Swifty Pages

Danish Diary

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Ultimate Friday snack. #figs #nuts #fruit #friday #party

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Accidental bean salad. #lunch #food #foodporn #healthyfood #vegetarian

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Copenhagen redo...Fermentoren and their brew. #craftbeer #fermentoren #ipa #copenhagen

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Weekend clarifications

Weekend clarifications - the Romanian presidential elections just took place. In a blatant and shameful disrespect for their citizens living abroad, the government and the ministry of foreign affairs made a mockery out of voting stations at embassies and consulates. Thousands of people waited in line in the cold for hours in order to exert their constitutional right to vote. My friends and I were lucky and after "only" three hours of waiting and we got to vote. Yet friends of ours from London, Paris, Munich, Berlin, Frankfurt or Rome have waited up to ten hours in the cold and rain - some got to vote, some didn't. Some Romanian citizens were dispersed with tear gas after police was called because they would not go home without voting in Paris and Turin.

Now why did this happen, you wonder? Just because the PM was one of the candidates, representing an archaic, corrupt and tarred system that seems to be unshakable. Yet the people, mainly the young educated public, would not vote for him. The Romanians working and studying abroad would not vote for him. Because of that, they tried to shut them out. To block them from exerting their constitutional right, to humiliate them. Yet the people did not stand for that. Back in Romania people came out to the streets urging the governments to allow citizens from abroad to vote. No one spoke of the horrendous illegalities that occurred in the process at home - people just wanted their constitutional right.

This scenario, repeated in both rounds, led to an amazing wave of mobilisation and solidarity - people waited in line, even though there was no hope to vote, just to prove a point - they were not going to be humiliated, trampled upon by "the system". We, the young people of Romania, either home or abroad, would not stand for this. We, who created another image of the Romanian immigrant or the Romanian youngster abroad - the young student or the young professional - driven by ambition, hard work, intelligence and professionalism. An image that we could not stand to be tarred by allowing an abject product of the system, an arrogant imbecile, to become president - a guy who shamelessly plagiarised in his PhD thesis, who flat out lied for two years, who has proven his incompetence and, more than anything, who has called us, living abroad, traitors and "enemies of the country". A guy with no honour, common sense or decency. A guy who said that WE were the ones tainting the image of our country. Us, who work hard, study hard, live lives led by common sense and respect. Us who raised so many eyebrows when, after long conversations, people found out we're from Romania. We, who changed minds and perspectives. We, who made our friends eager to visit Romania. We, who heard our friends saying, after travelling to Romania - "You have such an amazing country, it's incredible!".

We did not stand for that. Our friends and families at home did not stand for that. We wanted normality. We wanted, if not the best of all, at least a person with common sense, decency and a calm, rational, discourse. And we won.

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Not a Copenhagen getaway without a cheesecake brownie. Waiting for wildandunattained…

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Romanian elections

A weird feeling of fairness prevented me from going to vote for the Romanian elections two years ago and then again this year. For some unknown reason I thought "It's my right, but I don't live in Romania so I shouldn't be the one deciding." It doesn't happen often, but I have to admit I was wrong. Wrong for believing that whatever happens back in Romania does not affect me. Wrong for not wanting to think twice about the future of my friends, my family and possibly the impression of normality that my children will have when they will visit their mother's homeland.

I was wrong for being oblivious to the truth - I have a say, and I have to exert my right. Because of all the injustice and all the corruption that faults a system which has created a distorted image of the Romanian citizen in Europe - the garbage collector, the maid, the thief, the gypsy, the beggar. Because of the horrific stance where a cheat and a liar with no backbone or dignity could become the president. "My president." The person who will represent the same, distorted, image of the Romanian citizen in Europe - a liar, a cheat, a beggar and pretty much scum. 

We're not that and we refuse to be associated with that! My friends have waited for hours in line in Munich and London to vote just because this rascal and his mob decided to do their best to prevent the young people driven away from Romania by his gang to exert their right to vote. In my town - filled with young Romanians studying abroad - there was no possibility to vote. Yet in a town two hours away where I doubt the number of Romanian passes 100, there was a voting post. Thousands of Romanians living abroad - students, young professionals, workers or tourists - have not gotten the chance to vote. Why? Well that is pretty much easy - Victor Ponta, the current prime minister and the leader of the political party now in power, has a ridiculous image and almost no support outside Romania. Why? Because he's the produce of a tarred system, a communist hybrid with megalomaniac tendencies - a liar and a cheat who, faced with his revealed plagiarism in his PhD thesis did absolutely nothing but mock and laugh at the outraged public. No honour, no dignity, no values. 

I am tired of being associated with such scum. And the way his machinery acted in this first round of the presidential elections made me decide to go vote in the second round. From a passive bystander I decided to take action and say "Enough." Enough of people being slightly reluctant when they here where I come from. Enough humiliation at the borders because we're treated like second class citizens because of the attitudes of a political class born in shame and corruption. Enough of their talking and more of us acting. I might not be going back to my home country soon - but for the times I'll go back, for my friends, my family and my children - I'll care. This time it's on. This time we're taking a stand and this time we say "Enough!" 

Fuck you, Victor Ponta, you're not representing Romania. You're not representing us and you have to go back to where you belong - which is in the horrifying darkness at the back of the political spectrum, where you came from! 

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The Hoptards

My second playground, with beer and hops and all that comes from the holy Ninkasi.

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There goes the neighbourhood…Weekend mood.

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Rød grød med fløde or Danish delight

I just had rød grød med fløde. With rhubarb. And strawberries. And cream. Massive amounts of cream. And whole milk. Sweet, fat, whole milk. This dish is basically a red berries stew, I just had the rhubarb version, with whole strawberries in. It is also the Danes' way of testing your Danish skills by inviting you to pronounce it.

It is why I have lived in Denmark for four years and only now I've tried the desert. Because I thought that it was only a way to make fun of foreigners who were trying to learn or speak Danish. "Nobody really eats that...You'd never need that phrase." Aaah...screw it, I thought! Who needs that stuff anyway? No I can tell all those who denied me the precious information about this wonderful desert...Yes, people do eat that! We had a four-way fight at dinner over leftovers of rhubarb stew and cream...Imagine four grown ups, university students, digging into a small bowl of leftovers for scraps of cream and hints of rhubarb... Because it's one of the best deserts on the planet.

So if you're a Dane and reading this, next time you REALLY want to make fun of a foreigner just put a bowl of rød grød med fløde in front of them and say "You can have it...if you can pronounce it correctly." They'll either nail it or die trying.

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September

The first month of fall brings about a lot of complaining from human kind. It all fundamentally comes down to the weather getting cold and the necessity to go back to work or school. For me, it just means wearing my favourite sweaters and embarking on new adventures.

I clearly am some sort of "type A" kind of freak who gets easily bored and doesn't like vacations or something. But free time for the sake of free time is just wasted time. I remember my summer holidays as a kid, when I would spend my days reading or running around and had no problem with the length of the holidays. But as I grew, the month of August became a lingering nightmare, with me feeling trapped in a state of uselessness. My cousin would always exclaim in surprise "Oh my, what sort of workaholic are you?!"

But let's be honest. Isn't the excitement of a new project, a new job, a new year at school the best thing? When you're all pumped with energy from the summer and are ready to get those braincells working?

It's funny how spring is supposed to be the season of "rebirth" or some sort of other symbolism of happiness when all you are after a long winter is tired and depressed. It's true that everything getting green and the sun coming out makes you feel a little better - and so does the prospective of summer holidays. But you - you are not reborn, or fresh, or singing. Your brain just gets a boost of excitement, but you're in the middle of things, trying hard to get them done properly and being mostly tired of all the work. 

I vote for autumn, again, like last year, as the cool season. Not only because of the weather, but also because of the excitement of new beginnings (real ones - like life projects, jobs, schools) and the energy that you are actually able to tackle those beginnings with. Because of the hot soups, pies and cosy evenings flavoured by hot tea and rum with story by the candle light. And last, but not least, because of jackets, scarves and jeans. Because cool is what you're always searching for. Even when it's hot.

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Peep-hole

I'm going to jump on that "defending privacy" and "women's bodies" wagon and try to put my views on the matter of the "photo leak" out there...

I am not a particular fan of the modern day finger pointing and sensitivity when it comes to privacy and women. Sometimes there's a lot of overreacting and, to be honest, hypocrisy. Every time you turn on your WiFi, every time you walk an alley with pubs on a Saturday night all fancily dressed for going out - you expose yourself. That's the way society is - sick, I know, yet incorrigibly aggressive and sickening frustrated.

Let me put it in another way... Aggressors are everywhere. It doesn't mean that you have to be paranoid and hide under baggy clothes or not use technology. But you have to thread carefully sometimes. It's like locking your door at night, locking your car or having a firewall (albeit most of the time ineffective) on your computer - it's common sense.

Now I don't want to say we should treat acts of invasion of privacy as something "that happens" and not condemn them, but let's leave the shock aside for a second and ask ourselves - when did we forget how to be careful? To protect ourselves from aggressors - how did we become so naïve, so oblivious to the dangers around us - who will protect us? The police? The state? God? I agree - in the privacy of your home you should be able to take a photo of your ass hole and do whatever the shit (pun intended) you want with it - because it's your ass hole and it's your home. But lock the door. Don't upload the photo onto a cloud. Don't be so naïve as to think "that can't happen to me". Don't think for one second that this world is emptied of creeps and people who spend their lives looking through the peep-hole. These kind of "scandals" or "situations" are here to prove, just like the tabloid phenomenon, that people these days have forgotten how to live for themselves.

It's not only the fact that someone's privacy (or a woman's) has been violated that is sickening. It's the fact that these kind of things have a public. There is a huge slice of the world's population who feels better about itself while looking at JLaw's boobies or Kirsten Dunst's belly button. That's what the world has become. That's what should scare us. Our whole moral fibre is getting thinner, our common sense is dissolving into thin air and we become exactly the type of person you don't want to have as a neighbour once we are "online". How come? Well let's just think how many of the people who look at all those photos, who thrive on what those glossy magazines are publishing...how many of them would actually walk out the door, jump a fence and post themselves outside one of Jennifer Lawrence's window? Not many of them. Some would be scandalised about the thought. But when they browse the web they feel like they can do whatever the hell they like...in the privacy of their homes. Ironic, isn't it?

Bottom line is that unfortunately the 21st century and social media means pretty much the death of privacy. Unless you thread carefully and take protective measures (why should you? again, why should you lock your door at night?) you'll always be an easy target. Being a public person unfortunately makes it worse. 

I have all the compassion for all the people who have been brutally violated in this incident. All the women whose bodies have been put on display for creeps to look at. But we have to remember to treat our digital values as we do our material ones - keep them under lock and key if we wish to be even slightly safe.

This is the kind of society tabloids, reality shows and paparazzi "culture" created. A bunch of creeps disconnected from their spine, peeping through a hole and feeling better about themselves because - look, even Jennifer Lawrence has a pimple on her ass. (I am just assuming, I did not nor will I ever attempt to search or look at the photos / videos leaked. I'm not endorsing this, maybe that should be the way to go for all of us who pretend to have a shred of decency within us)  

Until all these acts of cyber aggression will be toughly sanctioned - both the perpetrators and the "audience" - we should stop uploading our ass holes to clouds and other WiFi linked devices if we want to make sure that we're safe. Sad, but true. 

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Mirror Wall, take 3

It was the last time I went home. We were together again, after so long. We had a wonderful dinner, as we always do, with white wine and candle light reminiscence. Then everything changed. My fingers where taking a trip over the wrinkles of that weirdly shaped gourd. It seemed like the night would swallow both of us and as I was juggling that piece of nature freakishness I asked her… “What is this…?” She calmly replied as she was focusing on the glowing screen, erasing another pixel, adding in some more colour… “It’s a gourd.” “I know. It’s weird. It looks like a brain.” Her voice seemed bored and slightly irritated. She always had a condescending accent when I used to ask silly questions, and even though I knew how much she disliked my smattering tendencies I always liked to listen to her illuminate my lacunae. At that time of the night and after so many glasses of sparkling fluids I wanted her full attention. I knew I was being a child, but her tendencies for taking care of “unfinished business” before going to bed exasperated the hell out of me. I loved her for that and, at the same time, I felt some sort of sick jealousy on that piece of unfinished, unedited drawing. I left the gourd on the window sill, caught a final glimpse of the night – there were no stars, I hate it when there are no stars in the sky – and went up to her. I leaned to the computer screen, over her shoulder, close enough to smell her freshly washed hair – I was always in love with the smell of freshly washed hair – and continued nagging… “So…these are like…pixels? These small dots over here…” She continued fixating the screen and quickly answered “Yes, those are the pixels…” “Oh, so now…” “It’s not a big deal, really, just some finishing touches. Not the heavy editing, anyway. You can go to bed if you’re sleepy. There’s no need to wait for me.” I kept staring at that annoying screen. Every pixel turned white dot by dot and the edges of the scanned drawing where sharpened. I felt like an idiot standing there, but the sound of the mouse, the sound of her fingers on the mouse relaxed me like nothing else. And there was, of course, the smell of her hair, the soft texture of her dirty blonde hair that made me dream of a rather starry summer night, that wouldn't keep me closed in the apartment, away from the sounds of the night, in front of the screen that was stealing my beauty away. 

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Mirror Wall, take 2

Remembering is a skill. I wanted to keep that in mind every time something good happened to me, and mostly after I left home. Being able to remember where I was coming from, who I “really was”, the people I left behind, the beauty of the life that was before I came here … that was really important to me. I strongly believed that, in essence, in my very core, nothing would change. I was obviously wrong. It’s not really me that has changed, not drastically. But keeping everything in mind doesn’t necessarily mean that you can keep it in your life. Most of my previous life has become nothing but a memory and just a couple of ghosts from the past still haunt the corridors of my mind, letting me know that they’re still there, waiting, craving for a piece of me, never letting me go, not completely, prohibiting me from sinking into blissful oblivion. I never really noticed that before today. Sitting by the window, I remembered. I realised that I want to hold on to my ghosts, feel them once or twice before exorcising the last remains of my past, trying to hold on to a present that has proven more than unkind to me. Try to hold on to her...

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Mirror Wall, take 1

The clouds were falling and the sun hid behind a running mist. The sky started watering. As my mind kept a state of confusion, drops of water and snow were falling straight towards the ground, or to the left, a bit to the right, bouncing in the wind, trying to escape an imminent faith. There was an undecided light, and the seagulls were flying under a sky that gave a hint of a rainbow. Soon to be gone, yet for a minute there I thought that some divine sign would get me out of that state…Waiting, watching outside my window how nature chose to prank the park, the creatures, my state of mind. You could say it was a beautiful day, since the sun was fading behind smoky clouds and the rain was taking over. There were sounds of sirens, the sound of the wind blowing nervously through the branches. Dried leaves that survived on the fall and the winter were clinging still, stubborn, shaking yet not letting go. Like old people who want to live one more day to see their grandchildren or great-grandchildren born. Like a circle of life in a picturesque tableau, but this time more like one of those modern installations that drag you in the midst of everything. Soon it has stopped. The wind ceased to be nervous, while the clouds have exhausted their watery resources. February induces a state of misery that should not be found in the human being. As everything dies out completely, you become lost...almost losing all hope for rebirth and renewal. You just give everything up. Completely dead on the inside, you expect nothing and you see nothing but confusion, despair and darkness. Yet there it was, that hint of a rainbow. The coffee got cold. As I got myself lost in contemplation my coffee went cold, my music stopped and I think my heart skipped a beat. That day should have been a beautiful day. It was Monday. Again. Monday of the new beginnings, I used to call it. Everything starts on Mondays. I just guess that not that day, though. Not that day...

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It's time

            The middle of the night, as I always have loved it...I started writing viscerally because now it's the time. I'm going to start the work on my first novel and/or collection of novellas, either both or whichever my imagination allows. 

             I'm glad that all my other distractions are gone and I am now ready to dive, head-first, into one of the most amazing and most important projects I've set to finalise. The hard part will be to do it while juggling with work applications, and while trying to convince myself that, in the end, this will become my job. Or will it?

             In the meantime I will feed my creativity with lots of music, meeting wonderful new people, work on some other projects involving writing and hunt for the perfect job...Hello, summer plans!

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Swing Republic @Ny V58

Aarhus is a vibrant city when it comes to cultural events and live music. I mean there is almost always something going on and there are plenty of venues and styles to chose from. Whenever you think you've discovered everything the city can give you, there's always something more, something different or something challenging. Yet the occasions of scoring a good concert for free (even if there are plenty of venues with low prices) are very rare. Last night I thought I hit jackpot when I stumbled upon a free electro-jazz gig with a DJ set follow-up in Ny V58, a newly opened venue which replaced one of the "hip" places in town, closed down because it went bankrupt.

I was curious to feel the vibe, the "night scene" outside my usual hangout places and, mostly, I was really anxious to spend my night listening to some awesome gig for free. (Well, they had a one-hour window, after that entrance fee was charged)

My friend and I managed to get there for the free entrance, and boy was I surprised to notice that we were the first ones there. (Everybody likes free stuff, I mean...right!?) On the upside, they did not force you into leaving your stuff at the wardrobe, like other places do. But man, the place was desolate. There are some places which look cool even empty, yet this was not the case.

The next 45 minutes actually showed me why the old V58 went bankrupt and the new one will probably follow soon... The prices are somewhat high, even for Denmark. Especially compared to some of the other venues. But hey, it's a "hip" place...even though it looks nothing like one. It might have just been me last night, but the place lacks some serious personality. Not that the other venues are any inspiration, but damn if you want to charge more for drinks, it better look nice. Which it doesn't, really.

But beyond the dull atmosphere and the expensive booze, the worst part of the evening was the music. While the artists seriously deserved a good atmosphere, the 30 people in the room were just not enough for what followed. The last thing you want to fuck up at a concert is the sound. And that's pretty much what happened last night. Wile the jazz-swing-electro modulations were a bit too loud for the size of the room and the amount of people in it (who were doing anything but dancing) the lead singer had a pretty bad time making herself heard. And boy did she have a great jazz/blues voice. And a really vibrant personality. Yet the most she could get out of the audience was some squirming movements while trying to focus on hearing her from under the boost of the instrumental. Too bad. 

Trying to pretend you have a party going on when you don't it's probably the most pathetic thing you can do at an event. I've tried it before, and it's not fun. 

Last night just showed how a good gig cannot save an evening. How expensive stuff doesn't make your place special. How refurbishing a place and sticking the word "Ny" (new) in front of an old brand does not guarantee quality. How no matter how good the artist, if the event organisers sucks you might just as well call it quits. 

Maybe some people liked it. Maybe I wasn't in the mood. Maybe I am just too picky with my events. But boy I have never been happier that I have not paid for an event in a looong time. Some places should have a "money back guarantee", especially if they end up fucking up your Saturday night. At least this time it was for free.

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I love it when I put berries in my cereal and the milk turns purplish, making it look like a surreal symphony of colour in my bowl. And it kinda looks like I'm having alien soup for breakfast. Top of the morning!