Out of Harms' Way

Nitten

2011-12-05T21:00:00.001+02:00

Today I've felt just about as sorry for myself as this Thomas Holm chap.

Jeg har jokket i en lort / samlet den op og bidt i den.

Thorn in my Side

2011-12-05T13:32:00.000+02:00

It is done. I handed in the papers for postgraduate studies last Wednesday, so now I will just have to wait for a letter from the Faculty telling me whether my application was accepted or not.

My topic has changed quite a bit. I have given up on metaphors more or less, although there's still the possibility that I will keep them bubbling under for some rainy-day stroke of genius. Conceptual metaphors could probably make a nice case study if I ever have the urge to come back to them. A little side project never hurt anyone and it's good to keep your topic close and your options closer.

The focus of the study has shifted towards translation history. And, since I have shameless feelings of nostalgia towards anything to do with music, I will be looking at the history of Finnish translations of nonfiction music literature during the first half of the twentieth century. Who knows what I will discover! The field is still relatively uncharted (there will, for instance, be a book on translating nonfiction into Finnish next year, but it won't say much about music, I hear) so I have a chance to do some pioneering work, which is fantastic. My only worry is how will the topic foster my academic career, forward my international connections and help me become an acknowledged scholar.

These musing may seem silly but I feel they are essential questions for me. For the first time, I'm in a situation where I have no plan for my future and it's unnerving. The financial situation at the uni is beyond dreadful, so I'm not holding my breath in the hope of a vacancy, I don't really have enough contacts to successfully operate my translation business and I have no idea what else I'm really good for. Research grants are uncertain at best. It's all rather depressing.

By deceit to bereave me / Love me and so deceive me

2011-11-12T00:09:00.001+02:00

From Alas, What Hope of Speeding by John Wilbye. Not bad for six upper secondary school graduates.

Che se tu se'il cor mio

2011-11-10T23:14:00.001+02:00

I miss singing. I miss our little renaissance sextet, and I regret us not having sung more when we had the chance. I know it's a terribly selfish way of looking at it, but, cor, I wish I could experience the merging of six voices into one harmonious whole again. Regularly. Productively.

Che se... at 3:33

Otherwise

2011-11-07T15:22:00.000+02:00

Right-o. This I solemnly do swear: no more scout's honour. The scout's been dishonoured, and it's no use flogging a dead horse, really, is it.

So, do I hear 'doctorate'? Very well.

I have been toying around with the idea of writing a PhD thesis. It would quite naturally continue the work I started with my first Master's, that is, the study of conceptual metaphors in the context of music. What would be different this time is that I would have to assume some translational perspective in the thesis. I don't mind doing that at all, but the challenging part is coming up with a topic that is at the same time relevant, novel or fresh and interesting to me.

One idea that came up was about the five-volume Sibelius biography by E. W. Tawastjerna, published between 1965-88. Although first printed in Finnish, the work was originally written in Swedish, and it has also been translated into English. Thus, a comparative angle presents itself as one aspect rather automatically as does, judging by what I've read so far, the use of metaphorical language. Tawastjerna's language makes frequent use of metaphorical expressions when discussing the music of Sibelius, as expected considering the abstract nature of music and art in general (here, I have a terrible urge to refer back to my master's thesis, but that would be just utterly pi of me).

The problème du jour is that I don't really know where to begin. Right now, there isn't a real consensus between the professor and me on which direction I should run with this set-up (not that she has said one discouraging word about my musings, but she seems to have an inclination to take the topic to realms previously unbeknownst to me). I only have about three weeks to come up with something smart and convincing. May seem like a long time, but considering that I will more or less be married to the words I put on paper now for the next 4 years or so, my thoughts had better be rather stellar instead of meh.

A pillar of moral support comes in the form and personage of Mr T, who's about to embark on the same journey as I am. Many a pint-tipping session awaits the frustrated researcher duo in the future, I reckon.

when all things are one

2011-11-01T15:36:00.000+02:00

Things you see when staring out of your office window:

A boy on a unicycle, uni-cycling at the university (eh, eh? See what I did there?) and hopping up the "Steps of Knowledge".

Very surreal, I'm telling you.

Ooo, and happy 1.1.11 every1.

2011-10-27T19:49:00.000+03:00

Here's a rather sad piece of trivia for ya: the second most common search query leading people to find my blog is "my muffin top is all that".

This atrocity is only counterbalanced by the fact that the most common search phrase is "Agitata da due venti".

Scriblitas vincit ars - Ave Bartoli, regina scriblitarum
(Art conquers muffins - Hail Bartoli, queen of muffins)

Quand j'ai peur de tout

2011-10-27T14:20:00.000+03:00

I just now went through my unpublished drafts. One of the titles from a couple of years back read "Sylar goes Martha Stewart". What the hell was that about?

I feel sort of odd. The world seems full of posibilities at the moment but somehow those possibilities also appear to be out of reach. To be, perhaps appropriately, all conceptually metaphorical about it (after all, LIFE IS A JOURNEY), I'm at a crossroads with no destination in sight. What is a boy to do?

This blog is perhaps taking a slightly more academic turn in the near future. If I indeed start working on my doctorate as now (once more) appears realisable, I might start to write this horribly neglected blog with more gusto again. My idea was to turn this forum into a learning journal of sorts, but the question is, would anyone really be interested in reading such crock.

The beginning of my road to a doctorate is closer than I actually feel in my heart of hearts. The research proposal, graduate student application form and all the papers that go with it need to be delivered to the Humanities office at the end of next month. That does not leave me a lot of time to ponder on my existence in this mess I call my life, so I'd better get crackin'. I have already prepared the easy part of the process and copied all the necessary documents and put them in a binder especially designed to keep all mah post-grad vip's (very important papers) in order. Ahhh, the bliss of lulling yourself into a false feeling of efficiancy.

Unanswered remains the question regarding the part that translation as a vocation is to play in my life next year. Should I still be trying to expand my business now that I "have time" to do so under the protective wings of the university? This particular dilemma is concretely illustrated by the two or three applications to different translation agencies that I have prepared and stored in the app tabs of Firefox for later reference.

In the horizon also looms the figure of serious adulthood in the form of a hefty mortgage I'm about to obtain and my ca. 25 years older self staring back at me from 2036. He looks kind of scary in his academic stuffiness, although I do find his silvery hair and classic appearance with a touch of devil-may-care rather befitting and charming.

Scream

2011-09-14T13:20:00.001+03:00

I've been meaning to write for a long time - scout's honour - but so much has been going on I haven't known where to start. Now I'm just going to vent out a bit; as good a place to start as any, I guess.

< rant >I'm back in Finland, quite settled in already, but things are just not working out for me. First, the job around which I had planned my life for the next 5 or so years gets cancelled at the last minute. Then, the agencies I apply for make me feel like the most unappreciated poor sod in the world (how would you like to work for 5 cents per word?). Now the agency I have mostly worked for up until now owes me almost 2k with no sight of payment in the foreseeable future (the due date of the first invoice of the batch was 7 July, by the way) because, quote, the client hasn't paid the agency yet. Tough, says I: I have handed in the work on time and thus expect to be paid in due time. It's not my problem your billing department doesn't know their stuff.

I also signed a new freelance agreement with another agency, who offered me part-time inhouse work that was supposed to start today and last for a week. Surprise, surprise, their system is not operational, so the job got cancelled. This is getting ridiculous.

It's hard to keep positive in the face of the harsh realities of the translation business. The agency I'm starting with now is paying less than 8 cents per word and of course even less for fuzzy matches and the like. All the while I keep seeing Miss Gorschelnik giving her lecture about minimum fees and how accepting anything under 8 cents per word is equal to shooting yourself in the leg (if I remember correctly, a full-time freelance translator asking for 8 cents per word is left with a little over 1000 euros after taxes). The established translators on Translat and the SKTL's survey seem to agree that 18-20 cents per word constitute a suitable fee. Nice, could I get what you're having? Where are these clients?

FML.< /rant >

In much better news, I just spent two wonderful weeks under the Tuscan sun admiring the hills and cliffs, grape vines and olive trees. Have now seen San Gimignano, Volterra, Siena, Florence, Pisa, Montalcino, Montepulciano and places in between.

Davon geht die Welt nicht unter

2011-05-05T19:23:00.000+03:00

Davon... (contains swaying Nazis)

I have disassembled two shelves. I have cleared up most of the kitchen cupboards, bathroom is almost empty and ready to be cleaned, and my sofa bed will be picked up tomorrow. I don't especially enjoy moving out but the promise of getting to move in to another place soon makes the process much more tolerable.

On Sunday, I will go on a little trip to Potsdam. High time I visit the town, I think. Next week a friend of mine is coming over for a few days, so I should probably come up with some sort of battle plan for that, too.

I love Berlin in the spring time.

I Against I

2011-05-03T15:34:00.006+03:00

Schloss Charlottenburg 30 April

Another episode in my life is drawing to a close and it's making me feel very awkward. I'm neither 'here' nor 'there', I'm at an in-between state between states of mind, and, indeed, the states of Finland and Germany. I'm very conscious of having to move out of the country in a few weeks (I'm already moving out of this flat at the end of this week because I sold my bed to a class mate) and that the rest of my stay here is going to be like one continuous farewell. I don't know how to live in the moment; instead, I'm seeing my time here through certain nostalgia and anticipating my future with great expectations. It's a curious frame of mind to be in.

Dishes at 'a very cool Berlin flat' (tm)

I graduated yesterday. The course as a whole went better than I had expected. My thesis was one of three in our class that were given a straight 1.0. I was quite shocked to hear this, actually, as I didn't think (I still don't) that the thesis was that good. Compared to the previous paper I wrote, writing the MBS thesis was a struggle - something that you might already have picked up reading this blog. The concluding two sections are a mess, the analysis is too limited and the sources I referred to are a bit questionable here and there. Then again, at least I know what the shortcomings are. It gives me hope to think that I could've been able to make the thesis work had I had more time on my hands.

The Centre for British Studies would like to publish the thesis in their series of academic papers, but I'm not quite sure I'm ready to give my consent. I can't help but comparing my two theses and thinking that if I'm so dissatisfied with what I wrote I shouldn't really make it public property. Here in Germany, or at least at the HU, unlike in Finland, only the best thesis or theses will become available for everyone to read. I'm not too happy about the idea of letting future generation get hold of the paper. So at the moment it seems like the Centre will have to make do with only two theses this year.

Although I probably shouldn't say "only two". As one of the professors pointed out in his speech at the graduation ceremony, our class was rather exceptional: sometimes the staff have trouble finding even one thesis that should be awarded a 1.0; our class had three. There was also an unusually high number of Firsts in our class compared to other years. We were creative, got along, and the atmosphere was, alles in allem, encouraging. Was the course on the whole a triumph of academic knowledge? Not necessarily. Then was it worth it? Absolutely. Already the internationality of the course made it a worthwhile experience. I also managed to make a couple of friends whom I wish to see in Finland sooner or later and whom I will hopefully get to visit one day, too.

People at Görlitzer Park on May Day

The first of May came and went, and I realised I miss Finnish vappu. Here the festivities assume a markedly political character and there's a lot of tension in the air in spite of the celebrations that take place. The colourful cheerfulness of Finnish vappu is missing, and the idea of a good time here equals an ad hoc rave to a deafening bass thump in the middle of a crowded street. I do realise that Finnish vappu has some not so delightful side effects in the form of various bodily excrements - I'm not denying the downsides of the excessive partying of some Finns. But what about the traditional vappu picnic, for instance? Lying on the grass for a whole day while the sun is hopefully shining, having a chat with your friends and sharing whatever is in your picnic basket. I'll choose that over the hundreds of Turkish snack stands and loud music any time.

29 days to go. Finland, are you ready for my return?

Hold me, thrill me, kiss me, kill me

2011-04-12T23:36:00.004+03:00

After quite a hiatus, I'm working again. Blimey, does it feel good. As far as the ST is concerned, bloody awful and infuriating as well, but translating even a rather boring text such as the one I'm working on now makes me feel happy about my profession, about my education, about language, about myself. Can you honestly ask for more? Well, more work I suppose, but let's leave that issue be.

I downloaded the most recent version of Wordfast, too, and am now trying to learn how to use it properly. I've created a glossary with 55 entries so far (Do you know what "blasting with steel grain" is? Well, I do! Do you know what "CTO" stands for? I can tell you!). My TM for the current commission came close to exceeding the limit of 500 entries you get for free on the demo version of Wf, but luckily the segments stopped just short of 500 at 492 (I finished the first drafts of the three files today, so I know I won't be going overboard with the entries anymore). Wordfast makes me happy.

More good news. I'm in love with my Kindle. It has 42 free books dowloaded onto it and 2 books that I've purchased online. The first book I was ever to read on the thing was Gaiman's Stardust, and I deemed it worthy of such honour. Now I'm reading some Wells (see the Now Reading segment on the left), and I have Twain, Verne, Dickens, Dumas, Defoe, Wilde, Hardy and Shelley waiting for me, just to drop a few names. Never again will I need to drag along a pile of books when I go on holiday. I'll just grab by nifty e-reader and off I go. Yes, I still like how a real book feels in my hand, yes, I like the smell of old books and the sound of a page turning, but practically thinking, I do find Kindle great. Never again will countless books that I will read but once clutter by bookshelves. And never you mind that the Google-converted books make some annoying, albeit sometimes hilarious scanning mistakes, as in the sentence "They wore turbans too, and thereunder peered out their elfin feces at me" - I still like my handy device. Once I get a regular wireless internet connection in Finland, I think Kindle will even become my device of choice for reading all the blogs I subscribe to.

Which brings me to another matter, the matter of moving in to my new home. Still almost two months away, but I'm quite ready to start settling in. Lookie, I even took some pictures:

Come one, come all. Allez, entrez. Ich bin müde. Je vais dormir.

It might as well be spring

2011-03-15T20:23:00.002+02:00

I am so hungry right now, you wouldn't believe. It's not a good idea to start planning the menu for your yearly skiing trip when all you have in your fridge is some ready-made pesto. On the bright side, I think I managed to find a dozen or so recipes I really want to try out once I'm back in Finland, or maybe even before. What would you say about a nice light lemon linguine? Perhaps with parmesan chicken breast with posh ham. For this year's grill season I want to give marinated kebabs a go. And for the odd visitor at my new gaff, I was thinking about preparing some salmon tikka with cucumber yoghurt and naan. Hot and sour rhubarb and crispy pork with noodles will definitely go on my list as well.

For the upcoming skiing trip I will prepare a three-course menu. For starters, there will be an Indian carrot and lentil soup with yoghurt and naan. For main course, I will prepare a beef tagine with couscous (and probably some salad as well) and for desert I will make a pineapple curd with vanilla mousse and chocolate shavings. The first and the last recipes have been tested and deemed delicious, but I can only hope that the main course will live up to my expectations, too. I don't think I will try out the tagine before the trip, though. There always needs to be an element of surprise in every menu.

I am apparently thinking about opening the running season soon, judging by the fact that I bought a new pair of trainers today. It was a perfect day for shopping, warm but cloudy, so I wandered round my neighbourhood and had a look around. I seem to be in a strange state of indetermination at the moment. I want to be in Berlin and enjoy this post-thesis freedom by exploring all the places I haven't yet been to, but on the other hand I also want to fly to Finland already and see my friends and family, move in a bit and assemble my new bed, drive up north and have some fun skiing (not to mention eating and drinking, of course, although I hope I can do these things in moderation since I need to lose a few thesis pounds. Munching on Double Deckers does not equal healthy living for some completely unfair reason). Oh, and finish Dragon Age: Origins on dad's PS3.

I sent out a job application today. Probably asked for too much pay, but I have decided I'm not going to sell myself cheap. It is detrimental to myself and the profession in general. Here's hoping they will like me and take me on their list.

Hands Clean

2011-03-04T14:33:00.007+02:00

My crassula enjoying the sun and the clean windows

It's over, and by it I mean the incredibly frustrating couple of months of writing Gee-whizz n:o 2. Over or not, I still haven't managed to come down from the heights of annoyance that the writing process and handing in an unfinished work lifted me. I know exactly what the pitfalls of my thesis are, and I know how I could've fixed them, but I ran out of time. Then again, that is really no excuse, as it all comes down to time management and the fact that I really seem to be no good at it. I'm trying to think of this as a learning experience, but it's not working. I should've known better by now.

I think these feelings will blow over in a couple of days. The weather isn't really encouraging me to wallow in self-pity but is instead beckoning me to go out, explore, enjoy and make the most of my last three months here. I have a lot of east side to scout out, I need to visit Gärten der Welt once the spring is here, go to a couple of museums, visit Potsdam and start running (first need to buy a new pair of trainers, though). I also need to start looking for jobs. Have a list of agencies I will write to - hopefully they will have a need for translators at this time of year. I'm not really looking to start working full time for a couple of months still, not until I'm back to Finland and the summer holiday is over, but it would be nice to have a few clients and the odd commission to pay for my red wine, crackers and brie.

In an attempt to distance myself from the terror of being left alone with the remnants of my academic thinking and the memory of my thesis, I have rewarded myself with two films now. I went to see Black Swan and it was hauntingly beautiful and a true horror film for the adult taste. Natalie Portman has deserved all the awards they've given her for her role as Nina, and the cinematography is breathtaking at times. I didn't even recognise Winona Ryder as Beth, I hope this film means a comeback for her. The only downside was the melodramatic plot, but I forgive the storyline due to the film's otherwise balanced and enjoyable execution. The second film I saw was Another Year by Mike Leigh. Another beautiful film with heart and quiet wisdom. Not a very cheery film, though. The last minute of the film, a relentless close-up of Mary's (Lesley Manville) face while all sounds fade away was unforgiving, cruel and sad. I hope The King's Speech will be a more light-hearted experience.

I promise to start writing a bit more often now. Scout's honour.

Take Five

2011-02-07T01:08:00.005+02:00

A dear friend of mine is celebrating her five years of blogging by having an amazing giveaway (or a raffle, more like it), professional blogger stylie, and challenging people to list, quite appropriately, five important things in their lives. Here's my contribution. It's been a while since I last did one of these meme(-ish) things, feeling rusty.

1. Family and friends. This is a no-brainer, really, although in the end I don't think I let the affection show all that much, especially when it comes to my friends. I am a bit of loner in some respects and can go days or even weeks without any noticeable social life, which can easily be interpreted as not giving a toss. This is a shame, really, because I do enjoy the company of my friends and feel happy when I hear from them, and they are important to me no matter how detached I sometimes may appear.

2. Pertaining to what I just wrote, I need my peace and quiet. Actually, I often make jokes about this, for example, to my Argentinian friend. Knowing him as someone who's always looking for action and excitement, I often ask him to visit me in my neighbourhood and mingle among the grannies and mummies with me. The truth is I can't stand any continuous buzzing around me. I need my sleep, I need my quiet time, or I go from slightly testy to greatly irritated and on to incredibly vexed and frustrated quite fast. The fact that many people might find this hard to believe just goes to show how good I am at finding my zen.

3. Music and things aesthetic (since we seem to be listing things in pairs.) This one includes but is not limited to music, literature, visual arts and gardening as well as all cooking. Right at the moment, it feels like I don't have a lot of beauty in my life, but I plan to change that once this ~~bloody~~ thesis is finally finished.

4. Computer and the internet. I decided I shouldn't be too holier-than-thou with this list, which is why I wanted to add at least one material commodity on the list, too. I think I could live without a phone, I don't use it all that much, but honestly, I can't begin to imagine a life without my netbook (or some computer) and an internet connection. Nowadays, I plan most of my social life online, I send emails daily, I read the news online and take care of most of my everyday stuff (excluding shopping for food, although if I lived in Britain I might do that as well, who knows) on the information highway.

5. Black coffee and cherry yoghurt in the morning. One of the unknown ingredients of happiness, I assure you. How will I ever manage next June, when I'm back in Turku again and not even Lidl sells cherry yoghurt anymore? I will have to make do with just half the happiness then.
---------------------------------

This ~~bloody~~ G-whizz is driving me bonkers. It's all over the place, it has no focus, it's hopelessly overly ambitious and my attitude towards it is not helping the writing process one bit. 6,000 words to go, which is not that much to be honest, since I still have to write the actual analysis part (plus discussion/conclusion), but it feels like spending an eternity in hell.

I should try to concentrate on the bright side of life, really. Like the fact that my Cheltenham supervisor is coming to Berlin for the Berlinale and I'm meeting with her and an ex-GBZer/Cheltenham volunteer on Monday. And the best part: she's supplying me with Double Deckers, those delicious devil-spawn chocolaty goodies. Can't wait to get my fix.

Modern Way

2011-01-06T19:46:00.005+02:00

I paid a visit to Campus Nord today. More out of necessity than Neugier but the experience wasn't actually bad at all. I spent two hours between two shelves, going through books of theory and history of translation in English and auf Deutsch. I found all the must-haves such as Venuti's The Translation Studies Reader and Translator's Invisibility, Bassnett & Lefevere's Constructing Cultures and Lefevere's Translation, Rewriting and the Manipulation of Literary Fame. I guess it's about time I read some of them. I also discovered some gems previously unknown to me such as Kultur und Übersetzung - Methodologische Probleme des Kulturtransfers, which includes a delightful little article by David Horton entitled Describing intercultural transfer in literary translation: Alice in 'Wunderland' - and that's exactly what the doctor ordered.

I also ordered Sirkku Aaltonen's book on drama translation as an e-book - something I hadn't yet done before. It's a pity that my awesome Kindle wasn't posted to Finland in time for Christmas, otherwise I would've been able to test it now. The day included other technical peculiarities as well, such as lockers at the library (in Germany you're not allowed to take any bags or coats into the library proper, so you need to leave your things in the lockers in the foyer) which had no mechanical locks, only electronic ones. To open and close the lockers you needed to use your activated Mensa card (for those who don't know, Mensa (latin for table) is the German name for student cafeteria/food court). Very fancy.

A Year of Song Titles: Breathe

2011-01-04T22:10:00.006+02:00

I decided to follow Duussi's lead and will this year name my entries after song titles. Today's title is brought to you by The Prodigy, just because I'm beginning to feel slightly panicky about having again embarked on the mission of writing a thesis and need to remind myself of some of life's necessities. This time the thesis will be about translation - if for no other reason than wanting to do everything the wrong way round. I go to Germany to learn about Britain, so why shouldn't I take part in an interdisciplinary course just to write about translation. Simples. 20,000 words, two months - let's get crackin'.

Once again, it appears I have a fairly decent (broad) topic. My research will combine the typically German cultural transfer studies with ideas about the role of the translator as a mediator of cultures à la Venuti. The focus of analysis will be Ben Moor's More Trees to Climb and especially its first story/play Coelacanth, which I have already translated. I will have to write a few paragraphs on drama vs prose translation as well, and then let the concoction simmer under the influence of Mr Moor's delightful and wonderfully quirky storytelling. I'm not afraid of the final writing process, which I know will be rewarding and inspiring, but this whole starting to write business... now that's another story.

To try and bring some structure to my life, I drew up an Excel spreadsheet which records my progress. On the left you see the date. To the right you'll see how many words I have written, then how many words I still have to write and lastly the number of written words as a percentage of the target. Yes, this is how I spend my sad, lonely days - apart from blogging, of course. Yesterday I went for dinner and didn't write. But I did read a few pages of Interkultureller Transfer zwischen Deutschland und Großbritannien - Einführung in ein Forschungskonzept, so I'm excused.

2.1.2011	738	19262	3,69
3.1.2011	738	19262	3,69
4.1.2011	1025	18975	5,13

In more exciting news, I'm beginning to plan moving back to Finland. My wonderful parents have agreed to come and pick up some of my stuff by car at the end of May which means I will be back in Finland and Turku come next summer! Be prepared for a bacchanalia - there will be a number of reasons to celebrate in July.

GinG:CCinC: Travelling without moving

2010-11-15T00:19:00.012+02:00

I suppose it's to time cast a nostalgic glance to England now that I'm back in the terrorism-crazed capital of Germany where it's been raining almost non-stop since I arrived. Reichstag is closed to tourists due to a terrorism threat. Berliners don't seem to be too bothered about all this. Logically thinking, there isn't all that much that citizens can do except accept what's coming to them. So, in that vein, let's forget the whole unpleasantness for a moment and have a little photographic tour round selected English towns and cities.

The last couple of weeks in England included plenty of travelling to places old and new. After the Festival, my first stop was Oxford, conveniently located an hour and £10 return ticket away from Cheltenham. The day was sunny and warm, the town surreal. Think about it: people basically come to Oxford because the town has a university. The colleges are beautiful, the architecture is breathtaking, but still. Walking around Oxford is like visiting a university-themed Disneyland. On the Saturday I went there they even had a midday parade with strangely-clad proctors, students in subfusc and MA students in hoods parading down the cobblestone alleys. Looking at the queue outside Christchurch you would've thought the people were waiting to get on an amusement park ride, not into an old building. This is not to say I was in any way disappointed in the town, quite the contrary. Visiting Oxford was just a very unique experience.

Rad Cam, or Radcliffe Camera, is often mentioned as one of the most beautiful libraries in the world.

Following the Cherwell river will eventually bring you to the Thames, which also flows through Oxford. A lot of students in Oxford-themed clothes were having their daily exercise on the banks of the river.

The Museum of Natural History is an interesting place to visit. With a collection that is extensive yet not overwhelming, it's a fascinating attraction close to Broad Street.

A week after my Oxford visit I headed to Liverpool to meet a classmate from Berlin. First, I met up with Tobias in Birmingham and then continued to the Pool to see Emilis. The trip from Bham to Liverpool wasn't without its difficulties, and we ended up spending over an hour in a not-too-exiting town called Crewe where we unexpectedly had to change trains. Eventually we did manage to get to Liverpool - in first class, no less.

The Pool was very cool, it had the same rugged charm as Berlin. Lots of interesting architecture, too, which made me think of the New York of my imagination rather than any place in England. The Docks are well worth visiting, and the Scouse accent makes you smile. The night life has a lot to offer as well, if you're into that sort of thing.

Different aesthetics in perfect harmony at the Docs.

Stay up late, have a few lagers, ciders and ales and you're bound to feel a bit tired the next day.

The beginning of November brought the parents to England. After a day in Cheltenham, the Friday trip took me back to Oxford.
We found the oldest pub in Oxford, offering "an education in intoxication", but due to the popularity of that class, we had to find another place to enjoy lunch in.

This time Christchruch didn't have a mile-long queue, so we actually got in.

The journey back took almost an hour longer than scheduled. The weather was rainy and depressing, and no fireworks were to be seen due to low hanging clouds. However, we did witness some 5 November bonfires along the way.

The next day took us to Bath, an hour and two train trips away from Cheltenham. The weather had mostly cleared up, it was a crisp autumn day. The town was perty, it had lots of Regency architecture, enough of a modern flare to keep it interesting to contemporary tastes as well and an international atmosphere (well, we did visit a French bistro for some pinot noir, that is sort of international, not to mention Wagamama which is definitely international Asian cross kitchen, so there. Thanks to -A for having created such a hype about the restaurant. We tried it and deemed it worthy).
Bath had stolen the idea of Yann Arthus-Bertrand's Earth from Above exhibition - they even had a map of Britain that you could walk on! - that visited Helsinki a few years ago and set up an outdoors photogallery. As unoriginal as the exhibition may have been, it was fascinating seeing so many different sides to Britain.

On Sunday, I escorted my parents to Heathrow (plus helped carry my 20 kilos of books they had agreed to take to Finland for me) and then stayed in London for one night. The Piccadilly line was naturally closed due to some maintenance work, so it took me a while to get to the city centre and to my hotel near the British Museum. The hotel was nice (well as nice as you can probably get for 39 quid a night), included breakfast and close to practically everything, so I ended up having a wonderful stay, even though the room I had made me feel like I was sleeping in a corridor.
After having spent three months in Cheltenham, London felt very much alive. After checking in to my room I went exploring. Saw Harrods (rummaged the Christmas Wonderland for Christmas card holders with not much luck), walked through Hyde Park, went to Buckingham Palace, took a picture of Queen Victoria's statue, sashayed down to Soho, felt very metropolitan, then took pictures of the Trafalgar Square lions in the middle of the night. After that I realised London had made me sleepy.
Next morning, after a satisfying breakfast, I checked out and headed to the British Museum. I saw a mummified horsie, a part of a temple, a statue holding the whole museum up, an impressive skylight, Buddha statues, and a lot of bits and bobs in glass vitrines. From the British Museum I went to Covent Garden (for change I saw a performance of Eine kleine Nachtmusik that was actually interesting. It was something in this vein, but the performers weren't the same), from there to the Houses of Parliament (and of course the battery in my camera ran out just as I was trying to take a picture of the London Eye), Victoria station (bough a yaki soba from Wasabi, but wasn't as good as at Wagamama's), went to Harrods again, then to the Museum of Natural History (which was brilliant). Then had time for nothing more and had to return to Cheltenham.
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Edit. *slump* Writing a travel blog is horrid

GinG:CCinC: Literary Interlude

2010-10-22T21:26:00.020+03:00

Veni, vidi, vici. I went to The Times Cheltenham Literature Festival and ~~all~~ I got ~~was~~ this ~~lousy~~ rather cool T shirt. I also got one from The Times booth as well. Well, OK, I nicked it, but don't tell anyone. The Times were basically being cheap arrogant bastards and making me and a volunteer stand outside in the freezing cold in the middle of the week with iPads, so that we could sell online subscriptions to white-haired gents with canes and blue-haired ladies with white-haired husbands who had come to see Debo or somesuch monument of times past, only to be told that a) oh, but we read the Guardian or b) oh, we already get the paper version and we are a bit old-fashioned, aren't we dear. The Times lady ended up being really annoyed when we didn't sell millions of subscriptions. We did have a lot of fun solving The Times Crossword, now available as an iPad application, though.

Playing with iPad for 4 hours didn't make me want to get one. Frankly, I don't quite see what the ballyhoo is about. It's fun to play with, sure, but holding it for extended periods makes your arms tired. In addition, the touch screen doesn't seem to work properly if your hands are cold (take heed my Finnish readers) and like iTunes, the thing does what it pleases with your files and information without really consulting you first.

I survived the Festival, but with some mixed feelings. What I realised was that event managing is not something I want to do professionally. I get no satisfaction from the stress that putting an event together requires. There is no immediate reward, something is always bound to go wrong and you are dealing with artistic personalities which are, more often than not, destined to let you down on a personal and professional level. I can't quite grasp the satisfaction my colleagues were getting out of it, either. Looking at the testiness of the team and the numerous fits ending with tears of frustration, dare I say meltdowns, I was left quite perplexed as to what the members of the team were getting out of the experience.

Also the idea of a literature festival is still a bit foreign to me. In a nutshell, it is 140 000 people paying somewhere round £15 to hear a semi-famous/famous person talk for an hour, and nothing more. Somehow the more familiar idea of a book fair strikes a much more voluminous chord with me: at least you have the freedom of browsing countless exhibitors, looking at books you didn't necessarily know existed and seeing a talk if it happens to tickle your fancy. There's always an element of discovery and surprise at a Finnish book fair, which I found lacking at the densely-programmed English variant.

This is not to say I didn't enjoy some of the talks I saw. I was pleasantly surprised by Derren Brown's performance, he came across as very approachable and down-to-earth. He also really took the time to greet each and every person in his book signing queue and stood there shaking hands and dedicating books for nearly two hours. My copy was the last one he signed that evening.

Joyous were also some of the talks that didn't necessarily promise much but delivered much more than you could ever have hoped for. One such talk was by the architect Edward Hollis, whose book I had to buy merely because of his captivating presentation on the changes in how we perceive buildings and their meanings. In the book "Hollis follows thirteen buildings through time and space to reveal the hidden histories of the Parthenon and the Alhambra, Gloucester Cathedral and Ayasofya, Sans Souci and Notre Dame de Paris, and Malatesta's Tempio and Loreto, exploring too more recent landmarks, from Hulme's legendary crescents to the Berlin Wall and the fibreglass theme parks of Las Vegas." I can't wait to read this one. I'd also love to translate it.

I've let myself understand that English literature festivals are not as high-brow as, for instance, their German counterparts. Whereas German festivals are very erudite, even esoteric events with highly learnèd people practising self-indulgent academic wanking, the English festivals, and this is certainly true with Cheltenham, are more all-encompassing, diverse occasions with lots of room for children's events, oral traditions, cookery, plays et cetera. During the Festival, I witnessed Jan Blake and Tuup telling Jamaican folk tales in a dimly lit festival tent, I heard Matt Harvey perform some of his poetry with his disarming mixture of humour and depth. I also saw Ben Moor perform his one-man play "More Trees to Climb", met the author at the book signing and said I would like to translate his book. Mr Moor was a very good sport about it and told me to get in contact if I had any questions. Having translated 30 pages of his book, I find the process exhilarating and challenging at the same time: the text needs to flow as if it were spoken - it is a monologue after all - but still has to retain a certain literary cleverness inherent in the original text. After I finish the first story, I will see if anyone is interested in publishing the book.

And then there was Mr Fry. Quite deservedly sold-out, quite expertly filling the stage with his presence without any meddling from an interviewer, and delivering an hour-long soliloquy on his book The Fry Chronicles and his life as an actor/comedian just starting his career. He might well be the national treasure that the Guardian has dubbed him to be. The audience was mesmerised, the laughs were heartfelt. My only regret was that he was doing a very limited and short signing and there was no hope I was ever going to be able to get my copy signed, as I managed to inform S right after the event.

Imagine my surprise and sheer joy, then, when I found a copy of the The Fry Chronicles on my desk later that day, signed and dedicated to me. The team, having been aware how eagerly I had anticipated seeing Stephen Fry on stage and how long I had waited to get my hands on the book, had pulled a few strings and got the author to sign a copy for me in the Writer's Room area while he was waiting for his cue to go on stage. I didn't get to talk to Mr Fry in person, but I did see him in the Writer's room dabbling with his iPhone and having a coffee. I will have to make do and reminisce about that while I read the book.

There was Gok Wan with his 1000 screaming teen fans and body guard (the only one in the course of the entire Festival); there was the lush Nigella Lawson and her mile-long signing queue; there was Simon Pegg being photographed next to me as I was chomping away at my cheese platter on the last day; there was Ann Cleeves and Andrea Maria Schenkel; Arabella Weir being a bit weird; Peter Mandelson being a fairly charming Prince of Darkness; Jenny Éclair not quite living up to the expectations set by her visits to Just a Minute; there were interesting lectures on Canaletto, Caravaggio and Picasso; talks on Mahler by Norman Lebrecht and Chopin by Adam Zamoyski. There were also the visits to the Waterstone's tent from which I had trouble leaving without first buying something and which resulted in these notes on my mobile phone: read Chine Miéville, Guy Deutscher (Through the Language Glass), Lioner Shriver, House of Leaves. I am still feeling bad about the £10 special edition Necronomicon that got away.

Now it's off to new adventures. I will still work for the Festivals for three more weeks, then have a few days off and then return to Berlin. My visit to this country has been all too short but luckily I can always come back. I'm actually planning on volunteering for the Jazz Festival next spring, if they will have me. But let's not get ahead of ourselves. Before 17th November I will have visited Oxford (my plan for tomorrow), Liverpool (my plan for next weekend), London (my plan for when my parents come over in two weeks) and who knows where else. Bring it on!

GinG:CCinC: Taking on Birmingham

2010-10-03T18:50:00.009+03:00

I visited Birmingham. Wheeeeeeeeee! Shops! I didn't think I would actually miss the sight of a H&M but having for the past two months strolled up and down High Street from Primark to M&S and back again (with the occasional stop at TK Maxx), I was really starting to miss the familiarity of Hennes and Mauritz. I bought a scarf, just to pay tribute to the shop. Sad. Facepalmsad.

Birmingham was an excellent experience, though. My guide book told me next to nothing about the city, but the little I managed to see in the 7 hours I spent there did convince me of the lure Birmingham has. The city has quite a modern flair with only bits and bobs reminding people of the days of the Empire. My guidebook told me that, for instance, the polished visage of the canal area dates back only less than three decades.I met up with my class mate Tobias who's doing his internship with the Birmingham City Council and he kindly showed me around the city. We visited the City Museum with its collection of Preraphaelite paintings and a fantastic Steve McCurry retrospective in the Water Hall.

I also spotted with my little eye something beginning with an A. Antony Gormley. I haven't had the chance to see the Angel of the North yet (and, sadly, I don't think my travel budget/time will allow for a trip to Gateshead any time soon), so Iron Man will have to suffice for the time being.

From high culture to culture of another kind: a veritable hen party sauntered through the streets of B'ham much to the horror of several ardent New Street street preachers.

The perfect place to end the day was the Old Joint Stock, where my tour guide and I each had a pint of Honey Dew. The sweet taste was somewhat reminiscent of Austrian beers, which I personally don't find to be a bad thing at all. Had there been more time, we would certainly have given other varieties a go as well.

Next stop? Who knows, maybe Liverpool. If I make it through the Literature Festival alive, that is.

GinG:CCinC: Day to Day

2010-09-01T01:38:00.013+03:00

Minotaur and Hare, The Prom, Cheltenham

Every time I eat a Double Decker I feel slightly guilty, because it's like I'm indulging myself in a sinful, wrong, violent drama of gorging on a delicious devil child spawned by the unholy marriage of a Lion bar and Mars bar. Cadbury has a devil put aside for me.
The beauty of Cheltenham is hard to capture on digital film. It is a beautiful town, but its allure makes sense only as a whole - it becomes more than the sum of its parts. I plan to climb up the surrounding hills and take a photo of the town from above. I believe it will make a nice picture.
Today I managed to utter a half-decent fine-thanks-and-how-are-you. It came out semi-automatically, not without a trace of conscious effort but still easily enough for me to let it pass as a successful pleasantry. I'm getting there.
I'm hooked on the strangest shows, but I blame the times I actually manage to watch TV. When I get up in the morning and trickle down the stairs to the basement and my kitchen, Ultimate Big Brother is on. The last ever BB series in the UK features some of the most memorable housemates from previous years. I only recognise Brian, who won the only series of UK BB that they showed in Finland. The runner-up that year was Jade Goody, who, as you of course remember, died of cancer last year. When I get home, on a bad day I follow the Weakest Link, on a good day it's Restoration Road Show. Those battered, old family heirlooms, dusty coats of arms, beheaded porcelain figurines and stapled-together pieces of crown pottery make me all happy inside. QI makes me happy as well, because after I get up to my room, I can watch all the episodes I want on Youtube. And as I'm in the UK, I can also watch Grand Designs Channel 4 VoD (In this show, nothing is normal and everything's absolutely outrageous. Even when you think they have normal construction project coming up, they suddenly decide to build everything five stories below ground level, make a house look like a gothic mansion or use £2000 on a single water tap just because it's apparently what they have always wanted). On ~~Wednesday~~ Tuesday, This Is England '86 starts. If you haven't seen the original film, you can watch it here. It's a brilliant movie, well worth seeing and highly recommendable!
Simon Pegg is coming to the festival. Joy. I also only recently realised who Dawn French ("They have come up with a brand new low-fat communion wafer... They've called it I can't believe it's not Jesus" LOLZ) Carol Klein and Phil Jupitus are. Exciting guests we'll be having.

Deep Fry'd

2010-08-23T20:06:00.004+03:00

I think I promised Sari I'd post this, so here it is. The text hasn't been proofread, so if you find a mistake, pat yourself on the back and gloat over my failure - I really can't be bothered to do anything about it. I didn't feel good writing this paper, but in the end it turned out all right. I guess. The font is 'Georgia'. How fitting...

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Stephen Fry’s autobiography Moab Is My Washpot was published in 1997. It covers approximately the first twenty years of the author’s life and focuses on his school years, development into a juvenile delinquent and redemption from that life through a period of incarceration and subsequent admittance to Cambridge.

One of the most striking features of the autobiography is Fry’s use of language and his self-professed self-awareness. Recounting a passage of his semi-autobiographical novel The Liar, Fry writes: “…I felt a twinge of guilt that I could be so cavalier, so casually sophisticated and so knowing about my former self and the acuteness of my feeling and the depth of my confusion” (p. 285). A mixture of simultaneous involvement and detachment characterises the whole of Moab. Fry’s harshness towards his narrated I, his overwhelming verbosity and his emotional investment result in the narrated I becoming very much Fry-of-1997’s construction rather than a period depiction of Fry’s former self.

Taking into account the names of the main sections of the book – ‘Joining In’; ‘Falling In’; ‘Breaking Out’ – Fry’s approach to his early life can be examined orientationally through an in–out directionality. This view on his life can reasonably be argued to have been constructed with the advantage of hindsight. To borrow a typical conceptualisation from cognitive metaphor theory, if we assume that life is metaphorically a type of container as the ‘falling in’ and ‘breaking out’ of something seem to suggest, only a person’s life experiences can have given form to the boundaries of that container. Determining the borders of his life in this manner gives Fry the possibility to “fill” the container with appropriate meaning. This manifests itself in how the life story is written, what choices and possibilities Fry understands as being relevant to his life.

In the following, Fry’s orientational outlook will be taken into consideration as his relationship with his former self is explored: the interpretational possibilities of the sections of the book will be examined with regard to the narrator and his relation to the narrated I. Analysing the autobiography in this manner will help to understand how the author makes sense of his life and what meaning he gives to different passages of his childhood and youth. After the analysis of the main sections of the book, some conclusions will be drawn from the material presented.

2 Position and orientation – examining direction in life

2.1 Joining In

The first part of Fry’s book deals with his early days in preparatory school. At first glance, ‘joining in’ simply refers to the event of the author starting school and interacting with his peers, but closer examination also reveals other possible interpretations.

Born in 1957 into a family that bordered on the “upper” class, Fry joins in on the life dictated by the social status of his family. As Fry puts it, in his youth the “demand for private education [was] so high that children [had to] be put down for admission not at birth but in utero, ideally before the first cells [had] divided” (p. 14). This notion of predetermined ‘joining in’ is not the experience of the young schoolboy, but the idea of the narrator born out of his experiences and put to paper as an adult. Fry claims that “a child of seven does not question such a circumstance: it is the way of the world” (p. 17).

Although the participation in society through the preparatory school system is seen as an imposition, the starting point of Fry’s education also becomes the starting point of his agency, and only passing remarks are made about any events dating back to years prior to those in preparatory school. However, Fry does not consider the emergence of his agency a success. Even though Fry joins in, he often feels that he does not fit in: his biology assignments do not get the recognition he thinks they deserve; witnessing the evanescent nature of life creates in him the “urge not to be” (p. 53); he does not learn to swim like his school friends, his physical awkwardness deters him from sport; and trying to avoid a well-deserved punishment, he lies and plays upon the admiration of his friend. For Fry, joining in does not equal belonging.

Agency and joining in on the life that has been decided for him also bring with them the seeds of Fry’s later dishonour in the form of stealing and lying. The reasons for this development are never really explained. If anything, Fry-the-author only blames his young for his actions, although between the lines one can read about a troubled relationship with the parents that might have influenced some of Fry’s behaviour. With the advantage of hindsight, in Fry’s life, ‘joining in’ becomes to mean adhering to a deterministic course in life, with the events of early school years projecting their influence on the future.

2.2 Falling In

‘Falling in’ assumes a double meaning in the second section of the autobiography. It refers to the Fry’s obvious falling in love with “Matthew”, the little brother of one of his schoolmates, but also to the collapse of his previously secure life in his school in Uppingham.

In the text, Fry’s homosexuality never emerges as a big issue or, rather, its minor importance is spelled out so fervently that the reader actually thinks it to be a bigger issue than Fry leads one to believe. It is presented more or less as a given to young Fry, who lives his life in an all-male environment, where homosexual acts are commonplace. Fry’s attitude towards his sexuality becomes problematic only when he falls in love and realises the difference between the accepted physical attraction prevalent in Uppingham and his own romantic feelings, the emotional turmoil, he experiences towards Matthew. In Fry’s words, “knowing I was homosexual was one thing, disentangling its meaning (both its perceived cultural meaning and the real meaning it was to have to me) was very difficult” (p. 257). Although Fry acknowledges the sexual dimension of his “queerness”, to him homosexuality is first and foremost an emotional experience. ‘Falling in’ happens body and soul and marks an important period in Fry’s life, one that he at the time documented in his poems and one that he afterwards returned to in his novel, The Liar.

At the end of “Falling in”, fifteen-year-old Fry and his friend decide to spend four days in various London cinemas watching Cabaret, The Clockwork Orange and The Godfather over and over again instead of going to a meeting of the Sherlock Holmes Society like they are supposed to. This insolence results in Fry being expelled from Uppingham and begins Fry’s downward spiral. Fry sees in this act, in its medium and the selection of films, a subconscious cry for help: films about decadence, ruin and undoing are combined with an escapist vehicle. Interestingly, the figure of Fry’s father is also mentioned in connection with this episode. Fry wonders how his father “saw the urge to self-destruct, but […] did not choose to examine the weapon” (p. 355) his son had selected and how he failed to address the incident on a personal level, repressedly dubbing it a “sorry business”.

2.3 Breaking Out

The last longer section of the book concentrates on Fry’s escape from his set ways and his realisation of his condition through a dramatic turning points in his life: his attempted suicide, fraud and his eventual imprisonment. The ‘falling in’ of the previous section leads Fry to make an false attempt at turning his life round, to become heterosexual and to study and work his way out of ‘that phase’ in his life. Fry confines himself in a prison of his own making in trying to deny who he is and also what he will be. He is distressed about the fact that the passion he feels as a young man will eventually die out and be replaced by adulthood, which he sees as filled with falsities and hypocrisy. Because of this attitude combined with the problematic relationship with his father Fry is driven to attempt suicide, which fails but leaves the young man in search of himself, to ‘break out’ of the situation he has created for himself.

The heading of the section is ironic with regard to its content. The section combines the idea of freedom and success with the depiction of Fry’s personal low points and subsequent incarceration. However, from where Fry is standing as a narrator, the particular passage in his life becomes to signify his redemption and the beginning of his success story, a chance to separate his old self from his renewed self.

Judging by the way Fry tells the story of his capture after a series of thefts and frauds which follow his suicide attempt, the principal feeling of getting caught by the police is relief: “I was so happy, so blissfully, radiantly, wildly happy that if I could have sung I would have sung. If I could have danced I would have danced. I was free. […] I was going on a journey now where every decision would be taken for me […] I was going back to school” (p. 401). Interestingly, what this passage reveals is not at all a figure of full agency. Fry’s idea of prison connects with the concept of school, both of them being institutions where directions come from above and external authority dictates his life. Despite all the rebellion Fry has shown during his school years, at this stage, he finds school a place of happy complaisance and conformity, a place where the burden of responsibility cannot touch him. Fry breaks out of his self-made cage by getting caught and becoming a convicted criminal in a real prison. This event also becomes to mark another kind of breakout, a great success story following the disappointments he has faced before, for his experiences in prison encourage him to finish his A levels and take Cambridge Entrance with the result of being admitted to the course.

3 Conclusion

Moab Is My Washpot presents a grown-up and mature account of young Fry’s life. The verbal acrobatics the author practises alone go to show that Fry has given his life a lot of thought and that the text is supposed to present the reader with a more considered and contemplated life story than that freshly experienced by the narrated I. Although the autobiography describes the development in the life of young Fry, the author’s view of himself is also markedly discontinuous.

In his teenage furore, fifteen-year-old Fry writes a letter to his future self saying “What I am now is me, what I will be is a lie.”(p. 361). Young Fry is also painfully aware of the changes of adulthood: “I knew that the past was a foreign country, and knew too that is followed logically that the future must be abroad; in other words I knew that it was my destiny to become a foreigner, a stranger to myself” (ibid.). According to the embarrassed and sometimes condescending comments of the writer, this is exactly what happened, “precisely what [his] fifteen-year-old self dreaded and predicted would become of [him]” (p. 368). In many passages, the two Frys seem to be strangers to one another. Younger Fry detests his future self for his presumed failure to maintain the passion the youth feels, and older Fry seldom sees little more than a “self-righteous little prig” (p. 377) when looking back on his former self. Nevertheless, the picture that the author conveys of his former self is a strong one. It may well be that the relationship of Fry older to Fry younger is still too intimate to be examined closely.

The relationship is also often apologetic. When writing about his sexuality Fry is aware that he may be “protesting too much”, trying convey a message about love’s triumph over sex. The same contrite voice is heard with regard to his parents, and especially his father: Fry makes his father out to be a model parent even though there is obvious friction in their relationship.

The topmost feeling the author has towards his past is mortification: “[…] I am weeping as I write this. I am weeping for the shame, for the loss, the cruelty, the madness and again for the shame, and the shame, and the shame” (p. 397). To Fry, the medium of autobiography is a means of cleansing, a washpot for his past Moabite sins of pride and arrogance. Throughout the book, the emphasis remains on the wrongfulness of young Fry’s actions, but little attention is ever paid to the reasons behind them. Therefore, it can be argued that the book lacks certain honesty, or that it conveys a partial truth of someone who is highly ashamed of his past. Rather than trying to understand his younger self and explaining his actions, Fry-the-author often condemns the actions of Fry-the-child and Fry-the-youth as same childishness, rudeness and insolence, plays them down with his adult, redeemed authority.

The manner in which Fry presents his early years still shows a clear developmental arch in his life, from the pickpocketting as a little schoolboy up to the credit card fraud of his late teens, which makes one want to look for instigative factors in Fry’s life. The problem is that the question of where this development stems from is never addressed. Fry’s position becomes god-like in how he deals judgment on his former self without any conception of relatively, his views are based on seemingly absolute notions of good and bad. This attitude is fitting considering the biblical reference in the title of the autobiography, although the author may not have intended it to be read that way. In the Bible, God brings low the nation of Moab due to her arrogance and haughtiness but also promises to restore her glory in the future. This promise rings true for Fry considering his later life as one of Britain’s most famous actors and personalities.

In the end – despite Fry’s rambling writing style, vast knowledge and delightful humour – the autobiography renders a rather one-sided picture of Fry’s early years. The in-and-out, there-and-back-again story line is something of an over-simplification when talking about a complex character, whose later years have included fighting a bi-polar disorder, a condition that must have manifested itself already both in the “exuberance” noted by Fry’s teachers as well as his early depressive tendencies. Then again, for Fry, the autobiography probably does exactly what it is supposed to: it captures the guilt and the shame the author feels about his childhood and youth and purges him of them.

Garrulity in Gloucestershire: Chattering Chap in Cheltenham

2010-08-18T23:30:00.017+03:00

It's been awhile then, hasn't it? I know, it's been terribly long, and I do apologise, but the truth of the matter is that this not-living-your-everyday-life life is hard to document in blog form. To me, the joy of blogging has always been in finding the unexpected in the state of normalcy, but this life I'm living now has nothing to do with normal. When every day is an adventure of some scale, writing about it trivialises the experience. However, now that I have once more turned a new leaf in my life and moved to England, I thought I'd share a piece of my life again. This is Cheltenham, come in Finland.

I flew to the UK almost two weeks ago. Had to make an overnight landing in Berlin, but got to Bristol on Thursday 5 August. I had decided to spend a day there, as I'm trying to make the most of my experience here, and Bristol seemed as good a place as any to start my familiarisation with the British Isles. The mostly Georgian city was nice enough, but would've been even nicer with some company and perhaps some more time. I also didn't know what to see there, so I spent most of my Friday just wandering round aimlessly. At least I burnt some calories. Blimey, the city is hilly.
Had to stop to eat of course. I treated myself to a Cornish pasty filled with Stilton and something. As far as I'm concerned, Stilton is the operative word, I mean what else do you honestly need.
I found a suspension bridge in Clifton. Yay me! (Not that it was all that hard to spot.)
Unfortunately, some others had apparently found the same bridge before me causing the Samaritans to take action. I considered ringing them, just to have a chat about my upcoming stay in Britain, but then thought they might not be all that interested in hearing about that.
The Clifton Bridge offered a nice view over parts of the city.

I felt quite at home at the harbour. How very Åboriginal of me.

I'd like to be able to say that I have tons of pictures from Cheltenham, but I haven't - not yet. I arrived here on Saturday 7 August and was picked from at the train station by André, the husband unit of the married couple who are letting one of their rooms to me. I have my own spacious chamber on the third floor of their house, a separate bathroom one flight of stairs down and a fully equipped kitchen in the basement, behind the window of which two kitties meow at me every morning and stare at me accusingly, as I gobble up my Tesco cereal.

At 8.40 am I crawl out of the basement and embark on a 20 minute walk to the Cheltenham Festivals offices. The job's been quite fun so far, but I have to say I hate communicating over the telephone as I've been forced to do due to some quote requests I've been sending out. I'm nearly completely unskilled in all the little pleasantries that are so crucial to carrying out a polite telephone conversation. You wouldn't believe how hard it is to utter the standard "Hello, and how are you? -- I'm very well thank you". I feel absolutely gutted every time I end a phone call, no matter how much I try to tell myself that it's all part of a learning process. Sod it, I should know this stuff already! I feel slightly panicky that I'm only staying here for three months. What can I ever learn in such a short time?

Well, that said, here's what I've learnt in a week and a half:

British coins sound rather prestigious when jingling in your pocket. Their sound is very different from the euro coins.
~~British~~ English people do say sorry a lot, Kate Fox was right.
Just by looking at parked cars, it is absolutely impossible to determine the direction of traffic, because every other car is facing the "wrong" way on both sides of the street. This is sure to make your head spin, especially if you can't get your brain to accept the fact that
Britain has left-hand traffic. Left. Left, I say. Not right, but left. It means that cars drive on the left. That is not right, in both senses of the word, except the Brits seem to think it's quite all right. Left, learn it or die.
British society has a lot of delightful idiosyncrasies, although I can't name any examples right now. I just know I've been chuckling over them every now and then.

I'm looking forward to the literature festival which will take place from 8 to 17 October. I'm part of a team organising a massive event and perhaps get to meet people such as Alistair Darling, Stephen Fry, Michael Caine (or is that Sir Michael?) Guillermo del Toro, Stephen Sondheim, Stephen Hawking, Jo Brand, Graham Norton, Nigella Lawson, Michael Frayn, Salman Rushdie, Hanif Kureishi, Gok Wan, Jostein Gaarder, Armstrong & Miller, Audrey Niffenegger, Kim Cattrall (she's from Liverpool, who knew?) and so on and so forth. I hear it's going to be intense, but a lot of fun.

In other news I am now officially a Master of Sorts. Or was it Arts. The ex-Prof expects me to choose an academic career and start writing my doctoral thesis but let's not get carried away. The future holds what it will, we'll see it all in good time.

Sir Paul Lever

2010-04-14T18:36:00.006+03:00

Kokouksen jälkeen Sir Paul Lever, Britannian entinen Saksan suurlähettiläs, tuli juttelemaan ja sanoi: "Hyvää päivää. Miksi tulit tänne opiskelemaan?... Mitä? Etkö ole tosiaan asunut Englannissa? Sinulla ei ole puheessa mitään korostusta."

Olin otettu. Ikävää tapauksessa oli, että puhuin hetken huonompaa suomea kuin Sir Paul, joka 60-luvulla oli suurlähettiläänä myös Suomessa. Tuona myyttisenä aikakautena n. 25 kansanedustajaa puhui englantia, näin loihe lausumaan Sir Paul.

Nykyään hän on kuulemma unohtanut suomen kielen jo ihan kokonaan. Taisi olla sitä kuuluisaa brittiläistä vähättelyä.

Quatsch am Ku'Damm 6

2010-04-13T22:26:00.003+03:00

Vihreys on palannut puihin, minä Berliiniin. Masentavanharmaa maisema on kääntynyt kevääseen, minä kääntänyt ajatukseni lenkkipoluille, Charlottenburgin puistoon. Mietin kulttuuria ja minää, populaarikulttuurin syntyä, lakia ja kirjallisuutta, median vaikutusta yhteiskunnassa, joitakin aatoksia mainitakseni. Joukko on pienentynyt, tiivistynyt, muuttunut kenties ehommaksi.

Seinän takana mummo osoittaa elonmerkkejä ensimmäistä kertaa sitten viime syksyn, lienee hänetkin otettu talviteloilta. Little Richard rääkyy jo toista päivää hävyttömyyksiä, jotka tähän päivään siirrettynä kuuluisivat epäilemättä jonkun gansta-räppärin suusta. Lucille taitaa ainakin tehdä pikku Rikulle namia. Joku Molly myös, neiti-ihminen vielä.

Huomenna Neue Nationalgaleriessa olisi Bachin hyvin viritettyä klaveeria breakdancella höystettynä. Viikonloppuna taas taitaisi olla mahdollisuus piipahtaa Leipzigissa tai Dresdenissä, vaan mahdankohan lähteä.

Kaupunki on herännyt eloon pitkän talven jälkeen. Niin ehkä tämä blogikin.

p.s.
Gee-whizz palautettiin esitarkastukseen maaliskuun lopulla. Joskus palaset tosiaan loksahtavat kohdalleen.

Quatsch am Ku'Damm / 5

2009-11-03T21:05:00.005+02:00

On hieman vaikeaa saada kiinni mistään yhdestä ajatuksesta, niin että sen voisi jakaa kaikelle kansalle. Siinä suurin syy pitkään vaitioloon. Kaikki on kuitenkin ihan hyvin: opiskelu etenee kovaa vauhtia (pitäähän 120 ectsiä saada kokoon reilussa vuodessa) ja hauskaakin on, mutta tämän opiskelu/oleskelukokemuksen kirjaaminen kokonaisuudessaan tuntuu jotenkin mahdottomalta, semminkin kun joka päivä tuo eteen uusia asioita. Seuraavassa kuitenkin joitain mietteitä.

1) Haluaisin kovasti löytää Berliinistä "oman paikkani". Yleensä kaupungissa asustelijoilla on jokin paikka, jonne he haluavat mennä mielellään, joka puhuttelee jollain henkilökohtaisella tasolla (esim. Aurajoen ranta, turkulaisen esimerkin mainitakseni). En ole löytänyt sitä vielä Berliinistä, vaikka tarjontaa varmasti on. Sen sijaan elän edelleen "honeymoon"-jaksoa ja innostun oikeastaan kaikesta uudesta, mitä näen. Pari päivää sitten valitsin uuden kävelyreitin E-R-Platzilta kotiin ja eksyin Brot & Butter -nimisen herkkukaupan kautta kirjakauppaan ja sieltä edelleen pikku kujalle, jolta löytyi kutsuvia kahviloita. Olin yhtä hymyä. Tiedän, että Prenzlauerbergistä löytyisi kaikenlaista mielenkiintoista. Neuköln ja Kreuzberg (sekä näiden liitosta syntynyt Kreuzköln) tarjoaisivat nyky-Berliinin muodikkainta puolta. Mutta en tiedä, mistä aloittaisin. Turistinähtäyyksistäkin on vielä aika paljon näkemättä.

2) Kävin Dalí-näyttelyssä, joka oli mieltäylentävä. Kuuluisat maalaukset loistivat poissaolollaan, mutta näyttelyn kahdesta kerroksesta löytyi niin veistoksia, luonnoksia, kuvituksia, puvustussuunnitelmia, elokuvaa kuin litografioitakin, sekä Dalín K. Palsamainen puoli Liisa Ihmemaassa -tematiikalla höystettynä.

3) Joulu alkoi Aldissa syyskuussa. Viime viikolla Potsdamer Platzille pystytettiin Winterland (joka ei siis ole aivan perinteinen joulumarkkina, mutta aika lähellä kuitenkin). Hieman aikaista on mielestäni. Virallisesti (vanhanajan) joulumarkkinat taitavat alkaa parin viikon päästä. Tarkoituksena olisi tuolloin tarkastaa ainakin Gendarmenmarkt (koska se on aivan opiskelupaikkamme vieressä) ja Charlottenburgin linnan omat markkinat (siellä ei vielä käyty viime vuonna) sekä punaisen raatihuoneen tarjonta Nikolaivertelin läheisyydessä. Kummallista ajatella, että joulu on jo aika pian: se tarkoittaa, että olen asunut täällä kohta neljä kuukautta.

4) Mistä pääsemmekin siihen, etten millään opi saksaa tällä menolla. Kuullun ymmärtäminen kyllä varmaankin kehittyy (tosin sitä on aika vaikea konkreettisesti huomata), mutta puhumaan en pääse oikeastaan kuin kaupoissa ja ravintoloissa. Osallistun B2.2.-tasoiselle kielioppikurssille skottilaisen Shirleyn kanssa, mutta muuten en saksaa juuri käytä. Olen yrittänyt itseopiskelua (lehtien lukua jne), mutta säännöllinen saksan opiskelu ei ota luonnistuakseen muun opiskelun ohessa. MBS tuottaa niin paljon lukemista ja tehtävien tekoa, ettei pahemmin enää huvita omalla ajalla päntätä saksaa. Schade. Tai ehkä sittenkin Scheiße.

5) On ikävä D:n Academic Writingia. Ei saa nauraa. Ikävä siksi, että tällä hetkellä samaista kurssia opettaa saksalainen J, joka käy hermoille. En tykkää, eikä tykkää moni muukaan. Niin moni asia on pielessä siinä kurssissa etten viitsi edes tässä luetella. Pahoin pelkään, etten tule saamaan kurssista mitenkään mahtavaa arvosanaa, eikä vika ole siinä, ettenkö osaisi akateemisen kirjoittamisen konventioita. Joskus jurppii oikein kunnolla.

6) Huomenna Berliinin English Theatreen. Ohjelmassa Allan Bennettin Talking Heads, jota on luonnehdittu Exberlinerissä, Berliinin englanninkielisessä lehdessä, mm. seuraavasti: "It's fucking, fucking,fucking, fucking, fucking, fucking brilliant!" Hmm, uskoisin että luvassa on komedia.

Näihin tunnelmiin.
_____

edit: lisäsin blogilistaani kanadalaisen kurssitoverini, anosmikko (mikähän on oikea muoto?) Sam Tomanin ammatimaisella otteella kirjoittaman blogin Make It Rain in Ukraine (nimestä huolimatta Sam käsittelee nykyään saksalaisia teemoja).

Das Riesenspektakel

2009-10-03T20:39:00.006+03:00

-Seuraavaksi haluat varmaan yhden Rieseneistäni?
-Haluan!

Tämä(kin) tyhmä vitsi on kiertänyt päässäni koko päivän, joten oli jo aikakin päästää se ihmisten ilmoille. Tällaista oli luvassa tänään, kun vietettiin Tag der deutschen Einheitia eli Saksojen yhdistymisen vuosipäivää. Sukeltajajätti, joka on kierrellyt Alexanderplatzin alueella ja sukellellut Spreessä viimeiset päivät veljen/siskontytärtään etsien, löysi kadonneen lapsen vihdoin Straße des 17. Junilta (eli käytännössä Brandenburger Torin edestä). Jätti ja pikkujätti kävelivät toisiaan kohti yleisömeren halki ja jatkavat huomenna uusiin seikkailuihin.

Marionettispektaakkelista vastasi ranskalainen teatteriryhmä Royal de Luxe. Ohjaus Jean Luc Courcoult. Lisää kuvia naamakirjassa ja Arten tuottama mainospläjäys tämän linkin takana.

Quatsch am Ku'Damm / 4

2009-09-15T16:30:00.004+03:00

Huomioita Saksasta ja saksalaisista vol. 1

- En tiedä mikä mättää, mutta saksalaisten Krautiin ei tunnu istuvan ajatus useammasta etunimestä. Ehkä kyse on kulttuurien eroista ja siitä, ettei tiedetä, miten nimet muodostuvat suomen kielessä, mutta olen jo useasti saanut vääntää kättä esim siitä, etten välttämättä halua vaikka kirjeisiin muuta nimeä kuin TR:n (enkä siis TTR:ää)

- Katujen kaupparivistöt muodostuvat täällä samaan tapaan kuin tavaralaarit esim. suomalaisille tutussa Lidlissä. Toisin sanoen, siinä missä Lidlissä voi löytää mausteiden vierestä sukkia, omenoiden vierestä kirveitä ja sipsien kyljestä jalkalamppuja, saksalaisilla kaduilla voi löytää rautakaupan ravintolan vierestä tai homobaarin Jehovan todistajien valtakunnansalin ja CDU:n vaalitoimiston välistä. Suomalainen on tottunut toisenlaiseen järjestelmällisyyteen: suomalainen tapa on ryhmitellä samantyyppisiä asioita omiksi alueikseen (vrt. esim. Itäharjun tai Myllyn ympäristön myymälät). Kaupat ovat aina hyvin johdonmukaisesti järjesteltyjä ja haluamansa tavaran löytää useimmiten hakeutumalla samantyyppisten asioiden luo. Vaan yritäpä samaa Saksan maalla ja tulet hulluksi. Täällä täytyy kaupoissa asioidessa yrittää oppia ihan uusi ajattelutapa.

- Jumankauta näitä senttejä! Mistä niitä oikein sikiää?! Niin paljon kuin olenkin ihastunut hintatasoon, en yhtään innostu senttien ja kaksisenttisten kanssa pelaamisesta. Saksalaiset sen sijaan ottavat lunkisti. Täällä eivät ainoastaan mummot tyhjennä kolikkopussukoitaan kauppojen kassoilla, vaan kolikkokasan kippaaminen tiskille on jokamiehenoikeus, joka ei katso aikaa eikä paikkaa. Kassalla saattaa olla vuoden pisin jono, mutta se ei maksajaa haittaa, vaan hän tyhjentää kilisevänsä tyynesti tätä tarkoitusta varten suunniteltuun kuppiin ja antaa kassan tehdä työnsä. Muut jonossa olijat (minua lukuunottamatta) eivät kyräile tai huokaile, vaan odottavat rauhallisesti omaa vuoroaan päästä suorittamaan sama rituaali.

- Kun minä sanon "hallo", muut sanovat "guten Tag". Kun minä sanon "guten Tag", muut vastaavat "hallo". Seuraavaksi kokeilen järjestelmällisesti vaihtoehtoa "hallo, guten Tag". Ha! Siitäpähän saavat.

- Politiikka tuntuu kiinnostavalta, kun sille luodaan komeat puitteet. Katselin ihan mielenkiinnosta CDU:n Angela Merkelin ja SPD:n Frank-Walter Steinmeierin vaalidebattia ja olin ihan täpinöissäni, koska tunnelma oli niin kihelmöivä. Väittelyn säännöt oli lainattu USA:n presidentinvaaleista ja keskustelussa tunnuttiin pääsevän puhumaan ihan asiaakin, toisin kuin monissa kotimaisissa vaaliohjelmissa. Das TV-Duellin hehkutus tosin toi mieleen pikemminkin Big Brotherin häätöäänestyksen kuin vaaliohjelman (backstagella esiteltiin mm. ruokia, joita väittelypaikalla tarjoiltiin), mutta se menköön viihteen piikkiin. Paikalla oli muistaakseni yli 600 toimittajaa. Ei vähä mitään.

Tulipa kyhättyä hieman aggressiivinen postaus. Johtuu kyllä vain pelkästään siitä, että on vähän nälkä. Taidanpa nauttia Würstchenin sekä vähän salaattia, mahdollisesti jopa Berliner Kindlin.

Quatsch am Ku'Damm / 3

2009-09-06T14:21:00.047+03:00

Tervetuloa, astukaa peremmälle ja riisukaa kengät jalasta. Luvassa on pieni kierros asunnossani (joka vielä odottaa joitakin kalusteita) sekä sen lähiympäristössä (kengät mieluusti takaisin jalkaan). Käväisemme myös yliopistolla. Luvassa kuvia parin viikon ajalta.

Liihottelin Berliiniin lauantaina 22.8. Ajatella, kaksi viikkoa jo takana. AirBerlinistä ei ole pahaa sanottavaa; tarjoilukin oli samaa luokkaa kuin Finnairilla (matkan hintaan kuului siis sämpylä, kahvia ja virvokkeita, lukuunottamatta väkeviä viinoja).

Hyppäämme ajassa noin viikon eteenpäin ja päädymme Schlüterstraßelle. Astumme sisään viidennen kerroksen ovesta ja saavumme eteiseen, josta löytyy sisäänastuttava vaatekomero.

Vaatetilaa ei kuitenkaan ole ihan tarpeeksi, joten hankintaan tulee vielä vaatekaappi, joka sijoitetaan asuinhuoneen seinustalle. Tältä huoneessa näyttää tällä hetkellä:

Tilaa on vielä toistaiseksi. Hankittavaksi on suunniteltu:
- iso matto (luultavasti valkoinen tai musta)
- jo mainittu vaatekaappi (joka löytää tiensä hyväntekijäni vierasasuntoon, kunhan muutto pois täältä joskus koittaa)
- mahdollisesti työpöytä ja tuoli
- verhot

Asuinhuoneesta on, kuten kuvasta näkyy, yhteys valoisaan keittiöön. Keittiö ei ole järin suuri, mutta kuitenkin tarpeeksi tilava, niin että oven viereen saanee mahdutettua kapean pöydän ja baarijakkaran aamiaiskattausta varten. Kummalista kyllä, vetolaatikoita ei tässä keittiössä ole, aterimet löytyvät kaapista.

Lainatavaroilla eletään, kuten olen jo maininnutkin. Kyseessä on iso apu, sillä minun ei ole tarvinnut hankkia kattiloita, aterimia, lautasia tai laseja. Pari pannua sen sijaan ostin, samoin kuvassa näkyvää muovitavaraa, sekä 29 euroa maksaneen kodinkonesetin, johon kuului leivänpaahdin, kahvinkeitin ja vedenkeitin (viimeksi mainitun lahjoitin hra M:lle.)

Asuntoon kuuluu pieni parveke, joka ei ainakaan vielä näyttäydy edukseen (ankeassa muovilaatikossa kasvaa muutama maksaruohon haituva). Maisema on sen sijaan ihan mukiinmenevä, joskin kärsii hieman D-syndroomasta (in Turku, you either live in a nice house with a view of an ugly building, or vice versa): kadun ainoa uusi talo on suoraan omaani vastapäätä.

Nyt pienelle retkelle lähimmaastoon: Alue on täynnä ruokapaikkoja, ja varsinkin lähistöllä oleva Savignyplatz on kuuluisa ravintoloistaan. Omalta kadunpätkältäni löytyy ainakin sushiravintola, italialainen sekä Union Jack -niminen viskipubi, joka nettisivun kuvista päätellen näyttää oikein kotoisalta.

Eilen kävelyretkellä löysin myös kreikkalaisen, portugalilaisen, vietnamilaisen, thaimaalaisen, ja kosher-ravintolan. Olin matkalla lauantaitorille läheisen kirkon puistoon, mutta markkinat olivat juuri loppumassa kun saavuin paikalle. Niinpä kurvasin kadunkulmasta oikealle ja löysin itseni Deutsche Operista. Oopperatalo löytyy siis noin viiden minuutin kävelymatkan päästä. Oi eloa! Talon ohjelma ei hämmästyttänyt innovatiivisuudellaan, mutta Wagner-intoilijalle oli tarjolla ainakin Rienzi, Tristan ja Isolde, Ring-sarja, Lohengrin, Tannhäuser ja Lentävä hollantilainen, sekä Nürnbergin mestarilaulajat (mikähän ooppera jäi ylipäätään puuttumaan?) But I digress.

Toiseen suuntaan kävellessä vastaan tulee Savignyplatz poikineen ja pässeineen. Löytyy myös brasilialainen vahaamo Wax Dich Schön sekä nykyihmisen kaunistamo, jossa saa Botox to Go

Kurfürstendamilla olisi varmasti paljonkin kuvattavaa, mutta nyt matkaamme lähelle lännen ja idän rajaa sekä yliopistoa, jossa kävin perjantaina kirjautumassa. Yliopistollakaan ei pahemmin englantia puhuta, sillä vaihto-opiskelijat tulevat opiskelemaan saksaksi, mutta kansainvälisten opiskelijoiden vastaanottovirkailija sentään sönkkäsi jonkin verran englantia (toisin kuin sairausvakuutuksesta todistuksen kirjoittanut tyttönen, joka tosin osasi sanoa minä rakasta sinua suomeksi. Süß, ne?)

Humboldt Universität zu Berlinillä on vaikuttava päärakennus, joka huokuu kahden vuosisadan perinteitä ja arvovaltaa. Pihalla ja porttien ulkopuolella on ikuiset kirjamarkkinat, josta saa ostaa (myös jonkin verran englanninkielistä) kirjallisuutta parilla eurolla. Tarjolla niin klassikoita kuin saksalaisia Aku Ankkojakin - tai siis Micky Mauseja.
Sisällä opiskelijan tyrmäävät yliopiston entisen kasvatin K. Marxin sanat ("filosofit ovat vain tulkinneet maailmaa eri tavoin, nyt on kuitenkin kyseessä sen muuttaminen")

Vastapäätä päärakennusta löytyy Berliinin toinen oopperatalo Deutsche Staatsoper. Perjantaina taisi olla luokkakuvaus, sillä juhlallisen näköistä sakkia poseerasi talon portailla.

GBZ ei ole kaukana päärakennuksesta, mutta koska rakennustöistä johtuen keskus näyttäisi pelkältä kuopalta maassa, en liitä tähän kuvaa varsinaisesta opiskelupaikasta.

Berliini on iso kaupunki mutta hyvin hallittavissa. Asun itse aika lailla länsipuolella, mutta viidentoista minuutin metromatka vie yliopistolle, joka on melkein itärajalla (Checkpoint Charlie ym. löytyvät parin minuutin kävelymatkan päästä.) Itä-Berliinin läheisyydestä muistuttaa mm. televisiotorni, yksi Berliinin tunnetuimpia ja näkyvimpiä nähtävyyksiä.

Olen tavannut ensimmäisen opiskelukaverini (miellyttävää walesilaista (?) aksenttia vääntävän Tobiaksen) ja tänään tapaan hänen lisäkseen vielä toisenkin. Tarkoituksena olisi suunnata Potsdamer Platzille Sony Centerin elokuvateattereihin. Tarantino ja Inglourious Basterds, in English - yes siree Bob, in Berlin it is possible.

Quatsch am Ku'Damm / 2

2009-09-03T18:15:00.005+03:00

Ensimmäisen viikon aikana en juuri törmännyt paljon puhuttuun keskieurooppalaiseen palvelumentaliteettiin. Ainahan suomalaista palvelua on kiva parjata ja haikailla aidan toiselle puolelle vihreämmän ruohon perään, mutta esimerkiksi Einwohneramtissa ruoho oli kyllä lähinnä kuin Attilan jäljiltä. Uskoni saksalaiseen palveluun palautui ainakin osittain eilen käydessäni Berliner Sparkassessa avaamassa tilin. Asiani otti hoitaakseen nainen, joka kysyttyäni "Sprechen Sie Englisch?" hymyten lausui, että hieman, mutta että saksani oli varmasti paljon parempaa kuin hänen englantinsa. "Ich bin diese Papiere bekommen, und weiß nicht was ich jetzt tun soll." Tätönen hymyili jälleen ja ohjasi minut pöytänsä ääreen, jossa avasi minulle tilin ja selitti hyvin selkeästi ääntäen ja rauhallisesti puhuen kaikki prosessiin liittyvät asiat. Melkein nousi pala kurkkuun moisesta ystävällisestä palvelusta. Lähtiessäni kiitin virkailijaa vielä vilpittömästi:
"Ich danke Ihnen ganz herzlich, weil Sie so unglaublich..."
"So unglaublich wortreich?" keskeytti tätönen.
"Nein, ich wolte sagen: freundlich gewesen sind."
Tällaista palvelua kokisin mieluusti vielä toistekin.

Palloilen vielä häpeämättömästi hyväntekijäni nurkissa, sillä en saa hankittua nettiyhteyttä, ennen kuin tilini on toimintavalmiudessa. Viikonlopun aikana olisi kuitenkin tarkoitus muuttaa lopullisesti Schlüterstraßelle. Kävin tänään napsimassa kuvia asunnosta ja lähiympäristöstä (mm. lukemattomista ravintoloista ja kahviloista, joita lähikujilla on, sekä vastapäätä olevasta Union Jack -nimisestä viskibaarista ja Pascarella-kulmaravintolasta.), mutta nohevana nuorna miehenä unohdin tietysti siirtokaapelin kämpille. Joten kuvia janoavat joutuvat vielä odottamaan.

Aiemmin tänään otin selvää, missä lähimmät kauppani sijaitsevat. Google Maps = eri kätevä. Saksalaisten suosimat kaupat kuten Pennymarkt, Aldi, Tchibo, Reichelt ja Schlecker löytyvät kaikki parin korttelin sisältä. Oven vieressä on liha/juustokauppa ja talon kulmassa yksityinen elintarvikekauppa. Toiselta puolelta tietä löytyy Getränke.

Seuraavaksi täytyykin kartoittaa juoksulenkit, joskin pahoin pelkään, että ainoa järkevä juoksumaasto löytyy Tiergartenista. No, ei se kovin huono juttu ole sekään.

Quatsch am Ku'Damm / 1

2009-08-31T18:07:00.004+03:00

Nyt pitää vetää syvään henkeä ja miettiä, miten suomeksi taas kirjoitettiinkaan. Aloitin tämän blogin pitämisen D:n Written Communication -kurssin innoittamana ja pitääkseni yllä taitoa kirjoittaa englanniksi, mutta koska seuraavat vuodet tulevat vierimään lähinnä englanninkielisessä (ja varmasti myös monikielisessä/kulttuurisessa) ympäristössä, päätin suomen taitojani varjellakseni vaihtaa armaaseen äidinkieleen.

Berliini on tähän mennessä ollut aurinkoinen, helteinen ja hektinen. Muutto sujui kivuttomasti kiitos natiivin Herr M:n joka juoksutti minua juohevasti toimistosta toiseen ja hoiti puhumisen sekä lomakkeiden täytön. Tuntuu melkein siltä, kuin muuttoni olisi ollut silkkaa huijausta: monikaan tänne ulkomailta muuttava ei tule kokemaan yhtä helppoa muuttoa. Jo pelkkä eri Amteissa ravaaminen on hermoja raastavaa ja palvelu pahimmillaan puisevaa (puhumattakaan siitä, että Berliini on surullisen kuuluisa Bürgeramtiensa tehottomuudesta). Lisäksi EU:n ulkopuolelta tulevat joutuvat hakemaan viisumia ja opiskelutodistusta muun paperisodan lisäksi. Mielenkiintoista kuulla myöhemmin, minkälaisia muuttokokemuksia kanssaopiskelijoilla on ollut.

Sain tänään avaimet omaan asuntoon (vuokra oli muuten noin 50 € halvempi kuin mitä ilmoituksessa mainittiin), joka sijaitsee aivan Berliinin kauppakeskustan tuntumassa. Huomenna menen panemaan hieman paikkoja kuntoon. Asunto on kyllä siisti, mutta esimerkiksi tasot pitää pyyhkiä ja lattia pestä. Asunto on viidennessä (siis suomalaisittain kuudennessa) kerroksessa ja alunperin rakennuksen ylin kerros. Aitoberliiniläiseen tapaan taloon on myöhemmin lisätty vielä yksi kerros, mutta hissi vie vain asuttamaani kerrokseen asti. Ikkunoista ja pieneltä parvekkeelta avautuu näkymä Schlüterstraßen puiden latvoihin ja vastapäisiin rakennuksiin. Keittokomerossa on jääkaappi (+pakastelokero), uuni/hella sekä - tididididdidii - astianpesukone. Ah, kuinka olenkaan sinua kaivannut! Yksiön huoneen sisustaminen saattaa olla haastavaa neliömäisestä muodosta johtuen, mutta katsotaan millaiseksi loukko muotoutuu. Ainakin siellä on paljon lainatavaraa, tosin oikein laadukasta sellaista. Kuvia seuraa ehkäpä huomenna.

Pankkitili on periaatteessa avattu, se pitää vain vielä käydä allekirjoitukella vahvistamassa postissa tai Sparkassenissa. Huomenna asuntooni toimitetaan tilaamani vuodesohva - toivottavasti se sujuu kommelluksitta. Lähiaikoina pitää ottaa selvää myös nettiyhteyksistä ja käydä ilmoittautumassa yliopistoon. Kiirettä pitää - semminkin kun ajattelin viimeistellä sen gee-whizzinkin vielä tässä kuussa. Nyt kun täällä kauempana, tuntuu jotenkin siltä, että ihan sama millainen opus siitä tulee. Tärkeintä on, että teksti valmistuu ja että saan maisterin paperit ulos joulun tienoilla.

On outoa olla maassa, jonka kieltä ei oikeastaan puhu mutta jota silti ymmärtää jonkin verran. Toivottavasti kieli tarttuu ainakin jossain määrin ja toivottavasti saan jostain rohkeutta avata suuni.

Simon's Cat 'Fly Guy'

2009-07-24T21:01:00.001+03:00

Awww... Simon's cat catches a fly

The abysmal vortex that is FB

2009-07-21T13:08:00.008+03:00

Another FB-related post, it seems. Last time I didn't have too many good things to say about Facebook, but now, after having become virtual friends with my future class mates from all over the world, I am beginning to see the light. Without Facebook I would've flown to Berlin with no idea what was waiting for me studies-wise, but with all the message exchange that's been going on online in the last few days I already feel like I somehow know the people I'm going to meet. Who cares at this point whether or not it is all an illusion created by some greater bit-space being out there? I have attained peace and, right now, that's all that counts. I have also found out that the "Events" function is well handy. Facebook now has my official blessing. Who would've thought?

Gee-whizz coming along nicely but not so nicely that I should be here writing this blog. For more or less regular updates on the latest changes and developments, see Facebook. And moving is advancing slowly but surely. My Yamaha found a home yesterday and that makes me glad. She's in good and gentle hands.

Hokey, need to get back to work. This blog is going Finnish in a month so brace yourself.

MBS course 2009-2011

2009-07-10T18:26:00.002+03:00

28 students: 21 female, 7 male
Countries: Germany (7), China (3), Argentina (2), Canada (2), Russia (2), UK (2), Armenia (1), Belarus (1), Finland (1), Iran (1), Kazakhstan (1), Lithuania (1), Romania (1), Slovakia (1), Turkey (1), USA (1)

Status update

2009-07-09T13:52:00.005+03:00

I'm way too hooked on Fb. Not that I'm one of those people who update their status every few minutes, but I can't concentrate on anything because I need to check my friendship requests and other people's statuses all the time. I'm not really a big fan of the Fb user interface, which makes being a slave to the system even more infuriating. I can't seem to find anything I need on my profile page and all in all I don't find the different functions very intuitive. But a promise is a promise - getting into Humboldt came together with signing in to Facebook. And I do find the service to be a nice way to be in contact with a lot of people (with minimum effort I might add if I were a cynical bastard. Lucky I'm not.)

As is customary, I turned to my blog when I had more pressing things to do. Like my Gee-whizz, which is coming together painfully slowly. However, I have made breakthroughs despite my sluggish pace. Yesterday, I was able to further define my analysis section when I realised it would perfectly fine to concentrate on structural metaphors and leave ontological and orientational metaphors outside the main focus. I will content myself with writing only one paragraph on each of the other metaphor types and be a happy monkey. During the last days I have been writing down ALL of the metaphors I have been able to find in my selected material. So far, I have gathered 370 metaphorical expressions and about 50 conceptual metaphors (which in the end will overlap, so total will be smaller) and I'm about halfway through. I'm really hoping I get to concentrate on actual writing at the weekend and thereafter - first I just need to tread across this swamp of mechanical analysis.

S came over, saved the day and promised to take all my bookshelves and drawers home to her and Donald. I have packed six boxes of books and all of my jazz records, and now my bookshelves look more or less empty. Next I need to tackle my clothes and kitchenware. I have promised to leave this flat sometime in the middle of August, so I'm hoping my parents will accommodate me for a few days while I wait for my plane to leave for Berlin. I'm flying on the 22nd August at 14.15 (if my memory serves) but before that I have a poopile of things I need to do. People of former dwellers of countries foreign, hear me, hear ye, and give me your invaluable insight regarding what I should remember to do and perhaps take with me and so on. Much appreciated.

I have tried to look for grants but no one wants to support the postgraduate studies (in the European sense) of some Finn. More problems arise from the fact that I'm off to a German speaking country but going to undertake a British course, which doesn't make me a very desirable candidate for either the Germans or the British. And as luck would have it, the one grant I would've been eligible for (one of the DAADs) I should've applied for a year ago, when the whole MBS thing looked more like a pipe dream than a real option. Fortunately, I'm not in a personal economic slump because of the short leg as Mr. Assistant Sir (said in the voice of Anna) but it would be nice to be able to actually enjoy the time I'm going to spend in Berlin rather than merely eke out an existence there.

My farewell party will probably take place in the first half of August (tentatively on the 8th). I still haven't asked the folks if their residence is available then but I still have time to sort things out.

Wait, no I haven't.

*panic*

So fresh that not even the ink has dried yet

2009-06-30T16:47:00.007+03:00

This chap just got accepted into Humboldt and will be moving to Berlin in the autumn. Everybody is welcome to visit me. Rather, everyone had better visit me! Paree ois, nih. (I may well need to switch the language of this blog into Finnish in September, just to remember my roots, so to speak - what a peculiar idea...)

That's all for now, but there's more to come once I get my act together. There are pictures from France I need to put on display, for example, and I think this M.B.S. stuff needs some more clarification, too. But now, I think I'll have a bite to eat. Maybe I will even open a bottle of something sparkly, just to celebrate.

à la Conan

2009-06-18T00:08:00.003+03:00

"Youtube, Twitter and Facebook will merge to create one super time wasting website called Youtwitface!"
Sign me up!

(Conan's still funny, even in LA. Plus, Andy's back! Hooray!)

What a shitty rotten day

2009-06-16T15:12:00.007+03:00

Just one of those days, I guess. I sat an exam on American cinema (three books, some 900 pages all in all), a topic that was interesting enough as far as genre studies was concerned but that turned into a nightmare when I had to write about the emergence of the "major independents" and the narrative aspects of New Hollywood Cinema and Raiders of the Lost Arc with regard to classical Hollywood narrative. Have mercy. I didn't really know enough about anything, really, although when I read my answers before handing in the papers they seemed very academic in a way. At least I've learnt to ~~bullshit~~ twaddle my way through university although I would have still preferred to have actually known something. Eight credits worth of points bringing my final mark down - it's especially depressing since I have, for some strange reason, already left most of my not-so-good marks to be included in the intermediate studies. I know that in the grand scheme of things one NAMS final mark does not mean anything, but I can still be ~~PO'd~~ somewhat annoyed, can't I? Exams like this make me think that I am just not able to understand or remember anything worthwhile and that all my work is to no avail.

And the interview is coming up. I have the weekend to think about what I will tell them and prepare myself for some of the most obvious questions ("why do you want to come here; why did you drop out of your first university; what are your future plans?") Actually, if I don't get in, I was thinking I could apply for the EU Commission traineeship. Today I also came across a localization QA tester position in Montreal which could be interesting, albeit not exactly what I'm looking for.

I don't really believe that the interview will take two hours in all. If they have 50 people to interview, that would be 100 hrs, which in turn would make over two weeks, not even counting any lunch or wee breaks, discussion, paperwork etc. But we'll see - in a week I will be all the wiser again.

Two more days and I'm off to Sweden, Denmark, Germany and France. It will be sweet.

Mmmm, goody

2009-06-12T15:42:00.005+03:00

This is so good that I have to share the recipe with you (and by "this" I mean the food I'm eating as I write). I'd take a picture with my brand new camera (Ixus 85) but the battery hasn't been charging for long enough, yet. So you just have to take my word for it that the dish looks good and tastes even gooder.

Chop an onion, maybe two, + 1-2 cloves of garlic. Splash some olive oil onto the pan and throw in the onions/garlic. Add just maybe a table spoon of cream and the same amount of tomato purée. Add some plum tomatoes (maybe 5-8), cut in four pieces. Let the sauce simmer until the tomatoes let out some juice and then add a handful of fresh, chopped basil and oregano and a dash of water. Add some salt and black pepper, then mix everything so that the taste becomes a bit more balanced. Finally, add about a half a packet of diced feta (or "Mediterranean cheese", for crying out loud). Don't mix the cheese in but let it slowly slightly melt on top of the sauce for a minute or two while you wait for your penne to become al dente. Finish off with some parmesan shavings. Buon appetito!

I've been emptying my office today. On Tuesday the staff took me out to Teini to eat and gave me a gift voucher for Lippupalvelu. I was really blown away, I didn't expect a farewell party let alone a send-off gift of any sort. Even JV was there, in spite of having retired in February. What can I say, I was touched.

LOST Parody #10 - Twilight - Season Finale

2009-06-09T18:08:00.001+03:00

Ah, the season finale of LOST Parody. Now it all makes sense (not). Have a look if you've ever watched Lost. My favourites include #3 Harry Potter, #6 Heroes and #9 Start Trek.

Really... The things you find on Youtube...

Google Wave

2009-06-06T22:12:00.002+03:00

This looks sort of cool. Have a look.

Google Wave

Nothing to say?

2009-06-03T16:56:00.006+03:00

Pray tell, why aren't people updating their blogs? I'm not used to this type of knowledge deprivation. I follow quite a few blogs and at the moment all of them seem to be in some sort of summer holiday mode.

I received an email today inviting me to the Grossbritannien Zentrum interview. The ever-polite Ms Smith suggested a time for me, which I accepted and suddenly, probably due to my slightly informal answer, also Ms. Smith lapsed into more colloquial style of writing. It was a relief, because I have been ~~sweating my arse off~~ spending a lot of time trying to formulate hoity-toity replies to every flowery email the Centre folk have sent me.

In other news, I registered for two summer exams, both for NAMS. Maybe I will finally be able to close my intermediate studies after this summer. I'm also thinking about volunteering for the Regulated Liberties conference to be held at the University of Turku in August. S is going, so I thought why not, might be fun.

Sweating like a pig

2009-05-31T18:16:00.017+03:00

-A was worried that I had disappeared from the face of the earth, but I'm still alive and kickin', albeit with little gusto as it is so hot. My plants are squeeing happily on the balcony - well, they would if they knew how - and growing so nicely now that they once again have enough sun and are receiving loving care on my part. I prefer indoors because trying to read about American film genres in the hothouse I call balcony would be just impossible.

I was pretty much willing to content myself with the heat we experienced last week when we visited Vienna and the temperature was about 25 degrees for the whole four days we stayed there. But no. The weather followed us here and gained momentum on the way. This 30 degrees is just ridiculous - it's not even summer proper, yet.

But back to Vienna, the city of horsies and horsie statues. (Legend has it that last time my mother was there she had arranged to rendezvous with a friend at the Hofburg horse statue. Little did they realise that the place is infested with them, so they ended up being at completely different sides of the Hofburg area. Take heed, my dear readers. When in Vienna, no rendezvous at horse statues). The aroma of the clippity-cloppers linger in the old city. Rather charming, although one might think otherwise.

We had a great stay and enough time to marvel at the beautiful city. On Friday, we visited the Staatsoper and had our own box where we could enjoy the most perfect performance of Don Giovanni. It was so perfect, in fact, that it verged on annoying. Why did Don Giovanni have to change his attire for every single scene? It came across rather show-offy. Why were all the singers world-class talents, including Isokoski as donna Elvira? Shouldn't one or two be enough? Why was the conductor so authentic with his conducting that he didn't use a baton but only his bare hands? (Add syphilis and a wig à la Salonen?) Why did they have a pianoforte instead of a harpsichord for the recitatives? I'll tell you: because they have the resources, the snotty Austrian bastards. Of course they do, since about half of the audience of the sold-out performance seemed to comprise tourists, judging by the number of cameras flashing before the overture started.

We had walks in the city, saw the Stephans Dom quite a few times, had a great, authentic Wiener Schnitzel (not the ones in the picture) at the oldest restaurant in town, the Gösser Bierklinik, dating back to the 1683, and acquired a taste for Austrian potato salad. And the beers were nice, having a rather distinct, sweet taste. Ottakringer, Gösser, Stiegl. It's all good.

There was Volkspark with lovely roses, Hofgarten with the famous statue of Mozart, and of course the MuseumsQuartier and the Leopold Museum, where I for the first time ever heard of the artist called Egon Schiele. Wow. See here, here and here. We went there to see some Klimt, but there were only a few paintings by him hanging on the walls. Becoming acquainted with Schiele really made up for it, though.

Hokey. Have to get back to the wonderful world of genres. Entrance exams, forestry and hair cut coming up next week. Maybe I'll go and have a look at some glasses, too. Time to get me a new pair, methinks.

An Engineer's Guide to Cats

2009-04-23T22:07:00.001+03:00

Cat yodelling, lol.

Brilliant!

Meeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee(me)!

2009-04-22T14:54:00.011+03:00

Nyt (ja aiemminkin) on ollut paljon liikkeellä fakta-haasteita, esim. kerro 20 faktaa jne. Tämä haaste ei käsittelekään faktoja, vaan tuntomerkkejä. Kerro yksityiskohtia itsestäsi ja jaa ne muille. Haasta sitten 5 muuta bloggaajaa tekemään sama edelleen (I will not)

1. Let's start with the obvious. I'm tall. I'm not ridiculously tall, but tall all the same. My tallness is also further accentuated by my apparent (by which I mean 'ostensible') slenderness. People roll their eyes when I mention the spare tyre around my waist, but people, your not seeing it doesn't mean it's not there. It's an irritating mass, albeit a relatively small mass, of flab, which just won't go away during the summer months when I actually have time to run and take care of myself physically. But I digress. Tall, c'est moi.

2. Hats, I has 'em. I have a collection of crocheted Inka hats from Barcelona (the first of which I bought myself in 2001, the second and third ones of which I manipulated my parents into getting me when they went to the same city a few years later). I also have a collection of trilbies and fedoras. The first, black one naturally, was bought at Kasvihuoneilmiö during my upper secondary school years. The black was followed by a grey one, a dark brown one (which is great) and a light brown one (which is also great, and so light you may catch me wearing it in the summer). All were purchased at a very affordable price. I do not wear woolly caps, because they usually make my head look like an egg, so I have acquired a taste for flat caps, which make my head - that otherwise might remind you of Egyptian royalty or the Coneheads - look slightly less long.

3. Big upper front teeth. Like shovels, really. Great for gnawing wood.

4. Fascination for clothes that never go out of style. By this I mean classically cut, more often than not black, white or possibly grey menswear. Jackets, collared shirts, trousers (mind you, I don't own a pair of blue jeans), black socks. Next, I will take interest in shoes. So far, I have always felt that putting your money into shoes is like burning money to heat up your house. Since you are bound to walk in your shoes day in, day out they will wear out quickly (at least with my vigorous walking: the soles of my shoes are always practically sleek) and then you have to buy another pair. The irritation you feel when you have to throw your shoes away after a couple of weeks is directly proportional to the amount of money you use on shoes. But one day, when I'm a rich translator living in my ivory tower and dropping morsels of knowledge to the mere mortals below, I will buy nice shoes and not care anymore. Such is the power of coin.

5. My manpurse (why is this turning out to be a list of clothes and accessories?). -A was there when it was bought and it has served me well. It holds my clarinet, if need be, and my binders, laptop etc. fit in as well.

6. Glasses. They're quite 'meh' so I have to get new ones, but that will have to wait until June at least.

7. I have the habit of setting dead lines but not keeping them (except when it comes to commissions). Come to think of it, you probably can't use this one to recognise me, so ixnay on the seven, eh? Can't think of anything else right now. You tell me.

My second summer hit 2009

2009-04-20T19:56:00.008+03:00

The first one was this one, of course, and I still haven't managed to test how it lends to jogging.
My catch of the day is this little piece. Can't wait to test my running shoes to this. Can't wait to test my running shoes, period.

Such a boring day today.

Edit: Thinking and writing and pondering about work-related stuff or, in this case, the Berlin stuff makes me switch into hypermode. It feels like my brain is about to burst. Composing my letter of motivation made me very philosophical about my true nature. Thinking about my studies in Helsinki and what those experiences taught me made me want to write here and shed some light into the lovely character that is I.

But I'll leave that for now. As anxious as I am to start writing, I also acknowledge the realities of time. After midnight it's seldom all that wise to embark on some grand mission all of a sudden. Maybe some other day. I just wanted you to know that I realised something new about the fight between my introvert and extrovert sides. Now, however, both sides are turning in for the night.

P.s. If I ever get to move to Britain for a while, the header text of this blog will be changed to the following and possible to other Little Britain Narrator quotes as well:
"When people in Britain want to buy a pet, they go to a pet shop. If they want to buy a pet shop, they go to a pet shop shop. If they want to buy a pet shop shop, well, they're just being silly.

2009-04-19T00:40:00.007+03:00

I don't know what made me think that I had a copy of my BA certificate in English but I don't. Luckily, I found out about it today rather than on Monday or Tuesday when I'm likely to have other things on my mind. So, being the aspiring translator that I am, I translated the certificate into English. Now I have one more paper I need a stamp for and, consequently, have to pay Mr B for. He was gracious enough to offer his services at a very affordable price, but still this little Berlin project of mine is turning out to be a real money hole. First the TOEFL exam (not to mention the additional costs for the trip and accommodation), now the stamps (thank goodness I don't have to pay for the actual translation work) and, if all goes well, soon the flight tickets, too. Maybe seeing whether or not people will cough up the dough is just another way of testing the applicants for motivation.

55, read, fifty-five, pages in my thesis atm. I did some calculations and I think the finished work will be somewhere between 100-110 pages. I'm over-doing it a bit, but what can I do, the topic is so bloody interesting. I can't stop thinking about it even when I'm not actively working on it. It gives me so much to ponder about and I even have several topics ready for a doctorate if I ever want to do one. I consider myself very lucky in this respect. I don't want to sound condescending but I know how hard it is to come up with a good topic for a thesis and how toilsome the actual writing can be. I'm not saying it's all fun and games for me, either, but having a topic you really like makes writing so much easier.

My CD's arrived, T happy. I played Einstein on the Beach in my office over and over again until I didn't know where the work started and where it ended (it's not as strange as you might think if you're not familiar with the piece. You can have a taste here. My favourite scene can't be found online, but you get the idea). I played selected passages to D who, as far as I know, enjoys Pärt, so I thought he might get some kicks out of Glass, too. He looked a bit incredulous at first, so I hastily excused my choice of music and said to him that Einstein on the Beach is the kind of music that you either love or that will make you crazy. "Or, as in your case," riposted the Brit, "both." Gee, thanks mister.

I want this one next (never mind the video, just listen to the music). Akhnaten is a bit hard to find and if you manage get your hands on the opera, they ask ridiculous amounts of money for it. But one day I will buy it. In the meantime, I will just have to make do with what I find online, like this beautiful duet (the countertenor singing on this recording is great).

Simon's Cat 'TV Dinner'

2009-04-11T22:37:00.003+03:00

Brilliant! I didn't know there were more installments to "Simon's cat" other than the one I posted last year ('Cat Man Do'), but here's another one. Enjoy.

Tipsy Talk Update Eins Punkt Eins

2009-04-08T20:14:00.008+03:00

- Yours truly received 115/120 points from his Teufel exam. Apparently yours truly cannot talk about his everyday life.
- Yours truly bought 5 CDs at Play.com. Coming up: Bach's Matthäus Passion (Koopman) and the Solo & Double Violin Concertos (Academy of Ancient Music), Berio's Sinfonia, Glass's Einstein on the Beach and Vaughan Williams's Flos Campi. Ah, can't wait to get my hands on them.
- Yours truly bought four books at Suomalainen Kirjakauppa: Sterne's Tristram Shandy (5 €, normally 39 something €, award-winning Finnish translation), Torgrim Eggen's Pärstäkerroin (5 €), Fitzgerald's Kultahattu (3 €) and good ol' King's Duma Key (I feel kinda bad for him, as this novel, which was publihed last year, is only his 54th one. He's behind Miss Brown by some 6 books already. Oh why-oh-why can't all authors be as hard working and wonderful as Miss Brown?).

Ite, missa et for real this time

Tipsy Talk

2009-04-08T19:34:00.009+03:00

Yours truly is a bit tipsy. Why, you ask. Well, because yours truly came home from the last literary translation meeting and in his famished state of being made a portion of mushroom pasta and, as no pasta should go without nice wine, opened a bottle of Voga and has since that moment been drinking glass after glass of wine. So sweet it is, I kid you not. And the pasta dish was great: I cooked a type of conchiglie and prepared a portion of champignon soup, only using half the amount of water needed in order to create a sauce instead of a soup, to which I added some fresh champignons and crispy-fried bacon. Ah, bliss.

Yours truly, in his tipsy state of being, is trying to mentally prepare for the holiday week ahead during which time yours truly will need to come up with enough Gee-whizz material so that he can state, with confidence, that he is going to graduate in the not too distant future, i.e. come autumn at the latest. Yours truly will spend the upcoming days in front of his computer screen writing until metaphors pour out of his ears. Luckily there are crisps at hand, not to mention some curd and blue cheese, which equal dip, to go with it. If things go well, yours truly might even open a bottle of sparkling wine at the weekend. But that is very hush-hush. Don't tell anyone.

Next Christmas, look out for Likaista peliä, or some such book title by the ever-fabulous Sandra Brown (mind you, "hän on kirjoittanut yli 60 romaania, joista 45 on yltänyt New York Timesin bestsellerlistalle – parhaimmillaan kolme yhtä aikaa", so she's a literary force to be reconned with). Turn the page and see my name. Then read the book and hope you had never become aware that such a book was even allowed to come into existence. Yes, it is that bad. But translating it was a lot of fun and I can whole-heartedly recommend the course to any wannabe translators, despite whether or not they are contemplating becoming literary translators.

Such are my thoughts today. Ite, missa est.

Peter Fox: Alles Neu

2009-03-19T18:19:00.012+02:00

The singer looks like one of the apes even without a mask; I love the wet and screeching German consonants in this song. (c.f., for example, Mein altes Leben schmeckt wie ‘n labbriger Toast. / Brat mir ein Pracht-Steak, Peter kocht jetzt feinstes Fleisch. / Ich bin das Update, Peter Fox 1.1.); I find the drum/cello combination absolutely fascinating; the video manages to be edgy (Tarantino-style suit-tie combo mixed with quite clever lyrics) and cool (do the cleaver dance! How can such geeky figeting look sort of.. hmm... effortlessly urbane and beliveable?) and full of what-the-fuckery all at the same time.

This song fills me with such energy. Let the sun shine and the summer come, play this tune and I'm a happy monkey. Danke sehr für diesen Tipp, Frau M.

The seventh son of the seventh son -- no, wait...

2009-03-06T23:02:00.006+02:00

...what I meant was, of course, the fourth picture of the fourth folder.

Hanska flung down the gauntlet, so I'm picking it up. I'm posting the fourth picture of the fourth folder in my pictures folder and explaining the image. Incidentally, the picture turned out quite topical. I give you the radial pleating of the Berlin Sony Center am Potsdamer Platz.

Sort of nifty, isn't it. I just got back from Berlin yesterday, but this picture was taken on my first visit almost 4 years ago. Since then, the city has become a regular travel destination of mine, not least because of the convenient lodging possibility. In a few months I will know whether or not this city will become a more permanent place of residence for me. Keep your fingers crossed people, I'm taking the Teufel exam next Friday.

Apologies in advance

2009-02-25T19:38:00.004+02:00

I've been in a peculiar mood today. I've been laughing at anything and everything. And one thing in particular cracked me up. The following is definitely below the belt but when I read it on the bathroom stall wall in Juslenia today I couldn't help but chuckle out loud. The other visitors of the men's room must've been feeling slightly uneasy hearing my involuntary bursts of laughter coming from a cubicle. The thing is, the following palindrome isn't even that good. But it is indicative of the way my mind's been working today. So don't judge me, ok.

Right, drum roll please. Ladies and gentlemen, may I present to you the palindrome of the week:

SAIPPUAKULLIPYLLYPILLUKAUPPIAS

Just as some other bathroom scribbler had remarked: thank you so much for this wonderful insight, I can see things so much more clearly now.

5000 Words

2009-02-23T23:48:00.002+02:00

I have to share this with you. Such a nice, topical tune and sadly true. The joys of being a translator :) (Turn up the volume, the audio's pretty bad)

Pimp (rape) my poem - then poke it with GT till it dies

2009-02-12T00:24:00.015+02:00

Hokey, meme time. I could say that this time I'm the primus motor behind it, although I initially got the idea from a literary blog called Jäljen ääni, which I read every now and then.

Step one: Take your favourite poem or, if you don't want to be scarred for life, your second favourite poem. On second thought, do not sacrifice any of your favourite poems, please. Just pick one in random.
Step two: Run it through Google Translator - first translate it into Swedish, then from Swedish into French, then German and then back into the original language (feel free to change or add the languages if your source text is in Swedish or German or French, or just for the fun of it)
Step three: Admire your handiwork and

a) take pride in the fact that you are not Google Translator
b) be scarred for life and mad at me for ruining your favourite poem (told you, you shouldn't choose that one).
or
c) actually be proud that you have created something that Oulipo would have appreciated.

Take your pick.

Saarikoski, I am sorry to make you turn in your grave like a windmill on speed.
(Minä rakastan sinua / niinkuin vierasta maata / kalliota ja siltaa / niinkuin yksinäistä iltaa, joka tuoksuu kirjoilta / minä kävelen sinua kohti maailmassa / ilmakehien alla / kahden valon välistä / minun ajatukseni, joka on veistetty ja sinua)

Minä rakastan sinua / kuten vieraassa maassa / Rock ja sillat /Se haiseekin illalla, että etäisyys /Haluaisin Maailman / Atmosphere / Light kahden / Luulin, ja polttaa

I detect a trace of the omitting strategy in the last line... And did GT give the skopos any thought at all? I have my doubts.

Things that piss me off atm

2009-02-10T23:35:00.008+02:00

AAAAAARRRRRGGGGGGHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!

1. Alesha Dixon - The boy does nothing: All that is needed is the short ring tone ad on TV and I'm ready throw the telly out of the window (and that would be unfortunate since my telly is my laptop and my laptop contains my Gee-whizz). I mean please: the spasms on the music video hardly pass for dancing. As far as mambos go, I guess the tune is O.K, but dear-almighty-bloody-jalapeno-on-a-stick is it the most annoying earworm ever spawned by some demon music producer from the ninth circle of hell!!!!! It makes me want to go GwOARRRRR and bang my head against the wall. Seriously.

2. Comfort. The new concentrate. The detergent ad. It makes me shed bitter tears of desperation. The little animated trolls dancing at some mock-Hawaiian beach make me want to regurgitate last week's breakfast from Tuesday and buy Comfort not. The little green bugger in the ad with his vacuous smile reminds me of Chucky from Child's Play.

AAAAAARRRRRGGGGGGHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I'm glad I got that out of my system. And just for the record, I have nothing against dancing per se even though both of the above piss-me-off'ers included some gambolling.

A random conversation from last week

2009-02-07T17:34:00.014+02:00

Scene: People sitting and enjoying an agreeable luncheon. At the other end of the table sits D and next to him T, who after 20 seconds of silence turns to his left and says

T: D, you're strangely quiet today, aren't you.
D: Whereas you, sir, are just quietly strange.
T: Ah, quite right, touché.
D: Oh brilliant, Touché Turtle!
T: ???
D: [enter a briefing about a conquistador-style hat, a rapier and a turtle by the name of Touché, which then evolves into a discussion on the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, their names and the colours of their head bands and so on and so forth]

Perplexed by this matinee of D and turtles I rummaged the archives of YouTube and found the following.

Well I never... Is this what the children of the 60s grew up on? A giant bong? Suddenly things make so much more sense...

Gloomy Sunday

2009-01-27T00:05:00.005+02:00

Heli, would you happen to know if this version has ever been officially published anywhere? Maybe on Family Tree or some such album? This piece is rather haunting, it gives me chills. The little vibrato at ...the candles are lit, I know... is breathtaking; the Icelandic r's wonderfully quirky, as always. The orchestration is very similar to that of her version of You only live twice, but that wasn't a live performance, if my memory serves, as this seems to be.

Blahblahblaa

2009-01-13T20:30:00.003+02:00

Ok, I'm not going to tell you what happened on New Year's Eve. Because nothing happened. Basta.

Except that I was home at one and then spent two hours drinking some bubbly by myself and browsing YouTube. Everything worth mentioning was already said in the comments section of me previous post, so enough about that.

On to study stuff:

Last night I started counting my study points. Big mistake, don't do as I did, because the chances are you will find some horrible mistake in your calculations causing you to lose sleep over it: what I discovered yesterday was that I had included two of my NAMS courses in the free studies of my HuK. Completely unnecessarily, I might add, as my HuK comprised 196 points. I was horrified because I really don't want to do more NAMS than I have to to get the mark for the intermediate courses. For a moment it seemed my brilliant study plan for the spring was going to go up in smoke. But no, thank heavens. A little trip to the Humanities office sorted things out: although I won't be able to use the HuK's study points anymore (fair is fair) I can still include them in the overall mark of my intermediate studies. Yay! Means I get to have another minor in my Master's degree, not just some random courses.

I signed up for Fortsetzungskurs III today. A.V. seems to be a nice Lehrerin but I'm concerned about the skills of the students on the course as the level seems to vary. A lot. In our little group of three, there was one girl who had lived in Germany for 4 years and spoke the language with complete fluency and another girl who couldn't get many words out of her mouth. There were two other students at the meeting today and 10 others in the other group, so at least there are enough students. And even if I don't learn to speak German, at least I get to listen to it two times a week for two hours at a time.

My Gee-whizz isn't going anywhere. I find it very odd, since I think I've given it more than enough time to finish itself. Do I really have to do everything myself in this world?

Oh, I was working quite assiduously during the Christmas break. Apparently, one of the inhouse translators at the translation agency left and that meant some extra work for me. So, whenever you need to know anything about spiral seam silos, conveyors, elevators or explosive atmospheres and their safety measures, I'm your man.

Is that what I want my future to be? Not necessarily, but it's not a bad start. Although I was having many bad-English days in a row, I've now regained my self-confidence and can safely state that translating truly is fun.

"hyi joku jippu"

2009-01-01T02:38:00.007+02:00

*The Song* that just may define 2009 for me. Before I publish my in-depth analysis on New Year's Eve as well as on some musical pieces, I would love to hear your comments about this particular cover as I know there are people among my readers, who might find this version sacrilegious to say the least.

Christmas Eve

2008-12-24T16:26:00.004+02:00

I'm lousy at sending Christmas cards and the like, so this is basically all you will get. Still, despite the medium, I mean this from the bottom of my heart:

Merry Christmas to you all!

T

The things stores sell...

2008-11-26T22:49:00.003+02:00

I've been meaning to post this for a while now.

Behold, Prisma and the amazing black technicolour dreamcoat of scowling (or at least its show card).

False feeling of accomplishment

2008-11-24T14:46:00.005+02:00

I handed in my Seminar II paper today: Conseptualising Contemporary - Conceptual metaphors and their usage in English and Finnish music reviews. I feel as if I have come, seen and conquered. I feel strangely accomplished, like I understood something essential about my target of study. But then again, that might be just the post-paper high talking. In the end, my text may turn out to be a pile of rubbish (already I have found several mistakes in the lay-out, but I keep telling myself that it's the inner beauty of my text that counts. Unfortunately, the Academia might not see it that way what with their pedantic rules about such stuff).

False feeling of accomplishment, indeed. I have only handed in one lousy paper and blissfully forgotten about all the other things I still need to do in the course of the next couple of weeks. Next week will bring my NAMS and Latin exams as well as my symposium presentation (which I intend to give using Power Point - just to bask in the warmth of the audience's oohs and aahs and to create an illusionistic aura of expertism). I need to draw up the timetables for all the students and contact the part-time lecturers teaching at our department next spring. Oh, and I need to read Sandra Brown's Play Dirty over and over, because the literary translation course requires that we read each other's text as well as the original, many times ad nauseam. Having to read the book almost non-stop for a couple of months, I think I will end up feeling like I'm caught in a bad nightmare and can't wake up.

But the good news is that Christmas is coming and another academic half-year is ending. Means I have a chance to relax and write my Gee-whizz (if I call it that and picture a little boy with a propeller cap, maybe it won't seem like such a big deal). And translate Play Dirty. And read some Gee-whizz literature. *Sigh*. A few more months to go. I do hope I have it in me to see this through as I have planned.

[Entry without a title]

2008-10-16T18:09:00.017+03:00

This is long overdue, but better late than never. Glory be to Hanska for this meme.

Tehtävänanto: "Paljastan viisi omituista tapaani. Tämän jälkeen valitsen seuraavat viisi ihmistä, jotka haastan tekemään saman perästä. Heidän tulee myös kirjoittaa nämä säännöt merkintäänsä. Linkitän haastamani ihmiset tämän merkinnän loppuun ja käyn ilmoittamassa heidän kommenttilaatikkoihinsa haasteesta ja tästä merkinnästä."

I don't think it should be too difficult to pick five weird examples out of my vast collection of strange habits. There should be more than enough to choose from, so let's get to it.

1. I eat strawberries. Not strange enough, you say? I eat them straight from the freezer. Ha, how do you like them strawberries? The same applies to chips. I must've been a hungry child having developed such a habit. "Mum, is the food ready yet? No? Guess I have to eat it frozen then."
2. I listen to odd music. I'm fully aware that this is a matter of taste but, still, Ligeti's Le Grand Macabre isn't everyone's cup of tea. In the immortal words of the owner of Ars Musica: "Some nutjob came in and bought the cd, we're not likely to restock". In recent days, I've found it very amusing to play strange music in my office, with the office door slightly ajar. One little dissonance at a time, I shall shake the very core of the academic world.
3. I am perfectly capable of cleaning my apartment, taking out the hoover and sucking the floor till I can suck no more (with the hoover, see? I know suck isn't the proper verb, but I didn't want to sound redundant and use do the hoovering). But the thing is, I don't put the hoover back where it belongs so it just stands in the middle of my kitchenette/bedroom/hallway until someone finally comes over and I have the moral obligation to stow it away again.
4. I read Tuksu's (a.k.a. Johanna Tukiainen) blog. Nuff said.

Although, having said that I now have a dire need to excuse myself. Seksiä ja samppanjaa, written from a very subjective pov, offers an opportunity for sociological exploration, and is a playground and a treasure-trove for anyone interested in examining post-modern, post-feminist, post-post construction of self and how it relates to modern-day media. (I have to admit that I'm not a humanist in name only)

5. I'm a workaholic. But a lazy one. I have no time management skills but still I like to fill my imaginary schedule with as much work as I can. Take my life (no, seriously, take it. Hmm... that joke doesn't quite work in this context) at the moment: I am studying part-time, working (in theory) full-time, trying to proofread my 150 pages of notes in my spare time and write my G - when, in my sleepy time, maybe? Multitasking, anyone?

Hokay, that's five. More blogging coming up as soon as I discover how Hiro does that time freeze thing he does.

Parteh

2008-10-10T13:05:00.005+03:00

It's not in my nature to party hardy but last night was the exception that makes the rule. This is not to say, though, that my partying yesterday was by any means excessive, nor that it got out of hand, but today I can feel that I've been out.

Basically, I like to attend two types of parties: ones that concentrate on a comfy, homey atmosphere, on good food, fine wine (ok ok, just wine will do. Argh, ok, if you twist my arm, as long as there's some sort of alcohol, I'm fine) and amicable socializing, and ones that take me to random places with more or less random people, surprise me with unexpected events and have a storyline, which I can later recount and reminisce about. Yesterday I experienced the latter.

I am not going to bore everyone by telling what happened where and at what time. I will just say that I was home around 4 am, after a night of university-places turned speakeasy, Irish pubs and a few pints, chips and sausage at a legendary place (I parasitised the chips, but let's not go there right now) and then tea and video clips when the world was beginning to prepare for a new day.

I have the sexiest voice imaginable right now. Just call me if you don't believe me.

And I had fun, that's the main thing. It made me think of all the other type-2 parties in my past: Åland and goal post hugging friends, a few of vappu parties and some commune get-togethers even earlier in my shady past. Ah, it's always nice to have memories to add to a specific memory niche. Thanks to all the people involved in making last night a memorable one.

Lo and behold, the new "party" tag.

Palin Interview by Couric

2008-10-08T17:15:00.005+03:00

D tipped me off about this one. (for some reason it works on Youtube but not on Blogger, hence the link) Enjoy, be appalled, what ever, your call.
*sigh* I seem to post only videos nowadays. For that I apologize.

Palin vs Clinton

2008-10-02T11:09:00.002+03:00

I've never been a big fan of SNL but this was funny

Fluffy have mercy

2008-09-29T12:48:00.016+03:00

I have this peculiar idea that I should know everything I need to know about my new job before it even starts. At the moment I feel dass ich nur Bahnhof verstehe, and let me tell you, it is not a very reassuring sentiment. I met with the current assistant this morning and we went through my job description. I have to admit, I'm a bit overwhelmed by it all. I'm supposed to give my first lecture on Wednesday, and frankly, I don't know how the hell I'm going to manage. Standing in front of the class is nothing new, I've done my share of teaching while I was still studying at the Academy, but that was then. And back in the days of yore, I had the advantage of actually knowing a bit more about any topic I was going to discuss than now when I'm going to be teaching fellow students, some of whom basically have just about as much knowledge of the things I'm going teach as I do. Not the most brilliant idea to bring this up here, in a blog that's open to anyone who can tread the pathways of the interwebs. But then again, writing these things here is probably just a form of reverse psychology: by saying (writing) aloud (on virtual paper) that I'm going to crash and burn, what I really mean is that I'm going to be utterly brilliant and blow everyone's socks off through my skills of awesome and all-controlling assistant superpowers (powers which, I now feel, the current assistant has sovereign hold of. Maybe I, too, will grasp the secrets of assistantism in the course of the next few months).

Today, I was introduced to the inner sanctum of the Rosetta building, the lecturers' dining room, where I'm able store all my lunch munchies if need be. I was shown files and folders full of instructions and blueprints for molding the student psyche, I was given access to the vaults of study points and keys to places mortals can only dream about. I was anointed with divine looks that were cast upon me by members of the staff and I became knowledgeable in the art of turning ordinary items into gold with a touch of my hand. Oh my, I've spilled the beans now, haven't I...

In other news, I've once again been bitten by the cooking bug. I made some pasta casserole last week and today I made preparations for a dish of fried rice in orange sauce which I will make tomorrow. I'm also thinking about marinating some courgette and peppers in balsamic vinegar and garlic to be served with a plate of pasta later in the week. Thanks to O and the mushroom picking on Saturday, I also have a bag full of trumpet-shaped chanterelles and boletuses in the fridge. Come one, come all, Chez T est ouvert.
__________________

Edit: Bugger, I forgot to thank -A who gave my weblog an "I <3 your blog" As she says, it may take me a while but eventually I always do update my blog. Sometimes the updating is sort of slow, granted, but, nevertheless, it does take place before long.

Cat Playing Hide and Seek

2008-09-16T01:07:00.002+03:00

Cat playing what we used to call 'peilissi'. Sounds like a very åboriginal thing to say, doesn't it? Or, alternatively, like something a very young alcoholic would say at the bar counter (no idea how junior got there in the first place, but hey, it's past one a.m., so I'm not questioning my logic) before learning the difference between a voiced and unvoiced bilabial plosive.

Such is the influence of those bloody phoneticists.

Spiders On Drugs

2008-09-03T22:33:00.002+03:00

I was recapping Fox's book for the exam on Friday when I came across the following sentence: "I am not all that good at diagrams - I tried to do one once of a particular kind of social network I was studying, and it looked like the webs produced by spiders on LSD" Not having the faintest idea what these webs looked like I did a bit of research and found this little video. Enjoy.

Assistant Anti-Christ

2008-09-03T15:29:00.007+03:00

It has been a curious start of term. On the first day, I made a life altering decision and dropped out of Société (10 ects) before it even started (and then I suddenly found myself at Proffa in delightful company - now, how did that happen??). Granted, I would've probably benefited from a little (a lo' of) oral/written exercise in French, but if the price I pay is constant stress, toil and trouble while I'm supposed to be working on my Gee, I'd rather be happy and actually graduate. I also figured that if Project Deutschland turns into something more than a pipe dream then what am I going to with French for a few years. N'est-ce pas? I'd rather concentrate on developing my dodgy German.

In addition:

There's this job opportunity I also had to take into consideration. Looks like I might be substituting for our department's Assistant starting from October all the way until the end of June next year. Nothing is set in stone yet, but I'm feeling excited all the same. It means that I would probably have my own office and, thus, my own Office Hour when I could welcome unsuspecting, poor, lost souls into my den of diabolic advice and cause havoc at the uni through... erm... I mean... Office Hour when I could set all the wrongs in this world right and when I could fight for justice and world peace. Ah yes, that's what I meant.

Taking into account that I am likely to be quite busy this year with all the office work that's probably in store, I'm not so sure it's the most clever idea to fill my schedule with do-I-really-need-this courses again, like I've done. But hey, I've always wanted to know a bit of Latin; and yes, I believe I will find The Presidential Elections quite interesting. Too bad the subsidiary courses of Intercultural Communication didn't fit into my grand scheme.

I'm resitting an exam on Friday, I hope it goes well. And I'm working on a strange Danish-English translation (never really thought I'd be doing that) for Herr M which I've promised to return next week - we are living in strange times.

Coincidences

2008-08-27T19:18:00.010+03:00

Once it came to pass that Orlov ate too many mashed peas and died. Once Krylov heard about this, he also died. Spiridonov died for no particular reason. Spiridonov’s wife fell off a bench and died as well. Spiridonov’s children drowned in a pond. Spiridonov’s grandmother started to drink and took off. Mihailov stopped combing his hair and got scabs all over his head. Kruglov drew a woman with a whip in her hand and lost his mind. Perehrestov got four hundred roubles via a telegram and became so arrogant that he got fired.
Good people don’t know how to keep their affairs on the right track.

(This is a translation I made some three years ago. It's a little story from Harms's Sattumia, a book I keep coming back to time and again)

Das ist Deutschland

2008-08-18T22:51:00.016+03:00

Greetings from the land of the Krauts [edit: at the time of the posting, I'm back in Finland]. I'm here to enjoy the last days of my summer holiday before returning to the tedious task of trying to finish my studies. So far, the trip's been quite uneventful: First, the weather hasn't been particularly good, so that has somewhat put a damper on my urge to go out and explore. Second, over the weekend, I enjoyed the company of my host so I didn't wander out much. I still have a few days for that, so I'm not in a hurry.

As a consequence of staying inside, I have had the opportunity to familiarise myself with German television. My views on the matter are of course biased because I'm looking German television through the same eyes I use to ogle at Finnish television, but still I feel fairly confident about stating the following:

German television shows are an elephant graveyard for yesterday's stars: So far I've seen singers and groups such as Bonnie Tyler, Samantha Fox and Baccara making an appearance in these shows, lip-synching to some old hits of theirs while sporting an idiotic million-dollar smile on their face and trying to keep up with the changing camera angles. In between these performances there are German stars singing their schlagers (insert lip-synch and mountain-like echo-effect), their whitened teeth blinding everyone watching the show on their telly at home. I find these shows somewhat disturbing. Especially when Lordi is added to the mix. Ewwww...

Although, like I said, I haven't been outside that much, I have had the opportunity to make contact with the natives. I don't why it is, but why, oh god why, am I always the first person any native decides to ask a question in the street, at the metro station, in a shop, you name it? Why meeee? This time, while I was waiting for the U-Bahn, a lady wanted to know (as far as I was able to judge) which direction the trains were driving. Es tut mir Leid, ich habe keine blasse Ahnung, liebe Frau. Sind Sie so lieb und bitte fragen Sie jemand anderen. If only I had been that fluent.

I went to check out Humboldt but got there too late as the department had just closed. It was a nice looking place though, sort of small but also pretty fancy with its marble foyer and stairs. With some luck and hard work, I may be going there again in a year or so. Not that I'm holding my breath.

I'm stressing about the French course that I'm supposed to take this autumn. It's only one course and it hasn't even started yet, but still I'm having sleepless nights obsessing about it. Why do I have to be such a wally?

I want to see Wall-E .

And THIS tickles my fancy, as well.

Garden Gnome Update

2008-07-20T20:41:00.021+03:00

Here's what's happening in the garden at the moment:

This particular basin has been a thorn in my side for a long time: because it doesn't get any rain the plants keep dying one after another. I was thinking about covering the whole bed with mere stones but then decided to give thujas a chance. The one at the end of the basin has been growing quite nicely for a few years so I thought that maybe thujas are tough enough. I also wanted to increase the number of conifers in the garden, so this was a great start.

This is a flower bed I made in the spring. It's pretty unimpressive at the moment but give it a chance. The lilac I had growing on my balcony is to the left - surrounded by weeds, but never mind that. The perennials are going to get bigger, trust me, and the dahlias are just getting started at the back. I suspect they're going to grow to be 150 cm tall with huge white flowers. It's going to look great in August.

Ahhhh, cherries... A bit sour, perhaps, but so juicy and delicious. Not that many of them this year, but I've still decided to turn them into a desert of some sort later on (though not that much later on, don't want them to become overripe). I have to cut this tree (or, rather, bush) next spring and prune the lower branches although cutting's not actually recommended for cherries. But when did some recommendations stop me? Call me the renegade gardener.

UNDER the long dark boughs, like jewels red
In the hair of an Eastern girl
Hang strings of crimson cherries, as if had bled
Blood-drops beneath each curl.

Under the glistening cherries, with folded wings
Three dead birds lie:
Pale-breasted throstles and a blackbird, robberlings
Stained with red dye.

Against the haystack a girl stands laughing at me,
Cherries hung round her ears.
Offers me her scarlet fruit: I will see
If she has any tears.

These astilbes are getting nicer and bigger by the year. The dark fence in the background really brings out the lacy flowers. If only I could make more sense of the rest of the bed: the group with some narrow-leaved bellflowers teamed up with some hostas isn't really working - it lacks the posture, organisation and dignity of the astilbe arrangement.

Just look at this clematis! (somehow that sounded like a very Titchmarshian thing to say) It has always been great, but never has it climbed this high before and bloomed so abundantly. I think it really benefited from the spring and the slight overdose of fertiliser my dad sprinkled at the root.
The best thing is, it will keep flowering until winter comes. One of my favourites, no doubt.

Ligularias: as a group of plants they are, again, much favoured by this gnome. They are often tall and majestic like this 'sceptre' ligularia and some varieties also attract butterflies later in the summer. The other summer some of the ligularia flowers were absolutely covered with butterflies, you literally couldn't see the petals from the butterflies. Also kind of creepy, I have to admit: butterflies aren't that cute when the sum of their mass nearly outweighs you.

Rejoice, for come autumn we will feast on plums. The long-awaited treat is back in my parents' garden and I can't wait to stuff my face full of these beautiful and delicious fruit. And with all the rain we've been getting this summer, the plums are bound to be juicy beyond imagination. Oh Victoria, je t'adore!

Last but not least, lilies. Got these from my workplace last year and didn't expect much, but now they're making me very happy. I'm also making some scarlet lily beetles very happy by growing the lilies. I wish the appreciation was mutual - the beetles do not make me a very happy gardener. The Ferrari-red insects are annoying as they are and next to impossible to kill even with brute force, but don't let me get started with their nasty little eggs and larvae that leave traces of slime and bug crap all over the leaves.

Glimpse at a commission

2008-06-18T20:38:00.003+03:00

Luvanhaltijalla on oikeus koko maan kattavan jakeluvelvoitteen toteuttamiseksi poikkeuksellisilla maanpäällisen televisiolähetysverkon katvealueilla vaikeissa vastaanotto-olosuhteissa täydentää maapäällistä televisiolähetysverkkoa vaihtoehtoisilla televisiolähetysten jakelutavoilla.

G suspended, Cor, and all that. Sometimes being a translator is just funfunfun.

Garden Gnome

2008-06-13T12:03:00.021+03:00

Today's entry introduces some of the corners of my work in progress, i.e. my parents' garden to which I have tended for over a decade or so (not that it looks that way, though. My gardening method is largely based on trial and error, so what was ten years ago most probably isn't any more). On with the show:

I am rather proud of this nook. At the back, a giant knotweed (Fallopia sachalinensis) which lives up to its name and forms large clonal colonies that I have to uproot every spring and during the summer, too.
In the middle, a nice patch of daylilies (Hemerocallis), which have been growing in our yard as long as I can remember. Since I moved them to their current whereabouts their flowering has been rather abundant.
In the foreground there's a nice hosta of the variegata variety, but don't ask me for the name - I can't remember.

Below, you can see the basket I made for this summer. It comprises two types of geraniums (pelargoniums?; for more of the name confusion madness, consult this wikipedia article) and a violet petunia. As the summer progresses, the white geraniums are supposed to hang over the rim of the basket and cascade down like a shower of whiteness.

Now here is what a cranesbill (geranium... *sigh*) should look like in my opinion. This cutesy variety is called Karmina.

The clematis below can easily be grown in a large flowerpot - actually, I had it on my balcony last summer. It's called Königskind (Es waren zwei Königskinder / die hatten einander so lieb...) and its flowers are humongous. And perty, me likey. At the moment, his little highness is climbing the swing. I'm hoping that by the end of the summer, the vine will have climbed on top of the canopy of the swing so that we can marvel at it at our crayfish party.

This little fountain was my mum's birthday gift if my memory serves. It sounds rather pleasant on a hot summer's day and once the irises bloom it's also rather picturesque. Not this year though: because of the draught, the flowers haven't risen above the foliage properly and the impression this little flowerbed gives is in consequence rather insipid, that is, blah.

[I can't believe I didn't have a garden tag before!]

Ice-coffee break

2008-06-05T17:07:00.005+03:00

Just wanted to share my ice-coffee with you (the picture's not very good as I took it with my cell phone and the sun was so bright). I'm enjoying this and Mr King's autobiography in the sun shine - things could be worse. Tomorrow I'm taking my dad to Särkänniemi for a day of wild rides. How brilliant is that?!

Sure sign of summer: I have started four books and I'm reading them in random order. At least this summer I actually have time for some reading and don't feel dead tired all the time.

The half-naked chef

2008-06-04T15:21:00.005+03:00

I dreamt that D wouldn't write me a recommendation for Humboldt because I had so many prepositional mistakes in this blog. In consequence, I was so vexed when I got up this morning that I just had to make my life more bearable by preparing a nice dish of lemon risotto for lunch, the recipe of which can be found in this great food blog that I like to keep my eye on. The risotto was yummy, I almost touched my dad for making it, and so plentiful that I now have two extra portions in the freezer. To make a great lunch greater, I made myself an ice-coffee (meaning two scoops of vanilla ice-cream and whipped cream in a glass full of strong, cold coffee - chocolate sauce optional) and enjoyed the sun while reading about the many intricacies of the British rules of conversation. I also started writing my final reflection notes on the translation project. I just hope I don't come off sounding too irked about the troubles we encountered along the way, with the texts changing and all that.

Now, a mountain of dishes awaits. The washing-up has been put off for long enough.

Future's made of virtual insanity

2008-06-03T10:37:00.008+03:00

Anyone ever heard of TOEFL? No, it's not the final examination of the Hogwarts universe but stands for Test of English as a Foreign Language - a test I apparently need to take at some point next year so that I can apply for a place at my next uni. The idiotic part of it is, I'm already obsessing about it and slowly becoming an intolerable nerve wreck. I suppose it's a good thing to make plans for your future but when it leads to this sort of anxiety and neuroticism it isn't all that convenient.

Let's start at the beginning. I have high hopes that I'm going to graduate next year. Having never been abroad for a longer period of time and having fair command of just one language other than my mother tongue, I've decided to see the world and go somewhere. When I first started studying in Turku, I thought that somewhere was going to be France. Then I came to the conclusion that French is just perverse and that German is delightfully logical as well as English-like so I made a mental defection to Wurstlandia and started to chart my options. To make a long story shortish, I found a great postgraduate programme at the Centre of British Studies at the Humboldt-Universität zu Berlin. And all they need, being true to their alleged national identity, is a stack of official papers and certificates that will tell them that I'm a decent-enough lad and that they'd be fortunate to have me.

Right. This is where the TOEFL steps in (anyone else feel uneasy about the name sounding something like teufel if pronounced as one word? A diabolical scheme to take over the world by harnessing non-native English speakers to do Old Hornie's dirty work? Anyhoo...) They want to receive an official certificate about their potential students' English skills, which only makes sense considering that it is an academic programme carried out solely in English and that their traineeships take place at establishments like the House of Commons, Christie's, German-British Chamber of Commerce and the BBC, to drop a few names. And I know, rationally thinking, I shouldn't have any considerable trouble getting a good score from an exam like the TOEFL (should be at least 100/120 points in the Internet-based Test) , which on the utu web page is said to be somewhat similar to the A levels, but I still get fidgety every time I start thinking about it. What if I miss a question? What if the test reveals that something is horribly awry with my English? What if the censor laughs at my answers in his little dark troglodytical cavern of ill thoughts at the other end of the Interwebs? That would make T a very sad puppy.

*Sigh* Not only do they want the language certificate, I also need to get a certified copy of my certificate of matriculation both in Finnish and in English, student record in Finnish and in English, detailed CV, university degree certificate in Finnish and in English as well as an essay on my motivation and 1-3 recommendations. There are usually approximately 130 applicants from all over the world, 25 get in. So far, only one Finn has attended the programme. To date, she has also been the only student from the Nordic Countries. Freaky.

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edit: I added a new link to my blog list. I found it while rummaging the net for the meaning of Hadaway and shite. Should be of some interest at least to the English translators of this blog.

Smiley-faced sod

2008-05-30T00:27:00.010+03:00

Not only did I reward myself with an ice-cream, I also had a beer, good people. Yup. My first riverboat pint this summer (not counting those I was forced to drink during AATU) - the sun was shining, the people were smiling. Not a bad way of spending a few moments of your life, especially in good company, now is it?

This was a good day and I was in such a good mood: the people at the translation company were very friendly and sympathetic - dare I say congenial - and they told me that both of my test translations had been the best in the bunch. I also ate a pannacotta and stracciatella ice-cream which I bought at the new gelateria that has replaced good ol' Poo-Ball. What is more, it seems like my hibiscus is going to live. And my balcony smells of basil.

I also bumped into S today and we had a nice chat. And I just sent the project translation to D. How many nice things can one day contain?

Cockney

2008-05-28T21:09:00.014+03:00

Today, ("I have been mostly eating roasted chickens") I have achieved a lot. I signed up for two (2) summer exams, searched for the office of a well-known professor of media studies who started his email to me with the word 'heips' - respect - and then worked on a test translation for solid three hours (there were 6 pages of the stuff). I had so much fun. This is why I love languages: hands up, who knows what the following sentence means, without checking it somewhere online like I did?

I'll give him a bell on his dog and bone.

Funny that when I was looking for the answer, I actually came across a forum where some Spanish speaker was not only asking about the very same sentence but a few other phrases too, all of which could be found on my translation test. Seems like the company has a standardised test for all its applicants worldwide. And here's the answer to the little conundrum, if you didn't crack the code already:

I'll give him a ring on his telephone.

"This "rhyming slang" was developed by East End (London) criminals to make almost impossible for the police to understand what they were talking about. Nowadays you can hear Londoners, especially in the East End speak like this. Another example: "Dog and bone, guv? Right - take a butcher's up the toad and then use your mince pies and you'll see it." [Apparently: Phone, sir? Alright then - take a look up the road and then use your eyes and you'll see it.]

Tomorrow I'll go on a little field trip. I'm going to see the people behind my future freelancer work. I feel inspired. I think I'll reward myself with an ice-cream after the visit.

- Hello you simple northern folk, we're Cockneys! Yes, East End born and bred, we love our old mums.
- Hello, have you any jellied eels?
- Haha! That's right, Cockneys - we're hard as nails but lovable and cheeky with it. I say, you there, that fellow, you're an absolute shower! Are you looking at my lady?
- Leave it, we don't want any trouble.
- That's all right pet, we can handle ourselves, we're Geordies, divn't ya knaa?
- Put them up, you northern scum!
- Hadaway and shite, now stop it you soft southern puffs, I'll have no rumpus in here!
- Very well, shake on it.
- Way i man!
- Check me one time whitey! I'm a Yardie, from a town of Yard in a Kingston stylie. You know, Kingston, in Richmond upon Thames. You, ras claart, Pimms all round.

Lesbians in the closet give a twist to The Tales of Narnia

2008-05-27T14:54:00.009+03:00

I couldn't for the world of me come up with a good header. So I give you this shameless rip-off from a skit on The Now Show. To find out more, just ask.

My hibiscus is dying. Luckily I took some cuttings a few weeks ago so I'm not going to be entirely hibiscus-less after the last leaf has fallen. Apparently I over-watered it and that is strange because it's not exactly my besetting sin. I'm still cherishing a hope that the plant will live since the top is pushing out a healthy looking new leaf. Keep your fingers crossed people.

I've been trying to finish a translation project that has lingered at the fringes of my consciousness for almost the entire academic year. S and I started the project last autumn and then, a few months ago, the entire aim of the project changed because the person in charge of the original project backed out. Therefore, this has not been the most inspiring piece of work I've ever done but now I've finally more or less finished the translations I was supposed to do. Now, if I only were so energetic that I could actually manage to send the final product to D. I give myself until the end of this week.

Study blabber, part deux: I realised that I'm going to have to work hellalot next year in order to graduate. It's not impossible, but I didn't quite realise I was supposed to get 40 study points from my additional subjects. Considering I'm probably going to get around 18 points from French and taking into account the 4 points I got from German this spring, I still have 18 points to go. Although some words of wisdom on the German course were pronounced by the Glove Compartment it's starting to look like I may be forced to consider taking some German after all. Then there's the obvious choice of going to a few NAMS exams for solid blocks of 8, but somehow I'm not too keen at the moment. Then again, the book exams would ease my load quite considerably, especially if I took one in August before the courses start. Hmm. Annoying. The good news is that this year both our department and the French department are giving out the time tables for next term already in May, that is, within a few days. Means, I can plan my upcoming year well in advance.

Why do I only talk about studying. Or work. Or both. Aaaaargh. I need a break, need to forget all this adult stuff and just live care-free by the river for a couple of days. The sun is shining as we speak, but I have not been outside my apartment for two days. Granted, I have visited my balcony and smelled the herbs I have growing there, but that does not a proper outing make. I should take Kaminer's Ich bin kein Berliner, make myself comfortable and maybe even bring out some bubbly (by some curious twist of fate I have four bottles at the moment - go figure) and just relax for one lousy summery day. Maybe I should even top it off with a concert at Naantali once the music festival opens. Ah, that is exactly what I'll do.

Hhhh-okey, finally some writing

2008-05-23T14:11:00.005+03:00

I've been so depressed about the huge concrete wall being built to replace my sunset and church tower view that I haven't felt like writing in a long time. On top of that, it's been so cold that I haven't been able to enjoy my balcony and, therefore, I've felt strangely ill at ease. So don't blame me for not writing. Blame the powers that be and the constructions workers laughing at my misfortune and gawping at me through the windows.

I've been feeling stressed, yes it's true. Not that I've had that much to do lately, but waiting to hear news about things that might affect the next few months of your life is surprisingly consuming. By all this I mean the "we don't need to inform our applicants" policy of the translation agency I applied to. Nevermore (and never say never) will I want to work there. If they feel like they are too important to care about their potential workers then I guess I don't want to earn my money there - no matter how high and mighty their clients are. Otherwise it's not going too bad, work-wise. I got some work as a freelancer in another agency and also a nice commission through Käännöspalvelu. And today, I sent out an email application for some AV translation work after the post office (or some such establishment) mysteriously lost my letter on its way to the firm. A word of advice: ring your prospective employers and make sure they've received your letter - if I hadn't done that myself, I would have one more thing to stress about.

So what else is there to boo-hoo about? Oh yes, I would love to know my next year's courses already so that I would know for sure if I can graduate next year or not. I'm hoping that everything will go the way I've planned (although it probably won't) and that my studies next year will comprise French courses, thesis seminar, literary translation and some mündliche Kommukation auf Deutsch mit Herrn Glas im Fortsetzungskurs III. Na ja, das wird man sehen.

I've done a lot of gardening in the past few days at my parents'. There are a few patches there I've been working on, or more accurately, been thinking about working on for a couple of years and now that I don't have to do gardening for living, I can finally concentrate on enjoying the process. This spring I've made, with the help of my dad, three new flower beds, one in the front, two in the back. I've also done a considerable amount of weeding, which I usually hate, but this spring it's been a breeze. Maybe I'll post some pictures once the plants have grown a bit.

I'd like to spend a few days at the cinema, just see a bunch of films and get swept away by the celluloids. I haven't seen this few films in ages. I used to go to the cinema a lot, but now I'm not sure if I've seen one single film at the cinema this year. That must been some sort of a record. And now with the new Indy film (which is most likely to suck) and all, maybe I should spend a few €'s on tickets.

I just realised I have Welcome to the Dollhouse in my shelf. I should definitely spend one evening watching that. I read somewhere that Solondz is preparing a new film called Life During Wartime which is rumoured to feature such surprising actors/actresses as Emma Thompson, Demi Moore and Paul Reubens. Bound to be interesting, even if not everyone's cup of tea.

LOL - the best 'knock, knock' joke, like, eva

2008-04-21T18:19:00.006+03:00

- Knock, knock. - Who's there?
- Knock, knock. - Who's there?
- Knock, knock. - Who's there?
- Knock, knock. - Who's there?
- Knock, knock. - Who's there?
- Knock, knock. - Who's there?
- Knock, knock. - Who's there?
- Knock, knock. - Who's there?
- Knock, knock. - Who's there?
- Knock, knock. - Who's there?
- Knock, knock. - Who's there?
- Knock, knock. - Who's there?
- Knock, knock. - Who's there?
- Knock, knock. - Who's there?
- Philip Glass

Project Runway S04 - spoiler ahoy

2008-04-19T17:23:00.010+03:00

Last week I finished watching season 4 of Project Runway. One of the most memorable participants this time round was the fierce Christian Siriano, who also ended up winning both the viewer's award as well as the main price (All the outfits he made during the show can be seen here). The SNL parody below pretty well sums up his catch phrases, and having watched the season, I find it pretty funny. I'm glad he came in first, hooray for creativity and persona.

Some Bolly for ya!

2008-04-15T00:45:00.001+03:00

Thanks goes to Skinship - again - for the chuckles. This is brilliant.

Blogging coming up in the future. My seminar paper has now been handed in (gaaaawd, it sucked balls) now it's pretty much only the symposia I have to worry about. But more about that in the none too distant future.

What goes up must come down

2008-03-20T17:19:00.004+02:00

Greetings from Ruka. The sun is shining, the dinner tables are abundant and the temperature is just below zero. Not that much to complain, really. Except...

Why did no one tell me I was to make the transition to the new study system? This morning I got a call from the office of Humanities and the woman at the other end told me she couldn't give me my BA today because I was still studying under the old credit system. Not only that, but she also sounded quite cross about it. Looks like it's going to be another 1-4 weeks, now. I checked my register and sure enough, it confirmed what the Humanities lady had said. But all this time, three years, I've been under the impression that I'm studying under the study points system. No lecturer has ever talked to me about study weeks and I thought every decision I've made with my studies has been based on the points' system. Apparently not. Stupid me.

I'm a sole trader now, the proud owner of Translatura Translation Service. Both S and I set up our own business on Monday and now every possible authority is trying to sell me insurances and telecommunication services or trying to get me to join some registry (only for 175 € a year, mind. Although, the little detail of the service actually costing something wasn't worth mentioning until the end of the few minutes long conversation. The leech!).

I also made it to the second round of the battle over the internships. I received an email from the translation company asking me for additional information on my language pairs and availability. I tweaked the truth as much as I could without making it feel like lying and tried to sound as enthusiastic as possible. I keep keeping my fingers crossed. While enjoying my first real snow of the winter, of course.

The Satanic Verses of Harry Potter

2008-03-14T17:27:00.007+02:00

I stumbled upon a thread on Harry Potter on the forum of Tiede magazine. I clicked the link there and found a very opinionated web page about the evils of the Potter books. Because I was truly perplexed about the things the writer was saying, I dug up the original text from the ocean of information called the Internet. I learnt that using a translator could sometimes be a really good idea. Not that the original text makes that much more sense, but the Finnish version is just plain silly at times. Unintendedly. Short example below. Spot the errors (there are a few..).

I am writing this urgent message because I was once a witch. I lived by the stars as an astrologer and numerologist casting horoscopes and spells. I lived in the mysterious and shadowy realm of the occult. By means of spells and magic, I was able to invoke the powers of the "controlling unknown" and fly upon the night winds transcending the astral plane. Halloween was my favorite time of the year and I was intrigued and absorbed in the realm of Wiccan witchcraft. All of this was happening in the decade of the 1960's when witchcraft was just starting to come out of the broom closet.

Kirjoitan tämän kirjoituksen, koska olen entinen noita. Asuin tähdillä ennustajana tehden horoskooppeja ja loitsuja. Asuin salaperäisessä ja hämärässä okkultiikan maailmassa. Taikojen ja loitsujen avulla kykenin huutamaan avuksi voimia sekä "kontrolloimaan tuntematonta" ja lentämään yöllä astraalikoneella. Suosikki aikaani oli Halloween aika. Olin kiinnostunut myös Wiccasta sekä imin itseeni Wicca noituuden valtakuntaa. Kaikki tämä tapahtui 1960-luvulla, jolloin noituus oli juuri tullut kaapista ulos.

No wonder you get worked up if you think someone's telling you about their life on a distant star. Astraalikone... loller.

By popular demand

2008-03-12T20:23:00.004+02:00

I guess I'm obligated to write since Hanska expressed her wish for such activity in her own blogspot. Sadly, I have no news and no news isn't even good news since I feel quite rotten. My seminar thesis isn't writing itself (I wonder why) and I'm really starting to think I'm not going to get invited to a job interview. I was really looking forward to doing some "real" work, something I'm trained to do (sorta), but nobody wants me. I don't know what more I can offer. I have my 195 study points + 118 credits from Helsinki, a BA practically in my backpocket and still I'm not an attractive enough opportunity in the eyes of an employer. My soul cries little bitter tears of inadequacy.

I did manage to proofread Sibelius's Cassazione (1904 version) for an hour and a half today. I'm guessing it's going to take about 5 hours in total, it's not really much work at all. I also wrote the first version of my Commerce Finnish-English homework assignment 2. Almost lost my nerve with that one. The old truth applies: when you don't know what something means, it's quite impossible to translate it. Commercial English is a strange mix of special terms and inventive metaphor usage which makes it all the more challenging to translate. I guess I need to return to the text in a few days.

I baked a mean apple pie. Come and eat it. It'll be sugary goodness in your veins. I think I'll have a piece and listen to I. Alanko's new Blanco Spirituals cd one more time. I bought it yesterday, when I also got a new waistcoat and window shopped for a pair of sunglasses and gloves. Ruka and Pyhä are less than a week away and I need be prepared.

Update

2008-03-05T22:41:00.007+02:00

It's been a while; that's how it is nowadays, ladies and gents. It just seems like as of lately, my entires only consist of media observations - and not even the good kind like politics and so on, but mainly telly and film - so I thought I'd give it a rest until I have something to say again. Well, as it turns out, I don't have much to say. Ever. So I just keep on posting what I post. Today in the headlines: my Youtube heroine Emily, aka Applemilk1988.

I don't even remember how I initially found her videos. I guess I just stumbled upon them accidentally. But now, she's the only Youtuber I actually subscribe to. Few reasons why she's great:

First of all, she speaks Japanese. In just a few years, she has become quite fluent in it. She is self-taught and claims she learnt the language mainly by listening to Japanese music. In one of her vlog entries she also introduced some of the books she had used. To me (who knows Japanese not, but who supposedly understands something about melodies and thus about accents... errr... prhps. I dare you to defy my logic!) she sounds pretty good. Also, I remember Skinship having been impressed by her pronunciation. One thing is for certain: Emily does not sound like your typical American trying to pronounce a foreign language.

Second. She is entertaining. She is just the kind of person (or at least an internet personality) who people love to hate or then just love. Her English posts are sarcastic, sometimes pretty witty, usually just plain goofy, but I enjoy watching her. She's cute, too; maybe that has something to do with it.

Third. She's a decent singer. She used to have numerous examples of her singing on her website, which is now down. She still has at least one video on Youtube. Not my favourite though.

She is pretty intense. Just like her Pretty Intense Japanese Lessons.

Ok, onto other things.

Turku looks so sad when you arrive there at 2 in the morning. I came to realise this last week when I was coming from Helsinki and had just advised a couple of Spanish (?) guys to take the same bus I was taking since they wanted to go to Turku, too. At Piispanristi I tried to see the landscape as though through their eyes, for the fist time. Can't say it was a very uplifting experience, but the neon sign of a meat factory made an impression all the same. Though sometimes depressing, at the same time I often love the shabbiness of Turku, it's very cosy. Makes me think of film noir-ish things, rainy days and lampposts. Like -A says, you don't have to understand.

No news from the internships (or what the heck they're called). I'm trying to prepare myself for the possibility (probability?) that I won't be invited to an interview. The bottomline is, I just hate the waiting. If I knew the score, I could be out looking for other jobs but now I just have to sit and wait for the powers that be to make up their minds. All this waiting makes me wonder if I even want the jobs. I sent an application to two translation firms, one of which seemed to look for "something like a translator to do some sorta translating" and the other was searching a superhuman linguist translation machine to translate from and into a gahzillion languages. The second one could be nice as a challenge, and that's why, after some thought, I decided to apply there. The first one, on the other hand, might be nice as a first workplace in the field.

*sigh* I need some lolcats to take my mind off things. The world's a mess. Even Clinton and Obama are fighting.

"My muffin top is all that, whole grain, low fat"

2008-02-11T19:32:00.000+02:00

I haven't had a good laugh in a while when watching a tv show (excluding the snorks resulting from some of House's most outrageous spates of words) but 30 Rock makes me chuckle - constantly. The dialogue is surprisingly witty for an American series and the characters are well thought-out. The fact that the show lets the viewer do the laughing is also refreshing. And who knew A. Baldwin could do comedy? I can recommend the series, it starts today on Sub. It really gets going after the third episode once they've established the setup, so give it some time.

100 cc's of AV translation IV, stat

2008-02-09T12:45:00.000+02:00

At long last Ifound the time to watch Almodóvar's La mala educación but my appreciation of the film was seriously hindered by the god-awful subtitling. I guess the information content was ok (can't say for sure since my Spanish is a bit rusty, read: nonexistent) but the timing was just terrible. It was consistently about 2 seconds late telling me the translator didn't bother to calibrate the timecode.

I sent out a job application to one of the subtitling companies. They were looking for freelancers and I am looking for some work - what a match made in heaven. Not that I'm holding my breath. And to be fair, at the moment, I'm not at all work deprived, actually. I just received the notes for Sibelius's Cassazione from the Nation Library and that will keep me busy this month and maybe in March too.

omg, the other Others are coming

2008-02-01T18:03:00.000+02:00

I was looking forward to the new season of Lost, although it was sort of expected that there wouldn't be anything new under the snow globe sun of the island. But I'm a little surprised by just how put off I really was about the whole first episode of the fourth season. The episode offered just an endless array of new twists and turns. And so, I'm left with the urge of drawing comparisons between the series and the convoluted storylines of The Bold and the Beautiful. Think about it: isn't "Is Brooke, the Former Confused Country Girl, Then Brilliant Chemist, Present Tart, Future Resurrected on Popular Demand, going to marry the son of her brother's wife's half sister's mother-and/or-father, who just turns out to be some sort of next of kin" more or less the same thing as "Is Locke, the Former Saviour, Now Ambivalent, Future Foe, really going to find out all the secrets of the island, wake up the dead, have hallusinations, hear voices and then probably at some point realise that he is really Lord Voldemort and the island is actually a slightly convex disc resting on the back of four elephants, who in turn are standing on the on the back of an enormous turtle floating its way to Hogwarts, so that the viewer will be hooked for still three more seasons to come".

Grrrr. Annoyed I am, I am. Not that that will stop me from watching.

Ah, you must be Dr House

2008-01-31T14:51:00.000+02:00

In the despair of there having been nothing I could do to improve my situation of unfinished business (that sentence construction was adopted straight from one of those I'm-willing-to-give-you-
billions-of-dollars-yes-I'm-the-real-deal-sure-it's-legal-just-give-
me-the-number-of-your-bank-account-and-the-code-of-your-
credit-card letters from Nigeria or wherever I seem to be getting from time to time. Apparently they've got an overload of distressed princes over there.) I watched House M.D. for a total of 8 + 24 episodes in a little over a week. This is what I learnt: House is one of the best written characters in the history of television, Cameron seemed to grow a pair, Cameron and Chase became a pair and liver shut-down seems to be quite common, at least among House's patients. In addition, Ah you must be Dr. House was obviously some sort of joke among the writers at some point. The reoccurence of the sentence as the patients' first words uttered to the doctor was far too conspicuous to have been a coincidence.

Why does my English suck so much right now?

As you can see, I'm preparing for my terminology exam which is tomorrow. This escapism is symptomatic of the vagueness of my entire existence. For instance, I'm still waiting results and marks from here and there to finally be able to receive that Most Eligible Bachelor of Arts certificate I so crave. D did his share, so did E with my NAMS paper (not to burnish my own image, but a whopping 5 from both, grhm), but I'm still waiting my Swedish results and the mark from my seriously fluffed linguistics exam which I most probably have to retake in order to get that 4 for the final grade of my basic studies. I am also in the process of applying for some jobs the Faculty of Humanities is offering for next summer. But at the same time I should probably be applying for some "real" jobs, too, so that I have something to fall back on if my plans blow up in my face. But, since I'm in the middle of my gradu anxiety, I don't seem to be able to think about job applications and the future. Annoyes me, it does.

Furthermore, my Master's Thesis isn't going anywhere, although, because I'm in the middle of the process, I could probably tell you that the previous clause was an example of a gradu is a journey conceptual metaphor. This I have learnt from books. I'd like to take the opportunity to praise Play.com who sent me a stack of books in a jiffy at a very reasonable price (and no postage). Go Jersey!

Anyone want to go to Brighton with me in August? There's a conference on Language, Communication and Cognition, and G. Lakoff, the guru of my Thesis to be, will be one of the keynote speakers. I want to hear the words of wisdom straight from the horse's mouth. Early registration starts in March. For more information, click here.

In other news, Steven Hall's The Raw Shark Texts was a brilliant book and I wish more people would read it. It worked on so many different levels with its captivating, albeit a bit strange (but hey, for me strange is the magic word), storyline, numerous allusions, interesting characters and typograpfic devices. A book you'd like to write a book report on. Maybe I will. I'd be in for 2 study points. Not that I need them anymore.

Me memeing

2008-01-10T16:07:00.000+02:00

A meme I picked up from Skinship

1. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Special:Random
The first article title on the page is the name of your band.
2. http://www.quotationspage.com/random.php3
The last four words of the very last quote is the title of your album.
3. http://www.flickr.com/explore/interesting/7days/
The third picture, no matter what it is, will be your album cover.
You then take the pic and add your band name and the album title to it, then post your pic.

And here it is, ladies and gentlemen, and I am speechless. I'd be happy to receive suggestions about their genre of music, because frankly, I don't have a clue.

Love/hate

2008-01-08T21:35:00.000+02:00

Linguistics is a funny thing. I'm really thrilled about a lot of things I learn while reading books like Anthropological Linguistics by W. Foley or Using Language by H. Clark, but then again I'm really put off by how slow the reading sometimes is. In addition, I have to say I'm not that interested in hearing about all the not-so-fascinating sentence or word structures of languages such as Mordvinic or Yimas; and when the text you're reading looks like this

ta-mpu-i-c-mpan-mpwi
NEG-3PL SUBJ-tell-PERF-3PL IND OBJ-talk OBJ

or this

Klp. md palautuu sm-ugr. *mt:hen, joka on suomessa muuttunut nt:ksi, esim. vksm. *tumte- > lpEt. damda- tabta-, U dåbda-, Pi tobto-, L tåbtå-, tågtå-, N dobdâ-, dogdâ-, dowdâ-, I tubda-, Ko towda-, tobda-, Kld., T tomda- 'tuntea' ~ sm. tunte-.

page after page after page (for about 980 pages, to be exact-ish), I just get the feeling I can't be arsed. I mean, just look at the second example (doesn't seem to matter which I. is the author, it always ends up the same...)! I have no idea what Pi stands for, or Kld. for that matter. And I'm not going to look those up, either. I see the author as a pestilential bloke who's just taking the piss out of me. Why not just write something in the lines of Ugh ugh plugh plugh ugh plugh plugh? It would be just as informative, thank you very much. (For the record, that ugh plugh sentence was from Foley 1997, 6).

But I have to admit, on the other hand, finding out that the original form of the word lahti is actually laksi (maybe that's why it's Lielax and not Lärvik, who knows. Although, Lärvik would be a wicked place to live in, I'm sure.), or that the word for 'manure' is tade and hence the word tadikko or talikko, is quite captivating. Also, coming to grips with the complexity of the birth of language and finding out that the emergence of the ability to use and construct tools was probably closely connected with the evolution of language is sort of mind blowing.

Luckily I have Ursula K. Le Guin to keep me sane and not too attached to the realities of approaching exam dates. Although I'm reading the Finnish translation, I'm enjoying it immensely. Especially after the horridness of Labyrintti ("Tremble Dan Brown", my arse. Ok, I didn't have the urge to burn the book quite as much as I did with Da Vinci Code, but still), Rikman's Finnish is beautiful, at times archaic, inventive and alive. And Le Guin writes so effortlessly, yet with insight. Just have to get my hands on the last two Earthsea books in the near future.

Happy New Year, One and All

2008-01-03T00:02:00.001+02:00

I have begun my year very energetically. I have read two books in two days. Today I went to the student library and borrowed two exam books. Then I tried to offer a piece of paper saying I have really-truly passed an honest-to-gosh university Swedish course to the Humanities' Office, but they said it wasn't official enough. So I have to wait a few days while the paper arrives from Helsinki and I can get the Swedish course out of my mind. I also went to Juslenia to find a brown envelope so that I could finally do the 8-credit book exam for the linguistics department, but no dice. So I had to gambol over to Signum, where the brownies were plentiful. Then, I hopped down the hill and the stony steps to the University Bookstore and bought the book for my Advanced German course. After that, I flitted to Kupittaa and acquired a card for the Kupittaa Hall, so now I can go and run all I like without having to worry about my asthmatic tendencies. I also managed to learn the first section of the Brahms Ballade in g minor op. 118/3. Yay me.

And that's not all there is to the start of this year, folks. Tomorrow I will go and take my gift lithograph to a frame maker. I will also return the brown envelope to the Den of the Linguists, and then scoot over to the bookstore to get the comics I ordered last week. Such a busy year this is turning out to be.

Finished List

2007-12-13T22:40:00.001+02:00

Thanks Heli. This ought to be interesting (for me, not for you necessarily). Take the words in the list and tell what they mean to you from the point of view of your childhood. Then add one extra word at the end of the list.

1. comb
I didn't like combs when I was a child because my hair got really tangled. Instead, I had a handmade wooden brush which I used to make myself representable, to no avail. Nowadays I have a great comb, which folds like a penknife and has a great 2-in-1 feature with both a regular comb and a brush in the same package. I "stole" it from a hotel in Kyoto.

2. bird
I never knew the names of any birds, I still don't to a very large extent. And I couldn't quite grasp the idea that people were actually interested in birds before I met my friend T, who used to be an active twitcher.

3. sea
I guess the sea should play some important role in my life since I've lived in a city by the sea most of my life, but nope. Sure, the archipelago is nice and all, but the sea is basically just bucket-loads of water you can't drink. Have to admit, as a child it was nice to go swimming in it, though.

4. guitar
My dad played the guitar, he still does. I never learned to play it properly, although we used to have lessons in lower secondary school. I know the names of the strings and I can in theory produce different chords, but the guitar was never really my thing. I do appreciate it when someone else knows how to play it, though. What would have many of the parties in my youth been, if there hadn't been for people who accompanied themselves and everyone else on the guitar.

5. clock
My grandparents had a big clock on the wall. It was not quite as big as a real grandfather clock but it had to be wound every day or week. It ticked and tocked rather loudly and made it difficult to sleep. Even today I have trouble sleeping if there's a clock in the same room my bed is. I even have to have my watch in another room if I plan to sleep. For a while, I thought the clock on the wall could talk, actually. For some reason it seemed to say juus-to, juus-to. Perhaps I was a mouse in my previous life. Or maybe I was a very hungry child.

6. throwing up
I once ate lots of cucumber. Lots. Needless to say, I threw up. Now that I think about it, it must've been a Spanish cucumber, I would never have thrown up a Finnish one, I think. This time I did, so it had to be Spanish. I wouldn't eat cucumber for a few years which was bad, because it was practically the only veggie I ate.

7. granny
Lived with her for a good four years of my life, or so. My Christian beliefs stem from that period and so do the battles I face with some moral questions. Such a beautiful lady. Love her to bits.

8. books
What can I say, I love them. For some reason my friends have fallen into the habit of counting their books, so I had to do it too. In my apartment, I have 264 books and then some more at my parents'. My relatives always like to point out that I have my nose buried in a book whenever I'm visiting or something. It's not that I'm trying to be rude or anything. Reading is just fascinating.

9. woolly hat
I had a woolly hat that had my name on it. Why on earth? Was it for me, so that I wouldn't forget my name? Was it for my friends? Some friends they were if they didn't remember my name. I would also have worried if the teachers hadn't known who I was. Was the hat for stangers then? Why should strange people know the name of a child? I never got it. But I wore my woolly hat with pride, all the same.

10. maths
I was never particularly keen on it, but I did ok, at least before upper secondary school. Wagering money on test results made maths exciting for me, so thank you H. Woe the betting that goes on in the school hallways!

11. forest
I built a fortress with my friend in the security of a huge rock and two old spruce trees. The surrounding woods wasn't big but for me it was a real forest - even if I could always see my grandparents' house at the other end of the little path that went through it.

12. thunder
I sat with my granny on the porch and watched the lightning show that the thunder storm was giving us. I was afraid of the storm, I wanted to go inside. Thunder still makes me a bit anxious.

13. hair
My hair has always been wild. Before I started school, I really didn't care; in comprehensive school, I wore too much hair gel.

14. brother
I wanted a little brother so that (and I quote myself) "at least someone would be a bigger loser than I am". What a cheery child I was.

15. window
I have no window-related memories. Except that I used to like drawing pictures into misty car windows. I guess everyone likes that. And I used to wonder how there always seemed to be dead bugs caught in between the windowpanes.

16. calendar
I used to marvel at my mom's calendars since she always had so many of them. And they seemed to be tended to meticulously. When I got into the university, I took the habit of colourcoding my calendar markings. Like mother like son.

17. porridge
Never been keen on porridge, but I've always eaten it. I did like granny's gruel, though. I used to eat it by dipping my sandwiches into it. My other disgusting eating habits included (from the age of three or so) tepid coffee with milk and lots of sugar and crisps with a milk dip.

18. handkerchief
I had a very nice cloth handkerchief when I was young. It was easy on the nose and reusable and I've missed it dearly eversince I lost it. Maybe I should get a new one one of these days.

19. nail varnish
Never really used any, at least any colour ones, if my memory serves. But I did wear some calcium nail varnish at one time just to protect my nail when my it had chipped and it got torn time and again.

20. painting
Not a painting actually but some sort of needle work that I used to think portrayed a monster used hang on the wall in my parents house. Just a few years ago, I realised it was actually a rose flower with to leaves, not a lump of monster with a head and an outstretched claw. The work now hangs on my apartment wall.

21. car
I've seen many of them during my life time, they come and go. My dad used to drive a lot for work, and we rarely had one car for more than a year or two. Having lived 100 km from my parents, I have also spent a few moments sitting in cars. As a child I used to have my own special elevated car seat and all.

22. poster
As a Disney freak, I used to have disney posters on my walls. They used to sell Disney posters in special poster magazines and I of course had them all. I think I've thrown them away now, but I had them for a long time.

23. doll
I preferred dolls, why hide the fact. I preferred them to little toy cars and the like at least. I mean, I never understood what was so great about wroom-wrooming around the floor with a piece of metal when you could actually play with virtual human lives. When I got my Masters of the Universe figures, me and my friend used to write plays with them and then act them out for a nominal fee of a piece of crispbread. I think He-Man always prevailed over Skeletor, I wasn't that enlightened about the realities of life at such and early age.

24. key
I have always been particular about my keys. Even when I didn't have any real ones, I sometimes carried a key ring with some odd spare keys on it. I have never lost my keys, and I have very seldom left them home. When I was just starting school I used to carry them around my neck in a rubber chain that looked like an oldfashioned phone chord. I liked to chew on it, don't ask me why.

25. singin
I used to sing a lot. To the point where my school mates told me to shut up. Granted, it was a bit traumatizing, but I did survive. And given the later developments in my life, I guess it was good practice.

Cecilia Bartoli - Agitata da due venti

2007-11-29T01:36:00.001+02:00

Edit: Also, pay attention to the leader in the first violin at around 1.38. He's way too into the whole Vivaldi scene. The whole orchestra seems to be a bit high, all in all.
Ok, on a happier note, you have to listen to this one, too, especially if all you've heard from Vivaldi are the "Four Seasons". They claim that Vivaldi composed the same piece for some 1000 times, but I find this little aria quite refressing. Listen to it all the way through, and keep your eyes on Bartoli although it may hurt your precious retinae. She's wild. People usually either love or hate the way she sings, but that's how it often is with true artists. Remember Callas?
Listening to Bartoli reminds me of upper secondary school years, of L and her reaperman-like piano fingers. And looking at her makes me think of a cross breed between Essi wuorela, the Cyclops, and ADHD hamster on speed, to borrow -A's old chracterization.
Oh yeah, she's supposed to be agitated by two winds. Must be some sexual innuendo involved, there always is. Never think that composers or poets of yesteryear were prunes because, in fact, they were masters of perv.

Agitated by two winds
trembling waves in the turbulent sea
and the frightened steersman
already awaits to be shipwrecked.
By duty and by love
this heart is assailed;
it cannot resist and seems to give up
and begins to despair.

Blabber

2007-11-16T00:13:00.000+02:00

Let's see, what's new.
I'm playing in the Kampus Orchestra which is all fine and dandy for a change, but it irritates the hell out of me to see all the mistakes I made while writing the cantatas. Although I know mistakes are unavoidable when writing such a wodge of music, I don't like facing them over and over again during rehearsals. The perfectionist in me cries little bitter tears of disappointment.

The bright side of playing in this megalomaniacal production is that I get to see all my old friends from my upper secondary school years - and some people from the Navy Band, as well. Some are singing, some are playing, and it reminds me of those three happy years I spent with music as my focal point in life. Not that I'm complaining about my life now, either, but there were a few years in between that I could perhaps have done without. Perhaps. Then again, the funny thing about the past is, that even when it's bad, it always leads you to better times you wouldn't necessarily have if you had lived your life otherwise. And what doesn't kill you, makes you stronger. And all those other platitudes.

I was in Copenhagen. Had fun, nice city, good company.

Still haven't got round to mailing my Christmas party invitations. So, if you're reading and I never manage to write a proper invitation (and yes, this invitation goes out to you invisible readers of this blog, too), welcome to my place on Saturday 01.12. The key words are: avec, byob, sauna option (bring towel, pls), possibly bring some extra oxygen, since there might be a lot of folk in my apartment. If I don't already know you're coming, I think it would be great to let me know you are planning on it just so that I can be prepared with the food and all. Nice.