Born to Travel Show about Iceland

Yesterday morning, a television show focused on Iceland finally aired here in the U.S., after having been heavily hyped by Inspired by Iceland. The show was only a half hour long, but it must have run a promo for the give-a-way of a trip to Iceland 4 times in that time period. I must say the affect was a little bit like the show was a paid advertisement for Iceland or something.

But actually it is part of ABC (American Broadcast Cooperation)'s Educational and Entertaining Saturday morning lineup, which includes Jack Hannah's Wild Animals and this show. So it is kind of a throw back to good old fashioned family friendly programming by one of the national broadcast companies.

The show was however not about Iceland, really. It was about the host, Richard Weiss, "investigating" what it is like for Icelanders to live so close to volcanoes. He did a good job of explaining the terror and downside of this fact of Icelandic life, especially by a long bit on the Westmann Island's eruption, complete with closeups of the ruins still found around Heimey. The dramatic pictures of the recent volcanic eruptions and glacial melt floods spliced in between his interviews with various people also helped make Iceland seem rather terrifying.

The latter part of the show though was supposed to show how Icelanders had adapted to this situation, and made the best of it. Unfortunately, the host seems to have largely missed the point of the geothermal heating and electricity, since after some dramatic shots of the pipeline going from the hotspring near Reykholt, his voice over said something about how this made opening the gas and electric bills in Iceland a lot more bearable. He seemed to understand better that the hot soil around volcanic vents can be used for baking bread and cooking eggs, as if everyone does that on a daily basis. He also had a bit about a farm near Vík which had been covered in 4cm of ash two years ago, but now had very green fields all around it, thanks to the fertilizing affect of the volcanic ash.

Among the people he interviewed were Haraldur Sigurdsson of the Volcano Museum, the lovely blond who lived on the aforementioned farm, and my own dear friend, Gunnar Marel Eggertsson.  Of course Gunnar was interviewed inside Vikingaheimar with his ship Íslendingur behind him, but actually the show never even explained what that was. Not a single reference to Vikings not giving up life in Iceland despite the volcanoes, nothing about Gunnar building a Viking ship after leaving the Westmann Islands. Instead the clip was just of Gunnar talking about what it was like the night he was evacuated from his home in the Westmann Islands as a child, with a incongruous image of a Viking ship over his shoulder.

Anyhow, I am glad I made the effort to watch the show.

On the flip side

The Bay Area Rapid Transit system, affectionately called Bart, zips all around the bay area, from the hills of San Francisco way out to the back bay. It is one of the real unifying points of the diverse communities in the area, and something the local people are pretty proud of.

Ironically, however, when riding the Bart, no one talks to each other. All these individuals standing and sitting right next to each other, and yet they are not conversing at all. When I used to ride Bart a lot, as an undergraduate, everyone had their nose buried in a newspaper or book. But nowadays, almost 20 years later, everyone has their attention on their smart phones and ipads. They are, in other words, far more interested in letting the people who aren't on the Bart with them know what they are up to, than in taking the time to talk to the people around them.

And I think that happens more and more to travelers these days, that their primary concern is to make sure friends and family back home get to vicariously experience their trip through facebook and twitter and vimeo and whatever else, rather than just focusing on the moment.

Of course I was as guilty as the next person, logging onto facebook on the Bart. But I would indeed recommend a trip at some point in time where the technology is left behind, and everyone who you want to share the experience with is actually right there with you. Just so you can look up from the Android every once in a while.

Black and white and gray

When I moved into my new apartment in Walnut Creek, I decided to go with a black and white decorative theme in the bedroom. I have a white dresser drawer and some black and white accessories, so I bought a black wooden platform bedframe with a cool swooping headboard (called Miami style). It was however a bit more challenging than I thought to find a bedspread I liked with a black and white design. In fact, I found one for Palmer's bed (a small single bed in the corner of my room, which can fold up into a chair) before I found one for my bed. It is a black and white and grey with some orange and teal on it, a sort of skateboarder motif. Then I finally found a bedspread I liked, mostly grey with a dark grey border on the bottom and black and white leaf design in the middle. I thought I would end up folding Palmer's bed into a chair most days, but actually the bedspreads go so well together I just leave both beds out and made even on the nights Palmer isn't here.

I was pretty dismayed when I was making my bed the other day, and tugged at my fancy bedspread to get it lined up right. It tore. Just a few inches, but still, a brand new bedspread that cost me quite a bit. Now I am trying to figure out how to fix it, and imagine I will have to embroider some sort of leaf pattern over the tear.

Anyhow, the bedroom decor has not quite come together the way I expected, but at least Palmer has his own bed and a bedspread he thinks is cool.

The danger with praise

Last week I gave back my students their first papers, which they had written about the Viking Age in the North Atlantic. I actually gave them their papers one day with my comments on it, but without a grade, and let them tell me what grade they thought the paper deserved. Most students gave themselves a B+, which actually is about what I was going to give them. One student gave himself a C, which was too low; his paper was not that bad. 

Another one of my students came up to me all freaked out about my comments, and wanted to argue every single point I had made. He tried to verbally explain things he had not explained well in the paper. After about 5 minutes of this, I finally put my arm around his shoulders and asked him if he thought his paper was really terrible or something? "Yes! You said my thesis contradicted my conclusion, that makes a bad paper!" I simply shook my head and took the paper away from him. Today I am giving him back his paper and he'll see his final grade. It is an A-.

I am concerned of course that now he will think he does not have to try very hard on his next paper, since he did not get a failing grade on this paper. That would of course be disastrous, if he were to decide that a paper with that sort of flaw was indeed good enough. But instead I am keeping my fingers crossed that he will know next time not to write something so incomprehensible and vague in his introduction as to even appear to contradict with his conclusion. 

I am hoping, in other words, that he is self-motivated to write well, rather than being motivated by some sort of arbitrary grade. 

The thing that changed

A few years ago, I decided to make a cake for my Christmas at my cousin's house. I made up the recipe myself, using a custard mix for part of it but I left off the carmel icing and used a cookie-bar base and whipped cream topping instead. It looked good, but once I took my first bite, I realized that without the carmel coating, the custard had no sweetness to it. And the cookie bar bottom had basically no sweetness to it either, since it was supposed to have a very sugary fruit toping, instead of a very mild custard topping. So I made a dessert that had basically no sweetness.

It took me a while to learn the moral of this tale, and to really make it part of my new thinking. Because I have always prided myself on my ability to improvise on the spot, or to make a situation work. 

But when I tried to fix this dessert, by adding a sugar coating to it afterwards and trying to rebake it, creme brule style, it became even more of a disaster. The custard and whipped cream melted into the cookie bar base and the whole thing became a soggy mess, and it still did not have any flavor. 

So now I simply have to say that I have learned a very simply lesson, one which I suppose most people instinctively know. 

I have learned that if I want dessert, I have to use a recipe. And best if I use a recipe that has already been tried at least once by someone else, before I go mucking about in it. 

In at least this one area of my life, I no longer have a strong desire to "wing it." I'd like to just do something tried and true that actually tastes good. 

Tonight I am trying to make salt fish and potatoes, and hope I can manage that OK. 

China syndrome

After reading all the blogs and news reports about the Chinese businessman/official who wants to buy up a sizable piece of realestate near Sandir, I suppose I was extra sensitive to a news item that I heard last night about realestate here in California. 

California was very badly hit by the recession, especially because so much of our economy is in realestate. So I had been curious why housing prices have not fallen more dramatically; 9-12% unemployment should have brought it down a notch or two. But nope, it is still as ridiculous as ever. $450,000 for a tiny house in a run-down neighborhood, an absolutely impossible sum to save up for. So one has no choice but to take a huge loan from the bank or rent the rest of one's life.  

Anyhow, after the crash there were not so many people willing to buy homes, especially homes worth more than 1 million dollars. 

But last night I found out that the clever realestate agents and bankers in California, and in other parts of the US, did not take this predicament as a sign that they needed to lower housing costs. Oh no, that would not only cut into their salaries, which are a percentage of sale costs, but would lead to a cascade effect where all houses would start going down in price. This is of course the upside to a recession, and something, frankly, the rest of us were looking forward to. I actually thought I might be able to afford to buy a house someday. 

But the realestate agents and loan officers were not willing to let that happen. Nope, they cleverly realized that although no one in the U.S. had money, plenty of people in China did. The news interviewed a well-dressed woman here in California who speaks English with a very heavy Chinese accent, explaining how ever since the crash she has been able to get lots of "foreign investors". Then another good looking gentleman with a Spanish accent explained that the pool of foreign investors was starting to dry up, so now they were so pleased the US government was going to offer residence visas to anyone who can buy a home worth more than $500,000. The report made it clear these were not work visas, just residence visas, and the realestate agent claimed the purpose was just so investors could "see the property they are buying." Finally, they interviewed a white broker who seemed very nervous, explaining what a good thing this is for the economy, because it ensures prices stay high, and that is good for everyone, he stuttered. 

Right, everyone but the rest of us. 

Roof liner

I have a white 1993 SAAB 9000CS, and today I am putting a new liner on its interior roof. The old liner got a hole in it sometime in 2003 or 4, and then it started to sag around that point, right over the middle of the back seat. The sag got worse and worse as more and more fabric came loose from the metal roof of the car, until eventually it was hard to see out of the rear view mirror. This, plus the fact that the car leaked oil terribly and the engine head was cracked, made my dad and others suggest I should probably sell the car. I of course was unwilling to do so. Not only do I not have the title to the car (long story - I lost it during my move to California in 2003 and have never had a chance to go back to Virginia to get a replacement), but I wouldn't want to sell the car anyhow. I bought it in 2000, from an Ethiopian guy who owned the gas station where it used to get serviced by the doctor who bought it new. That part doesn't matter so much I guess, save to suggest that new, a SAAB is considered a luxury car. And indeed many things about my car still retain that mark of sophistication: power windows and locks, great AC system, wonderful handling, and a 12 CD changer.  Although my mother suspects the main reason I like the car is because of the music system, which I do like a lot, my dad recognized that the car is indeed really fun to drive. Although it is only a 4 cylinder car, it has a really nice little power range right where you would need it, when trying to pass a semi-truck going up a hill, for instance. I also like how fun it is to drive on windy roads in general. So, although it costs me a lot of money to get the car repaired, and new problems and repairs keep cropping up, I remain loyal to my old 1993 SAAB. Today I am using some spray glue to try to fasten new fabric up over the back seat, having cut out the old saggy stuff with the holes in it. Palmer picked out the fabric--it has various goofy cat faces all over it.

I imagine putting up this fabric will not add much to the resale value of the car, but then since I don't have the title, and no one in their right mind would buy a 18 year old car, I guess I don't really need to worry about it too much. 

Instead I imagine I will have to limp along with my increasingly quirky SAAB for the foreseeable future. It reminds me in a way of my cat Ember, who I kept alive for a remarkable 8 years after he was diagnosed with diabetes, by giving him insulin shots twice a day, taking his blood sugar readings, and injecting extra saline solution under his skin. I can nurse something along for a mighty long time, if I do so say myself. 

Of course, now I have a new cat, a 1 year old, healthy and happy and playful kitty not at all like Ember.

And if someone wants to give me a newer SAAB, I would indeed accept. 

Occupy Walnut Creek

Last week no one thought anyone would show up at the protest planned in the affluent suburb that I now live in, Walnut Creek. But they were wrong--200 people showed up. And the protests are planned every Wednesday at 4pm. This is not quite the die-hard protests you see elsewhere in the country, where people are actually camping in front of public buildings and banks, literally occupying the space. This one is a more moderate affair, lasting only a few hours, and yet still considered noteworthy in that it is happening at all. This is not a place known for protests. And unlike some other protests, which have an aggressive edge to them, this protest is being organized mostly out of the peace organization in the area.

I am planning on going. I have been drafting slogans and think I finally decided on what I want to put: "Billions for the Banks!  Trillions for the Military!  Nothing for the Middle Class!" but I am worried that has too much anger in it. This protest is not about being angry, or wanting someone to remedy my anger.

The current economic priorities in this country do not make me angry. They make me sad. They make me less hopeful about my son's future than I would like to be. And for a die-hard optimist like me, that is actually saying a lot.

Temporary reprieve

My students have been writing "response papers" to each reading we have done in class. Although they constitute 20% of their overall grade for the semester, I am grading each paper on a check, check plus or check minus scale, with a maximum of 5 points per paper. In other words, I am grading those response papers really easy.

By contrast, this week I am grading the first research paper they have had to write for this course. They will have a second one later in the semester. These I am grading much harder, in as much as I have made it clear that an A paper has to not just meet all my expectations, but actually exceed them.

Though I am not done grading, it does seem that the students are putting in a sincere effort. But so far none of the papers have really wowed me.

The one about cows inhabiting Iceland did amuse me, however.

And inordinate amount of time

We had a meeting with Palmer's teacher, the school principal, the class room assistant, and the school psychologist today. The main issue seems to be that Palmer takes too long to do everything. It is making his teacher kind of crazy in the head, always trying to coax him into the next activity, always trying to console him when he missed out on getting this or that because he is too slow.

I suspect this has something to do with his zodiac sign--Cancers are not known to be great at being efficient and quick about things--because I tell you what: he sure did not get it from his mom.

Columbus Day Uncertainty

My Saab has a hydraulic clutch, which means the clutch only works when the fluid in the line is full, with no air bubbles, etc. Otherwise, if there is pressure missing in the line, when I step down on the clutch petal it goes all the way to the floor and basically nothing happens to help smooth the transition from one gear to another. After two days of forcing my car into gear, I have made an appointment with a local Saab specialist to get the clutch serviced.

The funny thing is I made the appointment online, and I did it for Monday. Monday is a holiday here, Columbus Day. Like many of the lessor holidays in the US, it is almost impossible to predict whether or not a business will be open or closed on Monday. UC Berkeley is closed, since we are run by the State, as will be the post office. But usually nothing else is.

We'll see though. I could have a surreal experience on Monday, standing in front of the shop, appointment reminder in hand, with no sign of life anywhere inside, and a sign on the window saying "Open M-F, 7am to 5pm"

The nice thing about this shop though is it only takes cars on an appointment basis, and it always tries to return the car the same day. I like that kind of responsive customer service, I like the idea that the customer's time is valuable and that they deserve to know exactly when they will have their car back.

I hope it all works out.

A return to a regular life

Starting in May of this year, when I packed up my apartment in Iceland, through July, when I thought I might be getting a job in Seattle, and into August when I moved to a new place in Walnut Creek, my life has been in a constant state of transition. I did not have time to think or really even process all that, in my rush to get a chapter of my dissertation finished and prepare for a conference in Sweden.

When I got back Tuesday, it was straight to teaching and then celebrating my birthday on Wednesday. Finally today, Friday the 7th of October, for the first time in about 6 months, I have time to look around and just take stock of my life. Get organized, get focused. Goof off. Play Suduko. Watch TV. Go to the gym. Get a bicycle. All these things I have half-thought about doing but have been too stressed out to actually do.

Of course I like having tension and excitement in my life, but in all honesty, I am really very ready for its opposite. I think I deserve it.

Shortest trip ever

I was in Iceland for a total of two hours, but still got to buy skyr and hotdogs, eat hankikjot and kiss my cousin.

Kalmar Castle

Today I took my first real look around a real castle. I had dinner at a castle in Uppsala a few years ago, but I never got to look around. The only other castle I had been in was Cinderella's castle in Disneyland.

It turns out a real castle is a lot different than that.

A foggy view of a real castle

Kalmar castle has a very long history, starting in the 1100s and in use as a royal residence all the way into the 18th century (as far as I understood it). It was really interesting to see the models of all the different phases of building, and the way different kings changed the castles.

What surprised me about it though was that the castle was far more than a royal residence. Of course I assumed it would have outbuildings and servants and stables and kitchens, etc., but I did not expect that castles were also prisons.

Kalmar castle's interpretative text and set up makes this use of the castle very apparent. There are only two rooms visible to the public which they cannot enter, one is the woman's prison, and the other is the maximum security room for the men's prison. The dungeon, though not visible, was very disturbingly described. There was also a photo exhibition adjacent to the woman's prison, where a photographer had women pose in the punishment practices known historically from Sweden. The black and white photos were accompanied by black and white text describing how it was all done; it was an uncomfortable and upsetting experience.

Me in Agda's room

It also made me think more about another room up on the top floor of the castle, a room visitors could partially enter but not completely (the only one so situated). That was the room of the consort of Duke Erik, Agda, with whom he had two children. After he was made king, she was "married off" to someone else. It occurred to me she was in a sort of prison too, and that by choosing to display Agda's room as it would have looked in her life, even though she was only a part of the castle for a few years, was a specific statement on a point of the curator's of the castle.

Like the fact that the "kings stairs" and the "queens stairs" in the castle are made from the slabs taken from tombstones.

Here is not the king and queen of fairytales, but kings and queens obsessed with punishment, death, control, and protecting themselves.

Give me a house in the suburbs instead of a castle any day.

Inspiring

Today I went to an exhibition at the Smaland Museum entitled Embrace! The curator of the exhibition is a Chinese-American who recently moved to Vaxjo from New York City. She has an amazing eye for art, and put together a beautiful exhibition of Swedish artists working in New York that pairs so well with the permanent exhibition about Swedish emigration to the U.S. She is using the exhibit as a spring board to discuss emigrant/immigrant issues in Sweden today, working especially with school groups. It was so inspiring to meet her.

One of the people on the tour with me is an American anthropologist, younger than myself, who has been living in the Marshall Islands. She is the State Anthropologist for that country of 70,000 people, a country that will, by all projections, be wiped off the map in 50 years, thanks to the rise in global sea levels. We talked about what a weighty responsibility she has, to work with a community in such a tremendous period of transformation, and under real threat of permanent loss. I am heading out to join her for dinner now, since we are some of the last remaining people in town after the conference.

I suspect this will be a bit less rambunctious of an evening than last night, a bit more serious and heartfelt. Which suits me just fine, I must say. Afterall, this conference is part of a European working group on Emotions and Geography. An intriguing pairing, and inspiring people.