Chasing the Sun

Laurel's last weeks in Paris are speeding along, the grace with which they pass may be equivelant to your classic bull in a china shop metaphor- but the bull's running at full speed anyway. Since returning to Paris I had a flurry of classes, then finals culminating with the one for Cinema on Saturday in which I discussed how film is a reflection of society, I think I pulled out some fairly convincing examples. I don't honestly know what else happened last week- there was a goodbye lunch which involved "Galette" which is essentiall King's cake- always includes small manger figure cooked into it so that the choking victim can be crowned and choose their significant other. I had dinner with my host family and the new girl who will be filling my place for the spring. Discussed "ilary clinton" and "ooboma" which is the closest I can come to replicating my host parent's pronunciation of these names.

So with all but one class finished I am now plodding away at an art history paper about Gustave Courbet. I only have one class this week, so the real challange is structuring my time. Today this was accomplished though. I set out of the house before noon, theoretically on my way to the library, but was struck by the balmy temperatures and warm sunshine which i could not turn my back on to head into the dark and clamy metro- so instead I followed the sun- choosing my way simply by which roads would allow me to remain in the light, and found myself at a very green lawn starring at some statues dedicated to some sort of labor boss. I thought the statue was odd, but looked comfortable and had the upside of providing dry seating directly underneath a midday sun. So I sat there, sort of going through my art history notes, but more just enjoying the fact that i could actually roll up my pant legs and hold my face up against the blinding glare. It was probably warmer than the time aiko and I and abby attempted to sunbath during spring break last year. Not to say 'warm', but after reading certain people's blogs depicting the temperatures in eastern russia, I had to considere it pretty amazing.

Eventually the sun was stolen by a cloud and the wind which had been tugging at my papers lost it's playful nature int he gloom of a overcast sky, so I redirected myself towards the center of Paris and trodded off to accomplish actual work.

Friendly Finns and Silent Snow

I just arrived at the airport, it’s almost 9, flight is at 2- so I’m only really like 3 hours early. I tried to hang around Helsinki for awhile to kill time- first trying to use the internet stations only to be scarred away by various drunks who were at the time trying to sober up by drinking juice which they just managed to spill everywhere. Then I went over the the mall that abby, susanna and I had walked through so many times to warm up – much more peaceful, but then some man came and sat near me and began speaking Finnish to me. I think he was asking when the stores would open- and I didn’t know so I just shrugged my shoulders which seemed to confuse him. I was then very aware of how quiet it was in that mall and decided that honestly it would just be less sketchy to hang out at the airport than anywhere else. The bus ride from the central train station was peaceful- I just sat with my headphones in and stared out the window at all the snow falling about and the people trudging through it. The bus was so quiet, like so much of Helsinki, at least in the winter; a sort of quiet that rests somewhere between majestically peaceful and eerily silent. It’s as if the world was sleeping and you feel like you shouldn’t waken it.

After finding a bench in the airport I remembered my frozen wet toes. I sat down and rummaged through my backpack for my slippers that Susanna had given me and proceeded to don them rather than the sodden boots. Going to repack my things I sort of stared dumbly at my wet boots wondering what exactly I would do with them when from behind me the man who worked at the Taxi call center across from my seat appeared with a large plastic bag. He held it out so I could put my boots inside and shocked at this friendly gesture I thanked him, he nodded and said something in finish and just smiled so warmly. I have now managed to find a bench downstairs hidden away, slippers slowly melting my toes.

Nude Iron forgers

I would like to warn anyone who travels to Helsinki and see's the majestic statue of three nordic buff men Iron forging in the nude that this should not be taken up as an activity. It might be ok for the Finns to sauna in the nude, but this for many reasons is quite less hazardous than weilding large anvils and striking hot forges whilst declothed.