Thursday, October 1, 2020

Portrait of my mom

 Here's a video with my mom I wanted to share with you.

Or click this link to watch
(English and Dutch subtitles available)

This was part of a TV-show called Van de Kaart (full episode here, no subtitles) she used to watchTV-show herself. It's made by a local station that has a group traverse from A to B in as much a straight line as possible, having to climb walls and go through houses. In this particular episode, shot on October 11, 2017 (one day before her birthday and right in between the passing of my dad (2015) and my mom (2019), they happened to meet my mom. As they pass through the house she tells her about herself and my dad, and she invites them to join her for tea. I think this is a beautiful portrait of her, showing her exactly the way she was.

My mom in January 2019 in Barcelona
My mom in January 2019 in Barcelona

We are organizing a remembrance walk for my mom Sunday, Oct 4, 2020, see the invite below. For those too far away who would like to 'join': do your own walk in remembrance of my mom wherever you are. She would love that 😊

A Walk in Memory of Wads

It has been almost a year since Wads left us. We would like to remember her by organizing a walk together on Sunday 4 October.  

When11:00. We will start walking at 11:10, so please be on time.  
WhereIn front of Koffietent John & June's at Prinsevinkenpark There is free parking close by. Bus 22 and trams 1 and 9 are close by as well.
WhatAn easy walk under an hour visiting a few places including Scheveningse Bosjes, Celebesstraat, Archipelbuurt, ending at the cemetery. We will keep a friendly 1,5m distance and please feel free to wear face masks as you prefer. 
After the walk, for those who want to join: Dimsum at 13.00 at China Town Dimsum & Grill Wagenstraat 100 ( Due to COVID, please make your own reservation directly with the restaurant, but we will try to arrange so we sit in the general area.  
Your response
  1. Let us know if you are joining, but No RSVP required
  2. Also, please share this with others who may be interested. 
  3. Again, if you join us for dimsum, please make your own reservation with the restaurant.
A short update. With lots of help from friends we have been successful in clearing out Celebesstraat 42. Many friends also took tokens from the house to remember it and my parents by. As much as we love the house, it was not our wish to live there, so in the end we decided to sell it. This was by no means an easy decision, but it feels right. One good thing came out of it: the new owners are a wonderful family with two young daughters who have plans in rejuvenating and updating the house before living there themselves. Much like my parents in 1976, they are moving from Amsterdam to The Hague . 

We hope to see you on Sunday 4 October.


Wandeling ter nagedachtenis aan Wads 

Het is bijna een jaar geleden dat Wads is komen te overlijden. Om dit te herdenken organiseren we een wandeling op zondag 4 oktober.

Wanneer11:00. We beginnen met lopen om 11:10, wees ajb op tijd.
WaarVoor Koffietent John & June's aan het Prinsevinkenpark Er kan gratis geparkeerd worden. Bus 22, tram 1 en tram 9 stoppen ook in de buurt.
Wat: een gemakkelijke wandeling van uiterlijk een uur, denk hierbij aan de Scheveningse Bosjes, Celebesstraat, Archipelbuurt en we eindigen op de Begraafplaats Kerkhoflaan. Tijdens de wandeling houden we natuurlijk de anderhalve meter in acht. Uiteraard mag je een masker dragen als je dit wenst.
Na de wandeling, voor zij die mee willen: dimsum om 13:00 bij China Town Dimsum & Grill Restaurant, Wagenstraat 100 ( Vanwege de maatregelen ivm COVID vragen we ieder huishouden om zelf een tafel te reserveren. We zullen proberen bij elkaar in de buurt te zitten.

Wat moet je doen
  1. fijn als je laat weten als je komt en met hoeveel, maar het hoeft niet. 
  2. deel deze uitnodiging met andere mensen die hier graag bij zouden willen zijn. ZEGT HET VOORT
  3. Nogmaals, als je mee wilt dimsummen, maak dan zelf je reservering bij het restaurant.
Een korte update. Met verschrikkelijk veel hulp van vrienden is het ons gelukt Celebesstraat 42 leeg te halen. Velen hebben ook een aandenken aan mijn ouders meegenomen. We houden ontzettend van het huis, maar het was niet onze wens om er te gaan wonen, en hebben we uiteindelijk besloten het huis te verkopen. Dit was geen gemakkelijk besluit, maar toch voelt het goed. De nieuwe familie die er gaat wonen heeft 2 jonge dochters, ze hebben plannen om het huis te verbouwen om het weer een frisse look te geven. Net als wij destijds verhuist deze familie van Amsterdam naar Den Haag.

We hopen jullie op zondag 4 oktober te zien!

Sunday, August 23, 2020

The staircase

It's almost a year since my mother-in-law passed away.  Q and I have been fortunate to go through a rigorous process of grieving and loving during this period with tremendous support from many of you. It's not easy, but I'd like to think that we are doing our best embracing it. 

This afternoon we gathered with a handful close neighbors and friends, said goodbye to the house where Wads and Bart have spent more than 40 years. After everyone else left, I was able to connect with the house, sitting on the worn-out floor, walking through the empty rooms, looking out the tainted windows... The poem below is a reflection of the connection. 

This is for you - those who have loved Wads, and those who have loved. 


The Staircase 

I barely fit 

On the midnight blue staircase step 

Where she used to sit

Taking her sigsig break

After our dinner together

While I shuffled around in her kitchen

The evening quietly cleaned up.

The scent of thin cigarette propagated

Down the hallway's shadows

Mesmerizing my senses

What is going through her mind

When she inhales


Inhales again.

I used to wonder.

I am still wondering.

Maybe some questions are best 

left unanswered.

They remain the beautifully 

unfinished void

Connecting us

Through time and space

Through life and beyond.

I inhale, 


Inhale again. 

Following the faint scent of sweet smoke 

I find her again

Sitting on the midnight blue staircase step 

Next to me

Leaving in my hands

A gentle squeeze. 

View into Wads' garden

Tuesday, March 17, 2020

The Love Language

The newly-weds
Every couple has their love language. Some are easy to see, to hear, to understand. Some are... not.  Such was the case of my parents-in-law.

If you walked into a typical day at Celebesstraat 42, you would have likely seen my parents-in-law in different rooms, busying about their own things. Their language appeared distanced, separated, cold and maybe even strange.

But underneath it all were two wonderful individuals who could have lived very contentedly by themselves, but chose to spend their lives together. In the end they became a loving couple who ultimately were not able to live without each other.

My mother-in-law loved my father-in-law in ways that break your heart. She respected him enormously. And he her. He in playing music that she would never understand but loved to listen. She in cooking dishes that he could never make, but could not have enough of. He in praising her volunteer work to people that had never met her. She in making fun of him to anyone that would want to listen.

They adored each other.

So was their dynamic. So was the magic of their love. It formed a formidable bond beyond life and death.

Their love was expressed in ways that can be barely detected by senses, but definitely could be felt by hearts. It was so old-fashioned, so classic, so playful, so Wads and Bart.

Till even death cannot do us apart...
Footnote: Special thanks to Kathryn Wellen for helping me bring the piece of writing to light and sharing with you all. We miss you, Wads and Bart.

Sunday, June 17, 2018

Get Grounded

“So why do you choose to walk instead of other means?” Sitting opposite of a psychologist, I got a bit curious myself when I heard the question come my way. So why exactly do I choose to walk everywhere whenever possible?

A bit of context would be helpful I suppose. Well, let's go back a few steps on the therapist part since it is rather personal and revealing. Recently I have been shopping for a psychologist here in the Netherlands. I have always found therapy a great coping mechanism, working for me for more than a decade in different countries. I am proud of it as I am of my occasional yoga and jogging. And this time around, to better cope with moving, job, love, loss, you know, all the bitter sweet things having to do with life in a new chapter. By the way, I am happy to discuss mental health any day, just like happy to discuss physical health, and spiritual health while we are on that subject. Health needs to be discussed, otherwise we end up collectively gaining more and more mental dead weight – that is not healthy. Anyway, I digress. 

So I told the therapist that since about a year ago I made a conscious choice of walking everywhere whenever I can. Well, if you want to know the definition of “I can”, it is about 45 min walking distance according to Google Map estimate. Yes, those are the sort of hard lines I draw in life. :) So why do I choose to walk? Primarily it has to do with being active. Your whole body is engaged in a fairly low impact but slow burning gear. There was a study showing the Masai’s from Kenya shares this type of physical exercise pattern with their herding routines, walking with cattle all day long. High-impact sports are good, but it is only one side of coin, isn’t it? And the other side can’t be just sitting in front of computer, on a couch, on a bike or in a train, so walking seems a reasonable choice.

Our Swedish visitors, Pernilla and Maddy were good sports, walked in a straight line following our leader. 
That and I also find walking surprisingly relaxing. There is actually opportunity to stretch neck around and look around at all the interesting buildings, trees and people. Adding a bit of slower and duller moments in busy days is surprisingly soothing. If I know I have to walk for 45 minutes, I will make sure to make time for it and enjoy the walk with listening to podcast or just looking around at random things. Q and I try to take a stroll in our neighborhood in the evening whenever possible (could always do more), discovering the city taking on a different look (you really have to see it for yourself in Haarlem to experience it), listening to the evening church bells beckoning wanderers to go home, enjoying the pace of the city slowing down and thoughts winding down. Walking is as inspiring in the morning as it is rejuvenating in the evening.

Strolling in Lisbon with Sara & Q
So back in the chair across from the therapist. Why do I walk? There is something deeper. Both the therapist and I fell silent. We both chewed on it for a moment because we both sensed its significance, but can't quite put our fingers on it. To the credit of the €150 I paid the therapist, he came up with this answer out of nowhere, “you become more grounded this way”. Yes, that is it! I love connecting to earth. Same reason as doing yoga and jogging and hiking, to connect with the nature and to be grounded.

If we look at this in a broader sense, as we continuously move into cities (urbanization), the cities become denser and higher (densification), our environment is changing, and I am not sure if it is for the better. As we spend more and more time in various boxes that we build for ourselves, buildings, cars, buses and trains, the bigger environment becomes more of a nuance that we want to bypass or speed through as quickly as possible in name of efficiency. A bit like taking water out of natural juice to make it into concentrated version. Well, I am here to argue that water is important – and hopefully we can all agree to that. So why less rushing and add some of the water back to our busy life. Walk more is a great way to be connected to our environment, to breathe easier, and to smile. 

When I left the therapist’s office that evening, I can tell you there was an extra spring to my steps as I walked home. To be grounded is a meaningful way of life. Join me. Join us. 


We invite you to make a virtual walk together on Saturday 7 July (+/- days) to join me and Q in celebrating our birthdays together. 

You choose how long – 5 minutes, 30 minutes, 2 hours, whatever you like. You choose where, in your neighborhood, in a park, through a market, wherever you like, okay, maybe shopping malls are not my top choices. You choose how: do it alone and enjoy solidarity, or invite your family and friends and make it an outing. Please remember to take a photo and share it with us. It would be the best birthday gifts we can ask for of our family and friends. Let's get grounded together.  

From last year's annual birthday hike - inspired by Marie and TadeĂĄĆĄ!

Tuesday, August 29, 2017

What we carry on the bike (or: a note to self) - a video

On our Big Trip we carried everything we needed during the 14 months of our trip on the bike. We carried everything from clothes, small rations, cooking and camping gear to some spare parts and tools to fix the bike along the way. We were self-reliant and that meant that we were free to roam wherever our bike took us.

Fixing a tire in Iran - glad to have the tools and spare tire!
As happens to all overlanders, we brought too much to begin with. It took a bit to trim the amount of stuff we brought, but we have the process pretty streamlined now. Our (little) house is packed with a quite a few items, as those of you who have visited us know. So to reduce the contents of our house to just the space on the motorcycle (our House on the trip, or 'Casa', as we call her) is a liberating experience. Let me explain, we never brought souvenirs, because they take up space. Instead we sought to enjoy every place we visited and, at most, took pictures to remind us of it. This makes that you don't have to think 'should I buy that beautiful touristy trinket', we just don't, we don't have space. It makes life very simple, all your belongings we had with us and we had nothing else to worry about (well, almost, at least).

Ok, I cheated a bit. Instead of souvenirs I shopped for parts for the bike instead. Brake pads in one place, tires in another, exhaust pipe guards from Argentina (a gift, even)! But those were... ahum... functional at least! But back to the point. The only things we really ended up missing which we couldn't bring were the art we have in our house and our bed. And halfway during the trip I treated myself to a small but good kitchen knife.
Casa found a shelter in Lithuania
Last year was the first time since the Big Trip that we traveled with all our kit on the bike again and it took some jogging of our memory to figure out what (not!) to bring. So after the 3-week trip we decided to shoot a few videos outlining what we carry on a trip.

Click here to view the video if it doesn't load

It mainly delves into the overal details, how much capacity we had, which products we chose and what we carried and where. We shot some other videos that go more into detail of the actual contents of the bike, those I might post at another time.

One could see this video mainly for ourselves in preparation for our next trip, but I know others might be interested as well to see how we did it.

Monday, September 5, 2016

Moments of Cultural Shock - Today's Edition

I have been in Kenya for TWO MONTHS now - woohoo! The occasion is sure worth a celebration in the form of a blog posting, don't you think? But hmm, I am still finding things quite overwhelming here. Where do I start? It doesn't take a doctor to see that I am still having a major case of cultural shock.

How about I start with today's Daily Nation, which is one of the most popular national newspaper. I am gonna skip the headline news of raging corruptions and political turmoils, and go straight to what I consider as "hidden gems" that I find very educational:

#1: Number of motorcyclists who were killed in accidents this year so far: 349! A whopping 30% increase from last year. Maybe it is the motorcycle connection inside me that really felt the pain, but this was just mentioned briefly in one of the page corners. Really?! 

#2: 21 percent of Kenyan women/girls have "undergone" genital mutilation in the name of "rite of passage" according to this report. Wow.

#3: The "Dear Abby" equivalent column has a letter that starts with "Hi, I'm a 30 years old and married to a strange woman". You know that's a fun read with that start!! Well, funny enough this is the only article I can find available online when I searched through Daily Nation's website.

Okay, now let's get to the random conversations with my colleagues today.
#1: They concluded that I was "very very lucky" not to be mugged when I walked to town (just over an hour) over the weekend. To be fair, I took only major roads and it was 8 or 9 in the morning. The only thing they can deduct from my experience is that I looked like I know kongfu with my shades on, and my look was the only thing that deterred the thugs from messing with me. Ha, take that, Jackie Chan! Before you get worried, my colleagues made me promise that I would avoid doing this in the future.
From my walk to town. To the right is the Nairobi River. To the left you see, hey, other pedestrians, okay, they are not muzungus.
#2: Just to stress the security risk, a colleague mentioned that while she was driving in her car and was moving slowly in traffic, both side mirrors were snatched by street thugs. She couldn't do anything but watch them go off snatching other car's mirrors. Well, she said she could go to one of the well-known roads where they sell parts - with some luck, she might just be able to spot her mirrors there if her car has "car identity", i.e. all the parts have the vehicle license number printed over them

#3: For lunch today, I treated myself to a local fast food place called Big Square, The "muzungu" (foreigner) in me was very happy - nice juicy and tasty burger with fresh avocado, bacon and lettuce. In fact I was so happy that I didn't care to clean my hands from the mess and take a food photo - that is how good it was! Don't worry, Q, it is already on your visit itinerary.

Finally, we came home after work to a response left by our cleaning lady on the kitchen counter. Yes, we have a cleaning lady who comes in once a week to wash our clothes since there is no washing machine in the apartment like many others. A bit background on the note, previously we have had sms and phone call exchanges with the cleaner, but in the recent weeks, we couldn't reach her by phone, so we left her a note this morning before leaving for work. Anywhere, click to read her response:

And yep, all these moments of cultural shock are from today. To my Kenyan friends, I may look very calm on the surface, but deep down I am paddling really hard in my prolonged cultural shock. In reflection, my only saving grace is that I am not really freaked out by the cultural shock, but rather just taking them as they come, and maybe enjoying them to a great degree. I am just a bit surprised that after two months of intense cultural shock, I am still not out of the deep end yet. Not sure if I am making any sense. If I don't, you know that is the effect of cultural shock. That or I need to get sleep for another day of cultural shock. :)

Tuesday, August 9, 2016

The Soap Dispenser: My First Report from Kenya

Two weeks. For two weeks every day, I was mocked silently by the soap dispenser in the work bathroom.

It is one of those pumps that dispense soapy foam on your palm when you press on it. Day one. I pressed on the soap dispenser and nothing came out. Okay, odd, but no worries, I am sure it would work the next day. A second day, a second try: I pressed and nothing came out. More days, some more presses and some more disappointment. Soon I became convinced that the soap dispenser was simply empty and left empty.

Or so I thought.

The soap dispenser mocks me every day.
After all, it was not the first time since I arrived in Kenya that I have experienced the uniqueness of Kenyan work protocol - I learnt quickly that you cannot just expect your request would be responded after initial request. You have to follow up. In fact, over and over, and then some more. And if you are lucky you may get the right person after what seems to be never-ending phone calls and office visits over the smallest things.

In the case of the soap dispenser, I made up my mind to have a friendly chat with the cleaning lady. Even if the rest of Kenya has varying degree of clean/untidy public bathrooms, c'mon people, this is an UN office, and we've gotta uphold some standards, y'all! You can probably imagine my sense of righteousness when I ran into the cleaning lady in the bathroom, Finally. "Uhm, excuse me. The soap dispenser is empty."

Upon my gesture, the cleaning lady reached over the dispenser and opened it up - it was half full. "There is", she said. I looked at the dispenser and then at her as if I just saw a Las Vegas magic show, "But look, I press on it and nothing comes out." I showed her my empty palm.

"Ah," the lady reached over to demonstrate for me, "You have to use a lot of energy." A few hearty power-presses later, a small pile of soapy foam appeared on her palm.

As the cleaning lady casually rinsed off the soap and carried on her way, I was left dumbfounded in the bathroom and then I burst out laughing. "You have to use a lot of energy." The sentence encapsulated the essence of my experience in Kenya so far. From negotiating prices for a mango or pineapple with fruit vendors, to practically staging a protest in the IT office before getting a work login ID, to trying to track down a handyman to schedule a visit, to waiting for the taxi rides that are always late, to trying to open a bank account and not getting any responses, to subsequently cancelling the account opening process after weeks of not getting anywhere. Just about everything in Kenya demands so much more energy. "You have to use a lot of energy", as the cleaning lady taught me. I guess this is the culture shock that I had expected.
Lining up for a matatu (mini-bus) ride.
Don't worry though - I am actually doing really well under the circumstances and in a way, loving the challenges. But as you can imagine, it is all quite exhausting, and it is no wonder I get so tired at the end of the day. After all, I will need all the sleep I can get to wake up with "a lot of energy" - to keep pressing those soap dispensers here in Kenya. :)

The walking path is between an electrical fence and bushes and fenced walls. It is beautiful if I let myself relax enough.
p.s. To all our friends and family for your lovely and encouraging emails from my last post, sorry that I haven't been able to response to them, but I promise I will do so soon. Your support means the world to me. Really. Thank you! :)

Wednesday, June 22, 2016

The Next Six Months

By the time you read this, Q and I will probably have been long gone from this beautiful country Lithuania - two weeks go by very quickly when there are so many trees to admire, storks to count and mosquitoes to feed. Upon returning to Sweden, we will be in the heat of packing up our apartment, and away for at least the next six months. I know, after only living two years in Sweden, this sounds either completely out-of-the-blue or like a lot of bull. Trust me, the idea hasn't quite completely sunk in with me yet, and I hope it will a little more by the time I finish typing and sharing this with you. So here it goes.
In AukĆĄtaitijos National Park, Lithuania

Kenya, here I come!

To continue my master's study I have decided to take on an internship as a credited course, working with the World Food Programme Kenya country office to increase disaster preparedness capacity of some selected counties (more on this in future blog postings). So why Kenya?

Okay, let's get these out of the way first. The following are NOT the reasons why I am going to Kenya:
  • To change the world. Or to save the world. Or whatever glory and pride one may associate with jobs of this nature. (For that matter, or to convince any non-believers that climate change is happening and our energy habits have either directly caused it or indirectly contributed to it. But more on that later.) 
  • To run away from Q. As some of you may know, Q has been working in Ireland pretty much since my study began last fall, and I can assure you it is not fun, so living apart for the next few months will be difficult. Yikes.
  • Driving on the left (read: wrong) side of the roads. Who knew?!
  • I am clueless with my life,
Okay, that helps me come to some of the reasons why I am going to Kenya:
  • Respect. Respect for myself, respect for others/ourselves, respect for the planet we live on. This is the key reason and I will discuss more below.
  • Because working with the United Nations sounds cool, okay? Yes, even if that means as an intern - I am that shallow. 
  • I want to know how it is to work and live in Kenya. After China, Canada, UAE and Sweden, Africa would be a new continent for me to live in. As Q pointed out in dismay, "That is one more than me!" That really is the extent of my ambition and competitiveness, everyone. :) 
  • I am clueless with my life. Okay, maybe not completely, but just enough to keep my curiosity going.
In AukĆĄtaitijos National Park, Lithuania  

On Respect

So this is the part that will sound like a lot of bull to some of you, but heck, I have been sitting on it for so long it is time that I come clean about it. Feel free to skip if you think Q is more interesting to read about. :)

Respect for myself. Life is too short for boredom. I guess I am a bit of experience junkie in some ways and working in Kenya sounds very exciting, don't you think?! On the other hand, international development projects can be quite daunting to someone who has mostly worked in private sectors. I am not naive: Kenya is very different and the public sector is a different beast. But I know if anyone can do this, it is me. :) It will be a very worthwhile way of spending part of my life. 

Respect for others/ourselves. Many of you have inspired me in the past. Looking back, what I appreciate most about those experiences are the differences in opinions and perspectives. The past year's study at Lund University highlights this even more to me. For example, you may know that I am not the world's most patient person (the world's most understated comment BTW), and I noticed having more respect was a key for having more patience and enjoying life better. I see Kenya as a good opportunity for this as I expect to be exposed to a wide array of differences, and I will try my best to remember to always bear respect and patience for others and ourselves. (Hmm, not sure if my logic makes complete sense, but I hope you get my drift.)

Respect for the planet Earth. Here is the key connection between disaster risk reduction work and the planet earth I hope to achieve: less disaster risk -> less disaster destruction -> less loss/consumption to respond and recover to disasters > more sustainable planet. If this doesn't make sense, don't worry, I promise to add my voice to this in future postings.

What about Q?

I swear I feel like I am Q's personal assistant in the past year answering questions like "Where is Q?"or "How is Q?" or "What about Q?". Okay, fine, I guess if that is what marriage means, oh well. Right, where am I? Hey, I didn't say that I am an effective PA. 

So as for Q, he is heading in the same direction - by that, I mean in a literal sense - due south, but a lot not far from Sweden. Q will live in Amsterdam and reconnect with his roots. Having returned to Toronto once before, I feel slightly qualified to assess the situation, and call it no less challenging than my journey. But something tells me that Q will enjoy every bit of it.

In Dzƫkija National Park, Lithuania

Can we look further beyond the six months?

Maybe, but I would rather not - the possibilities are too many and my head is not big enough for it. Beyond the six months, your guess of our whereabouts is as good as mine. So let's not go there yet and just sit back and enjoy the packing, yeah?

Oh, did I mention we leave for Kenya/Holland in a week?! Do wish us good luck! :)

(Video link if the above video does not load properly)

Tuesday, December 29, 2015

Unfamiliar feelings

If you met me in the past few weeks/months, sorry to tell you this, but most likely I was feeling constipated. Both mentally and okay, occasionally, literally. This little too much information was disclosed for a reason. It is why I haven't blogged for a very long time. Until now.

My lack of blogging probably bothered very few people, except Brian (Hello, Peterborough!). But it bothered me. It took me a very long time to figure out why I was so blocked. Yesterday it finally came to me when I sat down after a refreshing morning run... There has been a lot of unfamiliar feelings. That is why. The much-needed realization allows me to write this update to you. It is about time.

Back in May, Q and I flew to Cape Town, South Africa to attend our friend Gee's wedding. Yes, take note: we only befriend people with funny names like our own. It was my first time in Africa - allow me to ignorantly broaden this to the entire continent - and I was thrown into the deep end. With two warm and loving local families - I/we loved it! But staying with families also means deep in someone else's hair: we took a lot of effort to be good guests and adjusted to different family cultures. I managed to go for some runs while staying with Danielle and her adorable girls. It was a fenced-off golf course community living outside Cape Town. It was so deafening quiet at night that I got frightened from the automated sparklers going off. I am a little hesitant to use the South African expression here, but that is just my Canadian politically correct side freaking out: it was a "white" community.

Then we moved to stay with Gee's brother-in-law family, Deon and Karen, in Cape Town. It was a "colored" community. I was told not to run in the neighborhood. It was "a little risky". I don't want to come off as a racist, and you know I am not one. I only bring in the race topic because it is really a matter of fact in South Africa. In fact, it is in your face so much so that it would be wrong for me not to mention it. Read about colored in Wikipedia. I know many Americans and Canadians would most likely feel a bit uneasy with this topic - I know I was, but luckily the family adopted us into theirs with open arms, and that helped make me feel more at ease. The video below is me trying very badly to imitate Capetonian gangster walk and talk - thanks Brian (different Brian) for leading me. Again, I don't want to offend anyone, particularly not the Capetonian gangsters, with my silliness.

In June I was in China. I spent five weeks with my relatives. It was my first time in life spending so much time with my extended family alone, i.e. without parents or spouse. Just me. The dynamics was very tricky and rewarding. There was more interactions and I got to know my relatives much more and better. It was exactly what I needed and wanted, although very stuffy and overwhelming at times if you know what I mean.

University started in end of August, and of course it was easy since I have been away from university for only some 13 years... Not! Academic reading and writing was a tough learning curve for me. It still is, but it is getting better. There are 22 other individuals in the programme with 13 different nationalities - think many younger and more dynamic versions of me.

Group "sitting" (university campus dinner)

In October (this was previously incorrectly indicated as "November", my apologies) my father-in-law Bart passed away peacefully at his own home. He was surrounded by lots of love. In Bart's own words, he was "a Sunday's child". If you have to look up in a dictionary to see what the expression means - he got you and is probably gloating about it somewhere high above. It is a little too personal to discuss more at this point. A very unfamiliar feeling and I haven't got my head and heart around it yet.

Bart's study - very Bartish

Phew, so many unfamiliar feelings this year. Knowing me/us, we will likely continue having many changes and challenges. You see how I dropped running along the way as the cold and wet winter descended in Sweden. I recognize now that it is one of the easiest cures for constipation. My goal is to make plenty of runs in the new year and years to come. The number of blog postings will tell if I succeed or not. But what I loved about it is that I/we had the support and companion of all those we love - from Gee and Ali in Cape Town, to my cousins in China, to the pamily in Den Haag. We come together. Thank you.

Anyway the time now is 9 AM and it is time for a run. We wish you a Happy, not constipated,  2016!

So nice to have visitors especially family! :)

Sunday, August 16, 2015

A Swedish Vacation and a Swedish Essay

Q and I took at a Swedish vacation during the past three weeks. What's a Swedish vacation, you ask? It means taking a summer course studying Swedish while living in a boarding school - yes, here in Sweden. We got to study Swedish language, watch Swedish movies, have Swedish conversations, eat Swedish food, meet Swedish residents... basically doing a lot of Swedish things. Okay, I know it sounds a bit overwhelming, but the course was super nerdy and cool - I loved it! (And Q survived his as well. At least I believe so. :)

My roommate Markella from Athens and I

For my class, each of the students were asked to write an essay on the topic of Mitt möte med Sverige (My meeting with Sweden) to enter a contest by Riksföreningen Sverigekontakt (National Society Sweden Contact), the hosting organizing agency. Guess who won? :) Actually I had a real hard time at first, but luckily I got inspired, and in the end I was very proud of what I came up with... Naturally now even more proud since it would get published in the organization's September magazine. So before my head gets any bigger, here it is. It is in Swedish first, then translated into English. I feel it is important to translate it instead of rewriting it because it is a better reflection of my Swedish train of thoughts, which seems to be still very wobbly, but it is getting there...

Me with my teacher and organization representative - I got three Swedish books as my prize - woohoo!


Stigen upp för berget

Medan jag klÀttrade upp för det lilla berget mittemot Billströmska Folkhögskolan kunde jag inte lÄta bli att undra hur jag exakt hade kommit hit. Kanske planerades min utflykt nÀr jag kom frÄn Malmö för tvÄ veckor sedan? Eller kanske min kurs planerades nÀr min man hittade ett jobb i det hÀr gamla och vackra landet? Just det. Kanske mitt möte med Sverige planerades nÀr jag trÀffade min man, en hollÀndsk, i Kuba för flera Är sedan. Det Àr precis hur jag, en kinesisk kanadensiska, hittade mig sjÀlv i mitten av Sverige, precis som livet har planerat. Livet rör sig pÄ ett hemlighetsfullt sÀtt, eller hur?
Det var en fin och bekvĂ€m sommarkvĂ€ll. Solen sken och en bris blĂ„ste lĂ€ngs stigen. Det kĂ€ndes lĂ€tt – jag skulle orka det utan mycket kraft, tĂ€nkte jag. Det pĂ„minnande mig om mina första veckor i landet förra Ă„ret för att min man hade varit i Sverige i flera mĂ„nader och allting arrangerades. Det skulle vara en lycklig semester för mig.

Men snart tog jag en fel vĂ€g och stigen försvann under mina fötter – ”Oj”! Jag kom ihĂ„g tillfĂ€llet nĂ€r vi förlorade vĂ„rt bostadskontrakt och var tvungna att hitta en annan plats om bara en mĂ„nad. Vilken oro och Ă„ngest! SvĂ„rt var det att hitta nĂ„gon som inte var pĂ„ semester i augusti, för att inte tala om hur vi lĂ€rde oss att göra allting pĂ„ svenska, ett helt nytt sprĂ„k för oss. Vem visste att man kunde kolla pĂ„ Blocket sĂ„ ofta som man kunde fika?! Det var nog som hur jag försökte att hitta min egen stig nu bland taggiga buskar och hala stenar.

Jag svĂ€r att berget verkade mycket lĂ€gre frĂ„n mitt rum tidigare. Det mumlade jag till mig sjĂ€lv nĂ€r plötsligt halkade jag pĂ„ en klippa, ”Ai!”. Vilken tur att jag var oskadad. Pust! Det var lite pinsamt, men inte sĂ„ mycket som de oerhört mĂ„nga gĂ„nger nĂ€r jag talade svenska fel. En dag i mitt bostadshus försökte jag hjĂ€lpa en pojke som bar mĂ„nga pĂ„sar. Han sĂ„g förvirrad ut medan jag sa,”kan jag hjelpe dig?” och Ă€nnu mer nĂ€r jag repeterade tre eller fyra gĂ„nger. Stackars pojke – Ă€ven nu springer han snabbt ivĂ€g efter han vinkar till mig.

Stigen blev svĂ„rare och jag blev vĂ€ldigt svettig och smutsig. Det tog mycket mer tid Ă€n jag förvĂ€ntade. Som att plugga svenska. TĂ„lamod mĂ„ste man ha enligt nĂ„gra kompisar, ”Det tar tid.” Det slog mig att ge upp. Varför inte? MĂ„nga andra hade gjort det. Men det Ă€r inte ett alternativ, inte ett bra alternativ i alla fall. AnstrĂ€ngning krĂ€vs det om jag vill bli en riktig del av samhĂ€llet och inte bara en fluga pĂ„ vĂ€ggen. Jag var bestĂ€md att fortsĂ€tta klĂ€ttra upp, ett steg i tĂ„get, precis som hur jag kan lĂ€ra mig svenska – ett ord i tĂ„get. Det ska hjĂ€lpa mig.

NÀr jag Àntligen var framme hittade jag en otroligt vacker utsikt pÄ toppen av en stor vit sten. Skolbyggnadens röda tak skimmade och skÀrgÄrden glittrade i havet lÄngt borta. Ensam var jag men jag kÀnde mig inte ensam. För jag visste att mÄnga mÀnniskor hade hjÀlpt att bygga stigen som hjÀlpte mig komma hit. För jag visste ocksÄ att mÄnga mer hade kommit och ska komma hit. Det kÀnns skönt att veta att jag Àr, som vi Àr, inte ensam i vÄra vandringar upp för berget.

MissförstĂ„ mig inte – jag Ă€lskar att cykla runt landets platta cykelvĂ€gar, men vilken fri och öppen kĂ€nsla hĂ€r pĂ„ toppen! Det Ă€r ganska fantastiskt med tanke pĂ„ att jag inte hade kommit upp sĂ„ högt. ”Om du ska studera pĂ„ ett internationellt program pĂ„ engelska”, mĂ„nga hade frĂ„gat mig, ”varför vill du lĂ€ra dig svenska?” Svaret lĂ„g precis framför mig – att se mer och se ytterligare. 

NĂ€r jag kom ner sĂ„g jag en gul skylt, ”HĂ€r uppe Ă€r ett berg med vackra mönster.” Men jag vet att det inte var det viktigaste att nĂ„ bergstoppen. Syftet Ă€r att hitta vĂ„ra egna stigar. Syftet Ă€r att bli bĂ€ttre och starkare mĂ€nniskor genom vĂ„ra upplevelser. Oavsett hur jag kom hit ska jag fortsĂ€tta klĂ€ttra stigen upp för berget. Vill du gĂ„ med?


The path up the hill

While I climbed the small hill opposite of the Billströmska Folk High School, I could not help but wonder how I exactly had come here. Maybe my excursion was planned when I came from Malmö two weeks ago? Or maybe my language course was planned when my husband found a job in this ancient and beautiful land? Right. Perhaps my meeting with Sweden was planned when I met my husband, a Dutch man, in Cuba several years ago. That's exactly how I, a Chinese Canadian woman, found myself in the middle of Sweden, just like life has planned. Life moves in a mysterious way, doesn't it?

It was a nice and comfortable summer evening. The sun was shining and a breeze blew along the trail. It felt easy - I could manage it without much effort, I thought. It reminded me of my first weeks in the country last year because my husband had been in Sweden for several months, and everything was arranged. It would be an happy holiday for me.

But soon I took a wrong turn and the trail disappeared under my feet - "Damn!" I remembered the moment when we lost our apartment contract and had to find another place within only a month. Oh, the anxiety! It was difficult to find someone who was not on vacation in August, not to mention how we learned to do everything in Swedish, a whole new language for us. Who knew you could check the housing website as often as you can drink coffee (N.B. Swedes drink a lot of coffee.)?! It was probably like how I tried to find my own path now among thorny bushes and slippery rocks.

I swear that the hill seemed much lower from my room earlier. I mumbled it to myself when suddenly I slipped on a rock, "Ouch!". Luckily I was unhurt. Phew! It was a bit embarrassing, but not as much as the incredibly many times when I spoke Swedish incorrectly. One day at my apartment building, I tried to help a boy who was carrying many bags. He looked confused while I said, "Can I hilp you?" And even more when I repeated three or four times. Poor boy - even now he runs away quickly after he waves to me.

The path was difficult and I was getting very sweaty and dirty. It took much more time than I expected. As for studying Swedish. One must have patience, according to some friends, "It takes time." It occurred to me to give up. Why not? Many others had done it. But it is not an option, not a good option anyway. It is required effort if I want to become a real part of society and not just a fly on the wall. I was determined to continue to climb, step by step, just like how I can learn Swedish - a word at a time. It'll help me.

When I finally arrived, I found an incredibly beautiful view on top of a large white stone. The school building's red roofs shimmered and the archipelago glistened in the sea far away. I was alone, but I did not feel lonely. For I knew that many people had helped to build the path that helped me get here. For I also knew that many more had come and will come here. It feels good to know that I am, just like we are, not alone in our paths up the hill.

Do not get me wrong - I love biking around the country side's flat bike paths, but what a free and open feeling here at the hill top! That's pretty amazing considering that I had not come up very high. "If you will study in an international program in English," many had asked me, "why do you want to learn Swedish?" The answer lay right in front of me - to see more and see further.

When I came down I saw a yellow sign, "Up here is a mountain with beautiful pattern." But I know it was not that important to reach the mountain top. The aim is to find our own paths. The aim is to become better and stronger people through our experiences. No matter how I get here, I'll continue to climb the trail up the mountain. Do you want to join?

Me on the hill top