a new year

Annika

So…. I don’t know. This is the time when I’m supposed to do one of those end-of-the-year memes, right? The time to look back at the year that passed and count my blessings and achievements.

Well, I don’t feel like it.

How about goals for the new year? I’ve been a heavy duty planner the last - how many? - four years at least, and I’m proud to say that I have followed through most of my plans. The first day of a new year is a perfect time to make new plans, right?

Well, I don’t feel like that either.

I’ll continue to grow my hair and I’ll try to get to New York to get Deva trained. Oh, and I absolutely must get that “%!&¤!% driver’s license before September because I’ve promised myself and everybody around me to get it before I turn 30.

Wow. I said it out loud. I’m going to turn 30 this year. Scary thought, but just yesterday I had to show ID to prove that I’m over 20 so I guess I’m fine with it.

So, no major plans for this year (although I guess I just made a few anyway, didn’t I?) but I think I’ll let 2009 be a year when I take a rest from planning and just go with the flow.

Happy New Year everybody!

a few of my favorite things

Annika

“These luxurious natural soaps, made by hand in small batches and are packed with moisturising ingredients such as shea butter, cocoa butter and avocado oil.

I use olive oil that is pressed in Sorrento from olives that grow on the surrounding hillsides overlooking the bay of Naples and the Amalfi Coast. Honey and beeswax are sometimes used and come from bees in Positano. Fresh coffee grounds from the Bar Internazionale are sometimes used in my recipes and when fresh goats milk is availabe I climb the mountain to fetch it (feeling just like Heidi!) from Santa Maria del Castello, high on the mountain overlooking the Amalfi Coast.

The inspiration for all my soaps comes from the wonderful selection of plants, fruits and flowers that grow so abundantly throughout the coast.”

Miele e Avena soap: This unscented soap is made with goats milk, honey, oat and nourishing oils. It is gentle enough that I wash my face with it! I follow up with a few drops of my own homemade face serum and my skin has never looked better.

Caffe Vaniglia soap: It’s fun to look at, the vanilla/coffee scent is warm and rich and simply delicious, and it’s handy too in that the coffee (from Bar Internazionale in Positano, where I’ve actually been which makes it even more special) neutralizes any odours on your hands. Perfect to wash those garlic-smelling cook’s fingers before dinner!

Last, but not least:

Crema di Limone soap: This soap I haven’t even tried yet, but it’s already one of my favorites. It is cute and feels creamy and smooth to touch, but it is the scent that drives me wild. One sniff and I’m back, back in Amalfi and Positano, in warm crowded alleyways lined with tourist shops selling all things lemon. If you’ve never been there, let me tell you that they are crazy about lemons on the lemon grove-covered Amalfi coast. They have lemon scented candles, lemon scented soaps and creams, limoncello and crema di limone liquors, lemon granita, lemon cakes and pastries, tablecloths and aprons and towels with lemon patterns - and of course lemons, real lemons, the biggest freaking lemons I’ve ever seen.
This soap smells like Amalfi to me, and I love it for that.

Let me also give honorary mentions to the gelsomino and coccobello soaps, both of which I can sit and smell for hours.

But hey, don’t just take my word for it. Try some yourself!

If you’re in Europe: Saponissimo at DaWanda.
If you’re in the US: Saponissimo at Etsy. 

Merry Christmas!

don’t bend, don’t break, baby don’t back down

Annika

We went to Herculaneum on July 31st, Alexander and I. The year before we had been to Pompeii, but we both wanted to see the excavations at Ercolano because the old town was supposedly much smaller and better preserved than Pompeii.

It was blistering hot and we walked too far after visiting MAV (Museo Archeologico Virtuale) before we finally reached the scavi. The Ercolano of today did not appeal to me at all, but words can not describe how I felt about the remains from two thousand years ago.

Like I had been told, the houses were well preserved and it was easy to imagine what it must have been like back when, before Vesuvius erupted. Back when the town was still alive, bustling with people whose voices still echo between the walls.

Even though I had seen pictures and even been to the museum, I was not prepared for the art. I found myself taking pictures of every inch of paint, awestruck by the beauty in the details. We tend to think that we are so unique today, that we have come so far, that the people before us were mere savages with whom we have very little in common. We believe that we are so much smarter, so much more advanced, so much wiser.

But two thousand years ago there were people who ate, drank, bathed and loved just like us. They were craftsmen, architects, engineers and politicians. They cooked and gossiped and drew graffiti on the walls. Just like us.

Being in Herculaneum I felt so small and yet I felt a part of something so huge. The centuries dividing today from yesterday shrunk and vanished altogether, the past and the present existed simultaneously and I was both here and there, now and then, big, small, young, old, all at once.  

Then we walked down the street towards the docks, the same street they fled down that day of doom in August 79 AD to seek shelter on the beach, only to be followed and fried and have their brains explode by the pyroclastic flow.

From this perspective, I can’t believe that I let two women’s bitterness get to me. I have been in Herculaneum, I have seen the then and now exist in collateral dimensions, I have seen how I am a part of this world. My life is developing into something great and that is all that matters. Life is too short and too unpredictable, you never know when your brain is gonna pop. Two thousand years from now none of the pettiness and mischief of today will be remembered, but greatness lives on. Don’t bend. Be true to yourself. Be great.

Gandhi said, Be the change you wish to see in the world.
In my world bitterness and grudging have no place.

Play it again, Sam.

Annika

That might be the most famous and most quoted line never spoken, don’t you think?

Anyway, for those of you with a relatively quick internet connection speed and decent computer speakers, let me tell you about Spotify. Spotify is super quick, super cheap and you’re likely to find just about any music you can think of. It is perfectly legal, so don’t worry about that part.

I just got a Spotify invite from dad so I am using the free version but because of that I can’t invite anyone - I suppose you get a certain number of invites to use when you sign up for a premium membership.

Enjoy!

hidden

Annika

I’m hiding. At least I think that is what I’m doing.

I get emails from friends I love and I can’t make myself write a reply.

The situation at work is getting worse by the minute and I have requested a meeting so that we can talk things through and work out a solution, but I don’t know when it will happen. I am so disappointed, so sad, because I really thought everything would be good at this place and it’s not. I love my job but there is no fun anymore in going to work in the morning. I hate that. I hate that I let myself get so affected by someone else’s actions and feelings. I hate feeling that two of the women (there are five of us) are plotting against me for some yet unknown reason. I hate feeling that I have to alter who I am in order to not annoy them because I don’t want to and I’m not going to but I hate feeling that I annoy them. I hate becoming negative but it is SO HARD to remain positive in that environment.

We have reached the time of year when “crack of dawn” means 8.30 in the morning and a romantic sunset dinner has to be eaten at 2 pm. If, and that is a big if, the sun bothers to show up at all. It hasn’t for a while.

There are so many things in my life that are just going fabulously great, better than I ever could hope for, and I am so incredibly grateful for that and so happy about it, but these other things are holding me down and I don’t know what to do about it other than what I have already done.

My dear darling friends, bear with me.  I want to write to you but I can’t muster up the energy nor find the words to do it. I am so sorry, please don’t take it personal because I can assure you that it’s not.

Winter solstice is two weeks away. Let’s all pray that not only the light but all tides will turn then.

chain of events

Annika

It all began with the death of the old refrigerator, which lead us to throw out the fridge and freezer and replace them with a new combined unit.

The original plan to simply reinstall the click floor once it had dried was soon abandoned. Out went the click floor, out went the old blue linoleum carpet, and in its place we put beautiful slate tiles. It may be cold, but it’s real. A real material, a real floor.

It didn’t stop there. We need to fill the space where the old refrigerator was, so a new countertop has to be installed, longer than the existing one. Out with the cheap white laminate, in with solid wood.

However, it is difficult to remove the countertop without damaging the tiles above it, so we decided to get rid of the dull standard white tiles.

Funny how one thing leads to another, don’t you think? Today the work began, and once again the kitchen turned into a construction site.

We all helped to tear down the tiles, and they came down quicker than I first thought they would. They will be replaced with absolutely gorgeous, rustic 10×10 cm tiles that arrived from Italy earlier this week.  

You know, if I can’t have a kitchen in Italy right now at least I can have Italian tiles in my kitchen. Pure logic.

November is soon to be over. Only a little more than three weeks left before the nights slowly will begin to shorten. Hopefully we’ll have a pretty kitchen in time for Christmas.

a real wild child

Annika

oh yeah, I’m a wild one.

Seeing as I am already running a business in which my aim is to teach people how to care about and make the best of their curly hair, and how I would like to take that business to the next level by opening my own salon, I would SO want to get some proper Curlaboration training.

You know me. You know how my brain works. You can surely see where I am going with this.

Yes, I am exploring the possibility of going to New York for a couple of days next year. The workshop is one day only, a Monday, so I’m thinking that I could hop on a plane on Saturday or Sunday, go to New York, get the training on Monday and then fly back east on Tuesday. By myself.

How crazy is that?

It is a scary thought. People gun each other down on the streets of New York, don’t they? Well, the Devachan Salon is on 560 Broadway, in Soho. The location could be worse, right? I don’t know much about New York but who hasn’t heard of Broadway - and judging by the hotels and stores I have found in the neighborhood, I think it is pretty safe. Right? Please say I’m right, because I have absolutely no idea.

Please help me out here. Can I go to New York City on my own, where should I stay, is it safe to walk or should I take a taxi at all times, should I abandon the whole idea? I know it’s a long flight for only two or three nights but that’s really all I can afford and I’m not crazy about the idea of going sightseeing alone, so don’t worry about that part.

Give me your thoughts about New York City!

the big picture

Annika

When we moved here in July, the kitchen had an absolutely horrible blue linoleum carpet, along with yellow wallpaper, vanilla colored cupboards and lots and lots of pine wood.

While Alexander and I were baking in the Italian sun, my husband tore out the pine panels, painted the walls in a light grey shade and installed a fresh click floor on top of the old one. The new floor is a handy laminate that looks like slate but isn’t as cold. We live in a very cold country, so however much I love tiles it’s just not practical unless you have underfloor heating, which we don’t.

Anyway.

This Friday night our refrigerator died, flooding the floor as a goodbye gesture.

Shit, we said. Now what do we do?

Living in a cold country, as we do, we could save the food by putting it on the porch. So far so good. Then onward to the next question: Now what do we do? We had no refrigerator, the kitchen had turned into a swimming pool. I could literally hear the money we don’t have tick away with every second. We had planned to get a new refrigerator eventually, but not now, not like this, not on a Friday night. WHY God, WHY Universe, WHY??? Couldn’t we just be allowed a little peace and quiet, to be happy for a while, is that really too much to ask for? “Everything has a meaning”, what a load of crap, I seriously can’t see the meaning in all of this!!!  I cursed at the heavens in every language I know, diving head first deep into the pool of self pity for a minute or two. Then I shook it off and started to think about a way to solve the problem.

Let’s save what can be saved, we said, and began to tear up the floor.  Luckily the boards hadn’t been damaged by the water, so they can be reinstalled once dried.

Saturday morning the hunt for a new refrigerator began, not to mention the hunt for someone who could help us bring it home. We found the help, bought a power-saving no-frost fridge-freezer and went home to wait for the floor to dry. Things had worked out pretty well so far, but I still wondered what the meaning of all this was.

Well, today I tired of waiting for the floor to dry. It was almost dry except for where the old refrigerator had been, where the old carpet was still wet and bubbly, so I decided to tear it out.

This was when I finally got my answer: The bottom side of the old carpet under the refrigerator had turned black and reeked of mold. If the flood hadn’t happened, we would probably never have found the mold, but we would eventually have become sick.

All is well that ends well. The new refrigerator is up and running, the moldy peace of carpet is removed and the floor can be reinstalled in a day or two, and thanks to having one appliance instead of two (a combined fridge-freezer instead of separate units) we get more space in the slightly crowded kitchen. Best of all, I’m looking forward to a significally lowered electricity bill. Thank you, Universe.

land of the free, home of the brave

Annika

I won’t talk about American politics, because frankly I don’t know the first thing about it, but I can’t let yesterday’s elections go without notice.

I am proud of you, America.

I am moved by you, America.

The mobilisation of voters, the voluntary campaigns on the internet, the celebrity ad campaigns - all of it. The passion. The hope. The devotion. The manifestations.  I am so touched by the whole thing. Politics in Sweden is never like this, we are too inhibited, too afraid, too indifferent.

In my corner of the world we never had a doubt about which candidate to root for. What I’ve read on the internet and seen on TV, what I’ve heard from every single fairly intelligent American I’ve ever come across, has all pointed in the same direction.

Together you firmly showed the Universe what you want for your country and yourselves. Together you were strong, and you won. 

What we have seen these last few months that culminated last night, was democracy at its best. This is what it’s all about. Barack Obama is the people’s president. He’s got a heavy task ahead of him, but the wind of change has already begun to blow. The passive resentment is gone.

For years I’ve read stories of people - Americans - who were ashamed of their country of origin, so ashamed that they even hesitated to admit that they were indeed Americans when they were abroad. They fled the country, fled the GWB administration, fled from everything they felt was wrong.
Those are the same people who volunteered to engage the world in this election.
Those are the same people who joined forces, voted and last night finally got their president.
Those are the same people who today can and should be proud to be Americans.

Congratulations America.

la vita adesso è questa qua

Annika

Sitting at the kitchen table with my legs folded under me, music streaming from the laptop, a candle burning beside me, the setting sun reflecting in the sheer layer of snow in the garden.

I asked my friend if she is happy, and after assuring me of her happiness she returned the question. Am I happy?

Oh yes I am.

Even though we have entered November, I feel strangely serene. No sign of my usual autumnal melancholy, no feeling of desperation or hopelessness. I have never been this happy and calm in November before. It’s three months since I came back from Italy, and I still haven’t begun to plan a next trip. I know I will return, but for now it feels okay not to know when.

I know I will return, and I know my bel paese waits patiently for me. That is all I need to know.