry to take us into the archipelago. We ruled out the islands of Vaxholm and Grinda as that's where everyone else seemed to be going. Gallno (pronounced Yellna) is where we are going, we decided. According to the guidebook, it is an oddly shaped island in the central archipelago with about 30 inhabitants, thick pine forests, and small bays. Sounded just like the place I wanted to spend my day in.
We found our ferry and got on. Just to prove to us that Swedes aren't really Germans, the boat left 32 seconds later than it was supposed to. We soon left the island of Gamla Stan (which houses the understated Royal Palace in picture below) behind and headed straight east alongside the large (and hip) island of Sodermalm. Trigger-happy Motu randomly shot pictures of Sodermalm and a couple of luxury cruise liners and parked there. Not more than twenty minutes after we had left the Grand Hotel, Stockholm disappeared from view and I turned around to face the open waters.
M: Dude! These are islands!
C: Really? I would never have known
M: I didn't know they were this close
C: Well, I don't think we will even get to open water, that's way after Gallno
M: Okey. These islands are too cool. Look, look, this is like Kirrin Island
C: Yes, Kirrin Island has a Swedish flag like that. On top of light house, right?
M: No, I meant I now see how one can own an island. These are so small that one can afford them
C: I cannot afford one and will never be able to if that's where you are heading. Anyway who wants to live here all the time?
M: The point of owning an island is not to live there all the time. It will be our summer home. Two months a year we can come here. How cool!
C: Summer home? She wants an island now! What am I to do?
M: Hey, why are we stopping here? There is no stop here as per the timetable
C: Its a request stop. See, those people put that mast-like thing up. That's how it is in Gallno too. We have to flag down a ferry when we want to get back
M: What? We could be stranded in the island for days! No ferry would stop for us. Why didn't you tell me this before?
C: Well, you have a choice. You can get down at Vaxholm with all the tourists and be safe and boring. I will go to Gallno by myself
Vaxholm. Hotels, cottages, restaurants, one proper tourist trap it looked like from the boat. Motu decided to risk being stranded and go to Gallno. Ferry gets to Gallno finally. Chotu Motu are the only people to get dropped here. A small, red-and-white waiting room welcomes us to the island of Gallno. A couple of houses by the water, a dirt trail leading to the village which is about a mile from here, and cultivated land on either side. Nope, no idea what they do with all this farmland in the winter.
The walk up to the village proved to be lovely. For a while, the only sound other than our fooststeps was that of the occassional ferry passing by the island. As we neared the village, a few houses with neat hedges, German shepherds, and cute little gardens started making their appearance - we seemed to be transported inside a proper Hans Anderson story. A mother and daughter (in full Red Riding Hood costume) said hello and passed us by. The mother was carrying what looked like a pie of some sort.
M: Friendly people these Swedes eh?
C: Yeah man. Everyone was super friendly when I was in the country last. You reckon we are the only brown people in this island?
M: For sure. Wait, what's that?
C: Some sort of a party. Maybe that's where they were headed. Midsummer party, I am sure.
M: You think they will let us join them?
C: Of course. Chal, we might get some good beer if nothing else
Midsummer party all right. By the only cafe / provision store in the village. The whole village, and a few townies, were singing and dancing around yes, the maypole. We got some strange looks at first but then they got used to us once we showed them that we can down beer nearly as fast as they could. Plus the language wasn't much of a problem, (Bill's useless statistic: 95% of Swedes speak English fluently) so it all went well.
We left after a while as the original idea was to spend this tranquil day walking through pine forests and not to end up in a bositerous party. Only issue was that we didn't know where to go.
C: Well, there's only one way. We will just follow this trail we have been following.
M: But who knows where it leads?
C: Doesn't the Rough Guide say that it leads to next island? Karklo, I think it was.
M: How can it lead into the next island if its really an island? I am not swimming for sure.
C: Hey, look at this.
C: This funky hiker person is walking over water, right?
M: I am not sure we can do that. Maybe a couple of thousand years ago...
C: No idiot. Maybe there's a bridge or something. Lets just follow this sign.
M: But it leads into the forest!
C: Isn't that the whole point of this trip?
So we followed our hiker friend for the next hour to whatever (or wherever) Branholmen was. The forest soon grew thicker shutting out most of the light, but our walking-on-water hiker didn't seem to care. It had rained the day before, and for the first time outside of home, the leaves were the same shade of green! Then, suddenly, for no reason, we started getting more light. The forest started thinning out and we could hear water, and a couple of minutes later, we were at a bay full of yachties.
(Please to note Bergmanesque scene in picture. Woman in picture surely going to commit suicide. MR, you happy now? Isn't this what you wanted?)
M: Okay, so we are in some bay. But weren't we going to Karklo?
C: Yes...but I don't see that island
M: There's some hajjar instructions here but its all in Swedish. Maybe we should ask one of these yacht people
C: No, see, that hiker guy is pointing that way. Lets just follow him
M: I know you are quite taken up with him and all but I am not sure following some guy who walks on water is going to lead us anywhere
C: How do you know if you haven't tried it?
M: Oh my God! You are turning religious on me now!
C: Whatever. I am going to follow this guy. You do what you want.
Another forest but this one wasn't anywhere as thick as the one we were on. Passed by a rock next to which was what seemed like a huge well. More explanations in Swedish here but could not make out anything except that it had to do something with the ice age. We continued on.
M: There! There's the island of Karklo!
C: Yes, we are there!
M: Not quite. There's about 50 metres of water in between
C: Hmm. There must be some way to get there
M: Why don't you ask your hiker friend?
An orange rowing boat. This time, the instructions are clear. You row to Karklo. Both boats cannot be on the same side for obvious reasons, so you row to the other side, tie the boat to your boat, row back to starting point, leave the boat here and row back to destination.
So, will Chotu Motu take up the challenge and row to Karklo? Or will they give up and turn back? Stay tuned for Part 2 of Chotu Motu's midsummer adventure.
[1] A wooden pole which is made to look like an inverted penis, as Emil, Bill's bum pal from the Great City of Lund, kindly explained to me.
[2] Yeah, the Nobel banquet one
Midsummer day. The sun will not make an appearance this year, says Radio Sweden. Such luck we bring from the small island. The city has pretty much shut down; everyone has left for the countryside to dance around the maypole[1].
M: Islands! That's where we should go today!
C: Yeah, sounds nice
M: What better way to spend the day than at the archipelago?
C: This same archipelago that you didn't know existed until yesterday afternoon?
M: Oh c'mon, I knew about the Stockholm archipelago. Just didn't know this one has over 20,000 islands.
C: Yeah, where you come from an archipelago has only one island. The archipelago of Sri Lanka! There, right on your backyard.
M: Enough! You think we can take over a little island and call it my own?
C: Yes, but only if you have a cool-looking flag. Do you have one?
M: Shut up. Run along and find out ferry timings now. Go.
So we landed in front of the Grand Hotel[2] early in the morning looking for a ferry to take us into the archipelago. We ruled out the islands of Vaxholm and Grinda as that's where everyone else seemed to be going. Gallno (pronounced Yellna) is where we are going, we decided. According to the guidebook, it is an oddly shaped island in the central archipelago with about 30 inhabitants, thick pine forests, and small bays. Sounded just like the place I wanted to spend my day in.
We found our ferry and got on. Just to prove to us that Swedes aren't really Germans, the boat left 32 seconds later than it was supposed to. We soon left the island of Gamla Stan (which houses the understated Royal Palace in picture below) behind and headed straight east alongside the large (and hip) island of Sodermalm. Trigger-happy Motu randomly shot pictures of Sodermalm and a couple of luxury cruise liners and parked there. Not more than twenty minutes after we had left the Grand Hotel, Stockholm disappeared from view and I turned around to face the open waters.
M: Dude! These are islands!
C: Really? I would never have known
M: I didn't know they were this close
C: Well, I don't think we will even get to open water, that's way after Gallno
M: Okey. These islands are too cool. Look, look, this is like Kirrin Island
C: Yes, Kirrin Island has a Swedish flag like that. On top of light house, right?M: No, I meant I now see how one can own an island. These are so small that one can afford them
C: I cannot afford one and will never be able to if that's where you are heading. Anyway who wants to live here all the time?
M: The point of owning an island is not to live there all the time. It will be our summer home. Two months a year we can come here. How cool!
C: Summer home? She wants an island now! What am I to do?
M: Hey, why are we stopping here? There is no stop here as per the timetable
C: Its a request stop. See, those people put that mast-like thing up. That's how it is in Gallno too. We have to flag down a ferry when we want to get back
M: What? We could be stranded in the island for days! No ferry would stop for us. Why didn't you tell me this before?
C: Well, you have a choice. You can get down at Vaxholm with all the tourists and be safe and boring. I will go to Gallno by myself
Vaxholm. Hotels, cottages, restaurants, one proper tourist trap it looked like from the boat. Motu decided to risk being stranded and go to Gallno. Ferry gets to Gallno finally. Chotu Motu are the only people to get dropped here. A small, red-and-white waiting room welcomes us to the island of Gallno. A couple of houses by the water, a dirt trail leading to the village which is about a mile from here, and cultivated land on either side. Nope, no idea what they do with all this farmland in the winter.
The walk up to the village proved to be lovely. For a while, the only sound other than our fooststeps was that of the occassional ferry passing by the island. As we neared the village, a few houses with neat hedges, German shepherds, and cute little gardens started making their appearance - we seemed to be transported inside a proper Hans Anderson story. A mother and daughter (in full Red Riding Hood costume) said hello and passed us by. The mother was carrying what looked like a pie of some sort.M: Friendly people these Swedes eh?
C: Yeah man. Everyone was super friendly when I was in the country last. You reckon we are the only brown people in this island?
M: For sure. Wait, what's that?
C: Some sort of a party. Maybe that's where they were headed. Midsummer party, I am sure.
M: You think they will let us join them?
C: Of course. Chal, we might get some good beer if nothing else
Midsummer party all right. By the only cafe / provision store in the village. The whole village, and a few townies, were singing and dancing around yes, the maypole. We got some strange looks at first but then they got used to us once we showed them that we can down beer nearly as fast as they could. Plus the language wasn't much of a problem, (Bill's useless statistic: 95% of Swedes speak English fluently) so it all went well.
We left after a while as the original idea was to spend this tranquil day walking through pine forests and not to end up in a bositerous party. Only issue was that we didn't know where to go.
C: Well, there's only one way. We will just follow this trail we have been following.
M: But who knows where it leads?
C: Doesn't the Rough Guide say that it leads to next island? Karklo, I think it was.
M: How can it lead into the next island if its really an island? I am not swimming for sure.
C: Hey, look at this.
C: This funky hiker person is walking over water, right?
M: I am not sure we can do that. Maybe a couple of thousand years ago...
C: No idiot. Maybe there's a bridge or something. Lets just follow this sign.
M: But it leads into the forest!
C: Isn't that the whole point of this trip?
So we followed our hiker friend for the next hour to whatever (or wherever) Branholmen was. The forest soon grew thicker shutting out most of the light, but our walking-on-water hiker didn't seem to care. It had rained the day before, and for the first time outside of home, the leaves were the same shade of green! Then, suddenly, for no reason, we started getting more light. The forest started thinning out and we could hear water, and a couple of minutes later, we were at a bay full of yachties.
(Please to note Bergmanesque scene in picture. Woman in picture surely going to commit suicide. MR, you happy now? Isn't this what you wanted?)M: Okay, so we are in some bay. But weren't we going to Karklo?
C: Yes...but I don't see that island
M: There's some hajjar instructions here but its all in Swedish. Maybe we should ask one of these yacht people
C: No, see, that hiker guy is pointing that way. Lets just follow him
M: I know you are quite taken up with him and all but I am not sure following some guy who walks on water is going to lead us anywhere
C: How do you know if you haven't tried it?
M: Oh my God! You are turning religious on me now!
C: Whatever. I am going to follow this guy. You do what you want.
Another forest but this one wasn't anywhere as thick as the one we were on. Passed by a rock next to which was what seemed like a huge well. More explanations in Swedish here but could not make out anything except that it had to do something with the ice age. We continued on.
M: There! There's the island of Karklo!
C: Yes, we are there!
M: Not quite. There's about 50 metres of water in between
C: Hmm. There must be some way to get there
M: Why don't you ask your hiker friend?
An orange rowing boat. This time, the instructions are clear. You row to Karklo. Both boats cannot be on the same side for obvious reasons, so you row to the other side, tie the boat to your boat, row back to starting point, leave the boat here and row back to destination.
So, will Chotu Motu take up the challenge and row to Karklo? Or will they give up and turn back? Stay tuned for Part 2 of Chotu Motu's midsummer adventure.
[1] A wooden pole which is made to look like an inverted penis, as Emil, Bill's bum pal from the Great City of Lund, kindly explained to me.
[2] Yeah, the Nobel banquet one
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