Today I was able to upload the first batch of Iceland photos to my Flickr. I apologise for being a bad photographer, but some of those still turned out pretty nice. Many things in here seem so photogenic that you just can't completely fail.
My route from home to Laugardalslaug pools goes via Nóatún and this block. The messages or signals that wall sends are very perplexing and completely awesome. What is that? A karate hotel? A dojo where you can stay overnight and listen to people kick each other? And then there's the sign with a heart. So can it be a karate massage parlor? Sounds like a really terrible title for a Jackie Chan movie.
There's also some photos from Seltjarnarnes, very tip of the peninsula on which Reykjavík and the surrounding towns reside, some very nice photographic opportunities there as well. Earlier today I finally decided to get rid of the default wallpaper on my laptop, so I took this photo of the lighthouse and spent a little time turning it to this. I know I missed a lot of detail on the black ground, but I wanted to emphasize the snow patterns. I think it turned out quite nice.
Most of the photos describe themselves better than I do, so stop reading and go see them! I hope you'll enjoy.
sunnuntai 21. tammikuuta 2007
lauantai 20. tammikuuta 2007
Memorable
It is fun and weird to think about what kind of memories from completely random things you have. So much happens during a lifetime. So many situations, surprises, confrontations, emotions. So little you can recall. So often things you remember from the past are small. Some of them are insignificant, irrelevant, some of them are the best things you can remember. How the stairs in your Danish house looked like when you were 3 or 4 years old. What kind of thud did the closing garage door make at your cousin's. The tickliness of lying in a freshly harvested rye field. The anxiety of tracing the lower lip of your love with your index finger for the first time. The feeling of energy when you controlled the ball for the first time with your brand new soccer boots.
Some of them make you smile, some of them make you sad. Some of them make you miss something, some of them make you look hazily into the horizon.
Some of them are just plain silly.
Last night I had probably one of those. Something I'll randomly remember in the future and won't quite know how to feel about it. It was a fun night out, and I was jumping between two tables and two different groups of friends. At one point I noticed that most of the people I knew had already left, but instead I found myself surrounded by a bunch of slightly familiar, and definately attractive, Icelandic ladies.
Now now, if I only look at the setting itself, I think I've been in worse situations. Way worse. They were of the politics people, running for the student council. More or less drunk, usually more. I was introducing myself to a couple who I hadn't seen before, kept telling that my name is not Samuel or Salmon (I laughed), answering questions about how long I've been in Iceland, complimenting everyone about how great English they speak, answering the same question again about how long I've stayed here so far, reminding them of my name, and so on and on. Nevertheless I was having good time, enjoying myself.
Then one of them threw up on me. When I say "on me" I don't mean "next to me."
No advance warnings, no questions asked, and she didn't look like she was most drunk of the company. I thought it was must've been because she was starting to figure out my personality, not because of intoxication.
Awkwardness ensued. Moreso when an unfortunate bartender bloke saw me and the floor, and winced. He looked like he thought I vomited on myself. Wham bam thank you m'am, game set and match. I wished I could dissolve. Still, things like these happen. I hope she got home fine, at least her friend assured me that they'll take care of it. I'm not angry, I rarely am. I'm just confident that this is one of the silly random memories. 15 years later I might be working on some kind of a cubicle and find myself daydreaming a little. Besides idealistic wishes for a little better tomorrow and the sound of a closing garage door will be a moment of extreme awkwardness at an Icelandic bar.
I may be too embarrassed to go there again.
Some of them make you smile, some of them make you sad. Some of them make you miss something, some of them make you look hazily into the horizon.
Some of them are just plain silly.
Last night I had probably one of those. Something I'll randomly remember in the future and won't quite know how to feel about it. It was a fun night out, and I was jumping between two tables and two different groups of friends. At one point I noticed that most of the people I knew had already left, but instead I found myself surrounded by a bunch of slightly familiar, and definately attractive, Icelandic ladies.
Now now, if I only look at the setting itself, I think I've been in worse situations. Way worse. They were of the politics people, running for the student council. More or less drunk, usually more. I was introducing myself to a couple who I hadn't seen before, kept telling that my name is not Samuel or Salmon (I laughed), answering questions about how long I've been in Iceland, complimenting everyone about how great English they speak, answering the same question again about how long I've stayed here so far, reminding them of my name, and so on and on. Nevertheless I was having good time, enjoying myself.
Then one of them threw up on me. When I say "on me" I don't mean "next to me."
No advance warnings, no questions asked, and she didn't look like she was most drunk of the company. I thought it was must've been because she was starting to figure out my personality, not because of intoxication.
Awkwardness ensued. Moreso when an unfortunate bartender bloke saw me and the floor, and winced. He looked like he thought I vomited on myself. Wham bam thank you m'am, game set and match. I wished I could dissolve. Still, things like these happen. I hope she got home fine, at least her friend assured me that they'll take care of it. I'm not angry, I rarely am. I'm just confident that this is one of the silly random memories. 15 years later I might be working on some kind of a cubicle and find myself daydreaming a little. Besides idealistic wishes for a little better tomorrow and the sound of a closing garage door will be a moment of extreme awkwardness at an Icelandic bar.
I may be too embarrassed to go there again.
keskiviikko 17. tammikuuta 2007
Daft Punk is playing at my house?
Well, unfortunately not quite. Just that judging by the noise, they just might´ve been.
I was not especially delighted a month ago to hear about the size of my new home away from home when I got to know where I´d be living. My own room has ample space, but I share the guesthousey solution with roughly ten other inhabitants. While everybody at our apartments seem to be easy to get along with, I still knew that eventually I´d just have to bail out. That happened yesterday.
Last evening I took up the official-looking "Pronunciation Guide to Modern Icelandic". It doesn't feel especially contemporary though, since the newest edition was produced in 1988, and the whole volume is still from the good old typewriter editing era. I wasn´t about to let that bring down my determination to be able to pronounce Alþjóðaskrifstofa háskólastigsins properly someday, so I boldly took a comfortable stance in my bed, and started reading and going through the excercises. I got to the third page before right next to my door there were twentysomething people attending a Italian dinner party.
Now, I won´t complain about poor noise insulation in our house, because there does not seem to be any.
Great, thought I. Of course I could've just joined the table, but those of you who know me well enough probably understand when I say I just can't do it on all days. Yesterday was probably one of them, and at this point I meet so many new people all the time that I don't really feel obliged to be in a handshaking readiness 24/7. I wasn't having a bad day, in fact I had been quite industrious. Classes in the morning, taking a swim at the pools next to the campus, then back for some more classes. When the day was turning into an evening, I had spent considerable energy doing things I liked, so I was feeling happily tired. Raukea. (can't think of a good equivalent in English, sorry.) I had tucked myself nicely into bed, wanting to take a look at the book before sleeping, and then all the peacefulness was gone.
Of course I wasn't going to tell the folks to "can you try to be a little more quiet, pleeeese? " as it is the home of their hostess as much as it is mine. I doubt it would've helped for more than 15 seconds anyway. Besides, I wasn't angry at them or anything like that, I just would've liked to have a nice and peaceful evening for myself. I just opted for a walk.
Without thinking all that much, I skipped past Hlemmur towards north to the path alongside the ocean. Naturally you won't be alone, standing on such exposed ground. The wind came down from mountains cold, and like a tide it roared and rolled over me. I turned my back at it and it kept urging me to walk westwards, towards the harbor. Besides stopping at Sólfar I just kept going forward. It was the kind of wind that pierces your clothes, skin and flesh. It was the Nordic wind that swiftly gets truly inside you, wrapping a cold shroud around your soul. And it didn't feel bad at all. I felt relieved, I felt the solitude I needed. While I was slowly going about, trying to protect my nose from the wind, hazily skipping between the little and the little bigger boats and more or less pulsating dim lights, I thought I had come a little closer to discovering something. Something what I came here for. To understand the essence of Icelandic culture, the solitary but warm, simple but enormously beautiful feeling I often have perceived, or thought to perceive. Where it has to originate.
After some meandering walking back towards home, I found myself standing at Hjolmalind. I went in, let the athmosphere and hot chocolate nurture my soul and till the closing time contemplated on what I just had been experiencing. I guess I might have a weird relationship with cold weather. I often find it purifying. Perhaps all the energy in your body is just allocated to keeping you warm, giving you an escape from the less wanted thoughts. When I was walking home again, my skin might've been on goosebumps, but my soul felt exceptionally warm.
Sadly that didn't help me cover my ears from sounds of drunken conversations, singing, dancing and vacuum cleaning at 3am.
I was not especially delighted a month ago to hear about the size of my new home away from home when I got to know where I´d be living. My own room has ample space, but I share the guesthousey solution with roughly ten other inhabitants. While everybody at our apartments seem to be easy to get along with, I still knew that eventually I´d just have to bail out. That happened yesterday.
Last evening I took up the official-looking "Pronunciation Guide to Modern Icelandic". It doesn't feel especially contemporary though, since the newest edition was produced in 1988, and the whole volume is still from the good old typewriter editing era. I wasn´t about to let that bring down my determination to be able to pronounce Alþjóðaskrifstofa háskólastigsins properly someday, so I boldly took a comfortable stance in my bed, and started reading and going through the excercises. I got to the third page before right next to my door there were twentysomething people attending a Italian dinner party.
Now, I won´t complain about poor noise insulation in our house, because there does not seem to be any.
Great, thought I. Of course I could've just joined the table, but those of you who know me well enough probably understand when I say I just can't do it on all days. Yesterday was probably one of them, and at this point I meet so many new people all the time that I don't really feel obliged to be in a handshaking readiness 24/7. I wasn't having a bad day, in fact I had been quite industrious. Classes in the morning, taking a swim at the pools next to the campus, then back for some more classes. When the day was turning into an evening, I had spent considerable energy doing things I liked, so I was feeling happily tired. Raukea. (can't think of a good equivalent in English, sorry.) I had tucked myself nicely into bed, wanting to take a look at the book before sleeping, and then all the peacefulness was gone.
Of course I wasn't going to tell the folks to "can you try to be a little more quiet, pleeeese? " as it is the home of their hostess as much as it is mine. I doubt it would've helped for more than 15 seconds anyway. Besides, I wasn't angry at them or anything like that, I just would've liked to have a nice and peaceful evening for myself. I just opted for a walk.
Without thinking all that much, I skipped past Hlemmur towards north to the path alongside the ocean. Naturally you won't be alone, standing on such exposed ground. The wind came down from mountains cold, and like a tide it roared and rolled over me. I turned my back at it and it kept urging me to walk westwards, towards the harbor. Besides stopping at Sólfar I just kept going forward. It was the kind of wind that pierces your clothes, skin and flesh. It was the Nordic wind that swiftly gets truly inside you, wrapping a cold shroud around your soul. And it didn't feel bad at all. I felt relieved, I felt the solitude I needed. While I was slowly going about, trying to protect my nose from the wind, hazily skipping between the little and the little bigger boats and more or less pulsating dim lights, I thought I had come a little closer to discovering something. Something what I came here for. To understand the essence of Icelandic culture, the solitary but warm, simple but enormously beautiful feeling I often have perceived, or thought to perceive. Where it has to originate.
After some meandering walking back towards home, I found myself standing at Hjolmalind. I went in, let the athmosphere and hot chocolate nurture my soul and till the closing time contemplated on what I just had been experiencing. I guess I might have a weird relationship with cold weather. I often find it purifying. Perhaps all the energy in your body is just allocated to keeping you warm, giving you an escape from the less wanted thoughts. When I was walking home again, my skin might've been on goosebumps, but my soul felt exceptionally warm.
Sadly that didn't help me cover my ears from sounds of drunken conversations, singing, dancing and vacuum cleaning at 3am.
maanantai 15. tammikuuta 2007
In class entertainment
Even though at this point I'm still having some rather magnificent struggles trying to pronounce Icelandic, at least it seems to make quite a lot of sense. I mean, really. I'm taking classes in Icelandic language for foreigners, and while a mind-numbingly vast percentage of the peoples attending seems to be Finnish, there are still a few others nationalities represented.
During the first class our lovely-in-that-elderly-way teacher spent time explaining how Icelandic doesn't really want to accept foreign words. Instead they often take an old word and give it a fresh connotation. When telephone arrived to Iceland sometime around 1960's (IIRC), they didn't adapt the oh so global word for the technology. Instead they named it after an old word for a thin thread, sími.
The same happened with television and CRT's. The word for a display or a TV in Icelandic is skjár, pronounced "skjaur". It used to mean "window" back those dark medieval times. The folks in here didn't have glass at their disposal, so the screens were made of dried cow stomachs. Hey, that's what they did in Finland as well.
To get back on the point issued in the opening paragraph, it took a Swede to make me realize that the pronounciation in Icelandic isn't all that scary as I first perceived. He noticed the similarity to the Swedish word skärm. He said "skärm" quite like "HHhhcärm" or to be more phonetically exact, "*sounds of a person choking*ärm". Really. The rikssvenska pronounciation just forces me to roll my eyes and think that Icelandic is actually a lot friendlier for an outsider. Even if it doesn't feel all that friendly when taking the first steps of trying to learn it.
The pronounciation can make for some good fun though. One of the local banks, Kaupþing, recently changed its name back to the original form from a little more internationally friendly KB Banki. John Cleese was doing some ads for them. I haven't got a very good grip of the language so far, yet I cracked up at an unsuspecting Reykjavik café crowd.
During the first class our lovely-in-that-elderly-way teacher spent time explaining how Icelandic doesn't really want to accept foreign words. Instead they often take an old word and give it a fresh connotation. When telephone arrived to Iceland sometime around 1960's (IIRC), they didn't adapt the oh so global word for the technology. Instead they named it after an old word for a thin thread, sími.
The same happened with television and CRT's. The word for a display or a TV in Icelandic is skjár, pronounced "skjaur". It used to mean "window" back those dark medieval times. The folks in here didn't have glass at their disposal, so the screens were made of dried cow stomachs. Hey, that's what they did in Finland as well.
To get back on the point issued in the opening paragraph, it took a Swede to make me realize that the pronounciation in Icelandic isn't all that scary as I first perceived. He noticed the similarity to the Swedish word skärm. He said "skärm" quite like "HHhhcärm" or to be more phonetically exact, "*sounds of a person choking*ärm". Really. The rikssvenska pronounciation just forces me to roll my eyes and think that Icelandic is actually a lot friendlier for an outsider. Even if it doesn't feel all that friendly when taking the first steps of trying to learn it.
The pronounciation can make for some good fun though. One of the local banks, Kaupþing, recently changed its name back to the original form from a little more internationally friendly KB Banki. John Cleese was doing some ads for them. I haven't got a very good grip of the language so far, yet I cracked up at an unsuspecting Reykjavik café crowd.
sunnuntai 14. tammikuuta 2007
Prologue
Erh.
So I promised to write to the exchange student column on our university newspaper. I realize that during the switch of terms it might be hard to find available writers, but I'm just trying to figure out what I can possibly tell with my two and a half week experience of Iceland. It might turn out amusing, especially if I'll try to avoid the clichés of a rotten shark and eyeball eating, stormy weather enduring nation.
I already have the photos for the article though. I think I started from the right end of a writing process.
And greetings to Maaria, this little post is coming from Hjolmalind. I think I can pretty well see why you wanted me to come here. :)
So I promised to write to the exchange student column on our university newspaper. I realize that during the switch of terms it might be hard to find available writers, but I'm just trying to figure out what I can possibly tell with my two and a half week experience of Iceland. It might turn out amusing, especially if I'll try to avoid the clichés of a rotten shark and eyeball eating, stormy weather enduring nation.
I already have the photos for the article though. I think I started from the right end of a writing process.
And greetings to Maaria, this little post is coming from Hjolmalind. I think I can pretty well see why you wanted me to come here. :)
torstai 11. tammikuuta 2007
Remember what it feels like?
Whew. It's been quite a whirlwind for the past two weeks. I have so many things on my mind worth putting down and writing here that I'll probably forget most of them as I'm typing, but oh well. To give you folks an impression.
The New Year Eve was indeed quite a show. Being able to watch it from one of the high points in the city, Perlan. The restaurant itself was apparently blocked from common people for the occasion, but there were quite a lot of us on top of the hill, and the view from there is not a very shabby one either. The sky was thoroughly coloured by rapidly burning patterns of lithium, magnesium and all that fun stuff you got to burn in the chemistry classes back in secondary school. After midnight the city was completely covered in a puffy gunpowder smoke cloud. It was quite a change from all those peaceful rural and firework-wise tightly regulated New Year Eve's I've spent with my cousins at Hirvensalmi. After the explosions in the sky slowly started to fade away, I strolled alongside the majority of spectators towards downtown. Laugavegur was populated by mostly drunken people mostly trying to make their way into the outlets where they could keep consuming those mostly intoxicating beverages they had been enjoying most of the evening. Then there were a few people, such as myself, looking like lost puppies and just observing the folk.
The following couple of days I spent battling off this fierce cold I apparently catched. I wouldn't really blame it to poor clothing choices, I think I've been pretty well prepared. I didn't really give it all that many thoughts, I was just busy dealing with what felt like all of the waterfalls in Iceland suddenly giving a presentation of themselves in my nostrils. Our house is on the colder side. The common areas are too cold, and my own room is either too hot or too cold, depending how I set the thermostat. I usually aim for the too cold though, as sleeping is so much easier then.
Along with the cold arrived a feeling of guilt, that there are so so many things to do and see in my immediate vicinity, and I'm missing all of them. Obviously, it would be just a couple of days before I'd dare to venture out again, but still. Nobody likes the nagging feeling in their minds.
And obviously it got better. We had an orientation meeting at the campus last Friday, with all kinds of more and less practical information handed and spoken out for us. Afterwards the crowd was split into small groups and assigned a couple of Icelandic guides who'd walk us around the campus, pointing out the functions in different buildings and their personal opinions of them, and mispronouncing the name of the Finnish architect Alvar Aalto, who designed the Nordic House in the campus.
It turned out that there is a student council election coming up in few weeks at the uni, and our guide lads have something to do with it. Apparently also the exchange students are allowed to vote, so they invited us to the opening of their election office with a promise of some free alcohol and the honest statement that "foreign students are important to us because they're easy to trick."
"Oh well" thought our Finnish-Norwegian invasion army of six Finns and one Norwegian and met up later that evening, heading to check out the place. It turned into a rather delightful evening of conversations, first between the foreigners, then with the Icelandic to-be-politicians. I found myself talking about the differences of student politics in our countries and the differences of the parties running up in the election, our nations in general, receiving compliments about my apparently fair ability to pronounce Icelandic names, and teaching others to pronounce names for Aki Kaurismäki movies. Whoever said that Icelanders are kind of distant and difficult to get to know, well... At least I was delighted to find that untrue that evening. Even if some of those people only had interest in my vote in the upcoming election, I still enjoyed going there. I left with the happy, comfortable lightness in my footsteps. That feeling was one of the things I had been missing for so long, one of the reasons why I had to leave was that I wanted to experience it again.
A couple of days after I again walked home with the same kind of lightness after a delightful meeting and introduction to the café culture here in Reykjavík. How am I to resist a cozy, warmly lit place which plays the occasional Amon Tobin track on the background?
I was starting to remember what it feels like. After the few days of initial confusion about living abroad, I had been reminded why I had to leave. My footsteps feel so much lighter than they did back home.
My introduction to the swimming pools in here was a rather nice one as well. The following Monday saw the temperature drop to around -8 degrees. Unlike in Finland, that doesn't mean the outdoor pools are closed. I got to Laugardalslaug just in time to watch the gold and orange sunset slowly turn into the dark blue while I was resting in the long outside pool. The air was full of mist, the warmth slowly escaping from the water, only to be replaced with jets pumping new warm water inside in the corners. And the water felt just right, very soft and chlorine-free unlike in any Finnish swimming pools. Truly delightful and uplifting, again.
Today I also got my first real experience with the unpredictability of weather around here. After leaving my first Icelandic classes today I toured along a fellow Finn for awhile in the most perfect sunrise before ending up in the university bookstore. I spent in about 20 minutes, and at that time the weather had changed into an all out snowstorm. Judging by the amount of snow on the ground, it probably had snowed for awhile before I came out. You apparently don't need to blink all that many times if you'd like the weather to change.
So far so good. I realize that I'm still going through the discovery period, when pretty much everything (well, maybe except the prices) feels exciting. Knowing myself, the period when you just miss everything back home will eventually come. Still, I've already found a few good ways to raise my spirit in here. And I already know some things and some people I'll miss whenever I leave this strange little country. So far it has let me befriend itself.
The New Year Eve was indeed quite a show. Being able to watch it from one of the high points in the city, Perlan. The restaurant itself was apparently blocked from common people for the occasion, but there were quite a lot of us on top of the hill, and the view from there is not a very shabby one either. The sky was thoroughly coloured by rapidly burning patterns of lithium, magnesium and all that fun stuff you got to burn in the chemistry classes back in secondary school. After midnight the city was completely covered in a puffy gunpowder smoke cloud. It was quite a change from all those peaceful rural and firework-wise tightly regulated New Year Eve's I've spent with my cousins at Hirvensalmi. After the explosions in the sky slowly started to fade away, I strolled alongside the majority of spectators towards downtown. Laugavegur was populated by mostly drunken people mostly trying to make their way into the outlets where they could keep consuming those mostly intoxicating beverages they had been enjoying most of the evening. Then there were a few people, such as myself, looking like lost puppies and just observing the folk.
The following couple of days I spent battling off this fierce cold I apparently catched. I wouldn't really blame it to poor clothing choices, I think I've been pretty well prepared. I didn't really give it all that many thoughts, I was just busy dealing with what felt like all of the waterfalls in Iceland suddenly giving a presentation of themselves in my nostrils. Our house is on the colder side. The common areas are too cold, and my own room is either too hot or too cold, depending how I set the thermostat. I usually aim for the too cold though, as sleeping is so much easier then.
Along with the cold arrived a feeling of guilt, that there are so so many things to do and see in my immediate vicinity, and I'm missing all of them. Obviously, it would be just a couple of days before I'd dare to venture out again, but still. Nobody likes the nagging feeling in their minds.
And obviously it got better. We had an orientation meeting at the campus last Friday, with all kinds of more and less practical information handed and spoken out for us. Afterwards the crowd was split into small groups and assigned a couple of Icelandic guides who'd walk us around the campus, pointing out the functions in different buildings and their personal opinions of them, and mispronouncing the name of the Finnish architect Alvar Aalto, who designed the Nordic House in the campus.
It turned out that there is a student council election coming up in few weeks at the uni, and our guide lads have something to do with it. Apparently also the exchange students are allowed to vote, so they invited us to the opening of their election office with a promise of some free alcohol and the honest statement that "foreign students are important to us because they're easy to trick."
"Oh well" thought our Finnish-Norwegian invasion army of six Finns and one Norwegian and met up later that evening, heading to check out the place. It turned into a rather delightful evening of conversations, first between the foreigners, then with the Icelandic to-be-politicians. I found myself talking about the differences of student politics in our countries and the differences of the parties running up in the election, our nations in general, receiving compliments about my apparently fair ability to pronounce Icelandic names, and teaching others to pronounce names for Aki Kaurismäki movies. Whoever said that Icelanders are kind of distant and difficult to get to know, well... At least I was delighted to find that untrue that evening. Even if some of those people only had interest in my vote in the upcoming election, I still enjoyed going there. I left with the happy, comfortable lightness in my footsteps. That feeling was one of the things I had been missing for so long, one of the reasons why I had to leave was that I wanted to experience it again.
A couple of days after I again walked home with the same kind of lightness after a delightful meeting and introduction to the café culture here in Reykjavík. How am I to resist a cozy, warmly lit place which plays the occasional Amon Tobin track on the background?
I was starting to remember what it feels like. After the few days of initial confusion about living abroad, I had been reminded why I had to leave. My footsteps feel so much lighter than they did back home.
My introduction to the swimming pools in here was a rather nice one as well. The following Monday saw the temperature drop to around -8 degrees. Unlike in Finland, that doesn't mean the outdoor pools are closed. I got to Laugardalslaug just in time to watch the gold and orange sunset slowly turn into the dark blue while I was resting in the long outside pool. The air was full of mist, the warmth slowly escaping from the water, only to be replaced with jets pumping new warm water inside in the corners. And the water felt just right, very soft and chlorine-free unlike in any Finnish swimming pools. Truly delightful and uplifting, again.
Today I also got my first real experience with the unpredictability of weather around here. After leaving my first Icelandic classes today I toured along a fellow Finn for awhile in the most perfect sunrise before ending up in the university bookstore. I spent in about 20 minutes, and at that time the weather had changed into an all out snowstorm. Judging by the amount of snow on the ground, it probably had snowed for awhile before I came out. You apparently don't need to blink all that many times if you'd like the weather to change.
So far so good. I realize that I'm still going through the discovery period, when pretty much everything (well, maybe except the prices) feels exciting. Knowing myself, the period when you just miss everything back home will eventually come. Still, I've already found a few good ways to raise my spirit in here. And I already know some things and some people I'll miss whenever I leave this strange little country. So far it has let me befriend itself.
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