Tuesday, April 30, 2013

on the hill of springtime

The intoxication of spring, in Turku.

After the long Finnish winter the evening is glorious in brightness and birdsong. It's chilly still, it always is this time of the year, but we dress in our springtime finest and shiver with cold and delight as we gather in a park on a steep hillside in the middle of the city.

Around us are thousands of people, all lightheaded with the same intoxication. There is the tradition of centuries in the songs being sung to us on that hill. We look around - at the fabulous view over an old city, at the smart and talented people surrounding us, at the dreams and adventures just waiting for us. All the wisdom and ancient history and exquisite culture this beautiful city has to offer and the endless possibilities of the future.

There is nothing that awakens a Finn like springtime. We lift our champagne flutes and toast to our dreams.
( Picture from abounderrattelser.fi )

Sunday, April 28, 2013

the end

Tonight I dreamed that the world ended. It was quite spectacular. Afterwards the credits rolled and then there were commercials.

Thursday, April 25, 2013

malaria, Ella and the pink moon

By the way, today is Anzac Day, world malaria day, Ella Fitzgerald's birthday and pink moon day with a partial eclipse. In case you thought this was just any old day.

wednesday's child is full of woe

Thai for lunch and Mexican for dinner; work and participation in a music survey - and somewhere in between all this there were three red roses.

The world turns on its axis. I feel the gravity of this ominous shift. But it was a glorious spring day and everybody loves me, so I will dry my tears and with joy on every birthday count my age in friends, not years.

Wednesday, April 24, 2013

youth is wasted on the young

On the eve of my birthday I watch the April sunset and wonder if I'm happy.

( I don't usually worry about it too much. )

I have another glass of wine and wish for more time to be creative. I feel old and unaccomplished, or is it unloved? Even though I know it to be untrue, I still believe it. At this very moment, somewhere else in the city, friends and family are preparing to celebrate me as if I deserve it.

And all I really want is my father.

Monday, April 22, 2013

say

Say it's all right.
Say I'm loved.
Say I can go to sleep and you'll watch over me.

Sunday, April 21, 2013

me pinned down

What I pin on Pinterest:

* Sunlight or city lights illuminating messy beds.
* Lofts with lots of exposed bricks, whitewashed kitchens, studios with enormous plank tables, fireplaces, cosy nooks with fairylights, balconies overlooking Manhattan.
* Women in woollen sweaters and bare legs, coffee mug in hand, staring out of windows ( preferably windows with magnificent views )
* Women in cars or trains.
* Women reading in cafés.
* Women on midnight city streets.
* Couples kissing in tiny kitchens.
* Women wearing any of the following: boots, knee-high socks, lace, skinny jeans, black leather, velvet, oversized knitted sweaters, floaty long layers, silvery grey, boho jewellery, leg warmers, ridiculously flared trousers, an air of independence, a sad expression.
* Anything suggesting road trips, New York fire-escapes, typical American diners, bohemian tents, beach picnics with wine, creativity, freedom .

Wednesday, April 17, 2013

the lady of the minks

An 82-year-old lady threw her fur coat in my arms dramatically: "Feel that, how heavy it is!"

I did feel it, as I nearly dropped it. She added, "That's real mink, no second-rate stuff! Are you one of those anti-fur people?"

Funny question to ask of someone at the company that is going to store the lady's fur safely for her over the summer. I smiled my "no" but it was not entirely honest. I would prefer it if the minks had got to keep their fur and not suffer through a life in a cage, but too late to save these particular minks now. Anyway, fur wearers in Finland are a dying breed so I'm not worrying about it.

This lady wasn't anywhere near dying though, despite her age. Agile of mind and body, she questioned me on my life story and told me her own, then complimented me to my boss, had my Chinese colleague teach her a phrase in Chinese and finally departed in a whirlwind.

Monday, April 15, 2013

the storyteller of Dublin (or Better than trying to read Joyce)

"I cried when they told me I was made reduntant - cried, I'm telling ya. From relief!"

This taxi driver ticks all the boxes on the  Dublin Taxi Driver Stereotype Sheet  - round-faced, spewing out incredible stories, maniacal in his driving, harbouring a special hatred towards buses, and adorable. He drives around the city centre, trying to make it to the airport bus stops just before the airport bus and pick up customers there. Today, he has got me, a Swiss gentleman and the Swiss gentleman's son, having talked us into a good deal.

"I just couldn't wait to leave that job, and the supervisor. Some people are pure evil, ya know wha' I mean?"

We hurtle down busy Dublin streets, taking corners on two wheels and barely avoid getting hit by one of the hated buses. Strangely, I'm completely calm. Whatever else you want to say about Dublin taxi drivers, they do know how to avoid collisions. I keep up the conversation just for the pleasure of hearing the Dublin accent and all those tall stories. By the time we have cleared the city centre, we have moved on from the driver's riveting life story to a no less entertaining account of how Bruce Springsteen once paid his friend's restaurant bill. The Swiss gentleman listens with an astonished look on his face. His son, who clearly doesn't understand a word, tries to grab attention by eagerly pointing out Croke Park, but the driver is having none of it.

"See that other taxi over in the next lane? That driver won two mill on the Lottery. Believe it or not, he still gets up at seven every morning to drive his taxi for ten hours a day. Just money-mad, if ya ask me! Ya know wha' I mean?"

We cut in front of a bus and screech to a halt at the main entrance of the airport terminal. I feel as if I heard all of Dublin's collected stories in twenty minutes. Light-headed, a little dizzy. There is no better way to leave Ireland.

Saturday, April 13, 2013

no hair to braid

I'm one of those seemingly very rare women who don't need, don't want and don't long for children. One of the reasons I feel like an alien sometimes.

But just once in a while, I'd like to have a little girl beside me, hope and dreams shining in her eyes, and I'd like to braid her hair and know she is mine.
(Picture from Black Horse.)

Friday, April 12, 2013

eggless

Woe to me. I am out of creme eggs.