Wednesday, March 17, 2010
Space invaders, dooms-day and the galaxy's evil empire descending
I was sitting in the living-room just now, looking at a research-show at the BBC. And suddenly I heard this huge low-freequent noise coming from above my head, like the roof was shaking! Like "wrrroooossjiihhhrrmmm....." And suddenly the windows went dark! Outside it's bright snow and sunshine behind big white clouds. You can probably imagine that I got scared there for a milli-second as the living-room went into gloom in the bright of the day, the low growl from the roof increased and the house was shaking! I had no time to reflect on what was going on as I noticed some horizontal glitches passing by in rapid speed inside the darkness outside the window. It gave the impression of thick and big blankets of clay crashing through the air to surround the foundations our house! After the initial fraction of a second with a light freak-out and combating of short-cutting of the brain to evaluate plausible escape-routes, I realized I was back in Norway again in the mid-winter. -as I haven't been for quite a few years. It was just last weeks snow-fall avalanching off the roof due to the recent mild tweak in the weather. Quite normal, and very entertaining 20 years ago! Brain-functions back to normal.
Thursday, March 4, 2010
Hårreisende dårlig idrettsledelse!
Så Bjørn Einar Romøren var først utfor den nye Kollen. Anette Sagen er blid og fornøyd og synes ikke det tar glansen fra det første offisielle hoppet. Pappa’n hennes var i Japan og ble kjempesint, men får ett litt mer balansert syn etter en viss pressekonferanse og sa at Romøren ”så ut som en pisket hund.”
I ett interviuv med VG Nett sier hoppsjef Clas Brede Bråthen at ”innimellom har jeg vært i tvil om Romørens dømmekraft” uten å spesifisere, og forteller oss at Romøren (som er lei seg, hadde fått beskjed om at det skulle prøvehoppes først og har ringt Anette Sagen og bedt om unnskyldning) har gjort ett feil valg. Hoppsjef Clas Brede Bråthen drar så med seg sin syndebukk på pressekonferanse, viser ham frem for det Norske folk og forteller at nå blir det disiplinære tiltak mot ham. –mens Romøren selv ser trist og nedbrutt ut og titter i bordplaten.
Som tidligere idretts-trener lurer jeg på hva det er Bråthen tror han holder på med! Om man bedriver idrett eller næringsliv er det utenkelig å refse sine ansatte i full offentlighet om man vil bevare lagånden. Den Romøren som kommer tilbake til hopplandslaget etter utestengelsen kommer ikke til å være den samme som før. Om han ønsker å komme tilbake i det hele tatt da! Han vil enten være nedbrutt, betvile trenerens intensjoner med korrektiv kritikk og føle seg på utsiden av laget, eller være overtent på å ”ta igjen” med idrettsprestasjoner som utklasser resten av laget. Det første bringer tafatthet på trening, det andre bringer unødvendig sjanse-tagning. Ingen av løsningene bringer lag-samarbeid, men begge reduserer lagets samlede prestasjoner.
At bakken skulle prøvehoppes var planlagt. Romøren gjorde nok allikevel ett litt dårlig valg, men er villig til å ta kritikk etterpå og strekker seg langt for å rydde opp i det. Men hvem var ansvarlig i bakken? Hvem ba ham om å være prøvehopper, og hvem gav klarsignalet? Det kan se ut som man begynner i feil ende. Om man på død og liv vil fordele skyld da!
Hoppsjef Bråthen forteller oss også at det er interne regler i laget han støtter seg til når han nå utestenger Romøren. Det er det ikke noe lurt å si til en hel nasjon igjennom media! Om en domstol begynte å dømme etter interne regler hadde vi ikke hatt noen form for transparent rettergang lenger. Om vi skal informeres om dette må vi vite i klar tekst hva reglene eller forskriftene sier, ellers kan Bråthen for alt vi vet ha laget dem for anledningen.
Anette Sagen smiler som solen, Romøren er lei seg, Pappa’n til Sagen var veldig sint men har fått litt mer perspektiv (selv om litt til kunne hjelpe), og det Norske folk har nettopp fått en flott ny hoppbakke og ett fint idrettsarrangement. Den siste som er igjen av de ordentlig sinte er Bråthen som virker relativt strippet for både perspektiv, tilgivelse for en som er lei seg og kanskje viktigst av alt, fundamentale leder-egenskaper! Hvis laget og en av dets sentrale utøvere skal reise seg fra denne kneiken i den nære framtid må det mer integritet inn i ledelsen, og det betyr at Bråthen må ut! Man behandler ikke folk under sin ledelse på en slik måte og forventer framtidige lagresultater!
Romøren gjorde en vurdering som bygget på at det var planlagt prøvehopp som Sagen forøvrig ikke kunne delta på. Det ble det voldsomme reaksjoner av! Romøren har merket det. Romøren tar ansvar og beklager handlingen. Kanskje Sagens pappa hadde helt rett. Her har vi å gjøre med ”noen skikkelige drittsekker!” Eller, i hvert fall en! Gjennom dårlig lag-ledelse og nasjonal utskjelling av sin egen angrende utøver kan vi klart konstatere at Clas Brede Bråthen passer den beskrivelsen som hånd i hanske!
I ett interviuv med VG Nett sier hoppsjef Clas Brede Bråthen at ”innimellom har jeg vært i tvil om Romørens dømmekraft” uten å spesifisere, og forteller oss at Romøren (som er lei seg, hadde fått beskjed om at det skulle prøvehoppes først og har ringt Anette Sagen og bedt om unnskyldning) har gjort ett feil valg. Hoppsjef Clas Brede Bråthen drar så med seg sin syndebukk på pressekonferanse, viser ham frem for det Norske folk og forteller at nå blir det disiplinære tiltak mot ham. –mens Romøren selv ser trist og nedbrutt ut og titter i bordplaten.
Som tidligere idretts-trener lurer jeg på hva det er Bråthen tror han holder på med! Om man bedriver idrett eller næringsliv er det utenkelig å refse sine ansatte i full offentlighet om man vil bevare lagånden. Den Romøren som kommer tilbake til hopplandslaget etter utestengelsen kommer ikke til å være den samme som før. Om han ønsker å komme tilbake i det hele tatt da! Han vil enten være nedbrutt, betvile trenerens intensjoner med korrektiv kritikk og føle seg på utsiden av laget, eller være overtent på å ”ta igjen” med idrettsprestasjoner som utklasser resten av laget. Det første bringer tafatthet på trening, det andre bringer unødvendig sjanse-tagning. Ingen av løsningene bringer lag-samarbeid, men begge reduserer lagets samlede prestasjoner.
At bakken skulle prøvehoppes var planlagt. Romøren gjorde nok allikevel ett litt dårlig valg, men er villig til å ta kritikk etterpå og strekker seg langt for å rydde opp i det. Men hvem var ansvarlig i bakken? Hvem ba ham om å være prøvehopper, og hvem gav klarsignalet? Det kan se ut som man begynner i feil ende. Om man på død og liv vil fordele skyld da!
Hoppsjef Bråthen forteller oss også at det er interne regler i laget han støtter seg til når han nå utestenger Romøren. Det er det ikke noe lurt å si til en hel nasjon igjennom media! Om en domstol begynte å dømme etter interne regler hadde vi ikke hatt noen form for transparent rettergang lenger. Om vi skal informeres om dette må vi vite i klar tekst hva reglene eller forskriftene sier, ellers kan Bråthen for alt vi vet ha laget dem for anledningen.
Anette Sagen smiler som solen, Romøren er lei seg, Pappa’n til Sagen var veldig sint men har fått litt mer perspektiv (selv om litt til kunne hjelpe), og det Norske folk har nettopp fått en flott ny hoppbakke og ett fint idrettsarrangement. Den siste som er igjen av de ordentlig sinte er Bråthen som virker relativt strippet for både perspektiv, tilgivelse for en som er lei seg og kanskje viktigst av alt, fundamentale leder-egenskaper! Hvis laget og en av dets sentrale utøvere skal reise seg fra denne kneiken i den nære framtid må det mer integritet inn i ledelsen, og det betyr at Bråthen må ut! Man behandler ikke folk under sin ledelse på en slik måte og forventer framtidige lagresultater!
Romøren gjorde en vurdering som bygget på at det var planlagt prøvehopp som Sagen forøvrig ikke kunne delta på. Det ble det voldsomme reaksjoner av! Romøren har merket det. Romøren tar ansvar og beklager handlingen. Kanskje Sagens pappa hadde helt rett. Her har vi å gjøre med ”noen skikkelige drittsekker!” Eller, i hvert fall en! Gjennom dårlig lag-ledelse og nasjonal utskjelling av sin egen angrende utøver kan vi klart konstatere at Clas Brede Bråthen passer den beskrivelsen som hånd i hanske!
Tuesday, March 2, 2010
Leave the Crown Prince alone!
I just learned from the news something that upset me ferociously! The Norwegian Minister of Trade and Industry had invited our Crown Prince to participate in a comity to advice on the future of Norwegian industry and business. While I usually have nothing good to say about the viewpoints of the mentioned Minister I thought this was an exceptionally healthy idea! It turned out though, that a mass of people from the parliament to the media deemed it un-constitutional and made a shameful fuzz about it. The so-called un-constitutional aspect is that the Monarch (in this case the future Monarch) shall not have any political power apart from the sanctioning of laws. This, however was an advisory body put together of young Norwegian business-leaders and they were going to have no decisive political power what so ever.
Our Crown Prince has His education in Governmental Science, International Trade and Development Studies, and His military- and leadership-education is from the Norwegian Navy. He has partaken in weekly counsels with various Norwegian governments since He was 18 years old, which is now 19 years ago. Since it is the practice that the Norwegian Crown Prince partakes in these weekly meetings from age 18 there are literally no living human being inside or outside the borders of Norway that has anything close to the knowledge of national matters through the years as an old regent. Our Kings have always stayed strictly up to date with all the matters of state, and our current Crown Prince already has both an experience and education most politicians can only dream about. But in addition, the Crown Prince has one last advantage that no politician could ever beat: His advice is based on experience, education and situational understanding, regardless of how He will perform at the next elections!
Questions have been raised about the constitutional aspects of the matter. Questions however, voiced chiefly though the media should by no means give direction for common practice inside any framework of laws. In the name of democracy and freedom of speech many chose to attack the decision for a Royal to serve in this particular position in society. It is sad though that where the anti-Monarchics and left-wingers (in this case even some liberals) are used to two hundred years of shouting very-very loud, there have been few voices to match them on this matter. So with a smile on his face and positive words the Crown Prince took the high road and turned down this great opportunity for Him to serve His country in an even more extensive manner. It seems like the more educated and cultivated, the lower the voice and better the manners; and the more ideologically bound and less interested in a distanced view the much much louder the voice. Forcing someone to obey you for society's general freedom is oppressing the general society. There are ways of settling disagreements like these without a big ramble through the media. Most notably inside the parliament. Especially when the arguments in this case were so clearly beneficial for the Nation of Norway.
It is funny how things can bite its own tail. Marx wanted to set us free from the forces of capital, and Royals with it, to make a governmental system that distributed the wealth of the nation evenly to the benefit of everyone. In this case, a Royal has decided to help the nation gain wealth through its industries and business-life, in a nation with an extensive taxation system and high public spending. That is; to the benefit of the common citizen. Then newspapers and other media who are not free from Marx's forces of capital, but needs to sell as many copies as possible criticizes and puts the case in a bad light so that the Crown Prince in the end steps back. Armed with a good portion of Marxist critique and another portion general business and legal knowledge it is still hard to know who the media is serving in this situation. The common good of the people? -or their own treasury?
Some dear to criticize the costs of running a Royal Castle. Some would silence the Royal Family and only let them out on national celebrations to smile at the people and not have a voice. If Royals keep silent they are met with critique that suggests they have become national money out the window. But if they serve in a position (like the one mentioned) where we get more value for the tax-money we sustain the Monarchy with, it is then supposed to be anti-demochratic and un-constitutional. The only solution by such argumentation is to become a republic. But those who want to silence the Royal Family and keep them out of the public eye are forgetting one very important thing: The constitution! For in their own chasing towards democracy and the fulfillment of the constitution they have forgotten that the very constitution they set out to serve tells us that Norway is a Monarchy. A certain level of education and cultivation teaches us to respect such matters. Anything else would be un-constitutional.
Our Crown Prince has His education in Governmental Science, International Trade and Development Studies, and His military- and leadership-education is from the Norwegian Navy. He has partaken in weekly counsels with various Norwegian governments since He was 18 years old, which is now 19 years ago. Since it is the practice that the Norwegian Crown Prince partakes in these weekly meetings from age 18 there are literally no living human being inside or outside the borders of Norway that has anything close to the knowledge of national matters through the years as an old regent. Our Kings have always stayed strictly up to date with all the matters of state, and our current Crown Prince already has both an experience and education most politicians can only dream about. But in addition, the Crown Prince has one last advantage that no politician could ever beat: His advice is based on experience, education and situational understanding, regardless of how He will perform at the next elections!
Questions have been raised about the constitutional aspects of the matter. Questions however, voiced chiefly though the media should by no means give direction for common practice inside any framework of laws. In the name of democracy and freedom of speech many chose to attack the decision for a Royal to serve in this particular position in society. It is sad though that where the anti-Monarchics and left-wingers (in this case even some liberals) are used to two hundred years of shouting very-very loud, there have been few voices to match them on this matter. So with a smile on his face and positive words the Crown Prince took the high road and turned down this great opportunity for Him to serve His country in an even more extensive manner. It seems like the more educated and cultivated, the lower the voice and better the manners; and the more ideologically bound and less interested in a distanced view the much much louder the voice. Forcing someone to obey you for society's general freedom is oppressing the general society. There are ways of settling disagreements like these without a big ramble through the media. Most notably inside the parliament. Especially when the arguments in this case were so clearly beneficial for the Nation of Norway.
It is funny how things can bite its own tail. Marx wanted to set us free from the forces of capital, and Royals with it, to make a governmental system that distributed the wealth of the nation evenly to the benefit of everyone. In this case, a Royal has decided to help the nation gain wealth through its industries and business-life, in a nation with an extensive taxation system and high public spending. That is; to the benefit of the common citizen. Then newspapers and other media who are not free from Marx's forces of capital, but needs to sell as many copies as possible criticizes and puts the case in a bad light so that the Crown Prince in the end steps back. Armed with a good portion of Marxist critique and another portion general business and legal knowledge it is still hard to know who the media is serving in this situation. The common good of the people? -or their own treasury?
Some dear to criticize the costs of running a Royal Castle. Some would silence the Royal Family and only let them out on national celebrations to smile at the people and not have a voice. If Royals keep silent they are met with critique that suggests they have become national money out the window. But if they serve in a position (like the one mentioned) where we get more value for the tax-money we sustain the Monarchy with, it is then supposed to be anti-demochratic and un-constitutional. The only solution by such argumentation is to become a republic. But those who want to silence the Royal Family and keep them out of the public eye are forgetting one very important thing: The constitution! For in their own chasing towards democracy and the fulfillment of the constitution they have forgotten that the very constitution they set out to serve tells us that Norway is a Monarchy. A certain level of education and cultivation teaches us to respect such matters. Anything else would be un-constitutional.
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
The Smell of Winter
I came from my Sister's house just now. Her and my Brother-in-law had put together yet another outstanding dinner! Today they served this particular season's traditional Norwegian sea-food, so fresh from the ocean that it was almost alive. They had hinted that after dinner it would be very welcome with a hand with some of the refurbishing they're doing. Having grown up in a family of many skilled crafts-men I've always enjoyed the pleasure of swinging a hammer. And so we did; and we were very happy with the results; both of the eating and the work.
The night was over so I wrapped up, said goodbye, strolled out and rounded the corner. A couple of deep breaths of the cold mid-winter air filled my lungs and it put a smile on my face. I've always loved the winter. Two breaths and I get this funny feeling: "what's up with my nose?" The answer came as quickly as the question. I wouldn't think twice while skiing, but after that warm house in the city... The hairs in my nostrils instantly froze to one bundle after breathing out warm air from my lungs. It feels funny at first. Way up North they can determine the temperature when it's really cold by spitting on the ground. If it freezes before it hits the ground it makes a particular sound. I can't do that yet.
Guess I've been out of the country for a few years already.
The night was over so I wrapped up, said goodbye, strolled out and rounded the corner. A couple of deep breaths of the cold mid-winter air filled my lungs and it put a smile on my face. I've always loved the winter. Two breaths and I get this funny feeling: "what's up with my nose?" The answer came as quickly as the question. I wouldn't think twice while skiing, but after that warm house in the city... The hairs in my nostrils instantly froze to one bundle after breathing out warm air from my lungs. It feels funny at first. Way up North they can determine the temperature when it's really cold by spitting on the ground. If it freezes before it hits the ground it makes a particular sound. I can't do that yet.
Guess I've been out of the country for a few years already.
Fashion shops, the meaning of life and such...
You know how it's like when you're in an over-crowded shop with too many people?
In Leeds I like to walk by the window of Heaves & Curtis to just marvel at the latest in shirts and the odd Italian suit. Sometimes I walk through Victoria Quarter and pop by Vivienne Westwood or one of the traditional (and way too expensive for a student, read: "me") classic gentlemen's shops. I must admit I have left a decent amount of money for silk ties at Tie Rack in the UK, Robbinson's in Singapore and good old Marks & Spencer's. I think it's kind of a genetically inherited "want a decent tie-collection" passed down through my father's line (though I might have taken it a bit further than anyone before me).
Even H&M on Kirkgate in Leeds springs to mind as a cool clothing shop. Scandinavian clothing in the first place, it has become kind of a mainstay up here. Fashionists never used to look to H&M for quality, but rather for the quantitative aspects of their wardrobe. And if they were not on a particular budget they would easily skip it for something more exclusive. While that might have changed a little bit over the years (with Madonna launching her own H&M collection etc.), the big display windows on Leeds main promenade just down from Harvey Nic's, Zara and oposite M&S makes this old Scandinavian company look suspiciously more up-street than how I used to remember it. Not that Leeds is that much "up-street" in itself, but they've put in the effort.
I walked into one of the local H&Ms here today and I got bored after a few seconds. No clear division between the styles and a bit too generic. Yes, I know it's a smaller city, but with creative front-windows like you can find in Leeds (amongst other places), you are geared up to look for stuff before you enter the shop. It's all there, well presented in the window. When you go inside, suits don't mix with Rock'n Roll, you do that job yourself. The clothes and styles promotes themselves because of the layout of the shop. Here the lines were more blurred. I walked a quick stroll through the shop. I even saw some items I own from the UK, but didn't think they looked exciting here. (To their defense I probably have to point out that there are bigger and better shops in town.)
Then I walked into a suit shop. The staff there are trained to say the same blooming lines when you enter. I have trained myself to reply the same boring rejection of the offer to help me find what I'm looking for. Never mind I seldom do know what I'm looking for, I know what it is when I see it. Never mind I'm out of college not long ago and don't have any money right now. I was just curious anyway. I walked to the end of the shop where the main suit collections hang. I looked at all these glorious items and I thought: "my goodness, how bored I am!"
You know how it's like when you're in an over-crowded shop with too many people? As much as you'd like to kick them all out, maybe they just make it more exciting being there. If it's one dude folding shirts at the entrance and you looking around, the sense of living in a vibrant community is dead. At the heart of it all I dress like I do because of me, and people can take it or leave it. I never really ask for advice and I never care what others think and I never did. But maybe much of the point of dressing up a personality is lost if there's no sense of community to present a personality in. It's never quiet in a fashion shop in Singapore and although it's sometimes more noise and stress than you'd like, today I really missed it.
I'm really sorry about all the tedious reflections. The bottom line is: "I walked into a fashion shop today and got mad!" I'm usually not like that. Maybe it's reflecting the fact that I'm not sure where to go and what to do next and I don't want to be trapped in one country, but are trying to look to the world. Maybe a small fashion shop in a mall in Norway was threatening me with the same spirit as the ghosts in the basement (read: in the mind) when we were kids, saying: "now you'll stay here forever and there'll be no more adventures! HAHAHA!!" I've heard (not really though) that the best way to conquer threats like that is the old tactic of burning down the evil's premisses! Maybe I should burn it all down! "HAHA back at ya'!" Or maybe I should just stay away from there for a while! Like really, that does sound healthy!
Frankly, I could probably have chosen a more busy part of town to judge from. It's not like there's no life here! I might just be missing a new adventure to get occupied with.
Funny thing. I have always loved my country a lot, and I will until death! I was never any keen on leaving, but now I'm not too keen on moving back for too long neither. I guess big moments of your life changes you forever, even fashion-shops in Leeds might (yes, I see the artistic, socioeconomic and other contradictions and I don't care). Even if everything is the same when you return from your adventures, you yourself will never be the same again.
To balance this madness; I had a great "cake-lunch" with my friend Hilde on one of the nicer hotels in town with a view to the sunlight from up the river. Later I walked into a big music gear shop with an in-house studio. They had stacks of amazing studio speakers, instruments and general yum-yum! They even had two classic Universal Audio pre-amps casually stuffed away on a shelf. I know from my retail experience that you don't stock more than you think you'll sell. If they think keeping more than one 1000 GBP pre-amp in their shop at anyone time is a good idea, maybe I'm over-looking some of the life that's going on here. Maybe this city has grown in ways I haven't seen while I've been gone. I'm hoping on it, cause it all looked damn nice in the mid-winter light earlier today!
In Leeds I like to walk by the window of Heaves & Curtis to just marvel at the latest in shirts and the odd Italian suit. Sometimes I walk through Victoria Quarter and pop by Vivienne Westwood or one of the traditional (and way too expensive for a student, read: "me") classic gentlemen's shops. I must admit I have left a decent amount of money for silk ties at Tie Rack in the UK, Robbinson's in Singapore and good old Marks & Spencer's. I think it's kind of a genetically inherited "want a decent tie-collection" passed down through my father's line (though I might have taken it a bit further than anyone before me).
Even H&M on Kirkgate in Leeds springs to mind as a cool clothing shop. Scandinavian clothing in the first place, it has become kind of a mainstay up here. Fashionists never used to look to H&M for quality, but rather for the quantitative aspects of their wardrobe. And if they were not on a particular budget they would easily skip it for something more exclusive. While that might have changed a little bit over the years (with Madonna launching her own H&M collection etc.), the big display windows on Leeds main promenade just down from Harvey Nic's, Zara and oposite M&S makes this old Scandinavian company look suspiciously more up-street than how I used to remember it. Not that Leeds is that much "up-street" in itself, but they've put in the effort.
I walked into one of the local H&Ms here today and I got bored after a few seconds. No clear division between the styles and a bit too generic. Yes, I know it's a smaller city, but with creative front-windows like you can find in Leeds (amongst other places), you are geared up to look for stuff before you enter the shop. It's all there, well presented in the window. When you go inside, suits don't mix with Rock'n Roll, you do that job yourself. The clothes and styles promotes themselves because of the layout of the shop. Here the lines were more blurred. I walked a quick stroll through the shop. I even saw some items I own from the UK, but didn't think they looked exciting here. (To their defense I probably have to point out that there are bigger and better shops in town.)
Then I walked into a suit shop. The staff there are trained to say the same blooming lines when you enter. I have trained myself to reply the same boring rejection of the offer to help me find what I'm looking for. Never mind I seldom do know what I'm looking for, I know what it is when I see it. Never mind I'm out of college not long ago and don't have any money right now. I was just curious anyway. I walked to the end of the shop where the main suit collections hang. I looked at all these glorious items and I thought: "my goodness, how bored I am!"
You know how it's like when you're in an over-crowded shop with too many people? As much as you'd like to kick them all out, maybe they just make it more exciting being there. If it's one dude folding shirts at the entrance and you looking around, the sense of living in a vibrant community is dead. At the heart of it all I dress like I do because of me, and people can take it or leave it. I never really ask for advice and I never care what others think and I never did. But maybe much of the point of dressing up a personality is lost if there's no sense of community to present a personality in. It's never quiet in a fashion shop in Singapore and although it's sometimes more noise and stress than you'd like, today I really missed it.
I'm really sorry about all the tedious reflections. The bottom line is: "I walked into a fashion shop today and got mad!" I'm usually not like that. Maybe it's reflecting the fact that I'm not sure where to go and what to do next and I don't want to be trapped in one country, but are trying to look to the world. Maybe a small fashion shop in a mall in Norway was threatening me with the same spirit as the ghosts in the basement (read: in the mind) when we were kids, saying: "now you'll stay here forever and there'll be no more adventures! HAHAHA!!" I've heard (not really though) that the best way to conquer threats like that is the old tactic of burning down the evil's premisses! Maybe I should burn it all down! "HAHA back at ya'!" Or maybe I should just stay away from there for a while! Like really, that does sound healthy!
Frankly, I could probably have chosen a more busy part of town to judge from. It's not like there's no life here! I might just be missing a new adventure to get occupied with.
Funny thing. I have always loved my country a lot, and I will until death! I was never any keen on leaving, but now I'm not too keen on moving back for too long neither. I guess big moments of your life changes you forever, even fashion-shops in Leeds might (yes, I see the artistic, socioeconomic and other contradictions and I don't care). Even if everything is the same when you return from your adventures, you yourself will never be the same again.
To balance this madness; I had a great "cake-lunch" with my friend Hilde on one of the nicer hotels in town with a view to the sunlight from up the river. Later I walked into a big music gear shop with an in-house studio. They had stacks of amazing studio speakers, instruments and general yum-yum! They even had two classic Universal Audio pre-amps casually stuffed away on a shelf. I know from my retail experience that you don't stock more than you think you'll sell. If they think keeping more than one 1000 GBP pre-amp in their shop at anyone time is a good idea, maybe I'm over-looking some of the life that's going on here. Maybe this city has grown in ways I haven't seen while I've been gone. I'm hoping on it, cause it all looked damn nice in the mid-winter light earlier today!
Friday, January 22, 2010
Surreal sleigh rides in Singapore, hotness rated in Starbucks and theories on meat.
Singapore, December 2009
I remember the first time I walked out of the airport. The sun had gone down, but the air was still as hot as always. Strong smells of spices, distant sea and high humidity flung in my face in a blend I had never felt before. I quite enjoyed it and I sensed the excitement of a new chapter of my life. I was moving to Singapore! Setting foot outside Europe for the very first time. Attending a College I had never seen. Never mind the fact that I was following an airport-worker who would take me to the Air France’s service staff because I had left my wallet with my phone, international students card, international drivers licence, Master-card and Visa-card in the seat pocket in front of me on the gigantic jumbo jet. I wasn’t bothered. I was happy. Nothing was gonna tip my mood. And quite right; great air-crew, effective air-port staff and, voilá, I received my belongings a moment later from a member of Changi Airport’s technical staff. I never-ever do blunders like that! But you’d have to shoot me with a 24 pound cannon to break the tide; freedom and exploration here I come!
I was returning again and looked at the rebuilding of the immigrations section of the airport with the curiosity, references and memories of a local. I was greeted by two of my smiling friends, Vienna Mei and Math Faust. We took the MRT-tram and at Tana Merah Interchange the same smells and humidity I had felt the first time pressed against my face again when we left the train. But this time was different. It was expected and I greeted it a warm welcome! I had waited for this moment.
I wasn’t travelling in and out on frequent basis any more. Neither could I queue up in the “locals” queue at the immigrations, since I no longer had a green card. When the winter is extra long, summer is extra welcome. When summer is long, skiers get excited over the very first flake of snow in the air. I hadn’t been back for over two years and intended to enjoy every smell of cassia, jungle and tropical sea that could make its blessed way to my nose!
*
Math and I went to Jurong Point to get food. We talked about going to their house first with my luggage, but after all the travelling I was simply too hungry. I needed food desperately. Meat to be specific! After a major logistical operation of getting a table, at the fully set food court, we went to order. My beef curry disappeared fast and I had to get another plate of chicken rice. Two meals and I was starting to feel more alive again.
We took a taxi home through the long streets packed with well kept housing blocks from Singapore’s Housing Development Board. You may think I’m a geek, but I loved seeing them again. I was back in my second home of Nations. Norway first, then here!
I had left a cold and dark Europe, enveloping itself in long nights and Christmas preparations. It was to become one of the coldest early winters recorded over the last hundred years. And here I was on a tropical island in Asia Pacific. On the stereo the taxi driver had tuned in to a show that was playing big-band Christmas music. How surreal it was! Less than a day earlier I was in cold and dark Europe, and the music would have fit like a hand in a glove. Then I travelled half way around the world to a climate so different, and I’m greeted by Diana Krall singing she wants to go sleigh-riding. –Subsequently followed by the likes of Count Basie. My ears tells me that I’m in Chicago or NYC on a snowy December night, my eyes and nose tells me that I’m on a highly urbanized tropical island. It is such a bizarre feeling that maybe you have to be a musician to understand it, or simply be a citizen of both these worlds at the same time; East and West.
Later when Wei comes home she informs me that it’s my turn to do the dishes, wash and hang the laundry, and clean the toilet and all the floors. Such a staggering amount of work that the only thing I can make out of the order is that she’s trying in her own way to say: “hello, it’s nice to see you again!” –or at least, that’s what I bargain on.
*
Breakfast. I need breakfast! Hungry Europeans used to dark bread and heavy meat needs more than rice and noodles. As much as I love both rice and noodles I crave bread for breakfast as almost always. I had found a Starbucks one of the first days and kept coming back for my daily infusion of bagels and sandwiches accompanied by sparkling water and cappuccinos.
As I had the previous mornings I line up again to order a big package of various yum-yum I need to get through the first hours of the day. The list is extensive to say the least. –At least by East Asian standards... maybe even by European standards. A cute little Malay girl in her late teens or early twenties, who’s got a big smile with shiny braces on, serves me in the counter that day. My order is placed and while various items are roasted, heated and manufactured I hunt for a table with a deep comfortable chair and a view. When it is found I return to the counter to wait for my items. The smiley little lady looks curious and since she’s got nothing else to do she strikes up a conversation.
“Soooo, are you working around here?”
“No, I’m not. I used to study here some years ago. But now I am back for my friends’ wedding actually.”
(Polite smile follows as to pass the conversation back to her in an informal way and to acknowledge her nice conversational initiative.)
“Soooo, are you single?”
(What the heck!?)
“What? Yes, I am!”
(Short answer and stern formal face-expression as to let the topic drop as fast as possible!)
(Big smile, direct eyes.)
“You’re hot!”
(I’m what!?)
“Well, thank you!”
(Looking at the air to spot for Santa Clause or third world war…)
(Waiting…)
(Silence…)
(She keeps smiling.)
“Pling!”
(Signal bell on the toaster.)
Thank God, my food is finished in the roaster and she gets other things to do. I take the tray, say a polite and pseudo-militant “thank you” while she keeps smiling like the sun and returns the courtesy.
I just wanted breakfast, no wife.
*
The taxi driver asks what I’m working with. I tell him I just finished my Masters Degree in Music Production. He says I look very young! I laugh, thank him, say I’m thirty and wait for the reaction. “Wuah? You look younger lah!” He says he thinks I look like I’m in my early twenties, maybe twenty-five at the most. He goes on saying that many Western men gets an “old” look fast. He doesn’t know that we, the same Western men, are sometimes amazed of how young some Asian men can look for their age. The taxi driver philosophies over why many Western men looks so old without realizing that he is calibrating “normal” by men that are not from the West. The conversation amuses me. I think he hasn’t driven around on many skiers, mountaineers and surfers, but rather over worked business-men. He says he is pretty sure the cold and climate of Europe is an important factor. I say I’m a Norwegian skier and mountain-guide and that my skin never looks as fresh and clean as when I’m cruising down hills at high speed in -10°C on a frequent basis. We have to find another solution. I propose my theory that stress and worries is an important factor. After all, many Western men in this community are business-men and working professionals for over-seas companies. We agree that is one of several likely possibilities. Then he says he thinks that eating a lot of meat makes men look older. If they ate more veggies and less animals they would most certainly look younger! I see a number of religious items on his dashboard and knowing what they are I know that he probably subscribe to a more vegetarian diet than my Nordic one. I’m a blonde blood-type zero, primeval dude and the obvious just has to be said: “I eat a lot of meat.” “Oh!? No, really…?” “Yes!” (Laughter). Some confusion seems to follow and we go silent for a while. It seems I didn’t fit into the theories and some thought is required to solve this riddle! We are approaching our target within visual range so any further conversation will have to wait for another time. I pay, thank him for the journey and we say goodbye.
I remember the first time I walked out of the airport. The sun had gone down, but the air was still as hot as always. Strong smells of spices, distant sea and high humidity flung in my face in a blend I had never felt before. I quite enjoyed it and I sensed the excitement of a new chapter of my life. I was moving to Singapore! Setting foot outside Europe for the very first time. Attending a College I had never seen. Never mind the fact that I was following an airport-worker who would take me to the Air France’s service staff because I had left my wallet with my phone, international students card, international drivers licence, Master-card and Visa-card in the seat pocket in front of me on the gigantic jumbo jet. I wasn’t bothered. I was happy. Nothing was gonna tip my mood. And quite right; great air-crew, effective air-port staff and, voilá, I received my belongings a moment later from a member of Changi Airport’s technical staff. I never-ever do blunders like that! But you’d have to shoot me with a 24 pound cannon to break the tide; freedom and exploration here I come!
I was returning again and looked at the rebuilding of the immigrations section of the airport with the curiosity, references and memories of a local. I was greeted by two of my smiling friends, Vienna Mei and Math Faust. We took the MRT-tram and at Tana Merah Interchange the same smells and humidity I had felt the first time pressed against my face again when we left the train. But this time was different. It was expected and I greeted it a warm welcome! I had waited for this moment.
I wasn’t travelling in and out on frequent basis any more. Neither could I queue up in the “locals” queue at the immigrations, since I no longer had a green card. When the winter is extra long, summer is extra welcome. When summer is long, skiers get excited over the very first flake of snow in the air. I hadn’t been back for over two years and intended to enjoy every smell of cassia, jungle and tropical sea that could make its blessed way to my nose!
*
Math and I went to Jurong Point to get food. We talked about going to their house first with my luggage, but after all the travelling I was simply too hungry. I needed food desperately. Meat to be specific! After a major logistical operation of getting a table, at the fully set food court, we went to order. My beef curry disappeared fast and I had to get another plate of chicken rice. Two meals and I was starting to feel more alive again.
We took a taxi home through the long streets packed with well kept housing blocks from Singapore’s Housing Development Board. You may think I’m a geek, but I loved seeing them again. I was back in my second home of Nations. Norway first, then here!
I had left a cold and dark Europe, enveloping itself in long nights and Christmas preparations. It was to become one of the coldest early winters recorded over the last hundred years. And here I was on a tropical island in Asia Pacific. On the stereo the taxi driver had tuned in to a show that was playing big-band Christmas music. How surreal it was! Less than a day earlier I was in cold and dark Europe, and the music would have fit like a hand in a glove. Then I travelled half way around the world to a climate so different, and I’m greeted by Diana Krall singing she wants to go sleigh-riding. –Subsequently followed by the likes of Count Basie. My ears tells me that I’m in Chicago or NYC on a snowy December night, my eyes and nose tells me that I’m on a highly urbanized tropical island. It is such a bizarre feeling that maybe you have to be a musician to understand it, or simply be a citizen of both these worlds at the same time; East and West.
Later when Wei comes home she informs me that it’s my turn to do the dishes, wash and hang the laundry, and clean the toilet and all the floors. Such a staggering amount of work that the only thing I can make out of the order is that she’s trying in her own way to say: “hello, it’s nice to see you again!” –or at least, that’s what I bargain on.
*
Breakfast. I need breakfast! Hungry Europeans used to dark bread and heavy meat needs more than rice and noodles. As much as I love both rice and noodles I crave bread for breakfast as almost always. I had found a Starbucks one of the first days and kept coming back for my daily infusion of bagels and sandwiches accompanied by sparkling water and cappuccinos.
As I had the previous mornings I line up again to order a big package of various yum-yum I need to get through the first hours of the day. The list is extensive to say the least. –At least by East Asian standards... maybe even by European standards. A cute little Malay girl in her late teens or early twenties, who’s got a big smile with shiny braces on, serves me in the counter that day. My order is placed and while various items are roasted, heated and manufactured I hunt for a table with a deep comfortable chair and a view. When it is found I return to the counter to wait for my items. The smiley little lady looks curious and since she’s got nothing else to do she strikes up a conversation.
“Soooo, are you working around here?”
“No, I’m not. I used to study here some years ago. But now I am back for my friends’ wedding actually.”
(Polite smile follows as to pass the conversation back to her in an informal way and to acknowledge her nice conversational initiative.)
“Soooo, are you single?”
(What the heck!?)
“What? Yes, I am!”
(Short answer and stern formal face-expression as to let the topic drop as fast as possible!)
(Big smile, direct eyes.)
“You’re hot!”
(I’m what!?)
“Well, thank you!”
(Looking at the air to spot for Santa Clause or third world war…)
(Waiting…)
(Silence…)
(She keeps smiling.)
“Pling!”
(Signal bell on the toaster.)
Thank God, my food is finished in the roaster and she gets other things to do. I take the tray, say a polite and pseudo-militant “thank you” while she keeps smiling like the sun and returns the courtesy.
I just wanted breakfast, no wife.
*
The taxi driver asks what I’m working with. I tell him I just finished my Masters Degree in Music Production. He says I look very young! I laugh, thank him, say I’m thirty and wait for the reaction. “Wuah? You look younger lah!” He says he thinks I look like I’m in my early twenties, maybe twenty-five at the most. He goes on saying that many Western men gets an “old” look fast. He doesn’t know that we, the same Western men, are sometimes amazed of how young some Asian men can look for their age. The taxi driver philosophies over why many Western men looks so old without realizing that he is calibrating “normal” by men that are not from the West. The conversation amuses me. I think he hasn’t driven around on many skiers, mountaineers and surfers, but rather over worked business-men. He says he is pretty sure the cold and climate of Europe is an important factor. I say I’m a Norwegian skier and mountain-guide and that my skin never looks as fresh and clean as when I’m cruising down hills at high speed in -10°C on a frequent basis. We have to find another solution. I propose my theory that stress and worries is an important factor. After all, many Western men in this community are business-men and working professionals for over-seas companies. We agree that is one of several likely possibilities. Then he says he thinks that eating a lot of meat makes men look older. If they ate more veggies and less animals they would most certainly look younger! I see a number of religious items on his dashboard and knowing what they are I know that he probably subscribe to a more vegetarian diet than my Nordic one. I’m a blonde blood-type zero, primeval dude and the obvious just has to be said: “I eat a lot of meat.” “Oh!? No, really…?” “Yes!” (Laughter). Some confusion seems to follow and we go silent for a while. It seems I didn’t fit into the theories and some thought is required to solve this riddle! We are approaching our target within visual range so any further conversation will have to wait for another time. I pay, thank him for the journey and we say goodbye.
Tuesday, November 17, 2009
D’Angleo and inspiration
Damn, it has been so boring to sing for many years! It used to be my biggest joy! They’d hush on me in high school classes, I’d be singing while walking, cycling, sleeping… (almost) and I’d practice a couple of hours every day. I was trying to aim somewhere, but being young and subject to available situations where you can use it it just fell apart. I didn’t know where to go with it. I got so fed up and furious that I didn’t sing a note for several years. If someone suggested that I’d sing something they’d better be ready for fight. I was angry!
Time flies and anger wears away. I’ve been singing a few Rock’n Roll things over the last few years with more or less luck. It’s just been for my own tracks and I sing on all my own guide tracks. But that’s pretty much it.
Today I bought D’Angleo’s “Brown Sugar” and the beat of the title track just didn’t leave my head for hours. I wanted to sing! I remember CeCe Winans doing a cover of Andraé Crouch’s “Take Me Back” and when I got the record I just couldn’t stop singing. I climb, I mountainbike, I ski, I do all sorts of stuff, but following CeCe through some of those phrases seriously gave a similar rush as high speed gives. D’Angelo was doing stuff I couldn’t figure out what was. I had to sing it back time and time again. I typed down the lyrics and started to sing. First mumbling till the words stick, then carefully starting to turn up the volume and at last doing the phrasings. It was dead fun and I’ve been going for a good while now, and I have a lot more work to do on it tomorrow when I can sing much louder without being kicked out of the house for disturbing the neighbours.
Anyway… Rare occasion, and it was fun again! Amen!
Time flies and anger wears away. I’ve been singing a few Rock’n Roll things over the last few years with more or less luck. It’s just been for my own tracks and I sing on all my own guide tracks. But that’s pretty much it.
Today I bought D’Angleo’s “Brown Sugar” and the beat of the title track just didn’t leave my head for hours. I wanted to sing! I remember CeCe Winans doing a cover of Andraé Crouch’s “Take Me Back” and when I got the record I just couldn’t stop singing. I climb, I mountainbike, I ski, I do all sorts of stuff, but following CeCe through some of those phrases seriously gave a similar rush as high speed gives. D’Angelo was doing stuff I couldn’t figure out what was. I had to sing it back time and time again. I typed down the lyrics and started to sing. First mumbling till the words stick, then carefully starting to turn up the volume and at last doing the phrasings. It was dead fun and I’ve been going for a good while now, and I have a lot more work to do on it tomorrow when I can sing much louder without being kicked out of the house for disturbing the neighbours.
Anyway… Rare occasion, and it was fun again! Amen!
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