am i homesick? that can't be

Homesickness has never been part of my vocabulary because the concept itself has been unknown to me. Ever since I was a little girl I have comfortably moved from place to place and home to home. In fact my home is where my coffee mug is.

During the past week or so I have, however, been feeling extremely homesick –for Finland I think. I am not absolutely sure if it is Finland I am missing per se but at least they things and places I am longing for resemble Finland more than a lot.

I want to be able to drink my morning coffee and read the newspaper on a Sunday morning. I want to read the kids names of newborn babies out loud and comment them with a critical tone – obviously my future Roosa, Ronja, Rasmus and Roope will have much better names than any of those children in the paper.

I want to collect things, little home decoration items that have no particular use but look nice. I want to have my books in the same apartment with me and an oven in which I can bake cakes and bread and a proper kitchen in which to make food. I want to be able to empty my grandma’s fridge and freezer of berries, jams and compotes and take my findings into mine to accompany my morning porridge.

I want to start my school in the morning and go home in the afternoon and not stay there past dinner time. I also want to, on a Sunday evening “watch” the night’s film on TV, even if I am doing hundred million other things at the same time. I want to be able to get proper black candy, blueberry yoghurt and million different kinds of porridge and sour milk from the grocery shop.

I want to be able to rent a film and watch it with a huge back of pick and mix, which cost me hardly anything. I want to have double glazing in my window during the winter so that I don’t have the wind blowing inside when I am curled up on the sofa.

In fact I have no idea what I really want but I do want something else. Maybe I am just getting old and want to have safety and security or maybe I just need to move on and get something new and exciting into my life.

I told my friend I want to come back to Finland and the comment I got from him was “yeah what ever”. He has been telling me I should go back at least for a year after graduation but at the same time he thinks I would get frustrated and annoyed as soon as the autumn comes. Apparently I have lost my touch with the reality and am longing for a dream world that doesn’t really even exist.

Still, I want to read a proper newspaper in the morning and have magazines that appear into my mailbox on a monthly basis, or as often as they come out.

distance to here

In the time of email and portable telephones communication is getting easier and easier on a daily basis and simultaneously distances keep getting shorter. This change has become extremely evident to me in the last days and weeks.

My mum has a habit of phoning all her kids when she is left alone in the house. In this case if I don’t answer she leaves me a message saying “hi this is mum. I really have no reason to phone you, but..” or alternatively, if I do pick up she tells me that she is phoning because she can’t get hold of my sis or my bro. She also phoned to ask me about the snow in Paris and whether I am ok. I tried to convince her that there was no snow in Paris but she did not believe me as the news in Finland had told her otherwise. Afterwards she phoned my sister to make sure I really was ok.

The other day my sister phoned me from the grocery shop: “Where can I find the yeast from here?” I know the shop she was at (the shop is in Helsinki and I still live in Paris) but somehow the exact location of yeast had slipped my mind. But obviously, as I had tried to get hold of her earlier, she phoned me back asap and as that happened to be the time when she was in the store, asking me seemed logical to her.

My dad on the other hand has not yet jumped into the mode of excess communication. I have soon lived five years abroad and I can count the number of emails I have received from him with the fingers in my right hand (or left, it doesn’t really make much difference). Last time he managed to type two lines he was so excited that he phoned me to tell me that I had an email waiting for me and what it said.

My brother on the other hand sometimes leaves the webcam on, even if he is too busy to talk to me on msn. It is almost like he was somewhere in the room, when I am studying. Even if I can’t hear them or talk to them it is like they were very close.

I can’t say I am any better. Only this morning I phoned my mum from the laundrette to find out what to do with a stupid stain on my shirt. Then I phoned my dad as my fridge stopped working. This was after I had asked my friend what to do and he had kindly given advice to the technically challenged confused little me. This same friend has also helped me to install programmes on to my computer with msn and helped me to choose an outfit and told me to go to bed because I sound exhausted. I, on a regular basis, phone my sister when I am shopping to make sure I am choosing the right thing, weather it is long or short running pants or a green or black bag. Or to find out what to do with a blocked drain.

And the best thing is that if I ever say “no, I am not ok” – they’ll be on the next flight over.

some colour

For the past two days I have been suffering from a serious lack of motivation to do anything. I have been totally and completely phlegmatic and unproductive. This manifested itself today in my unwillingness to go out when the sun is shining from a blue sky and the temperature is close to +30C° (and we are only in April). So, when I got back from school this morning, I spent a long while chatting with my sister online. During our hardly intelligent conversation I came up with my new action plan – I was going to dye my hair.

We were both convinced that this would help – good hair makes everything else well as well. Or at least it will make the picture in the mirror look much better (we haven’t really been good friends lately). So I went to the shop to get the colour. Already when climbing back up, I was feeling more energetic.

The colour has to be left in for 30min. I decided to use this to do a facial mask as well. I splattered green mud all over my face and figured that I still have 20min to go. Excellent, I could clean my bathroom and my kitchen. It really does not take long to do that and yet they seem to always end up in a disastrous state. So, with my hair in a dark know on the top of my hair and my green face I started scrubbing (this is where I see my mum, with my minds eyes, having a shocked impression on her face. She is convinced that by leaving the bathroom with hair dye in my hair I will get little drops of colour all over my little flat. Yet, she is the one who has taught me to use my time efficiently).

So now, I have, temporarily, bright coloured hair and a shiny kitchen and bathroom and a face that is…well pretty much the same as before that mask but at least I know that I did it so I have this self confidence that shines through and brings out my inner beauty…or something.

And my point is…sometimes it is good NOT to have housemates.

hmmm...

In my key ring I have Winnie the Pooh and his friends. The little charms make a funny noise when they bump into each other. Today, when I was climbing up the stairs and holding my keys in my hand I noticed that Tigger – my all time favourite – has gone missing.

I wonder what that means…

some starbucks

As summer has arrived early I decided to go to the Jardin de Luxembourg between my two work shifts to get a tan. Obviously I wasn’t the only one with the same idea – the place was packed with people. Yet I somehow managed to fall asleep for an hour.

When I finally started walking towards the restaurant I went past a Starbucks, and another one and when I saw the third one I felt obliged to go in and order my usual moyen café frappucino light. Walking down the street with my green cup I, for a second, felt like a silly character from a cheesy Meg Ryan film. How have I ended up like this?

In general I try to avoid restaurant chains, even if I have lost my teeny rebellion against global brands, but still I always end up giving in for the Starbucks temptation. It is just so easy. You know what you get and you know that what you get is something you like. And besides all those hours and days we have spent in different Starbucks trying to make the world a better place just give me a crawing for a Chai or a Frappucino. It is like a hot chai goes with a broken heart or a stresful exam and a cold frappucino with a hot summer day or a pair of new shoes.

So I got my frappucino light and strolled down the sunny street towards work. If I wasn’t wearing a scruffy pair of jeans I could as well be on my way to my internship in London or Bruxelles. Funny, right?

By the way, I did pretty well with that tan and it is only April..hmmm

Yeah, and I think I am supposed to be on my way to work…

random rambling and revelations

Due to the hot, sunny weather the back garden of my school has become a common place to spend time, pretend to study, meet people, relax and procrastinate. Surely the econometric study on the effect of sun on the number of good looking men could be useful but somehow I don’t see how it will be extended to a thesis.

Today, after last nights exam, today’s presentation and one essay I decided to take an extended lunch break. It didn’t take long until we have moved back to the topic of the week/day/this life – men(or girls, depending on who is talking). It is absolutely amazing how many hours can be spent on analysing conversations, emails, text messages, looks, behaviour and everything else in between and around. It seems like the idea of a “normal relationship” is an unknown concept and everything has to be complicated or made so if it isn’t already.

I was complaining because I had met this nice, athletic, good looking, young economist, who speaks several languages and has lived all over the place including South Africa (just around the corner from where I used to live – like literally). Any normal person would think that this is perfect. But it is not – he is leaving for Latin America in few weeks and by the time he is back in Europe I will have packed my bags and taken off to Africa for several months. So what is the point of even getting to know this guy?

We keep complaining because we are lonely and everybody else seems to be getting married and having children and a home. Why not us? Why not me? Well I am slowly starting to realise why not. It is not because all gods were evil and could not be bothered to create that ONE for me. It is not because all the good ones are taken already. It is simply because we are so busy looking for something and running after it that we don’t have time to stop for a second to breath – maybe if we did we would find it but then we would have to stop and that is not at all as much fun as looking and running.

The thing is that I am not one for compromise. That just is not my thing. My thing is me and what I want – no stings attached. So I cannot stop because of someone, I will have to do it for me, but at the moment I cannot do it for me because I don’t want to stop because I haven’t found the place I want to stop at. Maybe I just have to hope that next time my pink suitcase has company that is going to the same direction – that too can happen, right?

marathon

1 day and 1 hour ago we started running. Before hand I had met up with few guys who were running as well. It was great to panic together with someone. Unfortunately we started running in different groups.

As the start of my morning predicted it was not THE marathon of my life. Yet again I started to wonder why I put myself through the pain and suffering and waste of time. By 25km I had to give up with my time goal and just concentrate on going on. By 30km I decided to stop. By 32km it was going to be my last marathon.

At the end, after the finishing line I had two friends waiting for me. On the way I had some other friends waiving for me. It felt great. They were jumping and shouting and congratulating. I started to feel quite good, even if annoyed with the missed time goal. And definitely sure that this was my last one.

I took the metro home to have a shower. I talked with my parents on the phone and they didn’t seem to think I had done too badly. Apparently being in the top 100women is good enough. At that point it wasn’t for me, not yet. Though I wasn’t ever going to do another marathon so what does it matter?

We met up again with my friends in a park for picnic. Later the other runners joined us with a bottle of champagne. It was starting to feel pretty good. We started to plan the next marathon – should it be Berlin or London or maybe New York or why not the one across Sahara. But we decided not to go for a run until on Wednesday, at least not do anything too long.

The sun made me forget about the time and I arrived to work 5min late, but they had saved me dinner. Our barman told all customers what I had done and surprisingly many of them had been running in the morning as well. The compliments and comments about slight insanity (I think I had been the fastest and was still standing and working) kept pouring down on me. A lady from the bar came to talk to me. She was a coach from LA and wanted me to get in contact with her. Apparently someone who can do what I did at my age has potential and even if she can’t run with me as we are on different continents – well she would hate to see me stop.

By 23h our barman gave me champagne – cos I deserved it. Sweet.

On my way home I started to feel pretty good. It wasn’t too bad after all. So what if I didn’t break that 3hours yet, I still have many marathons to go. After all, marathon runners are supposed to peak at around 30 and I am not quite there yet.

But today, I’ll take a day off.

THE morning (marathon part 2)

My marathon morning has not started well. I woke up 2seconds before my alarm as my back up alarm (read: my mum) phoned me. It being 6AM on a Sunday morning I was not feeling wide a wake but felt like curling back under my duvet. Luckily I could hear birds singing outside – a very rare occasion in the centre of Paris so I though I must join them – not in singing but being awake.

I made some coffee and burned my breakfast. This makes no sense since I make porridge every morning and have done so for years now I am used to NOT burning it. Except today. It being only a bit after 6AM on a Sunday morning, I decided that it will do. Didn’t taste too good.

I am still trying to decide on my top as the weather has changed from +15C° to +28C° and my old cunning plans were made idle.

A shower might be a good next step. Maybe that’ll change the way this is going.

I am still panicking btw.

PANIC (or marathon part 1)

Tomorrow is THE day – Paris marathon starts at 8h45.

It has been two years that I haven’t run a marathon. Last year, despite or due to intensive training I managed to get myself severely injured and could not run. So for two years I have been dreaming about crossing the finishing line before the timer hits 3h.

Now I am panicking. My legs feel heavy after a long shift at work last night and the temperature is hitting high numbers, forcing me to rethink my outfit. Also, for the first time even I will be having a rather large support group on the way.

Post-marathon will be a picnic that will break my long 9 weeks without alcohol and another few without chocolate. And from there I’ll go to work to tell whether I really deserve my “iron man” title – or “woman” like our barman corrected – which is obvious, I like to think.

So now, I am panicking. The level of panic is reaching the levels where you think you want to turn around and run the other way.

My sister sent me a scarf. Maybe that’ll bring me luck. She is pretty fast. And fit beyond imagination. Maybe there is a transfer of energy. I hope.

Or maybe I’ll go a boil some pasta and stop whining.

But I am panicking.

But then again 3h is much easier than 5h, when you think of it. At least it’ll be over quickly. And then I can have champagne when others are still running. Definitely better – longer could become boring.

But I am still panicking.

My grandma died last night. This was expected – she was already old and been fighting cancer for a long time – but still a shock. I can’t say I have been good at visiting her during the past years, because I was always “so busy” when I visited Finland but also because I thought I will have time later – she had been there all my life so why would this ever change?

I try to think that it is better this way. All her life she had been independent and strong. Still a year ago she quite happily flew to her house in Spain all by herself. She had enough spirit and attitude for a little army – too much to be spend in a hospital bed. Someone like her is just not meant to helplessly lie and wait.

Like all fighters she too had let bitterness and anger get into her heart. Nothing was ever good enough. She never approved of my gypsy life. She was disappointed because I didn’t ever become anything real – just an economist and not a doctor, a lawyer or an architect. No matter how hard you tried it just wasn’t good enough, not to her.

Last time I went to see her she asked me if I’ll come to Finland after my degree – because I should. She also told me to watch out for the French men; because they are trouble – that is an advice I wish she had given me much earlier – would have saved me from yet another broken heart. She also told me to look after my brother. And my mum. So I suppose that in her way she tried to make sure that nothing bad would happen to us and that we would have it all.

If there ever was a fighter she was that one. She was a one and a half meter giant – pure strength and character. I would be happy to have just half of that temperament – it would take me far. If only…

absence

I am currently trying to clue the little pieces of my life back together yet again. And until that process is over and I again have something positive or interesting to say I will stay absent.