I realize that it's been awfully quiet on the blog since I packed up my apartment in Fremont and shipped myself and my things back to Sweden. Now that I'm here, I've had some time to reflect on my time in the United States (and elsewhere). Lots of great memories, of course! One of the many things that amused me during my self-imposed expatriation was the Americans' enthusiastic use of diacritical marks—umlauts, mainly—in places where one would not necessarily expect them. I started ”collecting” these little oddities early on, thinking that it could be fun to eventually share them.
Ladies and gentlemen, I believe the time has come—but first, a small disclaimer: this post might not make much sense to the non-Swedes. On the other hand, perhaps there is something to be learned? (Nah, not likely.)
The first example, which most people probably know about already, is the snack bars by the brand Lärabar—simply pronounced ”lara bar” by the locals. The same producer has another line of fruit/nut bars with the double-dotted name über. Why not just call them ”snäck bärs” while you're at it?
Evidence of further umlauting is often found in the candy isle...
...and, to my surprise, also among the wines. How about a fine bottle of aged Pölka dot with that Seitan Roulade with Chestnut-Champignon Stuffing?
Another family of goods with a strong preference for extra dots and dashes are hair and body care products. Just look at this collection of items, found at the local pharmacy:
The more diacritics, the less dandruff? More dots, less frizz? Göt 2b kinkier—now that's a winning name.
After applying that first-class Jāsön shampoo, perhaps you need a fashionable scrunchy to complete the look? Hmm, let's see... Wait, here's one!
Ah, there we go. Next, a collection of random items that made me giggle over the years:
A soft neck pillow from Clöudz:
A cozy candle from Cløve:
Bling stickers (limited edition!) from Colorbök:
If it's metal it's gotta have umlauts— I found Camöuflage in Canada.
Perhaps some power vinyasa after that? The folks at häutēyoga seem to know what they're doing.
Music maestro Buzz Brümp knows how to attract a keen audience to Tractor Tavern.
Another Canadian gem: Blue Ångel.
North America isn't the only place for misplaced dots; in Costa Rica, kölbi is the biggest and oldest network provider. Vamös juntos!
Finally, a colorful mural from my old hoods. I'm not 100% sure that it's actually a misplaced umlaut, but I kind of like the idea that it's saying LAMA G's Cäfe.
Ådiōs, fölks!
Showing posts with label Silly. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Silly. Show all posts
Tuesday, September 8, 2015
Wednesday, August 5, 2015
[Intermission]
”Folks, I apologize for the lack of stunning views over Kachemak Bay, impressive mountains in Denali National Park, and flowering hillsides by Skilak Lake. I...”
”But you promised!” you interrupt, with an accusing glare. ”You promised we would see it all.”
I stare at my toes, nervously shifting my weight back and forth. Left foot. Right foot. Left foot. Right foot. You’re clearly not letting me off with a warning this time.
”We demand pictures! High-resolution photos, preferably, but if it’s going to take forever to upload them then a simple sketch will do. Or a diagram. Perhaps a model, made out of clay? Anything!”
I take a deep breath.
”I promise...” My voice is cracking. ”I promise to give you what we agreed on—I just need some time! Won’t you please give me some more time?!”
The silence that follows is almost unbearable. Suddenly, you shrug, smirking. ”Sure, why not—you’ll get a few more days. But you’d better not disappoint. We won’t be as understanding, next time.”
Baffled, I slowly back away, thanking you over and over in an incoherent ramble; Swedish, English, possibly a bit of Danish. Leaving the room, I turn and start running, my mind blank except for one single thought: how the hell am I going to make a clay model of Resurrection Bay?
”But you promised!” you interrupt, with an accusing glare. ”You promised we would see it all.”
I stare at my toes, nervously shifting my weight back and forth. Left foot. Right foot. Left foot. Right foot. You’re clearly not letting me off with a warning this time.
”We demand pictures! High-resolution photos, preferably, but if it’s going to take forever to upload them then a simple sketch will do. Or a diagram. Perhaps a model, made out of clay? Anything!”
I take a deep breath.
”I promise...” My voice is cracking. ”I promise to give you what we agreed on—I just need some time! Won’t you please give me some more time?!”
The silence that follows is almost unbearable. Suddenly, you shrug, smirking. ”Sure, why not—you’ll get a few more days. But you’d better not disappoint. We won’t be as understanding, next time.”
Baffled, I slowly back away, thanking you over and over in an incoherent ramble; Swedish, English, possibly a bit of Danish. Leaving the room, I turn and start running, my mind blank except for one single thought: how the hell am I going to make a clay model of Resurrection Bay?
Saturday, July 4, 2015
E pluribus unum
Happy birthday, USA! Much can be said about many things, but in the end there is no denying that you are a pretty spectacular country. Thank you for being my home for the past three years! Thank you for embracing this funny foreigner, and for sharing your wealth and beauty.
This has been one crazy ride, America—I will miss you greatly when I leave. Here's to the red, white and blue!
This has been one crazy ride, America—I will miss you greatly when I leave. Here's to the red, white and blue!
Sunday, June 7, 2015
The Amsterdam Art Report
Please follow me on a short art walk through the halls of Amsterdam's Rijksmuseum, zooming in on some of their collection highlights.
As some of you may know, their most famous work of art—their crown jewel, their pièce de résistance—is Rembrandt's Militia Company of District II under the Command of Captain Frans Banninck Cocq, or as most people call it, The Night Watch (1642).
Here it is, in all it's glory, as captured by my crappy cell phone camera. Mmm. Aah. Exquisite!
Ok, done.
Now, let's move on to some more interesting pieces in the same hall. First, I want to focus on Militiamen of the Company of Captain Roelof Bicker and Lieutenant Jan Michielsz by Bartholomeus van der Helst (1639). More dudes with hats and guns—okay, okay we've seen that already. But hey, what's this? Ruffles, tassles, pom-poms, rosettes...? These guys are fancy!
Seriously, these gold-fringed pants and lace socks deserve a closer look.
Dude, you're rocking that outfit.
All right, what else is on display here? How about Militia Company of District XI under the Command of Captain Reynier Reael, a.k.a. The Meagre Company, Frans Hals, Pieter Codde (1637). My eyes were instantly drawn to the solemn guy on the far right—his ability to look so extraordinarly glum whilst being wrapped in that chic ribbon is really quite impressive. I'd like to think he spent many hours in front of the mirror working on that poker face.
Swank!
Another gem was found on the same floor, albeit in a different hall. You know how proud parents like to keep (embarrassing) pictures of their kids on the mantlepiece? It's hardly a new phenomenon; just have a peek at Portrait of Gerard Andriesz Bicker, Bartholomeus van der Helst (c. 1642).
There are so many things that could be said about this marvelous portrait, but I'm going to focus on two key points: i) the fact that the lovely Gerard, shown above, is twenty years old (twenty, as in two zero, 20, twenty!); ii) his clothes, which are described by the museum curators in the following way: "Gerard wears a colourful and showy outfit with a flat collar and elegant gloves." Showy and elegant, now that's just so Gerard!
Elegant is a word that is used also to describe one of my number one (perhaps the number one) works of art at the museum: Designs for Bathing Caps, H.Th. Wijdeweld (1885-1987). Again, let me refer to the curators' description of this collection of aquarelles: "These jolly bathing caps were inspired by aquatic themes. In the designs, seahorses, fish, and seaweed are draped elegantly around the head."
Draped. Elegantly. Around. The head.
This may be hands down the best thing I have ever seen. What better way to finish this short report? None. Thank you and have a good night.
As some of you may know, their most famous work of art—their crown jewel, their pièce de résistance—is Rembrandt's Militia Company of District II under the Command of Captain Frans Banninck Cocq, or as most people call it, The Night Watch (1642).
Here it is, in all it's glory, as captured by my crappy cell phone camera. Mmm. Aah. Exquisite!
Ok, done.
Now, let's move on to some more interesting pieces in the same hall. First, I want to focus on Militiamen of the Company of Captain Roelof Bicker and Lieutenant Jan Michielsz by Bartholomeus van der Helst (1639). More dudes with hats and guns—okay, okay we've seen that already. But hey, what's this? Ruffles, tassles, pom-poms, rosettes...? These guys are fancy!
Seriously, these gold-fringed pants and lace socks deserve a closer look.
Dude, you're rocking that outfit.
All right, what else is on display here? How about Militia Company of District XI under the Command of Captain Reynier Reael, a.k.a. The Meagre Company, Frans Hals, Pieter Codde (1637). My eyes were instantly drawn to the solemn guy on the far right—his ability to look so extraordinarly glum whilst being wrapped in that chic ribbon is really quite impressive. I'd like to think he spent many hours in front of the mirror working on that poker face.
Swank!
Another gem was found on the same floor, albeit in a different hall. You know how proud parents like to keep (embarrassing) pictures of their kids on the mantlepiece? It's hardly a new phenomenon; just have a peek at Portrait of Gerard Andriesz Bicker, Bartholomeus van der Helst (c. 1642).
There are so many things that could be said about this marvelous portrait, but I'm going to focus on two key points: i) the fact that the lovely Gerard, shown above, is twenty years old (twenty, as in two zero, 20, twenty!); ii) his clothes, which are described by the museum curators in the following way: "Gerard wears a colourful and showy outfit with a flat collar and elegant gloves." Showy and elegant, now that's just so Gerard!
Elegant is a word that is used also to describe one of my number one (perhaps the number one) works of art at the museum: Designs for Bathing Caps, H.Th. Wijdeweld (1885-1987). Again, let me refer to the curators' description of this collection of aquarelles: "These jolly bathing caps were inspired by aquatic themes. In the designs, seahorses, fish, and seaweed are draped elegantly around the head."
Draped. Elegantly. Around. The head.
This may be hands down the best thing I have ever seen. What better way to finish this short report? None. Thank you and have a good night.
Sunday, May 3, 2015
Looking up
I made it through to the other side! No, I didn't pass away from my common cold—this is not a ghost blog from the great beyond. I'm just happy and it's sunny and I can breathe through my nose again and won't have to wake up at night on a pillow soaked with drool because I'm forced to sleep with my mouth open.
Anyway. Woo-hoo!
(Let's not tell anyone that that purple thing I'm wearing actually is some sort of pajama, okay? They will never know unless you tell them.)
Anyway. Woo-hoo!
(Let's not tell anyone that that purple thing I'm wearing actually is some sort of pajama, okay? They will never know unless you tell them.)
Monday, April 20, 2015
GIF it!
Sorry, I can't resist blogging about Gäddan taking pictures of me instagramming. How many levels of meta?
(Photos by Gäddan, obviously.)
(Photos by Gäddan, obviously.)
Saturday, February 14, 2015
Happy VD*!
Apparently, Valentine's Day opens up an endless source of wit and inventiveness among sign makers in my neighborhood, as illustrated by this small sampling from my strolls today.
I abstained from both vodka and awkward blind dates but got some pretty tulips to add some color to my quarters.
In addition, I lovingly treated myself to a Big Daddy marshmallow from Theo; graham cracker crust, vanilla-infused caramel and a "fluffy marshmallow cloud" on top, covered in dark chocolate. Not too shabby.
Then what? Tears, and lots of them. Not from general blues this time, but triggered by The Imitation Game (recommended). In the darkness no one can see you cry, but they sure can hear you sniff and snivel... Somehow, it seemed like an appropriate ending to this Valentine's Day.
*Pun intended
In addition, I lovingly treated myself to a Big Daddy marshmallow from Theo; graham cracker crust, vanilla-infused caramel and a "fluffy marshmallow cloud" on top, covered in dark chocolate. Not too shabby.
Then what? Tears, and lots of them. Not from general blues this time, but triggered by The Imitation Game (recommended). In the darkness no one can see you cry, but they sure can hear you sniff and snivel... Somehow, it seemed like an appropriate ending to this Valentine's Day.
*Pun intended
Friday, January 30, 2015
Super pumped for Super Bowl
Someone asked me if Seattle is excited about Super Bowl coming up, you know, with Seahawks defending their title and all.
Short answer: Yes.
Long answer: YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAH!
It's kind of like this, all the time:
And like this:
And like this:
There are lots of 12th men and women out there, that's for sure!
Overall, Super Bowl is everywhere. For instance, Cake Wrecks is giving us Super Bowl Showdown, and Cute Overload lets Teddy Bear the Porcupine predict the winner (he/she/it better be right!).
Whatever happens, Sunday will be off the charts. Go Hawks!
Short answer: Yes.
Long answer: YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAH!
It's kind of like this, all the time:
And like this:
Celebrating @Seahawks on a beautiful #BlueFriday w/@SeattleCCA @project_violet @Obliteride @helpEndHIV #WeAre12 #SB49 pic.twitter.com/qj9lBOiQop
— Fred Hutch (@fredhutch) January 30, 2015
And like this:
Overall, Super Bowl is everywhere. For instance, Cake Wrecks is giving us Super Bowl Showdown, and Cute Overload lets Teddy Bear the Porcupine predict the winner (he/she/it better be right!).
Whatever happens, Sunday will be off the charts. Go Hawks!
Wednesday, January 14, 2015
Flash! Action! Wow!
A very brief report, just to let you know that I have not succumbed to some premature February heavyheartedness; I know that it's merely January, and the worst has yet to come. The sun is actually shining and I am actually getting some work done, although I must confess that I had some trouble snapping out of the holiday mode.
Heavyheartedness, that's an excellent word, by the way; describes the feeling exactly. But not yet! Not yet.
Anyway.
Q: So, what am I doing?
A: I keep staring at tiny pieces of lymph nodes, trying to 1) understand what I'm looking at, and 2) describe it.
Did you fall off your chairs out of excitement? Did you drop your tea mug to the ground, hot liquid splashing everywhere? Well, you should have; it's awesome. Yesterday I snapped some pictures of a very van-Goghian section, complete with squiggly lines, bold colors and post-impressionist vibes. The Starry Night has got nothing on this one:
I'm thinking about calling it The Blobby Goo, or perhaps The Shaky Nerves. Regardless, it's a fairly accurate description of my current innermost feelings. Any takers?
Heavyheartedness, that's an excellent word, by the way; describes the feeling exactly. But not yet! Not yet.
Anyway.
Q: So, what am I doing?
A: I keep staring at tiny pieces of lymph nodes, trying to 1) understand what I'm looking at, and 2) describe it.
Did you fall off your chairs out of excitement? Did you drop your tea mug to the ground, hot liquid splashing everywhere? Well, you should have; it's awesome. Yesterday I snapped some pictures of a very van-Goghian section, complete with squiggly lines, bold colors and post-impressionist vibes. The Starry Night has got nothing on this one:
I'm thinking about calling it The Blobby Goo, or perhaps The Shaky Nerves. Regardless, it's a fairly accurate description of my current innermost feelings. Any takers?
Thursday, January 8, 2015
A tiny world of wonders
Work, work, work. I'm looking at a lot of these right now:
Scanned microscope slides with sections of irradiated lymph nodes, showing various kinds of damage and other radiation-induced effects. Neat, huh? I get easily lost in this world of microscopic beauty.
Other than that, there is little news to share. I got my hair done yesterday.
(I hope you're taking notes.)
(If you are, focus on the microscope stuff.)
(Yeah, because that's, like, science.)
(Totally.)
...
(Ok, bye!)
(No, you hang up.)
(No, YOU!)
...
Scanned microscope slides with sections of irradiated lymph nodes, showing various kinds of damage and other radiation-induced effects. Neat, huh? I get easily lost in this world of microscopic beauty.
Other than that, there is little news to share. I got my hair done yesterday.
(I hope you're taking notes.)
(If you are, focus on the microscope stuff.)
(Yeah, because that's, like, science.)
(Totally.)
...
(Ok, bye!)
(No, you hang up.)
(No, YOU!)
...
Thursday, November 27, 2014
Things that make sense in some parts of the world
Holiday season is upon us! BRING OUT THE CHOCOLATE SALMON!
I just... I don't... No.
(Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!)
I just... I don't... No.
(Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!)
Friday, October 31, 2014
Hutchoween
Resident Evil meets 28 Days Later; walking through empty Fred Hutch corridors in late October is slightly disturbing and spine-chillingly exciting at the same time.
Shadows of a thousand years rise again unseen,
Voices whisper in the trees, ”Tonight is Halloween!”
- Dexter Kozen
Tuesday, October 21, 2014
A place to grow old
Swedes, help me out here; this is not a very good name for chocolate covered raisins, is it?
”Best ever!” I think not, Canada.
On the other hand, The Great White North is apparently a place where one can happily go to retire, resting safe in the knowledge that there is Bridge Mixture to be had. And before you ask: yes, they have Bassett's Liquorice Allsorts too (and plenty of it!) - it is the Commonwealth after all.
Rendezvous in, let's say, 40 years?
”Best ever!” I think not, Canada.
On the other hand, The Great White North is apparently a place where one can happily go to retire, resting safe in the knowledge that there is Bridge Mixture to be had. And before you ask: yes, they have Bassett's Liquorice Allsorts too (and plenty of it!) - it is the Commonwealth after all.
Rendezvous in, let's say, 40 years?
Wednesday, October 8, 2014
Hi mom!
Guess who's coming to town tomorrow? Mother Frost, that's who! If you don't know her, a quick Google search rendered the following images:
Mother Frost #1. A cheery lady! Not sure what's going on with the beater there, but I dig the headpiece. Swing it, momma!
Mother Frost #2. Um... Mom? I don't like tar. I'm not sure if... I mean... You know what, I think I'll just go now.
Welcome, mamma! Seattle is anxious to see you again.
Mother Frost #1. A cheery lady! Not sure what's going on with the beater there, but I dig the headpiece. Swing it, momma!
Mother Frost #2. Um... Mom? I don't like tar. I'm not sure if... I mean... You know what, I think I'll just go now.
Welcome, mamma! Seattle is anxious to see you again.
Thursday, September 4, 2014
Cotton wedding
Seattle, baby.
It's been two years now and I'm more in love with you than I've ever been. I know we kind of rushed into things in the beginning, but it was the chance of a lifetime and I've not regretted my commitment to you a single time.
Every day we get to spend together I find new things I like about you. The food you cook and the wine you make. Your morning freshness and evening glow. The wet kisses (although, admittedly, they are not as plentiful as rumor has it). Your warm heart.
Here's to another joyful year; here's to us!
Cheers, my dear Emerald City.
It's been two years now and I'm more in love with you than I've ever been. I know we kind of rushed into things in the beginning, but it was the chance of a lifetime and I've not regretted my commitment to you a single time.
Every day we get to spend together I find new things I like about you. The food you cook and the wine you make. Your morning freshness and evening glow. The wet kisses (although, admittedly, they are not as plentiful as rumor has it). Your warm heart.
Here's to another joyful year; here's to us!
Cheers, my dear Emerald City.
Sunday, August 24, 2014
Rollin rollin rollin
Wait, what happened to last week!? I'm way behind on the Ralph report, that's for sure... I'll just have to keep it short and snappy.
Saturday, two weeks ago: We went to roller derby! Then we had drinks and fun.
Hm. Okay. Maybe that was a little on the short side. Let's try again.
Saturday, two weeks ago: Ralph and I strolled off to Key Arena to watch two roller derby bouts. Sadly, our local teams lost both, but we had a swell time nonetheless. Rain of Terror (Rat City Rollergirls' non-WFTDA sanctioned travel team) were quite easily defeated by Bruising Altitude (174-248), but Rat City All-Stars put up a good fight against Minnesota Rollergirls (127-145).
Famished and thirsty after yelling and cheering for three hours, a quick decision was made to head towards the neaby 5-Point Café, one of Seattle's oldest diners. This unique little dive bar opened its doors in 1929 and is one of those places you either love or hate (at least judging by their reviews on yelp). In my opinion, you just have to take it for what it is; don't be a jerk and you'll have a great time. We ordered some tasty grub from a heavily bearded man in a dirty, washed-out tank top and decided that this was no night for artisan beer or fine wine; no, we aimed straight for the well drinks. If you're unfamiliar with the concept, well drinks are what you get if you walk up to a bar and ask for unspecified booze and soda. They're cheap, usually quite nasty, and are known to generate massive hangovers. Still, this was the path we chose.
Below is a compound pictogram describing my cranberry vodka drink. Note how the precise placement of the straw makes the first sip contain a perfect amount of cranberry juice; after that, not so much.
These guys are s.t.r.o.n.g. (And we had a few.)
Next, we wiggled our way back to Fremont, making a few stops on the promenade; first at the nearest 24-hour liquor store to obtain some high-end ultra delicious hand-made craft... er... alcopops as refreshment on our journey, and then by one of Lake Union's docks to enjoy said drinks while watching the stars and the water. And laughing quite a bit.
Best part: neither of us were even the slightest bit hungover the next morning. I'm hypothesizing that the sweet nastiness of the alcopops neutralized the hard-hitting power of the well drinks, but I'm not sure if I dare to try a replicate. It might be pushing my luck.
Saturday, two weeks ago: We went to roller derby! Then we had drinks and fun.
Hm. Okay. Maybe that was a little on the short side. Let's try again.
Saturday, two weeks ago: Ralph and I strolled off to Key Arena to watch two roller derby bouts. Sadly, our local teams lost both, but we had a swell time nonetheless. Rain of Terror (Rat City Rollergirls' non-WFTDA sanctioned travel team) were quite easily defeated by Bruising Altitude (174-248), but Rat City All-Stars put up a good fight against Minnesota Rollergirls (127-145).
Famished and thirsty after yelling and cheering for three hours, a quick decision was made to head towards the neaby 5-Point Café, one of Seattle's oldest diners. This unique little dive bar opened its doors in 1929 and is one of those places you either love or hate (at least judging by their reviews on yelp). In my opinion, you just have to take it for what it is; don't be a jerk and you'll have a great time. We ordered some tasty grub from a heavily bearded man in a dirty, washed-out tank top and decided that this was no night for artisan beer or fine wine; no, we aimed straight for the well drinks. If you're unfamiliar with the concept, well drinks are what you get if you walk up to a bar and ask for unspecified booze and soda. They're cheap, usually quite nasty, and are known to generate massive hangovers. Still, this was the path we chose.
Below is a compound pictogram describing my cranberry vodka drink. Note how the precise placement of the straw makes the first sip contain a perfect amount of cranberry juice; after that, not so much.
These guys are s.t.r.o.n.g. (And we had a few.)
Next, we wiggled our way back to Fremont, making a few stops on the promenade; first at the nearest 24-hour liquor store to obtain some high-end ultra delicious hand-made craft... er... alcopops as refreshment on our journey, and then by one of Lake Union's docks to enjoy said drinks while watching the stars and the water. And laughing quite a bit.
Best part: neither of us were even the slightest bit hungover the next morning. I'm hypothesizing that the sweet nastiness of the alcopops neutralized the hard-hitting power of the well drinks, but I'm not sure if I dare to try a replicate. It might be pushing my luck.
Sunday, August 17, 2014
A Cinderella story
Ralph didn't have too many must-see or must-do items on his Seattle itinerary, but there was one activity that he much wanted to engage in: kayaking. I'm no kayakist but agreed to take a day off from work and join him for a salty day in Elliott Bay. Being a novice, only beginners' kayaks were available for me, but Ralph assured the somewhat brusque (some would say mildly hostile) shop girl that he was fully trained in handling the sleeker, albeit less stable, regular vessels. Did he know what to do if he capsized? Of course, no problemo! Easy-peasy.
We said tally ho to the snippy lady and embarked on our adventure, eagerly paddling away from the water taxi stop, rounding Duwamish Head, splashing away in the beaming sun for about an hour and a half alongside the beach to the Alki Point Light, where we turned and started heading back. Ralph gave me a few pointers here and there on how to operate the paddle more efficiently, in addition to goofing around and sillying about as I was learning how to best use my arms and torso in some sort of ordered motion. I'm quite generous, so I'd say that I did okay.
Naturally, Ralph could have out-paddled me with both hands tied behind his back, but we had lots of fun and even spotted a couple of swimming sea lions as I was energetically flapping myself forward.
Then all of a sudden I heard a big splash behind me, followed by a somewhat confused ”Vad var det som hände!?”. I turned and saw Ralph in the water beside his kayak, looking very wet and very surprised. Reassured by his knowing words at the rental store, I just sat there, giggling and waiting for him to effortlessly crawl up and into his boat again. But as it turned out, he hadn't actually practiced getting into a capsized vessel; he just knew how to do it in theory. Ah... Ok.
I paddled back to him, trying to stabilize his kayak as he was empirically testing the hypothesis, and after about ten minutes of him flopping around trying to re-embark, first from the wrong way, then from the right, almost tipping me over into the freezing water as well, he finally succeeded. By that time, we realized that we had drifted quite far off from shore, but our spirits were nevertheless high and I felt encouraged by the fact that we handled the situation so coolly.
Then I noticed that he was no longer wearing his sunglasses. Then he noticed that he no longer had two shoes.
Back at the kayak shop the terse girl smirked at us as we returned the gear, Ralph soaked, carrying his only shoe in his hand. I tried to figure out how to get him home to Fremont, through downtown, on the bus, barefoot. As a last resort, I went back to the shop to ask the not too friendly renter if she possibly knew of any places that sold footwear nearby, since we were in a bit of a pickle. She looked at me, smiled, and said that she may have something in the back that someone had forgotten. I heard her rummaging about behind the door, and she then emerged carrying a pair of bright pink rubber slippers.
She held them out, chuckled a little and said that they might be slightly too big but we could take them if we wanted to. I gave her my warmest, earnest thanks, and returned to Ralph who was sitting on the grass, sulking over his loss. And like the fairytale prince I presented the magical shoes to him, who in a Cinderella-esque fashion gently let his feet enter into the rubbery domain.
They. Fit. Perfectly.
All is well that ends well; the shoes found a new home, Ralph got a new look, and I got the best cry-laugh I've had in a long time.
Epilogue: the pink slippers accompanied Ralph back to Sweden, and have now begun their new life in the Old World. Sources say that they are getting along very well with Jimi, another Seattle emigrant who joined the travellers on their adventurous journey.
(Photo courtesy of Ralph.)
We said tally ho to the snippy lady and embarked on our adventure, eagerly paddling away from the water taxi stop, rounding Duwamish Head, splashing away in the beaming sun for about an hour and a half alongside the beach to the Alki Point Light, where we turned and started heading back. Ralph gave me a few pointers here and there on how to operate the paddle more efficiently, in addition to goofing around and sillying about as I was learning how to best use my arms and torso in some sort of ordered motion. I'm quite generous, so I'd say that I did okay.
Naturally, Ralph could have out-paddled me with both hands tied behind his back, but we had lots of fun and even spotted a couple of swimming sea lions as I was energetically flapping myself forward.
Then all of a sudden I heard a big splash behind me, followed by a somewhat confused ”Vad var det som hände!?”. I turned and saw Ralph in the water beside his kayak, looking very wet and very surprised. Reassured by his knowing words at the rental store, I just sat there, giggling and waiting for him to effortlessly crawl up and into his boat again. But as it turned out, he hadn't actually practiced getting into a capsized vessel; he just knew how to do it in theory. Ah... Ok.
I paddled back to him, trying to stabilize his kayak as he was empirically testing the hypothesis, and after about ten minutes of him flopping around trying to re-embark, first from the wrong way, then from the right, almost tipping me over into the freezing water as well, he finally succeeded. By that time, we realized that we had drifted quite far off from shore, but our spirits were nevertheless high and I felt encouraged by the fact that we handled the situation so coolly.
Then I noticed that he was no longer wearing his sunglasses. Then he noticed that he no longer had two shoes.
Back at the kayak shop the terse girl smirked at us as we returned the gear, Ralph soaked, carrying his only shoe in his hand. I tried to figure out how to get him home to Fremont, through downtown, on the bus, barefoot. As a last resort, I went back to the shop to ask the not too friendly renter if she possibly knew of any places that sold footwear nearby, since we were in a bit of a pickle. She looked at me, smiled, and said that she may have something in the back that someone had forgotten. I heard her rummaging about behind the door, and she then emerged carrying a pair of bright pink rubber slippers.
She held them out, chuckled a little and said that they might be slightly too big but we could take them if we wanted to. I gave her my warmest, earnest thanks, and returned to Ralph who was sitting on the grass, sulking over his loss. And like the fairytale prince I presented the magical shoes to him, who in a Cinderella-esque fashion gently let his feet enter into the rubbery domain.
They. Fit. Perfectly.
All is well that ends well; the shoes found a new home, Ralph got a new look, and I got the best cry-laugh I've had in a long time.
Epilogue: the pink slippers accompanied Ralph back to Sweden, and have now begun their new life in the Old World. Sources say that they are getting along very well with Jimi, another Seattle emigrant who joined the travellers on their adventurous journey.
(Photo courtesy of Ralph.)
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