On the road again

I'm in Rovaniemi. (And where that damn place is? A hint: in the middle of the nowhere and a bit north. Google it yourself.)
Yesterday I was in Linköping (And where the hell is this? What is it good for? And what of a godforsaken place it is that they need to add dots over the letters?) to see Elisabeth. I brought her the fox sweater and she loved it for which I was immensely happy, I wasn't sure that there's something likable about that. I found out that Beth does not only silversmithing but also all sorts of bead stuff and she complained about general lack of decent beads in Sweden and after all I'm from the country where Swarowski studied glassmaking. So I promised her all the stuff I can find at home and anyhting she wants.
As for the Linköping cathedral, I will have to find out some relevant art history stuff, it puzzles me. Some elements inside seem to be pretty retarded in style, nice Romanesque, weird Gothic, the windows from the outside have some sort of English feel... I'll have to browse the second-hand bookstores around Drottininggatan, one had lots of art stuff in the windows, to find some general book on architecture. I want to know.
Pics will follow.
When I was leaving Stockholm, the weather reminded Seychelles. Just under 30 degrees, very humid air, i mean, reaslly humid, you make five steps and sweat like a pig.
I made it to Arlanda a bit too early and the airport there was boring. Not that any airport would be exciting but in Stockholm the architect didn't bother to hide the fact that the airport buildings are jsut barns made to hold people and stuff without getting them wet or blown away with the wind. So all that I could do was sit and knit and read. I managed to get the cheap paperback (take it easily. Nothing in Sweden is cheap. Translated to normal language, it was an expensive paperback) balanced on my bag so that I could weigh the pages with my Nookie and read while knitting which is hard with paperbacks, they tend to keep themselves closed.*
Next time I go to this general area, I will have to get myself a T-shirt that says No, I do not speak Swedish. No, for real, but go on telling me, I understand it better than your lousy English. And something for Finnish too. As Elisabeth had it, I blend in too well. And I even left the Marimekko bag back at Stockholm because I wanted to take my laptop along and it wouldn't fit. Actually it would fit but I wouldn't squeeze even my passport there.
Anyhow, Stockholm-Arlanda: shitty rain, bad hair. helsinki - Vantaa (or Helsingfors - Vanda, should you be pro-Swedish) - sunny, bad hair. Rovaniemi - Comecavolosichiama**: after rain, normal temperature, bad hair. Maybe I could find the advert for the hair spray, it features a kitschy blonde on the airports and her hair is for sure polyethylene.
Helsinki etc. airport is even more of a big barn. In some places they are at least trying to put a layer of marble over the barn construction to make it look posher but it still doesn't work. You know, I hate flying and I would hate it even if the airports looked like the Moscow underground, with crystal chandeliers and mosaics. The only true airport building is in Mahe, Seychelles. Stockholm was inspired there, I'd say.
Anyhow, Niina and Riikka picked me, we shared our weird feelings - That feels weird that you're here on their part, That feels weird that Iäm here from my part.
I have to go, the reindeer is being served.


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*Note: I had a bamboo circular. 5mm. The 6.5mm circular was tied to pens with a piece of hair elastic, the people at the security do not notice, as proved by ignorance of many security people on major European airports. In Helsinki I left the sweater on the needles. No-one noticed either but because my big belt with studs beeped in the frame, I was hand searched. And, at Arlanda, they wanted my passport only when I was boarding the plane. Swedes don't have terrorist weirdos, apparently.

**That's Italian. Means Whatthehellitsisnamed. The plane was full of Italians. Wonder why.