Busing through Sydney

Did I enjoy my stay in Sydney? No. At first I was fascinated, I even decided to stay an extra day. But during my five days there I got more and more confused as to why anyone would want to live there and so I started asking people. Most of them answered something along the line of 'I'm born here', 'my family lives here', 'I'm studying'. And always ended with 'I'm leaving soon!', or 'I want to leave'.

Though I feel bad for the general population, 4.5 million - which is about the same as all of Norway (and a lot of us seem to dislike Norway to the same extent, and also stay), their lack of passion only made me more frustrated with Sydney. With Norway, if you can be bothered (to open your eyes/to be aware), there is so much to love. I'm sure there must be a lot to love about Sydney! I will take the full blame for not figuring out the city. Okay, so I've blamed myself (which is the responsible thing to do), and then I will quickly take the blame and throw it to the next man/woman; whoever worker at the hostel who, when I asked about the city's bus system because I know that when a city is huge you need to know how to get around, told me to not take the bus. Avoid it. Stay off it. It is slow. It will take you nowhere. It's a no-good bus system. Look the other way when a bus drive by you. I imagine this person spitting on the buses of Sydney as they pass.

Here's my advise: Don't avoid them. They're very slow downtown (you might as well walk) but this is essential if you want to get around to the best places. I think. Because I never got there. But I hope so for Sydney's sake. Because their Central Business District is not enough. It is not what a girl wants. To get to what a girl wants you need to take public transportation. This girl also thinks of public transportation as a goal. Not only is it nice to get places, it is also my favourite way to travel. It's an easy way to get up-close with so-called 'locals' - this amazing creature that lives everywhere. On a crowded bus you can sniff strangers without seeming weird (depending on how obvious you are), and feel like you've found the real thing. I didn't feel that way in Sydney. And I think the biggest mistake I made in Sydney was to not get (on) the bus service right away.

Instead, I saw the worst of Sydney. Except of a short list of vegan restaurants (below) I have very little to recommend from my stay there, only a festival, but that's over now. (That is; the specific one is over, but it reappears every now and then: Newtown Festival.) Instead my advice is simply to get on a bus. And take the ferries! And the trains; they will take you a lot of places. But don't be afraid to get on the bus when you get off the train. Don't keep walking when your feet are sore just because you think there's something wrong with the buses. The buses of Sydney are fine. Really. Don't let anyone tell you different.

Here are the short listed vegan cuisines of Sydney, as of November 2011. I'm writing this (!NOVEMBER 2011!) because I did the research and made a long list of places to go for lunch and dinner, but after walking around not finding anywhere to eat (whole buildings where gone) I realized the list might only be a blast from the past. I felt like I spent a lot of time roaming the street of Sydney for vegan food, and roaming could be a good way to discover the city but I have no recollection of what I saw because I don't see when I am hungry. I hunt, and I see nothing else but food that need not be hunted. However, when I found it it was always great. Never in my life have I had so much and so amazing mock meat.

Peace Harmony Vegetarian Thai Restaurant : 44 Erskine Street
Good service, good food. Actually; really good food! And a really good lunch deal! Because it is in the CBD it is closed outside of lunch and dinner hours, as well as weekends.

Mother Chu's Vegetarian : 367 Pitt St
Mother Chu's was close to my hostel, and so I had dinner there more then one evening. Solid, might be the best word for this place. Huge portions and really well made food.

Green Gourmet : 113 King St
I found this place on my last day in Sydney, because I was in Newtown for the festival. And I would have loved to go back, but didn't have the time. Probably the best mock meat I had in Australia. And I got a huge pot of tea to keep me company! Relaxed place with good service.

Iku wholefood : multiple locations
I don't know them all as I only went to two different ones, but the two where both good for take out/stay in lunch. A bit on the expensive side, but the macrobiotic diet will keep you full through the day.

The vegan food at Newtown Festival.

As a vegan in Oslo you will always have the best food in your own house. This could have lowered my expectations so much that I would like anything when eating out, but I know what I'm doing in my own kitchen, and I've found that vegan food is so good that I probably have higher expectations to restaurants now then before. Australia was the first place I traveled to as a vegan, and I was pretty amazed. The places I've listed aren't just places to go stuff your face so you can keep on moving, but the food is really good! Just like Sydney, you can think of food as that stuff you need to get over with so you can keep on getting somewhere else, or something you are aware that you are spending your time on. In my view awareness is the foundation of real enjoyment. And though I am sad to say I made Sydney mostly was a chore for me, I hope this can help others enjoy the city! And eat well while you're at it.

Mooching through Melbourne

When I got the chance to leave Oslo in November and December, I took it. Not because I haven't had a good time there this fall, I have. But it's hard for me to find the balance; to uphold my everyday life, and spend sufficient time in my imaginary world, the fictional universe that is my novel. I booked a ticket to Australia. I traveled this far because of my friend D, who has opened her home to me here on the Gold Coast. D shares her bathroom with me, despite the fact that she thinks flossing is impossible without spreading today's menu all over. She also shares her bed, her bike, her kitchen, not to mention her mangoes - which goes to show how hospitabel she is, because the mangoes here are so good you really don't want to share them with anyone. If she was right about the flossing I would consider devouring the mangoes a second time.

After trying many variations I've found that writing for a month at a time works for me. So when I arrived in Australian springtime, with almost seven weeks to go before I had to head back to the Norwegian winter, I decided to spend my time well; load on with new experiences, new thoughts, and new faces. I was hoping to see lots of "crazy places off the highway", but my writing itinerary, nor my wallet, nor my lacking drivers licence agreed, so I ended up following the tourist trail, and so it was: Melbourne - Sydney - Byron Bay. During my stay on the Gold Coast I´ve also had time to visit Brisbane for a couple of days. More about that later, this is about mooching through Melbourne.

Upon arrival I knew very little about the city. Though I know how much more I get out of a trip when I've done research I hadn't found the time before I left Oslo. Luckily, I was able to sneak in through the backdoor, but had it not been for T, who sent me plentiful tips on where to go, who were correct that my taste is much like his, and directed me to St.Kilda, Abbotsford and Fitzroy, the Immigration Museum and the National Gallery of Ian Potter Centre, and a long list of other places; had it not been for LaMaga, who opened her home for me, a crazy, turquoise house filled with openminded people (and an openminded dog), took me to a CS-picnic in Darling Gardens where I met other friendly Melburnians (and wannabe-Melburnians) who showed us where to eat proper vegan food in Fitzroy and took us to the wonderful Village Festival in Edinburgh Gardens; had it not been for B, who came with me to an exhibition and shared his views on the many Aboriginal paintings, played backgammon with me on the sunny riverbank, and showed me the inside of a casino (a venue I would have never thought up to visit on my own!); had it not been for these people, it would have been a lot harder for me to enjoy all the wonderful bits Melbourne has to offer. Without them I would not have felt so at home that I am tempted to say I lived there for five days. In fact, Melbourne was so homely and I was so well taken care of, I felt like I only started traveling when I got on the night train to Sydney.

I found Melbourne to be an extremely liveable city; cultured and friendly, bikeable, fun, passionate, dedicated, relaxed, and creative. Had it not been located so far away from Oslo I could have seen myself living there for a while. It also has some excellent food options for a vegan like myself. Traveling I´ve never thought it easy to find great places for food just like that, but even finding a place just to have a bite can be hard when you're vegan, and therefore ample research is needed. Which won't help much if nobody writes about the good food they eat, so I thought I'd share. For anyone who desperately is typing vegan food Melbourne good? into their phones tiny search field like I´ve done a number of times, hunger driven and a bit crazed, this is for you. I was happy to find that many restaurants in Melbourne are vegan friendly. However, only a selected few achieved the sought after recommendation of Le Palais de Hanna.

Young Green Food

421 Brunswick Street, Fitzroy

Though you've had all the ingredients before, you might not have tried these combinations. My salad was creatively mixed, and, though when I flicked through photos from YGF online I see that I might be wrong about that, I remember it being served in a beautiful wooden bowl. I was very hungry by the time we got there... Some might deem my judgement clouded by extreme hunger hallusinasions, but my fellow diners agreed that the food here really is something, and with friendly staff and good atmosphere, this place is many times better than it looks at first glance. (Make sure you don't pass it, as the restaurant storefront doesn't really scream for attention.)

VegieBar

380 Brunzwick Street, Fitzroy
Though you've probably had all the ingredients before, you might not have been able to make them taste this tasty. At VegieBar they're also served by someone who knows how to make food look like a work of art. The place is very stylish and the atmosphere nice, relaxed even during the hectic lunch hours, the staff are friendly, and the prices decent. It's also one of the biggest vegetarian restaurants in Melbourne so there's (I would guess) always free tables.

Anything as Lentils

(multiple locations, I went to St.Kilda & Abbotsford)
You had me at "fundalentalist"! The sticker I saw in the hallway of Anything as Lentils in Abbotsford made me grin. The smile stayed plastered though the line was long. And when a line leads to a buffet as extensive as theirs, and it is by donation only, one should wear a smile - the staff hand them out for free anyway! I'm sure the many smiling guests would agree that the food tastes great. And don't forget to try the chai soy-latte!
(While you're in the vicinity check out Yara Bend Park in Abbotsford. It's a beautiful park, so go for a walk there if you have time.)

Even more than the city gave me a feeling of homeliness, it felt familiar; like I'd already walked those streets, in San Francisco, Berlin, maybe even Bergen (the weather sure is similar). As SF's cuter, younger sister (less drugged down mental patients regarded as a definitive plus), a city I spent a month in just half a year back, it would be a surprise if Melbourne managed to surprise me greatly, especially when I was just staying for five days. Apart from the amazing vegan food, I didn't come across anything that I haven't seen the likes of before - though the people I met in Melbourne were both new, and extraordinary; amazing people who would make any city better. As earlier noted, without them I would not have found many of the specific places and areas I ended up going to.

They also helped shape the way I saw the city, as they walked the streets with me and my curiosity; passing small houses and large parks, the city business district and the river, as I felt the colours and lost myself in thought for a second, looked at the bikes and the people, absorbed the atmosphere, and asked a bunch of questions - which they answered to the best of their knowledge. I was impressed by, and attracted to, how proud its inhabitants seemed to be of Melbourne. Along with everything that is hard to put a finger on right away, all of the above may ensure that Melbourne will puzzle me for a long time; like a book that does not give the answers one might seek and hope to come across easily, but instead helps us look at the patterns and details in the seemingly abstract, and feel our way to sewn or split seams, paints pictures with words, tickle our curiosity, and hence create a foundation for further thinking that allow us to discover the complexity in that which we think we've already seen.

Story

I see storytelling in everything.

The most common place to look for stories is where they are approached in artistic ways, presented in many different forms; books, movies, music, dance, illustrations, spoken word. But we also find stories in lectures and written curriculum, we find them even in the way we present statistics. And then there are the stories we tell ourselves; the narratives we draw up about our own lives.

Recently I've chosen to start eating vegan. Apart from changing my eating habits, it might also affect the way I tell myself. Do I consider it a strictly personal choice? A political statement? A fashion statement? Do I tell myself that I am better than the people who choose differently, or do I think eating habits doesn't make people better or worse? Do I tell myself that I will help change the world because of it? Or do I question whether my actions have any affect at all? Do I get angry with myself for not having made the change earlier on, or do I tell myself I should be proud for making the choice at all? Or a little bit of all of the above?

When your husband forgets to do the dishes, does it mean that he doesn't love you? Enough, or the right way? Does it mean that he doesn't respect you? Or that he's just lazy? And if you're okay with his laziness, or his lack of respect, what does that say about you?

Did I miss the buss because the line at the ticket office was longer than I expected? Or because the universe is involved, creating obstacles that make it hard for me to be on time? (Someone called the second I was gonna leave, my wallet was still at the office when I left, my jacket was not where it's supposed to be.) Or simply because I didn't plan my time the way I should have? And if that is the case, is it because I am a lazy asshole who doesn't care if I am late to meet my friends? Or because that's just the way life is sometimes - things take time, and unforeseen events occur.

The answers to these questions don't change the facts; I eat the way I do, the dishes have not been done, and as I go back for my wallet I see the bus driving away. But the different answers we give will create stories that affect the way we perceive ourselves; they say something important about us, and might also dictate the way we see the world, and the people around us. But no matter who they tell, or what they tell, or how they are told, they're stories. Some stories are well told, others are not, some open our eyes to a side of things that we haven't thought of, others are deliberately told in a way that convey only half the truth.

We are bombarded by stories every day. Though we live in the information age many who should consider storytelling at least a part of their payed job do not bother learning the craft. But no matter what we're supposed to do while on the clock I think we all should consider ourselves storytellers on the home front.

It is quite rare to come across someone who seems to take the craft of storytelling seriously. So when I do, it makes me extremely happy. And I try to learn from them. The best storytellers both have something to say, and says it in an interesting way. But there are a million ways to tell a story. And in my view, there are a million interesting things to tell. Doubtless, there is a matter of personal taste to what stories we like; if we find the theme interesting, or if we appreciate the way the story is told, but that doesn't necessarily have anything to do with the craft.

Depending on how we think of the word 'best', the best story ever told can be anything from the personal details we only tell ourselves, to the stories that touch countless hearts, and end up traveling the world between book covers, on stage, on screen, on canvas, or through head phones. I believe that when a storyteller is curious about 'something', provided she follows her curiosity all the way; no matter how sad or uncomfortable, or even seemingly mundane that 'something' appears at first (or second) glance, she'll will find something that is worth telling. And told the right way, personal stories can have universal resonance and appeal.

The Moth - true stories told live, are filmed and recorded in front of a live audience, so the occasional laughter and sighs you hear are real. But I download them as podcasts, and what I like about The Moth is the simpleness - a story told without any help but the storyteller's words and voice. There is nothing to hide behind; there is nothing that will enhance your story, except the way you tell it. A craft one can learn, but some seem to be born with a talent. I am not one of them, and so I am fascinated by those who are.

Every now and then you'll hear mind blowing stories at The Moth, but seldom any that alter the fundamental way you perceive the world, or leave you pondering who you are, throwing you into an existential crises. (Luckily.) What you get is a lot of good stories, about (more or less ordinary) everyday life. Listing my favourites I could list most of them, as they're generally really, really good. Only a scarce number are not good at all, and the rest is really good, or at least good. Here's one link though, to get you started; Salman Rushdie talking about what he did to finish a novel, when he had writer's block.

Another place I go to for a steady flow of well told stories is This American Life (TAL). Each week they choose a theme, and during the hour long podcast they bring us stories on that theme. The show makes for excellent company while I'm in the kitchen cooking, or when traveling. TAL's hilarious take on being broken up has made me laugh through my tears more than once, and left me with a newfound love for Phil Collins. The episode about life after death is a curious search into a complex and abstract theme. But the stories make it more tangible, and the episode made me ponder about life before death. I had long been wondering about what money is? when TAL asked the question. The answer? Here you'll find out more about the invention of money.

The Moth and TAL both master the craft of storytelling. But most of the stories they tell are begging to be told. That does not lessen the craft of their work, this is simply a transition; there are also interesting stories that are not as easily told. Facts about the universe, statistics, research about humanity and ideological thinking, abstract subjects or ideas, that would rather beg you to study them thoroughly. Some of them would even be like: I could create the basis for an interesting PhD. And still, some people tell us these stories with such ease I cannot but applaud them.

On TED.com you find interesting talks about a wide range of topics. Though maybe not PhD material, this is one of my favourite talks, and in my view a good example of a great storyteller; Benjamin Zander about music and passion. (linked to youtube instead of TED, because the video for some reason is better there.) I don't mind classical music, but I don't listen a lot to it, and I know even less about it. Zander knows his audience might be much like me, and tells his story directed at us. He draws me in with laughter, and fills my head with new thoughts that stay with me for much longer than the 20 minute talk.

The latest contribution to the bookmarks folder on my computer labeled 'great and inspirational storytelling' is RSAnimate. They tell complex ideas in such a simple way I was inspired to write this post. The first video I saw of theirs was this one:

It blew my mind. Possibly (a little bit) because I'd, only a month earlier, had a similar idea of animating essayistic thoughts, but never seen it done this way. And it worked the way I imagined and hoped for, making it possible to talk about very complex ideas, without loosing peoples attention.

There is a lot more of great animated videos where that came from. Though he is not animated, at least not in that way, I'll let Timothy Wilson end this post. Here he is talking about how we can transform our lives by redirecting the stories we tell ourselves:

New kind of life

A crime author once said that he never wrote about actual events, because real life often is so extreme that when reading about it in a book no one would believe it possible. The terrible events in Oslo and at Utøya nearly three weeks ago became a reminder that unbelievable things happen, unthinkable deeds are being carried out. But even when it comes to life's positive parts I find it true - though I've always thought myself quite imaginative (and writing a novel there's no doubting I believe in the power of day dreaming/fiction), during the last months I've done things I thought I'd never do. I find that both an important lesson, and the greatest thing about life, that there is always more; more options, leading to more adventures, and more amazing experiences. With every broken heart, Rilo Kiley sings; we should become more adventures, and I try to live by that.

Some of these things I've not done before because I was too afraid, some just because. I'd never imagined myself getting a tattoo (just because). But I've always needed reminders, even for the most important things, as I think it is easy to lose perspective and let the wrong things stay in focus; for years I've put up post-its on my walls, notes on my hands, reminders on my phone, telling me to dance, breath, live, dream, so I guess it was just a matter of time. (For me, the tattoo symbolizes many things, one is that it resembles a boat (if you're pretty far away from my arm, squinting your eyes and add some goodwill, that is). I am that boat, metaphorically speaking.)

But there's also the being too afraid - past decisions that I now understand were primarily fear driven. I have read two important, life changing books this year, How to be an existentialist: or how to get real, get a grip and stop making excuses is one of them. It made me realize something important: That I don't believe fear is something we can ever get rid of completely - it is a part of being human. I now see all my fears as a response to either of the aspects that our human condition implies. For sure, they can be scary, but they can also be... not scary. And besides, we can't do much about them, so we might as well take them into account. To list some; a basic fear of death, a lack of control in many of life's circumstances, the fact that we can always choose the way we respond to them (scary, but also empowering, if you ask me), then the scary thought that no one has ment any of this, meaning anything can happen, and we might not be able to ever make sense of it all. Not to mention my own role - seemingly as important and unimportant as yours; though I know I have been important to many people, if I die tomorrow, I know they have a choice to move on, and be happy, in the future. (And I hope they will choose that.) When I fear something now, I trace it back to these basic conditions, and then I think 'ah, well, you're just afraid of how unimportant you are?' or 'oh, you're just afraid of dying?'. Makes sense, and it's a legitimate fear. But what you gonna do about it?

I believe we have to choose a meaning of our own, and I want to be content. Which is not a wish with a static need; sometimes I want to go traveling, sometimes I want to see my family back home, and so I need to check in with myself quite often to know that I am sailing in the right direction. Sometimes my long-term and short-term wishes are conflicted, but as long as I question why I choose what I choose, I am pretty sure I am heading where I want to, or at least in that general direction. To find my way, there are some things I make sure I steer away from; I know that I will not be content if I let my fear of being unimportant steer even a little of my pursuit of happiness, towards the dangerous underwater rocks, by the name of trying to be "important". Or if I let my fear of death stop me from traveling; we all know flying is less dangerous than driving a car, but airplanes tend to remind me of how frail life is, and my fear can feel significant, important, even foretelling.

However, once I started thinking differently about life, and its basic conditions, I found it impossible not to admit these strong emotions simply as fear, and how I have let them stop me in the past. I don't think I am more afraid than the next person, but I am very aware of my fears now, and for me admitting them was the first step towards not having them stop me anymore, from leading the life I've dreamed of. I believe I have always been free, and looking back I regret some of the things I have freely chosen for myself. Now that I am aware, both of my free choice and my fear, I can no longer choose to let fear be my captain (or is map reader a better metaphor? I'm sure you're getting the gist of it anyway, but if you're not, don't be afraid to ask!). I now choose where I want to go, and what I want to do, blowing a positive wind into my own sails; though they're still there, and probably always will be, the waves of fear cannot as easily get me out of balance.

Fighting my fears by doing what scares me the most (yeah, it is the only way) has made this an amazing summer. There's the small things; like wearing shorts, though pale as ghost, the summer bringing a gradual change, going from ghost to boiled lobster to tan like a... well, still quite pale, but happy wearing shorts. Eating and drinking whatever new I come across, despite, and because, there is no guaranty it will taste good or familiar. And swimming whenever I get the chance, though afraid of sharks (and other, unknown sea creatures). Sharks in Croatia? And what about Norway? Lakes? Come on, that's not very logic! But logic is not what fear is about, and fighting fears is hence not a logical, analytical exercise, it's a hands-on, practical battle, and sometimes you need to throw yourself in the water without knowing its temperature, depth or content.

And then there's the bigger decisions; like spending a month alone in Berlin, and traveling alone for the days in between meeting up with friends, here and there. These are things I thought I'd never do, but secretly dreamed about for a long time. I've always known I'm content in my own company, but I used to fear how scared I could become when it gets dark, and I am alone in a place far from home. Home... I've never really felt at home anywhere, it has always been about being close to certain people. Upon leaving London in March, after thinking of it (and the people) as my home for seven months, looking for another home seemed urgent. And for the first time discussion arouse whether it is better to make people or cities our home, or if it's even possible; and what about hobbies? Jobs? Could that be an option? Since then I've come to the conclusion that if I want to be really content, and exercise my freedom in a healthy way, I can't keep looking for an external home, I need to find peace of mind; a quiet place within, and the balance to ensure that the boat that is me will be safe no matter what storms I encounter, no matter if I am at open sea, traveling alone, or traveling with fellow boat friends close to the shore line. Though my days of looking for a home mainly in others are over, I feel lucky knowing I have safe havens all over the world; wherever I have friends or family, there I find places I can be myself, and in that sense feel at home.

The month before I went to Berlin, I was in Oslo, and one sunny afternoon I sat reading at the dock, when a friend came biking by. He's one of these people that you only run into; it seems to be the easiest way to get a hold of people like that, but when you do it's great to see him, and since last he's quit school, is writing a novel, and now lives on a boat. After a couple of hours of good conversation you have to leave because you're late (again), when he grabs your arm and says; I have a book for you. I got it back just a couple of weeks ago, from someone who borrowed it years ago, and I thought "I have to find someone who needs to read this". And then I thought, "no, someone who needs to read this will find us". And that's you.
That's how I got my hands on Become what you are. A collection of writings about Eastern philosophy, for Westerns. On the back it reads: "Life exists only at this very moment, and in this moment it is infinite and eternal. For the present moment is infinitely small; before we can measure it, it has gone, and yet it exists forever. . . . You may believe yourself out of harmony with life and its eternal Now; but you cannot be, for you are life and exist Now." The metaphysical aspects, often conveyed far from our everyday language, made it a challenging read. But I still warmly recommend it, as it is packed with things you'll probably intuitively recognize, after reading some pages. Some sentences twice, but still. I don't know about you, but I've often felt out of harmony, both with life and its eternal Now, and I needed a reminder that I am not.

Looking for peace of mind, that essential inner balance, spending a month alone in Berlin; getting a routine of daily yoga, getting up early, writing and reading, was perfect. In fact, Berlin was many times better than I could have imagined it to be. There were even days I felt in touch with both life and its eternal Now, at the same time! I know what you're thinking; I manage to do yoga daily because I am so zen all the time! No, that's obviously not the case... I mainly do it because I've forced a habit (for me, that seems to be the best way to get into any good habit) on my body, so that when I am lazy and don't do my routine, I feel it - after two days without, my body will tell me that it is not happy. Yoga provides a balance that feels essential, but I don't go into meditation mode and stay there. It's not like I am listening to Pan Flute Music the rest of the day. Instead, the balance keep me content with being all of this human that I am. Quite often, luckily, it involves listening to chaotic, energetic, impulsive, creative music.

A week before leaving the German capital I discovered tUnE-yArDs album w h o k i l l. Leaving Berlin ment less time to listen to music, but some songs of hers have been the soundtrack of my travels none the less, her beats in the back of my head, her lyrics on the tip of my tongue. The first two songs of the album that got stuck in my head were My Country - I was still in Berlin when I was biking, humming, drumming the beat on the steering wheel, singing and re-singing the only part of the song I remembered;
The worst thing about living a lie
is just wondering when they'll find out


and You Yes You - again biking, humming, drumming, singing;
If home is where the heart is baby
Then my home is inside you
I don’t need a linen room of diamonds
Yeah a chicken shed will do

Throw your money on the ground and leave it there
You, yes, you

tUnE-yArDs is now officially on the list of bands I want to see live.

Though days of solitude and writing dominated my time in Berlin, I met some great people already before I started the "real" traveling. And I've realized (the now obvious) that for me one of the great things about traveling is meeting people. Spending six extra hours on a delayed train from Prague to Budapest is not that terrible when sharing train compartment with three entertaining and friendly Brits. Getting your towel stolen in a bath in Budapest, mine the oldest and most worn out of the three towels on the bench, is okay when both your friends lend you 1/3 of their. A strange man wanting to show you his penis when you are trying to have a leisurely walk down from the Gellert height, you're default response being Come on, dude (in an angry voice), leave you and your friends with a good laugh, rather than a bad experience. It would have been hard to laugh about that alone, I think.

Accompanying me from Budapest to Zagreb, Ljubljana, all the way down to the Croatian island Korcula, Dubrovnik, into Montenegro, and back to Dubrovnik where I flew home from three weeks ago, was the song that has turned out to be the "hit" of the trip; tUnE-yArDs' Killa. In fact, I was about to publish this post the afternoon of the terror attack on my home city Oslo, and the title then was New kind of killa, referring to the song, but as you can see I have changed the title. The post has also grown from being a for the love of music and traveling-post, quickly aging, and hopefully maturing, into a for the love of life-post. Regardless, I see the new title more fitting, because I believe it is not the fight, but a different (and hopefully better) way of life that is the goal. I see me fighting my everyday fears as the small scale of what Norway is doing now - choosing a meaning when everything feels meaningless, fighting our fears when anger and anxiety threaten to get the best of us. I've chosen to fight myself first - my fears, my prejudices, my thought patterns and my bad behavior; because I want to be at peace both with myself, and with others. To me it is a proud fight to not let our fears get the air supply they need to spread the worst of themselves.

This summer tUnE-yArD's songs succeeded in putting into rhyme and rhythm some of my scattered thoughts, that needed a beat for me to hum them out loud, in order for me to realize them myself. Her music has come to represent an empowering journey, and a strong feeling of freedom and joy.

Can't you give me something that will keep
I think about the world is right
and even if you can't deny
Then something that will suit me

Although I don't think we will find any coherent meaning in what happened on July 22th, I think we can find meaning in life again. Hopefully, even a better way of life. For me, the strange, but gripping music of tUnE-yArDs, sometimes chaotic and wildly schizophrenic, sometimes accurate and revealing, has been oddly cathartic this summer. Perhaps her voice and lyrics can be the same for others. If her lyrics don't speak to you like they have to me, let the rhythms invite you into her playful universe!