Roma, epilogue

I don't usually hope for anything, much in the same way I avoid promising anything. I'm afraid of disappointment and of disappointing others. So I don't take any chances, and I pretty much avoid anything that might set anyone up for disappointment. However, when I decided to go on my first vacation, I think I harboured a small seed of hope.

My life is devoid of meaning, simply due to how I perceive the Universe. My existence is completely random and will by its finite definition not amount to anything. I'm getting tired of that. When I try to talk to people about it, they think I'm depressed. Maybe I am, but it doesn't feel like it. It doesn't feel like anything at all. In fact, I would like to feel something.

Some of the most memorable moments in my life was when I was in pain. Years ago, I was bitten by a pet rodent and found myself revelling in actually feeling something. I realized in that moment that it had been a long time since I had last experienced pain, and I was glad to feel again, which I suppose also means that I usually don't feel anything in between moments of pain.

Having thought about that for a while, I agreed to go to Rome, in the hopes of feeling something. My secret hope, even half secret to myself, was that it would hold some kind of turning point in my life, that the experience could alter my perspective and force me out of my rut. Even after coming home, I denied to myself that I had had any hopes on the outset, but then I remembered that at every turn during the trip I seemed to be looking for something.

The plane took off, and I hoped that the fear, and my conquering it, would turn me into a stronger person. Maybe even alleviate my fear of death.

I saw the Colloseum, and I hoped that the perspective of history would bring meaning to my own existence.

Marvelling at St Peter's basilica, hearing the angelic choir that just happened to be singing when we entered, I actually hoped that I would find God.

Riding the Metro, I hoped that I would fall in love with a random girl, even if only for a heartbeat.

Nothing at all happened. Everything was very mundane, almost to the point of seeming quite ordinary. Nothing really left a lasting impression. It was my first disappointment in a very long time, and I really don't feel it was for lack of trying or a lack of openmindedness.

The end result is, if anything, that I'm now even more the person I already was. Next time, I simply won't hope for anything. I won't take a chance.

Roma, intermezzo

A place called Goose, close to our hotel. It has pretty great pizzas. I had a diavolo.

This is the cheap Chinese restaurant next to the Termini. I have no idea what it's called.

McDonald's near Scala di Spagna. The entrance was almost invisible; they probably weren't allowed to use their usual garish yellow and red.

Sweden Day

Today was the national day of Sweden. Nothing much happens in our town on this day, partly because it was only recently made a holiday. People aren't sure how to celebrate it, or if it's even worth celebrating, although apparently some people in Gothenburg and Stockholm really welcome this holiday, judging by what I saw on TV just a while ago. Still, the reporters never seemed to find anyone who could explain the point of a national day, even among the people who wanted one.

Anyway, it was a sunny summer's day, and there were people on the streets doing watchable things. That's pretty much all I need.

Wrecking crew

We went to work on the gingerbread house today. It was a tough job to bring the house down, but someone's got to do the dirty work, eh?

We haven't eaten it all yet; it's quite a lot of gingerbread, and the sweetness of the sugar and icing is a bit too much after a few mouthfuls.

Happy New Year

Inspecting some icicles before going on a kicksled ride.

Holding a sparkler against the cloudy night sky.

Happy New Year, hope we'll make it a good one.

Culinary architecture

Gingerbread houses are decorative, they smell good (as edible things tend to do) and they're a sure sign that Christmas is coming. Coming? As you can probably tell, this is a somewhat belated post about the making of gingerbread houses. I've been enjoying my Christmas presents and working on my holiday beauty sleep so much that I simply couldn't find the time to put up these photos. I finally managed to squeeze it into my busy schedule.

First you obviously need to make the parts. We baked these during our gingerbread baking stint the day before Christmas Eve.

Then you glue the parts together. The fact that melted sugar hardens pretty quickly makes it the professional culinary construction worker's favourite choice, and most importantly, I think it's the only kind of glue you're supposed to eat.

The ceremonial gluing of the chimney. It might look a bit sticky and wobbly now, but you can fix (aka hide) that with icing. This teaches us that covering up your flaws can sometimes be not only good, but even delicious.

Et voila!

The day before

The day before Christmas is ablur with activities. Apart from the obvious task of getting the presents ready, you need to prepare all the tasty treats.

Like gingerbread cookies!

Mmm. :)

Knäck!

And finally, marzipan.

Pretty groovy, huh? I made the sushi (lower left corner) and assorted stuff to the left. Two very creative and giggly young ladies made the various animals, vegetables, fruits (and everything in between) that dominate the right-hand three-quarters of the platter.

Off to bed, it's a big day tomorrow. Yes -- in case you didn't know -- we cheat in Scandinavia; Christmas Eve marks the big celebration with all the presents and such.

Fika!

Unbaked "Lucia cats". Simply put, they're saffron seasoned buns, they're yummy, and thus they're an important part of Christmas.

Here they are after baking in the oven.

Today was the 4th Sunday of Advent, which basically means we have fika with four lit candles and some nice saffron buns, ginger bread and julmust .

St. Lucia's day

Yesterday was St. Lucia's Day . I went to the celebration at church (which has been featured earlier in this blog), and found that this is a very popular day. Sure, I know the church is usually packed when there's free entertainment to be had, but I've never seen a queue this long in front of a church.

Unfortunately the photo came out very blurry since it's always so darn dark here in Sweden, but you get the idea. I used our real digital camera, not my phone this time.

Getting a seat was actually quite easy, despite the amount of people. I reserved one for my mom in the second row while she parked the car (getting a parking spot was crazy hard), and then went to the back of the church to get some shots of the Lucia procession when she had taken her seat. The ones I tried to take from the side was even blurrier than the photo above, so you'll have to make do with one from behind.

At this point, I had had time to mount the camera on a tripod, to get some long exposure shots with no flash. Using a flash to light up a Lucia procession really defeats the purpose. I wanted to convey the light versus darkness feeling that is the whole point of the scandinavian Lucia celebration. Yes, I felt a bit like a dork for using a tripod, but I'd have felt even more like a dork if I'd lit up the whole church with my flash. Which incidentally is what someone in the front row is apparently doing in this photo, making it look rather surreal.

The white-clad boys and maidens sang the classical St. Lucia song as they slowly filed into the church. There were also some maidens already assembled at the front of the church with unlit candles, which the new arrivals lit with their own, spreading warm candle light in the dark winter evening.

Finally, with everyone there, the songs started in earnest. The choir was a mix of schooled singers from music classes, small kids and regular students. It sounded great, as it usually does.

In this photo you can see that the pews are stacked with people, and that the church is a place where you should keep your mouth shut, paraphrasing the sign. Another thing I discovered is that the back of the church is apparently a place for photographers and parents cradling restless children.

The Lucia stands in the front with a crown of candles. She never sings, she just stands there, looking pretty. Note the warm glowing warming glow.

The church sure looks nice in this light, and the acoustics really lend themselves to choir song. It's hard not to get at least a tiny glimmer of a tear in your eye at some point or another.

Xmas market

I went to the Christmas market the other day. It took place at the outdoors museum here in town, where there's a bunch of nice old buildings. As I understand it, they've been moved there piece by piece and arranged to form a small village. It's like walking straight into the past. The market mostly fits the theme of the surrounding buildings, but the occasional anachronism still pops up here and there. It's a market, not a historic reenactment.

Here are some of the more old-timey wares...

...and these ceramic shiny things are a bit out of place, although it did seem like everyone was selling tomtar , what with it being a Christmas market. After all, Santa is basically just a bigger version of these little fellas. The thing that really struck me as being out of place was the kanji 夏, because it's far from summer right now. (If they're both seasons, I'm guessing the other one might say 秋, autumn.)

Apparently honey can cure a cold, according to this salesperson. Well, I don't mind honey.

You could also go inside some of the houses. This tiny old store was kinda crowded; I guess it was built in simpler times when this town was just a tiny village. Here, you could buy old-style candy in a paper cone, and the clerks were dressed up in old-fashioned clothes.

Some final thoughts:

Ponies!

Fire!

All in all, the whole market had a nice atmosphere. It was all fun, except when one of those fire things came loose and almost hit a little girl! Yeah, that was scary, but no one got hurt.