On urban localism

Tokyo is one of those places that doesn't always feel very large despite the fact that its population is one of the largest for any city in the world (depending on how and what you count). As an urban area, it's obviously HUGE with its 30 million people. But the place I'm currently living in, however, doesn't feel very big at all. Perhaps the considerable local-ness of Tokyo is what made me feel so at home here right from the start? Below are a few of the things that comprise my local community.

The Mori Tower. My favourite skyscraper.

Roppongi Crossing

Traditional meets modern, at the Imperial Palace/Hibya

Hibiya at sunset ♥

One of the oddest buildings I know, right in my neighbourhood

Because every pet needs that special attention, right?

Temple with a basketball net? But of course. 

Geisha barbie and all her friends @ the spa...

Stairway to heaven? Maybe not, but there is a temple at the top

The mandatory temple cat 

I thought this was interesting, in all its moldy, broken beauty

Messy, noisy, trafficky, and YET local...

I ♥ local Tokyo :)

On timing

I believe I mentioned that I moved? I probably did in a parenthesis somewhere. If not, I moved. To a bigger, better place, you will surely think. Well, it’s not bigger… Everything in my new apartment has a timer on it. And by everything, I mean everything. The stove has a timer, so that if you as much as try to cook your rice or bake your pizza more than the requested time you plot in on the timer, the stove will just shut itself off. The electricity plugs in the kitchen have timers. The kitchen fan – timer. I’m fairly sure they would have installed a timer in the bathroom as well, but fortunately they took to their senses and installed a magazine shelf instead.


I get why there are so many timers, though. It is a student housing apartment, with many other identical apartments in the same building, and in the building next to it and in the building next to that. So if one scatterbrained student leave the oven on and burn something that triggers a fire alarm, it not only triggers his alarm, but the alarm in the apartment under him, the apartment above him, across the hall, basically, the entire building (and possibly the building next to it and the building next to that one). You get the picture. Fire alarms in general = bad. Fire alarms in a building with a multitude of tiny apartments where the inhabitants are students whose minds generally are preoccupied either with complex academic problems or questions such as where the next keg party will be = big problem for a LOT of people. Thus, the timers are supposed to restrict our assumed frequent setting off the fire alarm.

All that is good and well, but it is also slightly annoying when you are cooking and constantly have to pay attention to make sure your timers are timed. If you are planning any long-time projects (such as a roast; not that I have ever made one) you are in for a challenge.

I am not a very ambitious cook, but I do like to play around in the kitchen, and I do not appreciate it when external forces (such as timers) spoil my plans.

Yesterday I was looking through my kitchen cabinets, wondering what to make for dinner. Since the cabinets are tiny (like the rest of the apartment), I did not have a lot in them. I had oatmeal, some wholegrain flour, rice, a can of beans and an impressive collection of tea. (I am exaggerating slightly, though not on the selection of tea. I could open a [tiny, though, as the rest.. Yeah, you’ve already heard that] teashop. But the reminding items in my cupboard were of little importance, and so I shall refrain from mentioning them. Don’t be nosy!)

With the limited selection in front of me, and no desire to go to the grocer, I had very few options. Thus I decided to make oatbeancakes. What are those? I am so glad you asked.

Oatbeancakes are what someone who only has oatmeal, some wholegrain flour, rice, a can of beans and an impressive collection of tea at hand, but who is fortunate enough to discover an egg in the fridge, can make to stifle hunger. I also found pepper (though no salt – you’d think I’d been able to nick that from the student cantina along with the pepper, but as it turned out the beans were quite salty, so it was actually fortunate that I didn’t).

I set the rice and the tea aside, and then mixed the rest together (crushing the beans to my best ability). I soon had what resembled a dough that could be formed to small burger-like clumps. Not the most appetizing mental image, I’m afraid, but in reality it didn’t look too bad. Now it only needed frying. I’ve been told that the best tool for frying things would be a frying pan. This was the moment I remembered that I am not in the possession of a frying pan.

Actually, I am in the possession of a frying pan. But it does not live with me at the moment. You see, the frying pan I have is a very large one (in fact, it is almost twice as large as my apartment. Almost). Thus I had sent it back into storage, determined to buy a smaller frying pan at the first occasion. Unfortunately that occasion have not yet arrived.

I am not helpless when it comes to finding alternate solutions, however, so I decided that if you don’t have a frying pan, you’ll have to use a regular kettle/pot/pan/whatever you call it in English (my kitchen vocabulary isn’t the best. What in the world is the English word for hjulvisp, for instance?). I found one, I put it on the stove and I waited for it to heat up. Only it did not. Why? Because of the stupid timer! The timer I had not set! By the time I figured this out I was almost hungry enough to eat the oatbeanclumps (they only turn into oatbeancakes once fried, you see) raw. Luckily I was able to stifle my hunger by nibbling some dry tea leaves instead, and not long thereafter I could enjoy the rest of the meal. By then I was so hungry that I hardly realized that the oatbeancakes tasted exactly like they were made of oatmeal, wholegrain flour and crushed beans mixed together with an egg. So you see, timing is essential!

On BuNoWriMo

I’ve been in a partly self-imposed “no-blog-mode” lately (partly, because there also have been things out of my control that kept me away; like moving, and no internet at the new place the first few days, and family commitments, and an intense obsession with the show “How I Met Your Mother”…). I realized that if I ever was to make my June 1st deadline for the next chapter of my thesis I had to stop spending so much time complaining online about how slow my progress was. Also, since my funny mood as of late has been continuing (and the only thing I really want to do when I’m in that mood is to go hermit, which I now have the luxury of doing in my own home), I didn’t feel like gracing the internet with my presence.


I have gotten some work done on my chapter (yay!), I have gotten installed in my new apartment (yay!) and I have internet again (y… nay? Yay-but-with-a-hestitation-because-I-know-this-will-slow-my-progress-down-nay?). While I fully intend to retreat back to hermit mode as soon as this is written (only interrupted by the hours I have to be at work), I did have a reason to type this today. June 1st is a big day, not just because I get to say bye-bye to my chapter for a few days (wish I could say for life…), but also because that is the day that the Burrow is launching this year’s greatest event – BuNoWriMo! It’s gonna be LEGEND – wait for it – DARY! (I really have watched too much “HIMYM”…)

Those of you who have been suffering with me for a while will know that back in November I allowed myself to be talked into participating in NaNoWriMo. NaNoWriMo (short for National[though it has long since become international] Novel Writing Month) takes place every year in November. The purpose of NaUhmHowDoYouSpellItAgain is to write a novel of 50 000 words in just one short month. It’s crazy, and yet it is also quite efficient, since the short time frame and the support of other participants really make it seem possible (and it is – in 2008 more than 21 000 participants managed to complete the task). Last year many of my blogging friends, including several members of the Burrow (my writing group, which I am sure by now most of you know all about) participated. A few of them proved that it is possible to write a novel in one month. Some proved that participating in NaWhatWasIt was the kick-start they needed to finish a novel shortly thereafter. And some of us proved that November really is a sucky month to try to achieve the impossible; especially if you are working in retail where the holiday season in crazy as it is, if you are working in or taking any kind of education where November often is terribly busy because of pending exams, and especially especially if you are doing both (yours truly). I never finished my NaNoWiP in November, and it’s been hanging around on my hard drive ever since, feeling sulky and abandoned.

Since the Burrow experienced a certain amount of success in last year’s NaNoI’mNotGonnaTryToThinkOfMoreCleverWaysOfSpellingItFromNowOn, it was suggested that we should try to host our own novel writing month. After all, if it is possible to write a whole novel during one month, in theory you should be able to write eleven more that year, right…? While twelve-a-year might be a stretch, a second one-month-written novel should definitely be possible to achieve. And since we’re the ones hosting it, we get to decide when. June was much more convenient for several of us, and so it was decided. We even made our own catchy name (with a few elements borrowed from the original) – BuNoWriMo.

To make the experience even more fun (if you can call giving labour to an elephant fun, which is the best comparison I have at the moment to how momentous the idea of writing anything at all feels, after having struggled with this ruddy chapter for way too long) and rewarding (after all, who wouldn’t want to become an author – I am sure they all make as much money as Dan Brown) – (I just completely killed that sentence and impossibilized ending it in the fashion I had planned... Let me try again…)

To make the experience even more fun and rewarding we are inviting others. That is right, others, that means you! There are not a lot of rules (the normal NaNoHingISaidIWouldn’tDoThisAgain rules apply, except that we’re starting June 1st and finishing on June 30th. We’re not terribly strict on rules, though, as will be clarified below). The only unabandonable rule is that you have to have a Facebook account to participate, as we figured making a separate message board/website/physical-access-point-equally-easily-accessible-from-anywhere-in-the-world was too much of a hassle. Thus we are doing all the motivational group dances and such from the BuNoWriMo Facebook Group. Anyone can join, but we are at the moment asking people to request invites to make sure that the organizational phase goes as smoothly as possible (actually, it is so that we can be sure that Stephenie Meyer doesn’t join. Just kidding. No, I’m not. I think I am). This means that you kind of have to have a Facebook account to participate, but I don’t think it means you have to be/become our Facebook friend (though you can, if you want to. I’m trying to be inclusive here…). One suggestion from Tami over at Confessions of a Watery Tart is that you create a pen name Facebook account if you don’t want to mix your personal profile with your secret novel writing alias (or, you know, if you are Stephenie Meyer).

Finally, if you’re thinking that you’re not up for writing a whole novel in June, or if you are wishing that you instead of being asked to start a new project could just get some motivation to finish an old one, this is also the place for you. We love our rebels in the Burrow, and just as NaNoNoNoStop!Please! offers a route for those who just want to join in but not stick to the rules, so do we. Personally I struggle with finishing things, not beginning them. So I thought this might be a good opportunity to finish last year’s NaNoSeriouslyNotDoneYet?WorkInProgress. I’m starting at 15 000 words. If I end at 65 000 that would be awesome, but I would be very happy if I touch the 50 000 mark as well. Frankly, I’d be happy to get anything written at all. I’m hoping that the community spirit, the locked time frame and the brief pause from my thesis might be just what I need to get cracking.

So, have I convinced you yet? If you, or someone you know, or even Stephenie Meyer, have a desire to join in on the fun (and stress and panic and anger and sleeplessness and back pains and caffeine addiction), contact me or any of the other Burrow members with your Facebook account name, and an invitation shall be sent in your general direction.



The BuNoWriMo logo is designed by Joris Ammerlaan, who can be reached at "jorisammerlaan at gmail dot com"

On and off again

My blogging dependability goes up and down like a roller coaster when that little something I like to call “Life” (with a big L) gets out of hand. It doesn’t necessarily have to do with how busy I am – I managed to keep a regular routine in October last year, for instance, even though I was up and down and all about trying to make the most out of my last month living in the US. The last few weeks I have not acted very busy, and yet it felt as though my stress levels were at an all time high. I felt busy. I should have been busy. But in reality, I only was mentally busy.


Friday was the day I should have celebrated that two years of hard work on my thesis was over. Instead, I was celebrating that most of my friends were done with their hard work. Don’t get me wrong, I was very happy for them. But there is a special kind of bitterness reserved for occasions when you should have been happy for yourself and only get to be happy for others. I managed to keep a brave face for most of the celebration, and rationally I am perfectly capable of admitting that postponing my thesis is not a defeat but a wise decision seeing as this way I’ll be able to actually write one… However, I can assure you that most of the drinks I had on Friday were not celebratory ones, but drinks intended to drown sorrows (which they quite efficiently did, even if I have always been told that sorrows can swim).

That was Friday. Then came Saturday, when I had a few friends over, again largely to celebrate them finishing their theses (while mine has been largely dormant for a while. I think my blogging dependability is similar in essence to my thesis writing dependability. Life gets in the way, somehow). However bitter I might have been deep down inside, though, I had a good time on both Friday and Saturday. Great friends and great wine saw to that. On Sunday, however, I paid the cost for having drowned sorrows two days in a row, and the only thing I could muster the energy to do was bake a cake. Why, you say? Well, surely, you didn’t think we were done celebrating just yet?

On Monday it wasn’t university related, though. May 17th is Norway’s Constitutional Day, which we famously celebrate more thoroughly than most nations. There are national costumes (the bunad), children’s parades, flags, marching bands, hotdogs, ice cream, singing, games, alcohol, cakes (aha!), and general festiveness involved. Most shops, any public offices, hing - even private offices, banks and museums and whatnot – they’re all closed. Everyone has the day off, everyone dresses up, everyone participates in the celebrations. Oslo, a remotely populated city in international terms, suddenly becomes Bombay or Tokyo. There are people everywhere. I spent close to 20 minutes crossing the street, and 20 more trying to locate some friends I was meeting in a space no bigger than 100x50 meters. So it’s crowded.

I had a great time, as I always do on May 17th. It did nothing to help me get my mind back into the right frame for blogging and/or writing my thesis, though. And the fact that my laptop has been showing signs of early dementia did not help.

I’ve gone through (more than) my share of laptops the past few years. Yes, I use my laptops all the time. No, I don’t think that should be a reason for them breaking down all the time. My first one, Laptop the First, was brand new when I moved to Oslo six years ago. It stood with me through thick and thin, it travelled continents and it fought on my side when I battled term papers during my first years at the university. However, three years old it decided that enough was enough. It very nearly died several times, and when I took it to get it repaired, there was nothing they could do. They informed me that it would slowly be reduced until one day it would be entirely dead.

Sad as that was, I couldn’t go laptopless (a term my friend Tara coined a while ago), now could I? So I invested in a new machine. It was shiny and new and wonderful and – broken. Right from the start. I took it back. They claimed I only needed to reinstall the operative system. I think I did that three times, along with several other attempts to figure out what was the matter with Laptop the Second. After eight months, however, I finally managed to convince the shop to take it back and return my money. Thus, I went looking for Laptop the Third. Laptop the Third and I immediately hit it off. We’ve been together for a year and a half now, and once again I felt that I had found a friend that would support me through thick and thin. Only then it stopped doing that. With a dead battery a laptop is not very reliable, so when I took it back to the shop I knew that I had to be without it for a few weeks at least. Which suited me very badly, seeing is my laptop is my number one working tool and I have a deadline coming up.

The prospect of being laptopless for even a short time (especially right now – had I trusted Laptop the Third to live through the next month without crashing completely I might not have acted rashly) was terrible. I have for some time been ogling those mini laptops that you can practically put in your pocket. Even though Laptop the Third is relatively small, it is still heavy to carry, and having to transport it back and forth to the university all the time is not very good, for me or the laptop. A smaller laptop, though, could easily fit into any bag or backpack, and if I had two I wouldn’t actually have to carry either anywhere at all. I could keep one at home and one at the university.

I probably would have bought the mini laptop at some point anyway, but having to let go of Laptop the Third for a while made me hasten my decision. I can’t really afford it. I don’t strictly need it (I have access to computers at the university, after all). But I really, really wanted it. And granting myself things I want is one of my favourite tactics to ignore sorrows and stress…

Yup, we’re back at the stress part. One final thing that has been weighing on me lately is my pending move to a new apartment. I have been very happy/very unhappy with my living arrangement the previous six months. Unhappy because they decisively are “arrangements”. Sharing an apartment with a friend will always lead to some tension, but doing do when the apartment only has one bedroom… Ah. NO privacy;, no opportunities for “I am feeling gunky because of my stupid thesis and I want to sit in the dark in my own room and cry”; and very little control over your own situation, really. On the bright side we’ve had shared dinners, we’ve had weekly Glee-downtime together and we’ve danced to Madonna at one AM just because we could. Besides, I have come to appreciate the area. Living downtown made me feel insecure and claustrophobic at first, but now I like being able to walk everywhere (except the university, which is what I will be able to access on foot from my new apartment), I love the parks, the shops, the cafés, the people. I think my new neighbourhood will probably suit me even better, but right now it only feels remote.

Regardless of where I move to or from, however, I hatehatehate the process. Packing everything down, not being entirely sure what you’ll need and what you can let go… Most of my stuff have lived in boxes for a year, so I barely remembered what I owned. Now I need to figure out what t I should take with me, what I should leave behind and what it is time to throw out for good. Transitions such as these are probably good to clear your mind (and clean up your storage space), but I never seem to get past the disorganized mess before there is order. I only hope I will be able to get sorted out quickly, so that my new home will feel like a home.

When Life with a big L, with all its small (laptopmess) and big (moving; thesis failure worry syndrome) events take charge it becomes almost impossible to keep a cool distance to it all. I find myself unable to blog, unable to write, unable to work. It is a passing condition, I know from experience, and so I promise with confidence that I will come back stronger in all these aspects. In the meantime I shall try not to let Life get the better off me, but at the same time let it control me a little. Because sometimes Life just means taking the day off, sitting in the sun, eating ice cream.



For the record, I did buy a mini laptop today (how else did you think I was writing this?). Laptop the Fourth is cute, but I sense that it is merely a fling until Laptop the Third is back in my arms again. It will be handy having two laptops, and the eeny-tiny feeling wears off surprisingly fast (it now seems normal sized, after having typed up this post). But it doesn’t feel like the Laptop of my Life.

On playing house

I can remember from when I was a kid that I used to play house – while I wasn’t the type to host tea parties for my teddy bears and dolls, I would “cook” in my playhouse, make a little house in my bed with blankets and pillows, or create huge mansions for my Barbie dolls. Even when I played with Lego, it was always about the house. Decorating and making it comfy for those little plastic figures. I think it’s a matter of nesting, and I think (but correct me if I am wrong) it’s mainly a girl activity.


When I first moved out of my parents’ house at eighteen, this interest was revived. Even if the student housing I moved into was of the dodgier kind – including a neighbor with whom I shared a bathroom, a kitchen and supposedly cleaning duties (but I don’t think he knew the meaning of the word “clean”) – I tried to make my room as comfortable and cozy as possible. One year later (after having sworn never again to move in with any man unless he had passed Cleaning 101), I moved into an apartment with two friends from my hometown. In reality, this was to be my first home away from home. The four years I spent in that apartment (with a short break when I was in Japan), will probably go down in history as “the happiest of my life” – the time I look back to with longing when I am a hundred and five and senile. We had some ups and downs, of course, but at least this living arrangement allowed me to nest as much as I liked.

When our landlord needed his apartment back last spring, I decided to make a pit stop back with my parents for a few months, in order to save some money before I went to the US. Since April this year I have lived in temporary homes (even if one of them was my childhood home), and my nesting abstinences are rapidly floating to the surface. Thus, when I was moving back to Oslo where, how and to what mattered.

As mentioned, my student housing experience wasn’t the best. I was not at all happy about the idea of moving in with some random stranger. Thus, the only student apartments I applied for were the ones where you have your own bedroom, bathroom and kitchen. No sharing with strangers for me. However, these apartments are popular (others have had similar experiences as me, doubtless), and first year students have priority. I applied in September, but I have not gotten any replies yet…

Finally, the solution ended up being one I had not considered a couple of months ago. A friend of mine happened to have a big apartment all by herself for a while (actually, for no one, since she’s currently abroad) and thus I was able to move in. It’s a strange experience to move into an apartment where you have visited, but never with the intention of moving in, and especially when you are doing so without the people actually living there present. I’m looking forward to my friend coming back (even though this means I’ll have to move out of the bedroom and into the living room), seeing as I feel like something of a trespasser even if I know that is not the case. In the meantime I’ll do my best to play house in her house, and make myself as comfortable as possible.