Some creative souls had been around town decorating the signs. Particularly the ones of not entering. I love them!
Thursday, February 6, 2014
The city of fantasies
Perhaps, I've fallen in love with Barcelona. Perhaps, we've even reached the point of a steady relationship. In that case, it's definitely a very harmonius relationship. I fall in love in cities very easily. Remarkably more easily than I fall in love wiht men. Fortunately, cities don't feel neglected or cheated upon even if you have a crush on several at the same time. I'm all in for happy city love stories.
Despite my many city loves, Barcelona is something quite of it's own (as are New York, New Delhi and Copenhagen - in their ways). This November, I visited for the 7th time. I was supposed to go there writing, but then I slipped in Sweden and the itinerary changed into concussion and relaxation instead of typing. Luckily, Barcelona is quite allright for spending non-writing time.
My concussion symptoms weren't too bad, while I was in Barcelona. As long as I rested properly and didn't get in the company of too many people og complex situations, I was ok. Not sitting in front of a computer, propably helped as well. All in all, it was probably my well-being in Barcelona that tricked me into thinking I was all well when I returned. But leave that b..... concussion. It has already taken up way too much time and energy.
I was in Barcelona. It was November. The sun was shining and Nifle joined most of the time. As did Signe for a couple of days. The nights were cold, but while the sun was out, it was quite pleasant to have a cortado in the sun. Or two. Wearing shades and conversations. And it seemed like the sun had coordinated it setting with the shops reopening after siesta and a few hours of shopping before evening drinks and Catalan dinner.
One of the major charms of Barcelona is its ability to keep being intruiging, keep showing more sides. From your first visit and the overwhelming statues and life at the Rambla, Picasso, Miro and the Gothic quarter. Beginning to stroll the small alleys and streets, exploring Gaudi, tapas, squares, people, life. Further on getting more around in the city. Getting used to the metro. Exploring new areas. Finding the perfect sea food restaurant. The absolutely perfect one. And the authentic local steak house with huge steaks from Girona and old radios. Learning that the museum of modern art: MACBA has changing exhibitions that are almost always excellent (haven't seen one yet that weren't). That Modernista is much much more than Gaudi and still fascination. That Barcelona has at least 10 ramblas, most of them more interesting than the famous one. That it is perfect with a wide sandy beach in the center of a city.
Oh yeah, I am definitely in love.
When you can't write - it's lucky you can bring a camera:
Despite my many city loves, Barcelona is something quite of it's own (as are New York, New Delhi and Copenhagen - in their ways). This November, I visited for the 7th time. I was supposed to go there writing, but then I slipped in Sweden and the itinerary changed into concussion and relaxation instead of typing. Luckily, Barcelona is quite allright for spending non-writing time.
My concussion symptoms weren't too bad, while I was in Barcelona. As long as I rested properly and didn't get in the company of too many people og complex situations, I was ok. Not sitting in front of a computer, propably helped as well. All in all, it was probably my well-being in Barcelona that tricked me into thinking I was all well when I returned. But leave that b..... concussion. It has already taken up way too much time and energy.
I was in Barcelona. It was November. The sun was shining and Nifle joined most of the time. As did Signe for a couple of days. The nights were cold, but while the sun was out, it was quite pleasant to have a cortado in the sun. Or two. Wearing shades and conversations. And it seemed like the sun had coordinated it setting with the shops reopening after siesta and a few hours of shopping before evening drinks and Catalan dinner.
One of the major charms of Barcelona is its ability to keep being intruiging, keep showing more sides. From your first visit and the overwhelming statues and life at the Rambla, Picasso, Miro and the Gothic quarter. Beginning to stroll the small alleys and streets, exploring Gaudi, tapas, squares, people, life. Further on getting more around in the city. Getting used to the metro. Exploring new areas. Finding the perfect sea food restaurant. The absolutely perfect one. And the authentic local steak house with huge steaks from Girona and old radios. Learning that the museum of modern art: MACBA has changing exhibitions that are almost always excellent (haven't seen one yet that weren't). That Modernista is much much more than Gaudi and still fascination. That Barcelona has at least 10 ramblas, most of them more interesting than the famous one. That it is perfect with a wide sandy beach in the center of a city.
Oh yeah, I am definitely in love.
When you can't write - it's lucky you can bring a camera:
Perfect everyday café life at Placa del Sol
I've probably clicked this sculpture 4 or 5 times during my visits in Barcelona. It keeps being picturesqe.
Excellent tapas restaurant: Cal Pep
Street in my favourite neighborhood El Born
The flea market Els Encant Vells. Viewed through the mirroring ceiling
Els Encant Vells
MACBA - yet again an excellent exhibition
There's always a million skaters in fromt of MACBA. Apparently, it's the perfect place for skateboarders and luckily they're allowed to stay. Barcelona is a city meant for living.
Street art
More street art
A spot in the sun in Eixample
Barcelona is a cycling city. A golden cycle city.
I passed by this bench right on time for the last rays of sun of the day and wanted to click a picture in the exact moment as the cyclist passed by, turned around right in front of me and made the perfect shade and moment.
Street life. Or perhaps rather arcade life.
I said it before, I'll say it again, Barcelona is a city for living. Here, a student studying in the sun.
Friday, January 3, 2014
Concussion pics 3
My childhood castle, Åstrup Gods.
Concussion pics 2
Concussion pics 1
As mentioned, I spent my isolation time touring my city taking photos. Here's a selection of the favourites:
Marmorkirken (Marble Church) that I visited for the first time even if I've been working with first hand view to it's dome for 5 years.
Foot prints in the snow.
A sunny winter spot.
Impressions of a winter day.
Beautiful lights on a dim day.
No hands no cookies.
Two months of boredom
Early November, I went to Sweden on a writer's refuge as I am lucky enough to borrow Gitte and Jørn's lovely cottage at the verge of a gigantic forrest. Solitude and no distractions makes it the perfect setting for my writing.
Yet again, it was lovely being there. I was very productive and very much inside my very own writing bubble, when I made the stupidest maneouvre of the year. I fell. Or rather slipped. On a wet board while talking a walk. Landed on my ass and got a whip lash that provoked concussionlike symptoms. Which means the exact same symptoms as for a concussion except for passing out, vomiting or luckily risking brain damage. The rest was the real deal, though, and it took me a couple of hours to realise as I hadn't hurt my head, and honestly was more worried about my wrist that I'd landed on.
But then I'd noticed. I was writing and got dizzier and dizzier, and as quite a few of my friends have been as unfortunate with concussions, I soon got the hint, turned off the laptop and laid down on the couch - eyes shut, podcast on. This was the beginning of many days podcast listening and closed eyes. To sum it up really fast: Concussions or fake concussions for that matter are endlessly boring. Not least during the two days of complete isolation without sounds or lights for 20 hours at a row. I was ready to submit myself on day 2.
The doctors were completely calm and told me to take it easy for a couple of days and I'd be fine in a week or so. They also said Barcelona would be the perfect brake for me at the end of the fake concussion. It was, I absolutely enjoyed Barcelona end-November and hardly had any symptoms. Anyways, none I was paying any attention to till it was too late (as you'd say to sound a bit more dramatic). I'll tell more about Barcelona some other time.
When I got back, I thought everything would be fine and went to work after 2 weeks of nurturing. And for pre-christmas celebration in the evening at Wallmann's Salons. I promise, it's my first and last visit there. The show, the sounds, the lights, people talking, laughing, partying everywhere were way more than my brain could take. My alcohol intake weren't more than in Barcelona, but it probably didn't help. I woke up next morning with the worst hangover ever! A hangover that turned out to be a relapse of a false concussion and forced me to stay in bed for the next four days. I tried going to work Monday morning, but had to leave after 10 minutes feeling worse than I did after my original fall.
So I started over. Or a bit more than over. This time with the assistance of a cranio-sacral therapist, who sent warm energies through my body, straigtened out muscles and nerves and gave me the first logic explanation to my symptoms, as I, according to the doctors, really didn't have a concussion. The fee, I paid Jens Dybdal for my treatment were more than reasonable for regaining faith in recovering. And for getting instant relief at every treatment.
The cure for concussion and fake concussion is identical. Complete rest, no TV, laptop, no reading nor excercise and not too many people at the same time. And absolutely no writing! As said, exceptionally boring. To top it up - you have to be completely relaxed and un-stressed if you want to recover. I was indeed challenged not to give in to a depression.
The fact that my fake concussion had affected my short term memory, meant that I had to make lists of everything. A list of what to buy in which shops and what order. A list of what to wear and what to bring, whenever leaving home, so I'd remember hat, gloves and wallet. A list of what to remember asking or saying when I was talking to anybody. And finally a list of my plans. Not least the plans I needed to cancel. You get pretty good at cancelling plans with a fake concussion. And good at living with the fact that one plan too many means not getting out of bed the next day. Even if that plan were too many because it involved three people instead of two. Or a restaurant with other people talking.
Fortunately after a week of isolation, I could start goiing on walks with my camera. Cleaning was also one of the things I could do rather soon, which has had a positive effect on the cleanliness at home. But it was the camera that saved me. I do love my camera - not any less now. Which meant that it felt meaningful to go out clicking. And that I've walked the streets of my city, got to know my camera better and gave myself the challenge of taking at least one good shot every day.
Crossing my fingers, it finally seems as if it's over. I can watch TV. Use my iPad, work at my laptop or drive a car for an hour and only get slightly dizzy. And today, I've been at a café with a cup of coffee - writing!! Hooray!! Again only slightly dizzy after writing this piece. Still need to take everything very slowly. But nonetheless - I'm writing! And bubbly thrilled of regaining that ability! And the company of other people.
Yet again, it was lovely being there. I was very productive and very much inside my very own writing bubble, when I made the stupidest maneouvre of the year. I fell. Or rather slipped. On a wet board while talking a walk. Landed on my ass and got a whip lash that provoked concussionlike symptoms. Which means the exact same symptoms as for a concussion except for passing out, vomiting or luckily risking brain damage. The rest was the real deal, though, and it took me a couple of hours to realise as I hadn't hurt my head, and honestly was more worried about my wrist that I'd landed on.
But then I'd noticed. I was writing and got dizzier and dizzier, and as quite a few of my friends have been as unfortunate with concussions, I soon got the hint, turned off the laptop and laid down on the couch - eyes shut, podcast on. This was the beginning of many days podcast listening and closed eyes. To sum it up really fast: Concussions or fake concussions for that matter are endlessly boring. Not least during the two days of complete isolation without sounds or lights for 20 hours at a row. I was ready to submit myself on day 2.
The doctors were completely calm and told me to take it easy for a couple of days and I'd be fine in a week or so. They also said Barcelona would be the perfect brake for me at the end of the fake concussion. It was, I absolutely enjoyed Barcelona end-November and hardly had any symptoms. Anyways, none I was paying any attention to till it was too late (as you'd say to sound a bit more dramatic). I'll tell more about Barcelona some other time.
When I got back, I thought everything would be fine and went to work after 2 weeks of nurturing. And for pre-christmas celebration in the evening at Wallmann's Salons. I promise, it's my first and last visit there. The show, the sounds, the lights, people talking, laughing, partying everywhere were way more than my brain could take. My alcohol intake weren't more than in Barcelona, but it probably didn't help. I woke up next morning with the worst hangover ever! A hangover that turned out to be a relapse of a false concussion and forced me to stay in bed for the next four days. I tried going to work Monday morning, but had to leave after 10 minutes feeling worse than I did after my original fall.
So I started over. Or a bit more than over. This time with the assistance of a cranio-sacral therapist, who sent warm energies through my body, straigtened out muscles and nerves and gave me the first logic explanation to my symptoms, as I, according to the doctors, really didn't have a concussion. The fee, I paid Jens Dybdal for my treatment were more than reasonable for regaining faith in recovering. And for getting instant relief at every treatment.
The cure for concussion and fake concussion is identical. Complete rest, no TV, laptop, no reading nor excercise and not too many people at the same time. And absolutely no writing! As said, exceptionally boring. To top it up - you have to be completely relaxed and un-stressed if you want to recover. I was indeed challenged not to give in to a depression.
The fact that my fake concussion had affected my short term memory, meant that I had to make lists of everything. A list of what to buy in which shops and what order. A list of what to wear and what to bring, whenever leaving home, so I'd remember hat, gloves and wallet. A list of what to remember asking or saying when I was talking to anybody. And finally a list of my plans. Not least the plans I needed to cancel. You get pretty good at cancelling plans with a fake concussion. And good at living with the fact that one plan too many means not getting out of bed the next day. Even if that plan were too many because it involved three people instead of two. Or a restaurant with other people talking.
Fortunately after a week of isolation, I could start goiing on walks with my camera. Cleaning was also one of the things I could do rather soon, which has had a positive effect on the cleanliness at home. But it was the camera that saved me. I do love my camera - not any less now. Which meant that it felt meaningful to go out clicking. And that I've walked the streets of my city, got to know my camera better and gave myself the challenge of taking at least one good shot every day.
Crossing my fingers, it finally seems as if it's over. I can watch TV. Use my iPad, work at my laptop or drive a car for an hour and only get slightly dizzy. And today, I've been at a café with a cup of coffee - writing!! Hooray!! Again only slightly dizzy after writing this piece. Still need to take everything very slowly. But nonetheless - I'm writing! And bubbly thrilled of regaining that ability! And the company of other people.
Location:A very dark room
Tuesday, October 15, 2013
Picking apples
There are 10 apple trees in my Mom's garden. 10 apple trees, 8 raspberry bushes, a couple of plums, two wines, an unknown number of blackberries and a single walnut tree. And the quince. The wonderful quince tree, that gives us beautiful and well smelling quinces, which my mom transform into quince jelly and hence make me happy (oh so tasteful). And it is right now all these trees and bushes are bulging. Well they were bulging - till Saturday. Every year I go to my Moms for a weekend for picking. And this Saturday, I put on my Moms all-weather, full-body, winter suit and picked all the apples.
The wind was blowing from here to everywhere so the warm suit was necessary. I added Beethoven and some Danish 90'ies pop music (including singing a long). And a latter for me to reach. Gloves for collecting walnuts, cause undried walnuts will colour your hands completely black (and stick for weeks) if you collect them without gloves. Final touch was the mode of meditation I get into, when picking something as beautiful and simple as apples.
Harvesting the fruits.
And finally a 2- year old picture of me climbing the trees in much better weather, but still picking apples...
The wind was blowing from here to everywhere so the warm suit was necessary. I added Beethoven and some Danish 90'ies pop music (including singing a long). And a latter for me to reach. Gloves for collecting walnuts, cause undried walnuts will colour your hands completely black (and stick for weeks) if you collect them without gloves. Final touch was the mode of meditation I get into, when picking something as beautiful and simple as apples.
Harvesting the fruits.
And finally a 2- year old picture of me climbing the trees in much better weather, but still picking apples...
Location: Mom's garden
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