...I London

Lars Winnerbäck säger det bäst...

Här är alla lika övergivna
Ensamma, synd om oss
Här går man inte runt och hälsar på
man måste ringa först
man måste boka tid
man måste skynda sig
man måste skärpa sig
man måste komma in
i Stockh.... eller nej förlåt: i London
en stor stad...som alla andra

Jag går inte långsamt längre, vem hinner det?

A midnight runner?

I’ll try to paint the picture. Knee long, thin coat tied at the waist, large trousers, weighty boots and a hat with earflaps. Quite a tall, well built man running up the street and rounding a lamp-post and then continuing running down the street again. It looked heavy, like a child in oversize shoes. I really wonder what in the world he was doing, but I guess that’s just your average, normal midnight runner…

This is just a different carnival

I am in London, back in academia. In Cádiz there is a carnival. And here I am, breathing literature, eating words and dreaming news-headlines. I already have a crooked middle finger on my right hand, because I write so much. Achievement is the goal; focus is the mean, ambition the fuel. My bookshelf is a fiesta of information, in my head it’s still mostly chaos.

Carnival is a celebration, before the harsh reality sets in, before joys are sacrificed. Cádiz was my carnival even without a grand, collective dress-up party. But I am feasting on knowledge… so for me this is just a different kind of carnival.

Put on your dancing shoes…

Today it is definitely an art walking down the streets of London and pure comedy seeing people’s approaches to snow. It’s either a deeply troubled face trying to find the least wet way across the melted snow on the roadside, or someone with a deep crease of concentration on their forehead (trying not to fall) or, the last, and most pleasant alternative a person with a childishly happy smile pasted across the visage.

London is quiet and empty and closed; like a car-free Sunday (highly unlikely in any other weather). But today there is snow…and more snow.

So we are waiting for it to stop, for the city to get up and running again. And I want to sign the contract to my new flat. Snow is stopping me from doing that as well. The new landlord is stuck outside of the city and we are stuck waiting. It’s my destiny to wait, even though I have no patience. The world is telling me to wait. Please God, I promise not to forget to appreciate what I have once I have it. I even appreciate the thought of it.

But snow is to calm you down, and slow the pace, stop running for once. Ok, I give in, I’m passive (whatever that is?). I put on my dancing shoes and walk the streets of London….because there is nothing else to do.

When you go... you know

I had to pay for the overweight for my suitcases today. I had to pay a lot.

The funny thing is all the other times I've left, I always knew: "I'll be coming back, this is still home". This time it was different. This time I really felt I am setting out to find a home, I'm really leaving. It's ironic, all the 'rehearsed' moving, all the times I've slid past the baggage drop without paying, it was just practice, just not to scare me off.

Now, it's the real thing, and the real thing hurts, in your heart, in your mind(which struggles to keep together all the pieces of the moving puzzle) and even in your wallet.

When it's the real thing there is no cheating or escaping. When you go... you know.

I want...

In London this year I want…
…to find a really great apartment (at a really great price)
…to make a good plan and follow it
…to find a really good summer-internship
…to get back into shape
…to start with yoga again
…to enjoy my courses
…to achieve amazing results
…to see more concerts
…to visit museums more often
…to not neglect my sleep
…to have more visitors (when we can match vacations)
…to discover new parts of the city
…to go more to the cinema
…to keep my Cádiz calm
…to find little places that only I know about (smultronställen in Swedish)

On the move

Yesterday was a great day. Apart from a raw cold digging into my bones it was…special. I started off the day with my father, we had breakfast, a talk, went to look at furniture for him and then he dropped me off in Malmö, where the work began. I hitched a ride with a couple of friends (or two friends who are actually a couple) and went back to Lund (my hometown) with them. This is where the actual moving started. They rented a truck and five of us filled it all up in a little bit less than an hour (WOW). And back we went to Malmö again…to unload the truck, because we all really love carrying sofas and deconstructing and reconstructing beds.

We were a good team, correction, we were a wonderful team; efficient, encouraging and we had fun. I am yet to see three girls carrying a huge dinner table across a street laughing hysterically; still I was one of them. After redressing couches, making beds and placing drawers in their place it was finally time for dinner. In the middle of mess and boxes we sat down and had the remains of an immense Lebanese buffet, delicious! For desert cheese and crackers, and juicy pears, and what was left of red wine from their summer wedding, but most of all there was laughter, smiles and conversations.

Although exhausted, I think all of us, surely I, still looked at the boxes in envy (and joy). It was a real home, a place to be and to stay. It left space for a real life, without the stingy demands of a poor student. It was the future, far away for some, closer for others. Still, we were happy, we got to take part, we got to visit for a second, to imagine ourselves there…it has to be enough to last me a few years, I sucked it all in and left it there.

Today I took out my suitcase, again. And I’m packing it to live this time, not just to visit.