Thursday, July 20, 2006


I decided to take the weekend a day earlier (this year I'm lucky, I have work on which no-one depends so no-one cares whether it's finished today or on Tuesday) so this afternoon I'm going to the mountains. We have something like a cottage there. [I've just run over my toes with the wheel of the office chair with me sitting on it.....]
I plan to hang around. That's the whole point of it, doing nothing of sense like taking pictures of some strange rare plants, bask in the sun (get sunburnt, maybe)... and should I be bored in the evenings, I took some knitting with me and a book on something medieval. Well, medieval sculpture in Gotland, what could you expect from me. I thought about starting to read some fiction but when I browsed the bookstores, I didn't find anything that would appeal to me. So I have my impossible books - and this one was on the table and in a handy format and it reminded me how Yrja was explaining to Kirsi her astonishment when I (1) mailed her in perfect English whether I can attend her lessons (2) didn't know nearly any Italian (which was a bit of drawback because the whole thing was happening in Italy on Italian university (3) as it showed later, I knew Swedish better than the rest of the course, all of them added together, but didn't speak it. Yrja couldn't make anything of it, poor girl, and in some odd 20 years of teaching experience she had only read about people with various language skills on so divergent levels but wouldn't believe that someone like that might ever exist. (No, I don't plan to be original always and everywhere. It just happens to me. ) Then I came and after two months I spoke fluent Italian, hesitant Swedish and got an interesting link in my brain - when I run out of Swedish, I switch to Italian. Automatically. To Italian with heavy Florentine accent of which I'll probably never get rid because I had never learnt much of 'proper' Italian. To a certain desperation of my teachers who know proper Italian and try to squeeze it into the heads of the Prague kids. I just wonder what it is, that it makes me always stand out. Maybe if I dyed my hair mousey brown, I'd get rid a part of my self-confidence?
And I always digress. Anyway, I have to go to check my bank account, I got a mail from Air France that they're sending me back my money but when I attempted to pay with the card, it wouldn't work and it's gonna be 36 outside (which means that the real temperature in the streets is some 50... ). Seems that spring and autum are cancelled or reduced to something like a week of nasty weather and there will be damn cold winters and damn hot summers. I should choose a nice place where to export myself.