Ein kommunsitgarasje på veg til skulen, og ein sveitt, veldig rar mann.
torsdag 18. oktober 2007
måndag 8. oktober 2007
Life and Times in the Crown Jewel
Ladies and Gangsters!
How is everyone? And on that note, I would like to comment that our little blog is getting an absurd amount of hits, but hardly any comments. Are you all very shy, or is our blog simply so informative (or dull) that there is nothing left to say?
But I digress. Obviously, my topic is us, not you. So: Life in Pondi basically consists of fairly everyday'ish week days and some weekend adventures. To begin with the latter, a weekend trip to the Nilgiris Mountains was quite a highlight. Some 15-20 of our group traveled by bus (almost 15 hours on the way there), which was fun but hardly comfortable. Some people were displaying great imagination in trying out potentially comfortable positions to sleep in, with varying success. Others sat quite still drinking liqour for the very same purpose, also with varying success. When we finally arrived Kodaikanal (roughly spelled), the bus ordeal was immediately worthwhile. At 2000-something meters above sea level, southern India is surprisingly similar to Norway. Astonishing scenery, in other words. We spent the weekend doing some hiking, some swimming and loads of bonfire cozy time (including singing, drinking, pantomiming and the occational falling into the fire). All in all a highly successful trip, and a big hand for Christian for primus motor'ing the whole thing!
Another reason for why our mountain trip was quite a relief was the weekend before, which was spent in Chennai. Chennai, or Madras, is a bloody big (some 6 million people), noisy and smelly city. It was good fun though, and a huge change from peaceful Pondicherry (by Indian standards). I met another Bollywood dude who has so far offered me to dub an (entire) movie to English, and to participate in a 3-day filming in Hydrabad. Unfortunately, poor timing and Promises to Keep forced me to decline both offers. But the Bollywood Dream lives on.
That's about it for the weekends. The last one was less eventful, except for some energetic partying last Friday (to those whom I promised not to do any climbing in trees and the likes while I'm here: I'm sorry). Needless to say, among the 60-something Norwegian youngsters gathered in a farmhouse outside of town (the whole thing was set up by our co-ordinator down here, most likely for the purpose of giving the neighbours in Pondi a rest), a number of people behaved far short of gracefully. But no blood, no foul.
As for the week days, we have settled in nicely, adjusting well to the Joy and the Madness of India. Also, school work is increasingly a priority as it is time to do some serious work on our group assignment (which is what I am supposed to be doing right now). I'm optimistic, though, we've formed a good group and I think the dissertation (the working title of which is something like "Corruption in India as an Obstacle to Positive Peace") will be quite interesting. We expect it to be published and for sale in all major book stores just in time for your Christmas shopping.
As for extra-curricular activities, I must shamefully admit that I stopped attending the Bollywood dancing. I have, however, joined the Volleyball Committee, who's task is to arrange a volleyball tournament between the students, as well as an all-star match against local heroes (due to poor attendence at practice it seems fairly clear that we are the underdogs in this match-up). Sigurd S, on his part, is in the Children's Day Committee, who are arranging sort of an activity day for local kids upcoming Saturday. Should be a nice 17th-of-May kind of thing. Except of course from the speeches and Norwegian flags.
Wow, this is turning out to be a rather long blog post. Still, I thought I would write a little something about Indians.
Indians are odd. They are also, to generalise absurdly, the most generous people I've ever met. Examples include our security guard who has repeatedly invited us to share his lunch (not to mention invited everyone in our house - some 35 people - to his son's wedding), one of our lecturers, Sudha, who has been overwhelmingly eager to help everyone with their assignments, and loads of others who have invited people to their homes and offered to help in any way imaginable. Some take this a bit far, just yesterday I am quite sure this guy we met on the beach offered - besides repeatedly trying to give us money - to assasinate anyone who bothers us. Not to mention the guy who has, out of clear blue sky, named an orphanage after our friend Marte and a friend of hers whose contribution is limited to being in a photo the guy has seen. A less dramatic gesture was afforded by another guy we met on the beach, who 60 times in half as many minutes shouted "I like this man! I like his body!" to our friend Anders K, each time while laughing hysterically.
Like I said: odd.
For those of you who managed to read this whole novel of mine: Go well, be well!
Sigurd B
"If there is one place on the face of the earth where all the dreams of living men have found a home from the earliest days when man began the dream of existence, it is INDIA"
-Romain Rolland, French Scholar
How is everyone? And on that note, I would like to comment that our little blog is getting an absurd amount of hits, but hardly any comments. Are you all very shy, or is our blog simply so informative (or dull) that there is nothing left to say?
But I digress. Obviously, my topic is us, not you. So: Life in Pondi basically consists of fairly everyday'ish week days and some weekend adventures. To begin with the latter, a weekend trip to the Nilgiris Mountains was quite a highlight. Some 15-20 of our group traveled by bus (almost 15 hours on the way there), which was fun but hardly comfortable. Some people were displaying great imagination in trying out potentially comfortable positions to sleep in, with varying success. Others sat quite still drinking liqour for the very same purpose, also with varying success. When we finally arrived Kodaikanal (roughly spelled), the bus ordeal was immediately worthwhile. At 2000-something meters above sea level, southern India is surprisingly similar to Norway. Astonishing scenery, in other words. We spent the weekend doing some hiking, some swimming and loads of bonfire cozy time (including singing, drinking, pantomiming and the occational falling into the fire). All in all a highly successful trip, and a big hand for Christian for primus motor'ing the whole thing!
Another reason for why our mountain trip was quite a relief was the weekend before, which was spent in Chennai. Chennai, or Madras, is a bloody big (some 6 million people), noisy and smelly city. It was good fun though, and a huge change from peaceful Pondicherry (by Indian standards). I met another Bollywood dude who has so far offered me to dub an (entire) movie to English, and to participate in a 3-day filming in Hydrabad. Unfortunately, poor timing and Promises to Keep forced me to decline both offers. But the Bollywood Dream lives on.
That's about it for the weekends. The last one was less eventful, except for some energetic partying last Friday (to those whom I promised not to do any climbing in trees and the likes while I'm here: I'm sorry). Needless to say, among the 60-something Norwegian youngsters gathered in a farmhouse outside of town (the whole thing was set up by our co-ordinator down here, most likely for the purpose of giving the neighbours in Pondi a rest), a number of people behaved far short of gracefully. But no blood, no foul.
As for the week days, we have settled in nicely, adjusting well to the Joy and the Madness of India. Also, school work is increasingly a priority as it is time to do some serious work on our group assignment (which is what I am supposed to be doing right now). I'm optimistic, though, we've formed a good group and I think the dissertation (the working title of which is something like "Corruption in India as an Obstacle to Positive Peace") will be quite interesting. We expect it to be published and for sale in all major book stores just in time for your Christmas shopping.
As for extra-curricular activities, I must shamefully admit that I stopped attending the Bollywood dancing. I have, however, joined the Volleyball Committee, who's task is to arrange a volleyball tournament between the students, as well as an all-star match against local heroes (due to poor attendence at practice it seems fairly clear that we are the underdogs in this match-up). Sigurd S, on his part, is in the Children's Day Committee, who are arranging sort of an activity day for local kids upcoming Saturday. Should be a nice 17th-of-May kind of thing. Except of course from the speeches and Norwegian flags.
Wow, this is turning out to be a rather long blog post. Still, I thought I would write a little something about Indians.
Indians are odd. They are also, to generalise absurdly, the most generous people I've ever met. Examples include our security guard who has repeatedly invited us to share his lunch (not to mention invited everyone in our house - some 35 people - to his son's wedding), one of our lecturers, Sudha, who has been overwhelmingly eager to help everyone with their assignments, and loads of others who have invited people to their homes and offered to help in any way imaginable. Some take this a bit far, just yesterday I am quite sure this guy we met on the beach offered - besides repeatedly trying to give us money - to assasinate anyone who bothers us. Not to mention the guy who has, out of clear blue sky, named an orphanage after our friend Marte and a friend of hers whose contribution is limited to being in a photo the guy has seen. A less dramatic gesture was afforded by another guy we met on the beach, who 60 times in half as many minutes shouted "I like this man! I like his body!" to our friend Anders K, each time while laughing hysterically.
Like I said: odd.
For those of you who managed to read this whole novel of mine: Go well, be well!
Sigurd B
"If there is one place on the face of the earth where all the dreams of living men have found a home from the earliest days when man began the dream of existence, it is INDIA"
-Romain Rolland, French Scholar
måndag 17. september 2007
Sånn er livet.
This is how we look now, and we are supposed to be like this for one week. The Elf in the middle didt'n believe us, so she has to be an elf for four days, after she lost the bet.
Me har begge kjøpt oss det tradisjonelle plagget Longi, eit slagt skjørt for menn. Det er svært luftig å behageleg å gå med. Her poserar eg utanfor den svære gull-golfballen i Auroville rett nord for Pondicherry.
Hair
... has been something of a recurring theme for this semester so far. That one, however, is "to be continued": stay tuned for upcoming blog post from Sigurd S!
This leaves me, to be completely honest, without that much to write about. Things are simply going swimmingly. The course is rather interesting, we (still) haven't been sick (though we have both had a couple of nasty sunburns, as will be illustrated with photos), social life is abundant and India is just spectacular.
I've been urged to write more about India as such, beyond our narrow perspective, but it's bloody difficult. The cliches are true, though: it's noisy, smelly, colourful, crazy, utterly magnificent and impossible to describe in words. I'll simply leave this to be told by our photos (hoping that they do, in fact, speak thousands of words).
To return to current affairs, it might be worth mentioning that we have signed up for a couple of extra-curricular activities. Sigurd S is doing Indian cooking, and is enthusiastic so far. His more or less subconscious reason for attending is of course the same reason why any man anywhere ever does anything: he thinks this will impress girls. Undoubtedly, this theory has its merits. Personally, however, I think my chosen course teaches the True Path to any woman's heart: Bollywood Dancing! Granted, so far I've only attended once, and it was equal parts amusing and embarrassing. Still, once I manage to shed any remaining sense of dignity, I'm certain I will reveal a tremendous talent for this delicate art form.
It's time to do some actual studying (we've recruited the cream of the crop among out fellow students for our upcoming group assignment), so it's good day and good luck for now.
Sigurd B
"The air was full of Thoughts and Things to Say. But at times like these only the Small Things are ever said. The Big Things lurk unsaid inside."
- Arundhati Roy, in The God of Small Things
This leaves me, to be completely honest, without that much to write about. Things are simply going swimmingly. The course is rather interesting, we (still) haven't been sick (though we have both had a couple of nasty sunburns, as will be illustrated with photos), social life is abundant and India is just spectacular.
I've been urged to write more about India as such, beyond our narrow perspective, but it's bloody difficult. The cliches are true, though: it's noisy, smelly, colourful, crazy, utterly magnificent and impossible to describe in words. I'll simply leave this to be told by our photos (hoping that they do, in fact, speak thousands of words).
To return to current affairs, it might be worth mentioning that we have signed up for a couple of extra-curricular activities. Sigurd S is doing Indian cooking, and is enthusiastic so far. His more or less subconscious reason for attending is of course the same reason why any man anywhere ever does anything: he thinks this will impress girls. Undoubtedly, this theory has its merits. Personally, however, I think my chosen course teaches the True Path to any woman's heart: Bollywood Dancing! Granted, so far I've only attended once, and it was equal parts amusing and embarrassing. Still, once I manage to shed any remaining sense of dignity, I'm certain I will reveal a tremendous talent for this delicate art form.
It's time to do some actual studying (we've recruited the cream of the crop among out fellow students for our upcoming group assignment), so it's good day and good luck for now.
Sigurd B
"The air was full of Thoughts and Things to Say. But at times like these only the Small Things are ever said. The Big Things lurk unsaid inside."
- Arundhati Roy, in The God of Small Things
torsdag 6. september 2007
Bryllaupsbileter...
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