:: Diary of a Global Nomad ::

:: Wednesday, October 23, 2002 ::

I came to the library (where I am now, supposedly working after my morning lectures with a really great american guy who rounded off his lecture with 'Ciao!', ha ha, and another session at the gym....awwww) and I swear I smelled Russia. I breathed in and there it was - if I closed my eyes I could have been back in Moscow. Scary. It turns out though that I wasn't mysteriously transported back to Russia - just that I am sitting next to a smelly Russian. Phew. I will just breath into the roll neck of my lovely new jumper.

It has been a day for Russia phobias it would seem - even early this morning I couldn't bring myself to get on the bus because there were too many people on it and it would have been too worryingly like Russia. Instead I waited in the cold for twenty more minutes until an emptier bus came along, in doing so making myself late for my lecture - one of my biggest fears. Is this normal to want to not live remember Russia so much?! Maybe not. I should seek counselling!

The hard part is the fact that I cannot really forgot and push the nightmares away because I still have one more year of this degree, and Russian plays a third of it. Actually it probably only is about twenty weeks left in total, taking into consideration all the holidays we get. And it is going fast. All the weeks seem to be passing by in one big blur, I am already only a week and a half away from my mid-term break. Worrying. More worrying is the fact that I have made no concrete plans to do anything exotic. Will need to get on the case, in amongst the studying of course.

There's a lot on, but it is interesting and varied - from post Stalinist Soviet cinema to French Womens studies to European Integration studies - so I am happy. I still never managed to find a decent time to blog, or to blog anything interesting. I need to re-think this whole blogging thing maybe, or put it on hold. Oh maybe I can go on strike. I am spending a lot of time with French people at the moment and so I am inspired to strike. What for?! Do I need a reason?! I am almost French... Ha Ha! No! It was starting to worry the Scandinavian in me (I even turned down watching a Swedish movie with the ScanSoc to go for drinks with the frenchie, hmmmm) but then I think I am on track again. Like the true scot I am, I have been eating porridge every morning. And as for the wannabe scandinavian inside.... Well,0 I got a parcel in the post from the man in Gothenburg and it inspired me again. It was jampacked with all things on Western Sweden (specifically Gothenburg) for my Swedish class presentation... Here is another worrying fact, I am looking forward to making a presentation. What a geek...

Anyway, I have a choir rehersal again. We are singing in Bath Abbey on Sunday evening and it is a bit of a big deal. Wish me luck?!
:: Fiona 10/23/2002 01:14:00 PM [+] ::
...

In true British style (see, I really am British) I shall start off with the weather...

It is AWFUL. There is no other way to describe it other than this, or perhaps dreadful. It has not stopped raining in days and has become really quite cold and windy and miserable and grey and ugh, it is just horrible. I have jumped from wearing a light summery jacket to my heavy winter coat because it has a hood to protect myself from all the rain and falling wet stuff that has a tendancy to land on my head. Nasty. My feet are cold and my mood is bleak and, although I gleefully looked out my mittens and hat and scarf, I had hoped that the Autumn would last a bit more than those two weeks before Winter kicked in. This is really it, I am already into Winter. Where is the time going?!

Am a bit stressed out about that, there seems to be so much to do and so little time. I had thought that the Final Year would be fine, somebody once told me that if you did all the work they give you, you would be fine. It is just that there is so much work to do. Or maybe it is because I spent my first two years of university doing nothing. To attend all my classes, complete all the projects and read all the books I feel I should seems like an awful lot and I am swamping through it. It is hard work to actually work.

But fear not, it is not all studying and stressing out that has been consuming my time at the moment. I did have a great long weekend...

Friday evening I went to the cinema with the new guy in my class (French-Yugoslavian, he is over here on exchange from uni in Paris and has walked into the 1st Rugby team) to see the Red Dragon. Wow. Beautiful film. It was scary and freaky and did make me go 'eeeeeek' quite a few times throughout but it was good. Star-studded cast, good story line and bla bla, I am starting to sound like Jonathon Ross of Film whatever year it is now fame so I will stop there. How boring to tell you about my weekend in detail. I shall cut to the chase. My brother came to visit and last night we walked down memory lane, visited the eighties and went to see A-Ha in concert!!!

Two times in once year, first in Moscow and then in Birmingham. It is not like I am a big A-Ha groupie or anything (well maybe slightly) but my brother happened to buy the tickets for me and well, who am I to refuse the chance of seeing Morten Harket?! It was an excellent evening. The music was fantastic and those guys keep getting cooler by the day. We had great seats, I was within fifty feet of the man himself, but I don't think that was why it was so great compared to the Moscow concert. I think what was so great was that the ambiance was so very different. In Moscow the concert seemed almost subdued and they hardly spoke - perhaps because Russia is one of these countries where everything works in the home language and who is going to bother to learn Russian to talk to the audience?! I probably would but I am one of those exceptions, a person who likes to learn languages when they go on holiday (whilst my sister was sunning herself by the pool in Bali, I was in the shade learning a bit of Indonesian) and so I can understand why the only word Morten H, or any of the other band members mentioned at the Moscow concert was Spasibo / thanks.

Last night though... there was atmosphere and I generally just think that a British audience is more welcoming than a Russian audience. Again another mark on the negative side of the Russian list. I will make it my homework to think of a positive for tomorrow... In the meantime I have to dash. From one concert to another, only this time I am singing. I have two solos tonight and I am starting to get nervous and nail-bitey. Wish me luck... Break a leg!


:: Fiona 10/15/2002 03:59:00 PM [+] ::
...

So, I know it has been a long time... What can I say?! I am busy and so my blogging habits have become sporadic. I have been doing good things though, like being sick (it has to be done asap so that I can enjoy the gorgeous Autumn that is just starting to get into swing with its misty mornings and crip sunny afternoons, ahhhh) then recovering from the 'freshers flu' (and seriously I never went anywhere near a fresher) and then getting back into some kind of a routine. It has been a whirlwind of filling in forms for my department and trying to remember how to be a student again - the transition has been a bit tough. Then there are all the people. Wow, I had forgotten about all these people that I know... Then there are new people about, which takes time and energy but has to be done. So, you get my drift?! Things have been a bit chaotic so the emails can stop as to where I have been...

Settling back into Bath life is fantastic, and it has been helped by the wonderful magazine that is 'Bath Life.' Now, as you may already know I am a confessed magazine junkie and so I will read any publication that comes my way. Particularly highly pretentious glossy maqazines - ohhhh. Now Bath life is a bit on the cheesy side, and a bit Town and Country but I have been enjoying that discovery. Hmmm, what else is new?! Well there are all the new bars and restaurants in town...

Did you know that Bath has more bars and restaurants than it does days of the year?! The population is only 100, 000 too! There is also the highest number of Michelin stars in the country in this town, outside London of course. In fact one of the newly opened restaurants is the venture of a Michelin star chef, the new Blini bar. Imagine that... I come all the way back from Russia to be faced with a blini bar! I need to check it out. The most amazing this has happened. Yesterday I actually had a craving for Russian food. This is me, who refused to eat in the last month there because the food was so bad, and I am having cravings! What?! It was probably inspired by a guy in my class who made an oral presentation about Russian cuisine - I could just taste those pilmieni (like the Russian equivalent of raviolli, mmmm) with lashings of sour-cream. Yum!

This is the thing, we have all really gotten to grips with our two countries (the majority of students studiying languges here do joint honors, two languages) and naturally we are all a bit excited. I have been keeping my mouth shut about the neagitve aspects so as not to get up the Russia lovers noses, but my time will come... I have presentations to make myself! There is also the indoctrination of up and coming new students!!! There is so much work to be done actually. Final year, yikes.

On top of that the goddess regime is still running and so I am spending a lot of time devoted to that - I just came back from an hour at the gym and I could have easily fallen asleep but I decided not to. Am pushing myself, will have an early night instead.

Oh and now it is time for a coffee with an old friend, then choir practice and then meeting some friends from my first year halls of residence for a few drinks. Actually I mentioned about the girl from my old school who now studies here. She is in her second year but in the first year she not only lived in my old halls but in the same corridor - it is a small world! Or maybe it's a case of lets send all the kids from Helsinki to level 2, Wolfson?! International halls, they were such good fun. A little chaotic but a lot of fun. I actually really appreciate the vast number of international students we have up here, they really make me smile. I mean just this morning I was on the bus to university for my 9.15 lecture on European Integration (really heavy stuff I must add) and a japanese girl got onto the bus. It was a double decker, on the top deck, and this was obviously a novelty for her as she was beaming the widest smile. It was so nice to see, it made me smile myself and remember how happy I am to be back!

Anyway... I will leave you with one of those email jokes... My sister sent it to me, its about the Earthquake and its devastating effects on the West Midlands town of Dudley. This is a typical example of Brisith Humour - yeah, lets slag off those less fortunate than ourselves. I will emphasise that I dis NOT write this!!! Enjoy anyway... Poka! Tschus! A bientot! Vi syns! Hei hei!


URGENT - DUDLEY EARTHQUAKE APPEAL
At 00:54 on Monday 23 September an earthquake measuring 4.8 on the
Richter scale hit Dudley, UK causing untold disruption and distress -
* Many were woken well before their giro arrived
* Several priceless collections of mementoes from the Balearics and
Spanish costas were damaged
* Three areas of historic and scientifically significant litter were
disturbed
* Thousands are confused and bewildered, trying to come to terms with
the fact that something interesting has happened in Dudley
One resident, Donna-Marie Dutton, a 17 year old mother-of-three said "It
was such a shock, little Chantal-Leanne came running into my bedroom
crying. My youngest two, Tyler-Morgan and Megan-Storm slept through it.
I was still shaking when I was watching Trisha the next morning."
Apparently though, looting did carry on as normal.
The British Red Cross have so far managed to ship 4000 crates of Sunny
Delight to the area to help the stricken masses.
Rescue workers are still searching through the rubble and have found
large quantities of personal belongings including benefit books and
jewellery from Elizabeth Duke at Argos.
HOW YOU CAN HELP
* £2 buys chips, scraps and blue pop for a family of four
* £10 can take a family to Stourport for the day, where children can
play on an unspoiled canal bank among the national collection of
stinging nettles
* 22p buys a biro for filling in a spurious compensation claim
PLEASE ACT NOW
Simply email us by return with your credit card details and we'll do the
rest!
If you prefer to donate cash, there are collection points available at
your local branches of Argos, Iceland and Clinton Cards
:: Fiona 10/09/2002 01:53:00 PM [+] ::
...

The weekend was my birthday but the partying lasts all week, and I shall remember the 22nd one for these reasons but also because of my nice birthday surprise. The earth moved, like quite literally!

So the UK was hit by its biggest earthquake in decades, reaching 4.8 on the richter scale. After a quite calm day on my actual birthday (there was work to be done, although with cake on the side) in the evening the wine was cracked open and us girls got down to some serious chit-chatting. About one am the ground started to shake, the sofas moved and the walls wobbled a bit. Could that be the noisy neighbours?! No likely with the sheer vigour of the shake! All sorts of things went running through my head, was it Iraq bombing us or Osama making another attack, a plane crash or had the aliens landed?! Then there was the thought that it was actually an earthquake and that was when we got freaked out. The actual tremor was pretty much over and done with and was not wholly exciting in itself, but the aftermath is. The one thing that is certain and in place for a short time wasn't, and this concept was a little hard to grasp. We got quite upset by it, and were anxious to find out more...

Since then of course the news has covered it, and local talk has been about the 'quake.' It's all a bit exciting really, and I will remember my 22nd birthday with a bit of a thrilling memory... Of course there is also the usual partying going on - my surprise birthday party which I know about is on Satyurday - but I realised that really I must be getting old because I spent all of yesterday complaining.

I went out Monday night, decided to go to the cheesiest club ever and get it OVER NAD DONE WITH. Imagine visiting the inside of a flamingo with a definite eighties feel?! This was the club I went to. Cadillacs. Just awful. The atmosphere was great, with returning students meeting each other after how long?! A year +. It was a whirlwind of hugs, kisses and shrieks of delight - in English, French and Russian. It was a good laugh, for want of a better word, even in the surroundings! Yesterday though I was deaf the whole day and I realised that I may be growing old of the partying until late late. Sleep deprivation and ringing ears are just no longer enjoyable. Sigh!

Yesterday was also a weird day because I encountered a blas from the past, quite literally. A girl from my old school in Helsinki now studies in Bath and she took me by surprise yesterday when she came up to me on campus. Really sweet girl, Swedish speaking Finn, so I was not wholly unhappy to see her one could say... More updates on that later.... I will no doub be reminded of all sorts of silly things, and get to do it in Swedish too. Wow.

As a final note, thanks to the new entires on my guestmap. I was thrilled to see people starting to use it, and I hope that all is well with you guys!
:: Fiona 9/25/2002 11:55:00 AM [+] ::
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So, last night was the night I had dreaded for so long... I was to not only meet the man behind desbladet but also face the dreaded Swedish class.

I was so nervous, but as it turns out all was fine. Des was exactly how I imagined him to be, a slightly offbeat academic with a self proclaimed addiction to buying the most varied of books and a genuine interest for scandywegian princess - you should have seen his face light up with delight when it was the teachers turn to embarras him over his Aftonbladet and Mette-Marit obsession. Classic.

Luckily she (teacher, really nice) doesn't have anything on me... Yet! I think I will manage with the pace, the level was about right and even if there are people in there who have been studying Swedish for 20 years then that can only be a positive thing - they will have to help us mere mortals.

Anyway, I have a hundred and one things to do so I had better go but I thought that I would blog about that moment... Ahhh!
:: Fiona 9/20/2002 11:38:00 AM [+] ::
...

So, as I may have mentioned, I am biting the bullet and actually taking a Swedish class. Tomorrow. I am really quite nervous about it...

It has been recommended to me that I shall be put in the higher class. Hmmm, I cannot believe they will let me jump straight to the advanced class; can I be that good?! Maybe I will be in for a shock when everyone is better than me and I will be left behind, feeling like a total idiot for never really using the opportunities I have had. I mean I was in Finland for three years and did it ever occur to me to take a Swedish class?! Dohhh, no. How many times did I go to Sweden?! How many times did I lament over being bored whilst in Sweden?! Oh, regrets regrets.

Hence I am now in a total flip out mood over trying to learn some Swedish in the next 24 hours, and am reciting tongue twisters such as: Sju sjösjuka sjömän sköttes av sju sköna sjuksystrar. This S business, it is a nightmare. It will all be worth it though, surely?!

I have always been a bit ashamed about my Swedish because, frankly, I am lazy and I don't make any concerted effort. I listen to people and I read trash but it is hardly highly sophisticated. People tell me it is very good, convincing and all the rest of that but they would have to say that or I would be offended, right?! Or maybe they are just astounded that anyone from the UK can utter a single word in this language, and even dare to pick up an accent. Ahaaa, this could be it. Definitely my accent is good - whilst in Denmark recently I attempted to speak Danish and the Danish people thought I was Swedish - but although the accent is maybe ok the actual knowledge of words is a little bit on the rusty side, and so I turn again to my anxieties... Vicous circle really...

Anyway, as I was talking about accents... I am taking this class with a fellow blogger Des. As I have been in Moscow and not really in this part of the world in the past while, we have never met, although we have been communicating over our computers. How geek like. Tomorrow though we will meet for the first time, before the class begins. Yikes. To arrange a time and place we spoke on the phone, and Des was surprised to hear that I have a Scottish accent. Well naturally! I am Scottish afterall.

Until recently nobody ever really commented on my accent. I am pretty good at concealing my Scottishness, and although I would always speak at home with my family in a Scottish accent (for fear of being sent up north for corrective therapy, ha ha) at school I would adopt the local accent for where I was. Give me time and someone to copy and I can lapse into West Midlands or Cumbrian accents. For a few years too I had an American twang, with some nasty Scandinavian sing-song bits thrown in for good measure (international school messed it up) and then when I came to university my accent was this basic international accent, so that people could understand me. I remember in Moscow I was chatting to my friend Jemma in a the way I normally would with non-Scottish people and then my brother called me and I lapsed into this weird Scottish accent, so much so she couldn't understand me and thought it was really funny. My brother is 'really' Scottish, my parents too - in fact my Dad is so Scottish sounding that an ex-boyfriend (Swedish) couldn't call my house for the first few months we were dating because he was scared to get my Dad on the phone and would sound like a complete moron for not understunding even the most basic of question. My sister and I though are really not very Scottish, in general. Seriously, put me beside a regular glaswegian if you don't believe me. I will sound very English in comparison. It also helped that I didn't spend so much time in Scotland.

However, in saying all that, I have just been back home for a month. I spent all my time with my family, talking talking talking and so I am really Scottish. I came back to Bath and my friends have been amazed at how Scottish I am sounding, and even at the weekend at work people asked me where I was from in Scotland. Wow. It is nice, I like accents and so I am happy to sound Scottish. I was going to say that my accent will calm down and become more anglicised in the next few weeks but I think I shall have to call my parents more and try keep hold of it instead. Sounds a bit more exotic maybe?!
:: Fiona 9/18/2002 02:13:00 PM [+] ::
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The eagle has landed. That would be me. I am back in Bath. Two weeks have passed since I last blogged, or even looked at a computer and it feels like a life time. So much seems to have happened. It's all a bit of a blur.

Took the plane, followed by a bus and train. Arrived in Bath. Got the keys to my flat, which I had not yet seen, and then promptly fell in love with it and all its surroundings. It's on St James Sq - upmarket, very chic, very cute, georgian architecture all the way, ooozing with history and character. Bliss. Waited for my Dad to get here, unpacked, spent the first night in my new flat. Handed in my dissertation, sighed a massive sigh of relief and then it was off again. Up to Warwickshire to visit family friends I had neglected for four years. Chaos. Retrieved a bag of winter clothes (Moscow left overs), returned to Bath. Spent second night in my new flat, took another train. Spent a lovely few days near/in/around Portsmouth with my friend Sophia (whom I shall be living with in said lovely little flat in gorgeous St James Sq, Bath) and her family, doing all the things we enjoy doing... eating dim sum, lounging in jacuzzi, shopping, drinking coffee, marvelling at nice looking things, staying up late talking and talking and talking, driving around (we test drove the new mini and epitomised a couple of airhead, lipglossed girls in a car garage), swanning around marinas and other such poncy places, and generally being girls. It was glorious. Then it was time to pack up Sophia's car, drive up to Bath and move in - the two of us - finally.

It has been a non-stop rearranging of furniture, trips to the DIY store (another place we totally look out of place), calling up the electricity people, gas, water, phone people - inevitably being put on hold for hours - and more trips to shops to buy such exciting things as extension cables and energy saving light bulbs... greenpeace can get off my back on that one. Oh and I have had a breakthrough with assertion. Bearing in mind I am quite a confident person in most areas of my life, put me in an electrical store and I just melt into ditz mode. It is really quite annoying. Well anyway Sophia and I have become all domestic and decided we should invest in a new washing machine. We did our research and promptly bought a beautiful machine last week, which was supposed to come tomorrow. Yesterday the manager of the shop we bought it from called to tell me that the particular style of machine I had bought somehow had all dissappeared from the warehouse and would I mind having one that looked identical but which had a different spin number. Hmmmm, what does this mean?! I got all flustered and agreed, and the guy probably went home last night laughing. But then today I called the store and said that he shouldn't try pull any wool over my eyes and (after research of course, a phone call to someone in the know) I said that I wasn't going to downgrade without knowing it and that he should pick on someone else. I bargained my way into a partial refund, free delivery and plumbing AND a lovely new, gadgety, super advanced and (best of all) free iron. Did I mention the words girl power?! I am a goddess!!! My machine arrives on Thursday, just before I find my way to Bristol to attend my first ever Swedish class.

Bit nervous about that, but excited naturally. I cannot wait to see what level I am really at and to finally have some kind of grammatical knowledge as opposed to the 'pillow talk' that comes out of my mouth, mixed in with grammar from other languages. It is about time that I really started to take this seriously, started to push myself... It fits with my start of term resolutions.

This is the best thing about being a student, you have two starts of year (calender and academic) and so you can make two sets of resoultions. I am going to try be more studious and work harder, spend less time doing frivoulous things, keep in touch with my friends a bit better, and loose some more weight. Not to mention perfect my French/Russian/Swedish, maybe bring myself back up to scratch on Finnish and learn to wear sensible shoes to work.

Saturday I started my new/old job. I used to work at Racing Green and I loved it, it was the perfect part-time job to go beside my studies - I got to meet loads of people, show off my language skills with the foreign customers and play with gorgeous clothes all day. When I went away (Brussels and Moscow, how could you forget?) my Boss promised to keep my job open for my final year and she, of course, kept this promise and I started back on Saturday. It is different though. We were bought over by a new company and there are new rules and ideas, a completely new cashier system and I don't feel like the old pro I used to be - persuading silly men to buy three cashmere jumpers because it makes them look foxy and things like that. I spent Saturday wandering around, trying to familiarise myself with the new ranges, learning how to do everything the new way and not really being able to help that many people. To boot, and sorry for the pun, I had forgotten that nine hours is a long time and so I had worn a pair of rather high and pointy toed (but naturally fabulous) stiletto boots. What an idiot... So, that is my mission. To either perfect a nine hour shift in this type of shoe, or go flat and comfy. I have every faith that I shall slip into my old ways soon enough, find my feet (what is it about these feet puns?) again. I mean, yesterday I stunned a couple of nouveau Russians by asking them if they would rather have a big bag or a small back, in Russian naturally. You should have seen their faces... "How on earth can someone behind the counter possibly speak Russian?!" And so there I was feeling like Eva Perone, with a smug smug feeling inside. Ahaaaa, I may look the bimbo but... OK, I have to use the Goddess word again - it is my favourite word of the moment.

Naturally I am very happy to be back in Bath. It is such a scrumptuous little place that feeds my pretentious side - I mean, why else would I use a word like scrumptuous?! It is also so small, I don't need to take the metro to get from one end to the next and I am no longer anonymous. I love that. I am quite a sociable person and so to go to the supermarket even and bump into three people you know, well that is wonderful. It can also have its surprises, ghosts of boyfriends past and all that, but all in all I prefer it to Moscow. It is also cleaner and a bit of a warped place, and full of scandywegian people. My ears are tuned to it perhaps but in Homebase (that's the DIY store) there were Swedes, in Waitrose (supermarket) there were Norwegians and today at Toni and Guy (hairdressers) a Finnish guy cut my hair! How funny... I am living back in my warped world, and I have to say I am LOVING it.

Am radiantly happy, life is getting back to normal (well as normal as it ever will be) and there is a lot to do. I am still not hooked up to internet at the flat yet but hopefully this is me back on the scene now... Wohoooooo! I cannot belive I just wrote a blog about nothing other than a pile of nonsense. Oh well. Maybe my sense will regrow with my normal life. One can always hope!
:: Fiona 9/16/2002 02:51:00 PM [+] ::
...

Apart from the dissertation dragging on and on, with regards to Russia it is pretty much all fond memories now. I have discarded the toilet paper I brought back as a souvenir (one step away from Sandpaper I tell you) and have been thinking only of the good things. This would be partly due to me going back to uni and having to face my class - I need to have something positive to say about the Motherland or I will be pelted to death by Russian dictionaries - but also for my own sanity. I don't want six months of my life to be some kind of a black hole that I just cannot think about incase the tears come. Oh no. I need for those six months to be some kind of learning experience, and indeed they were. I learned so much more about Russia than I ever could have imagined, and I am chanelling it to greater goods so that I will radiate enthusiasm and not fall into a pit of Russia-hating, which I assure you is easily done.

Things that have helped me over the past month, since I have been coming to terms with this, were the memories of the fun times I had, walking around all the different museums, being wowed by the sheer talent portrayed at the theatre (Bolshoi in particular) and the sense of pride I felt when I actually left. Not to forget just how kind some people were. Right enough, meet the average Muscovite on the street and they will without a doubt grate on you and make you so angry you could spit feathers, but when you get to know a Russian they can be the kindest people in the world. They don't have much, but they are willing to give you everything. My Babushka was a prime example of this. My goodness she drove me NUTS but she was lovely, any time I felt sad she bought me little treats to have and she never once made me feel like a lodger but like a part of her family. It was fantastic, she knitted us mittens too!

Well anyway the reason why I am thinking about this today is because I had emailed this Russian lady about a poem. Basically I had found this poem in English on a web-page about the Metro. I found her contact details and asked if she could possible send me the original Russian version if she had a copy of it, because I wanted to use it in my dissertation and I couldn't find a copy of it, not even in the State library. The poem was from a Russian childrens book and not only did she send me the poem but she scanned the whole of the book and sent me it via email! How lovely is that?! A whole childrens book, with gorgeous pictures and all! Not only was I really touched by her thoughtfulness in spending how long scanning and sending me this but it will be fantastic in my essay! Wow, what a Star that woman is. Hats off to Russian babushkas... AGAIN!
:: Fiona 9/01/2002 03:58:00 PM [+] ::
...

Last night I went to see the film Insomnia, which would have been a downright fantastic film had I not seen it before.

So, I was all comfy in my seat, I had my chocolates (maltesers - they're lighter than ordinary chocolates) positioned for a prime time movie watching gobbling sweeties session, the credits had rolled and I was ten minutes into the film when it dawned on me that I had already seen it, either that or I was suffering from a very big, astounding and realistic case of deja-vu. It was the orange curtains that did it for me, the fact that the murder mystery was taking place in the land of the midnight sun. This land though was Alaska, the previous land was Norway. The original film was a film by Norwegian Erik Skjoldbjærg, with the Swedish actor Stellan Skarsgård playing the lead role of the good/bad cop.

That was it... it all came flashing back to me and so I sat there, expecting the inevitable. Right enough I did see the original maybe two years ago and so my memory wasn't too spot-on (afterall the ringing bells would have happened earlier than me actually getting into the film) and so it was enjoyable, still thrilling and a bit intense, but it just wasn't as intense or as gripping as it could have been.

Al Pacino played the lead role, and he was excellent - his face did most of the acting and he really did look sleep deprived. I wouldn't be in a position to compare him to Stellan Skarsgård though. The film was not cut and dry, black and white, and so the roles merged a bit, but the 'bad' guy was played by Robin Williams, which was highly weird. This is the man who I associate with Mrs Doubtfire and Patch Adams... what could he possibly bring to the role of a murderer?! A lot. After the initial typecasting worry he had me convinced, and so all in all the film was good. That nurse from ER was also in it.. Ohhhh!

Thumbs up then to Insomnia - even if you have seen the original, it is still worth going to see! Back to dissertation, again....
:: Fiona 9/01/2002 12:38:00 PM [+] ::
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Dissertation blues... I have not been in the mood to blog. I can read and read but I am not too fussed about writing - afterall I am spending hours writing up my essay. I can always type essays straight off in English no problem but with this dissertation I had to write it first on... paper... and then type it. This might sound like a fairly simple task for someone who is used to typing lots of essays, but the catch is that I am typing in Cyrillic and I STILL don't know the keyboard and so spend hours and hours one finger typing - like six words an hour! It is almost done, and then I hand it in next week when I am in Bath. I took the day off today, if I had to type today my eyes would have gone square, not to mention my legs gone numb with the weight of my dictionary that tends to sit on my lap.

My special treat for the day was packing all my things for Bath. Oh yes! Basically all my clothes, handbags, shoes, books, bedding, cushions, throws, curtains and nik-naks all had to be gathered together and packed into one space before they get put into my Dads car on Wednesday. This is how it works in my house... my Dad drives down, which takes 10 hours, and me and my Mum fly down! It works pretty well, I get really badly car sick and the prospect of even an hour in the car makes me really queasy. And at least this year my Dad only has to drive from Scotland to Bath. In my first year at uni he drove from Helsinki all the way through Finland to Turku/Åbo, ferried across to Stockholm, drove down through Sweden and Denmark and another ferry to England's east coast before driving to the west. Then he had to come back, and it is a long way! Second year my sister was also going to university and so he hired a van and drove from Germany to Bath then up to York. Demanding daughters, us?! Hmmm, well we must get it from somewhere and so I turn to my Mum.

My Mum is the queen of shoes, handbags and clothes... This must be where I take it from. Now that the majority of my clothes are packed up (minus my Winter clothes, which are in layover from Moscow, and my Summer clothes, which will remain here now that Winter is well on its way) I realise just how much stuff I have. It is crazy. I already have a whole load of things stored in Bath and so when I graduate and gather it all together I have no idea how I will get everything all in one place. Oh, it's not worth thinking about. It will have me coming out in a cold sweat about maybe having to throw something away. Let's think about something else...

I'm going to the cinema tonight. I'm going to see Insomnia and I'm really looking forward to it. A night off, away from The Moscow Metro and all its glories. Tomorrow though, back to the grindstone!
:: Fiona 8/31/2002 06:26:00 PM [+] ::
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Time flies when you are having fun. It's just one of those things. Time also flies when you are busy emptying boxes, throwing things away and finishing off ones dissertation. Unfortunately, they are just some of those things also. And so here I find myself having not blogged for nearly one week... shock horror!

Since my last blog about Scottish humour, I have indeed come accross more of the insane stuff that floats inside peoples heads this far north but I thought ít was too much information to let on... if you want to see it you should come up here for yourself! The ideal opportunity for this would be during the month of August, when the Edinburgh festival is on. Now as you should all know, Edinburgh is the capital of this dear little country and it is very cute in a typically Scottish way, with men in kilts and castles dominating the local skyline. It may not be as hip an cool as its little big brother Glasgow (on the Burberry handbag to people ratio Glasgow is far cooler) but it tries very hard to jump up and down and grab some attention, other than just the usual Japanese tourists who pit-stop there in the midst of their tour of the UK, with open mouths and clicking cameras of course. In terms of coolness it pipped Glasgow's post in bagging Scotland's first Harvey Nics (the famous up-market London department store, which just opened its Edinburgh doors last week) but the real jewel in the crown is the Edinburgh festival...

The festival is a culmination of Scottish cultural events, which also opens its doors to the freshest talent worldwide, from every field. There is the International Festival, which although corporate sponsered and a tad on the stiff side offers an amazing array of ballets, operas and classical concerts. Then there is the film festival, book festival, childrens festival, bla bla bla festival and the Fringe festival. This would be the most famous, with all the less-classical and alternative stuff, such as street theatre and stand-up shows etc... If you want to see Scottish humour, take yourself to Edinburgh this month, make it past the whords of tourists and English people who just 'Loooove the festival dahling', sit in a churchhall / bar somewhere and soak it up... I warn you though, us Scots can have s cick sense of humour and I heard somewhere that in one show a few years ago these two crazy Scottish guys poured IRN BRU (bright orange, sticky, 2nd fizzy national drink) over an English member of the audience - you know, just for a laugh!

I, although perhaps a tad on the nervous side, shall be going next week for a few days. It's the tail end of the action when everything has all but died down but it will be fun nevertheless. I have galleries to visit, and a few shows to see. I'll let you know how it goes...
:: Fiona 8/20/2002 11:05:00 AM [+] ::
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Today my Mum asked my brother how he had slept last night?! His reply was "like a log" to which my Mum quirked back with the question "What, did you wake up in the fireplace?!"

This is a typical example of Scottish humour, fast sharp and something that has me baffled, despite being Scottish myself. There are hundreds of examples of this but, as is typical, they have gone straight out of my head. I will leave it thus at that for the moment.
:: Fiona 8/14/2002 06:53:00 PM [+] ::
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Today would have been Elvis' birthday, or perhaps it still is his birthday if indeed the King lives on!

Now, don't get me wrong, I'm not a big Elvis fan or anything... It's just that the only place in the UK that Elvis ever actually made it to is my local airport and so I thought I would promote my little corner of the world with this little-known fact. Basically the King was flying to an airbase in Germany to do a concert for some GI Joes or something and his plane needed re-fueling, so they stopped at the first convenient European airport coming from North West (most transatlantic flights make this route due to jetstreams and stuff), which would be Prestwick. He de-boarded, stepping on British soil for the first and only time, and he stayed for forty minutes or so before he left again. Highly exciting.

Prestwick Airport and die-hard Elvis fans in and around Scotland take every opportunity to remind us of this fact, it has become a bit of a sore point for the English Elvis fans and indeed I heard on BBC Radio Scotland today that some crazy guy at the University of Lancaster had been writing a thesis on this subject. Closer to home though, actually at the airport one can have a drink at the Graceland Bar. Great. The memories are fading though, the airport is losing its former glory and not even Elvis can save it from the inevitable...

Once upon a time we used to use this airport to actually go places - North West Airlines used to fly to and from here to Boston, a flight I took when I was seven en route to Disney World - and I also once flew from here to Toronto. Nowadays it is mainly a cargo airport, for charter flights and for the ubiquitous Ryan Air, which is a sure sign that the airport is a secondary airport... Who am I to complain though?! Should I want to fly to other secondary airports across Europe I could do so for ridiculously cheap prices. It is tempting. Each time I see one of those blue and yellow planes fly above the estate I am sorely tempted to go and book a ticket to Oslo... Scandy-land!

Today though my thoughts have not been about fleeing to Sweden but about Elvis. Long live the King!
:: Fiona 8/13/2002 11:06:00 PM [+] ::
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My sister found this article for me. It's about Moscow, how it has changed since the Communist times.

What can I say about it?! Hmmmm, well the writer obviously was on drugs when he wrote this. Naturally Moscow has changed, and for the better. That goes without saying. However the writer portrays the new Moscow as if it were paradise, which it quite blatantly is not. For anyone having followed my blog through some of my bleak days they will know that this man was obviously wearing pink shaded, or rose tinted glasses. There are a lot of them (Russianists) out there. Take this quote for example: "Moscow in the summer is wonderful. Baking dust and heat, and the intense, shady green and blue of birch forests and sparkling rivers encircling the city. The world's best ice cream and the cool of the world's best metro system. Moscow State University, up on the hill, its majestic spire shimmering in the haze." Errrrrrrr, hello?! I agree that the ice cream is very good but the metro is far from cool - it's like going down to Hell for a visit riding that thing in the Summer, air con has not yet been introduced - and the rivers are murky brown not blue and sparkly. I reckon this guy was probably only there for a weekend, stayed in a nice hotel and swanned around the nice BBC offices before going to a bar where the women would fall all over him because he was a foreigner, he then goes on to talk about service with a smile... Ha ha ha!

Call me a cynic but this writer's version of Moscow is far different from mine, and I would take it with a large box of salt. Sure, I will admit that I never saw it during the Communist era and it surely must be a far better Moscow BUT it is far from the land of hope and glory. These mega pro-Russian people really get on my ****. AGH! It seems like even outside of Russia there will be no escaping from them, those who live for Russia and can't quite see its flaws although there are an abundance of them. Hmmmmm. I never cottoned on to the whole Russia love affair, I will admit. Still, I do have somewhat of an affection for it (I did actually stay there for six months without running away) and so with this in mind I want to say to these daft folk to get off your high horse. If your heart bleeds for these Russians so badly, why don't you move there and become a Russian yourself!

Always good to have a rant on a Monday!!!
:: Fiona 8/12/2002 09:41:00 PM [+] ::
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My sister is home for the weekend, which makes the family complete. We are the unit we always were, five of us. Mum, Dad, brother, sister and me. Chaos. We are a bit of a rabble when we all get together, it can be highly entertaining although it is tough to try and get a word in edgeways. This may be why it is quite rare for us all to be in the same house, town or even country at once!

I am number two of three, in the middle of a big brother and a little sister, who is only a year younger than me but who acts/thinks she is older than me. My sister and I get on well, but we don't see each other all that much so that could be why. She is very different from me, is more settled than me and our tastes differ tremendously (at present she is watching Jerry Springer and is talking back at the TV, which is something that drives me nuts - I hate freak shows. Oh, and she can pick up spiders and flush them away, whereas I run like a mad chicken if I so much as see one of those eight-legged freaks) apart from the whole Scandinavia thing... Well, Finland, which isn't Scandinavia as we all should know but is Nordic, who is splitting hairs though?! L loves Finland, warts and all. She loves the sausage people, is a big fan of Mika Hakkinen (is now in mourning that he retired) and is counting down the days until she goes to Helsinki at the end of this month. This though may have something to do with her Finnish boyfriend W, who she will no doubt marry before I even start to contemplate that M word seriously. As I have said she is way more settled than me, much less of a fruitcake and quite sensible - eeeeek! She can talk though, oh boy! That is one thing that we all have in common.

My brother too. I think my brother M has to be the funniest funniest man in the world. His humour is crude and very often sick, but when I'm around him my stomach is always almost splitting and so I don't mind. Laughter is a good cure for anything - I was tired and cranky during the 12+ hour flight from London to HongKong and my brother kept me entertained pretty much the whole way there with his imitations of Anne Robinson, of Weakest Link fame and his chinese jokes. Anyway M, he's a bit of a homebird, which is where he differs from me and my sister, and has stayed here in the south west of Scotland. I think he should ditch it all in, move to London and be a Comedian (although he loves the States, his humour I fear is too un-PC) but he is too attatched to his life here, and his Safeway supermarket fettish. He studied at Glasgow (only forty mins away) then bought a house in the town next to my home town, and is in his element now that my parents are home because he gets fed all the time - about time too, he is so skinny and he weighed less than me the last time we checked, or he made me endure the scales humiliation (I'm not that big but I am heavy, sigh). Being the first child, he can be a bit spoiled and relishes in the fact that he can get away with blue murder. My Mum is in mother hen mode at the moment, and wanted to make us a cake - how Martha S! I wanted it without raisins but my brother wanted it with, and there was no question over how was to win... Him. I'm not bitter about this, most of the time it is a standing joke that he is the 'prodigal son' and the apple of my Mothers eye bla bla and so we all laugh as we always do when we around him. That is when we are not crying...

It's all high flying emotions here. I think M feels it is his duty as a big brother to make us cry and he tries so hard. He is mad at the moment because two weeks have passed and he hasn't made me cry yet (I'm tough after Moscow though and so long as he doesn't touch my Burberry Handbag I'll be fine. It used to be boyfriends he would always attack but him being pathetically single he can't say a thing, claws...). He moved on to the next, much easier target - L, the sister - and at dinner tonight there were tears. We were eating potatos from my Uncles garden, where my Dog is burried and he pretended to find a Chloe (that was our dog) hair. Gross. You should have seen her face collapse. Totally unrealistic but she bites every bullet AND she lets herself get wound up about her private affairs. there are always tears and laughter.

It's all a game really, sibling rivalry and affection. I am in my element. I wish we were all children again and it could go on forever but alas on Tuesday L goes back to York and in September I am heading back to Bath. Not long until Christmas though...
:: Fiona 8/11/2002 10:09:00 PM [+] ::
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