Jag tycker om

Jag tycker om böcker som börjar med ett påstående.
Jag tycker om att putsa skorna när det blir vår.
Jag tycker om att gå till frisören och få håret i nacken rakat med en gammaldags rakkniv.
Jag tycker om den afrikanska kvinnan som pratar swahili i mobiltelefonen när hon kliver ombord på bussen.
Jag tycker om människor som ser sig för och lämnar plats åt sina medresenärer, människor som inte är uppmärksamma får mig alltid att tänka på allt elände i världen.
Jag tycker om att ha gott om tid, så att jag kan ta nästa tåg om jag vill.
Jag tycker om högtidstal som har både humor och hjärta.
Jag tycker om att höra orden "jag älskar dig" viskas i hemlighet.
Jag tycker om äkta tårar som rymmer både sorg och lycka.
Jag tycker om att åka hem längst fram i en proppfull nattbus och att se hemvägen rullas upp framför mig genom en regnklädd vindruta.
Jag tycker om vackra människor som inte bekymrar sig.
Jag tycker om att fira nattvarden med gammeldansk och mörk choklad.
Jag tycker om Vladimir Vysotskij, den ryska poeten och tillika författaren bakom dikten "det värsta jag vet"
Jag tycker om att jag har gjort riktigt dåraktiga handlingar och ändå klarat mig helskinnad.
Jag tycker om att jag ännu aldrig har behövt spendera en natt på sjukhus, utom när jag föddes men då var jag så liten att jag knappt syntes till.
Jag tycker om att skryta med att jag en gång slängt ut Peter Wahlbäck från en poesiläsning med Bob Hansson, det var inte alls så dramatiskt som det låter men det var ganska kul.
Jag tycker om Peter Wahlbäck, han värnar om en sorts galenskap förutan vilken den präktiga svenska folksjälen skulle förtvina och dö.
Jag tycker om att använda utrotningshotade ord som "tillika" och "förtvina"
Jag tycker om alla mina vänner, ingen nämnd och ingen glömd.

Arriving at Elisabeth Monastery in Minsk

The Frenchman I meet on the bus is reluctant to let me go. Partly because he doesn't think I will survive in Belorus without speaking Russian, and partly because he seem to enjoy the company of another westerner.

He looks at me with disbelief and ask me if I'm sure I will be alright. What will I do, he asks, if nobody shows up to meet me? I shrug my shoulders and raise a hand to the skies. Who knows?

But I have already spotted sister Olga. At first I don't recognize her because she has a big jacket and a hood pulled over her head. She's sitting on a bench like a sulking teenager.

She seem very tired and she's surprised to see me already, my bus arrived fifteen minutes early. There's a strange moment when I don't know how to greet her. Do you shake hands with a nun or what?

In the end we exchange polite "nice to see you again" and Olga leads me to the car waiting for us. I throw my luggage in the trunk and we head out towards the monastery.

The first impression of the monastery is overwhelming. White walls and blue rooftops, and the big church in front of the main building with its golden domes gleaming in the bright sunlight.

I know that all of these buildings are constructed fairly recently, but it's hard for me to understand that there was nothing here only ten years ago. They all seem so solid and monumental.

I imagine a guide walking around here, several hundred years from now, telling students and tourists about an important period for the Russian Orthodox Church.

But that is yet in the future. At the moment we are walking towards the large dining hall to get something to eat, but we are suddenly stopped by brother Elia who wants to show me everything.

I haven't eaten since breakfast, because when the buss stopped for a short lunch brake in Vilnius I had no Lithuanian money and even at Mc Donalds they didn't accept credit cards.

Sister Olga knows this and she tries to explain it to brother Elia, but he is too enthusiastic to let me go just yet. He want's me to see the work they have been doing in the new church.

He hastes in through a cellar door and we have no other option than to follow his black robe down and into the crypt of the church and then up the stairs into the main chapel.

The glistening mosaic and the golden details are gleaming almost as bright as the enthusiasm in Elias eyes as he waves at me to follow and points out the details they have been working on lately.

A big golden cross that are going to crown one of the domes of the church is being prepared with leaflets of gold. He shows me the thin fragments of pure gold lying about and sister Olga translates for him as he tells me that it is a difficult task to apply the gold properly

-Westerners have a joke about us Russians says sister Olga and smiles, they say that even if we don't have food to put on our table still decorate our churches with gold.

We also have a short visit in Elias workshop, a small shed with large windows and a simple fireplace. Everything is covered with a thin layer of white dust that makes it look almost like a bakery.

In the workshop there are fishes hanging to dry. There are at least a hundred of them, strung up in the ceiling with iron wire through their eyes. It's a good catch and it makes the whole workshop smell fishy.

Brother Elia smiles and shows me a piece of Alabaster he has been working on. A detail for the lighting in the church. He holds it up towards the light to let me see how the rays shine through the porous stone.

Sister Olga takes a few of the fishes and leads me to the dining hall. I follow her black robe and there is something carefree in the way she lets the fishes dangle by her side.

She disappears into the kitchen and ask the staff to prepare a meal for me. I am seated in a comfortable wooden chair by a long table in a large dining hall. There is room for at least 90 persons in there.

The food she brings tastes like heaven on a plate after my day long fast. Potatoes and soup. It's simple, just as the Frenchman on the bus told me, simple but well cooked and very tasty.

Sister Olga leaves me alone for a while to enjoy my food and my thoughts. The girls in the kitchen glance at me curiously and spy through the doorway.

Alexis who works in the kitchen, smiles at me frankly. He has a look on his face as if we both share a wonderful secret. He comes and sit beside me silently and I share some of my food with him.

We sit for a while enjoying each others company and the only word we both understand is Mayonaise. So I spread some mayonaise on a piece of dark bread and hand it to him.

I like him, and we seem to understand each other quite well considering we don't speak the same language. He makes me feel warm and welcome just by being there.

Jag sluter ögonen bara för en kort stund och när jag öppnar dem igen är jag i Litauen. Bussen stannar vid en ödslig mack vid landsvägen och jag kliver av för att köpa cigaretter och vatten. Det är först när expediten vägrar ta emot mina Lettiska mynt som jag förstår att vi har bytt land. Jag betalar med kort och vi väntar tålmodigt under tystnad på att transaktionen skall godkännas. När jag kommer ut igen har chauffören redan startat motorn och alla väntar bara på mig.

Desto märkbarare är gränsövergången mellan Litauen och Vitryssland. Gränsen markeras av ett smalt kalhygge och ett manshögt stängsel. Den första person som möter oss på den vitryska sidan är en kvinna i trettioårs åldern med dunjacka, handväska och höga klackar. Hon huttrar i vårblåsten och ser ut som om hon väntar på någon eller som om hon helst skulle vilja vara någon annanstans. Hon tittar på bussen med en föraktfull min och vänder sig sedan bort.

En kvinnlig tulltjänsteman kontrollerar våra pass och säger åt oss att kliva av bussen och ta med oss allt vårt bagage. Sedan lämnas vi ståndes på led i en kall vänthall, vi får formulär att fylla i och till slut låter de oss passera. Vårt bagage körs genom en stor röntgenmaskin av samma sort som de har på flygplatser. Det märkliga är att ingen verkar uppriktigt intresserad av inehållet. Det är som om de inte alls är intresserade av oss utan mest gör vad protokollet kräver.

Jag har svårt att bli av med känslan att de när som helst skall säga att jag inte får komma in, att det har blivit något misstag. Att mitt visum inte är giltigt längre. Men till slut låter de oss kliva ombord på bussen igen. Alla utom jag. Jag har fyllt i mitt formulär fel och måste göra om det igen. Tulltjänstemannen gör sig ingen brådska, det viktigaste är att formuläret blir rätt ifyllt, trots att en ny kö redan börjar formas bakom mig.

Subject Riga

Don't take your beer out of the pub when you are in Riga. Nobody will try to stop you, but if the police see you they will give you an instant fine on 60lat which is about 85€. Our friend the Norwegian experienced that yesterday and as the police car drove away, he waved the ticket with a faint smile saying something about at least not having to buy a souvenir.

Riga has about 800 thousand inhabitants which makes it a fairly big city. But it's huge when you consider that there are only 2 million living in the whole of Latvia. In the 90's the unemployment rate in the rural areas was very high so people moved to Riga to work with tourism and service instead.

Today the unemployment situation is far better than in the 90's. Riga as a city is growing and in the streets you see a lot of people with smart clothes driving cars like Bentley, Lexus, Porsche and Jaguar. The city has a rich variety of good restaurants and bars, and it is said that every time the moon is full a new high class joint grows up through the cracked concrete of old soviet architecture.

We have already tried several of the new establishments, one stranger than the other. One of our favorites is a restaurant where the waitresses are dressed like a weird combination of goth anarchist vampires and the Mad Hatter in Alice in wonderland. They also have a band consisting of a jazz pianist and a fiddler playing old rock classics and blues covers as if it was high culture and part of the national treasures.

Speaking of national treasures, nationalism is a sensitive subject here in Latvia. After a long period of occupation, the Latvians are now striving to maintain a sense of national identity. Only 60% of the Latvian population is in fact Latvian and almost 30% are Russian. Much thanks to the Soviet migration policy to transfer Russians from Soviet to the Baltic states, and to deport dissidents from the Baltic states to camps in Siberia.

To celebrate the freedom from Russian oppression, the Latvian government have raised a huge monument in the middle of Riga called the Statue of Freedom. It is crowned by a stern looking woman holding three stars, symbolizing the three Latvian provinces joined together as one.

Little did they know when they raised this symbol of freedom that they would escape the harsh occupation of the Soviet Union only to be subject to an invasion of English stag parties. Englishmen have a somewhat tarnished reputation in Riga, especially since the Latvian police have reported several incidents when drunken Englishmen have been found desecrating said Statue of freedom. After 40 years of occupation the Latvians take these things very seriously. So if you have to take a leak while in Latvia, try to make it just another block or your vacation may come to a sudden end in prison or even worse in a hospital.

But don't worry, most Latvians are nice and helpful and sympathetic. There is a massive support for the Tibetan cause among the Latvian people. Protests are arranged weekly in front of the Chinese embassy in order to force China to negotiate with the Dalai Lama. No doubt this sympathy with the Tibetan people stems from a lifelong experience of occupation and oppression at home.

Riga is a very international city, we have been to a Cuban cafe that serves a wonderful Mohito, and there is an Indian vegetarian restaurant that serves Ayurvedic lunch and even a Mexican bar with 46 different sorts of tequila. Sadly we could not try all of them yesterday. But In this rich and international flora of restaurants it's almost impossible to find somewhere to buy Chinese take away.

The best food however is served at a small lunch cafe called "Piedod Muza". It's very hard to find since it is located on a back alley in an old building that looks like it is going to fall apart if you scream to loud. But don't let the rough exterior scare you away. Inside there is a small cafe with a warm and cosy atmosphere and here you can buy a traditional Latvian home cooked meal for only 2-3 lats.

Today that is about the same as 3-4 euros, but expect the prices to get higher. Latvia has experienced a boom in it's economy over the past ten years and it's pushing up the prices. The inflation in Latvia is today 16.8% and rising. The average Latvian salary is about 1000€ and most Latvians pay more than half of their income for food and rent.

Maybe that's why everybody is so grumpy in the superstore. If you go shopping for groceries in Riga you will notice that the Latvians don't use many words to carry out the transaction of goods and money. Not even a slight hello or thanks (thanks is "paldies" in Latvian) is exchanged between the shop assistant and the customer and hardly ever a smile, only the money that changes owner and the rattling sound of the cash register.

To get a slightly more interesting shopping experience and a far better variety of goods, I suggest you to take a short walk to one of the many markets in Riga. The biggest market is called Central Market in good old socialist fashion and is conveniently located just around the corner from the central station and the central post office. Here you can find anything from Russian Orthodox religious icons via food and groceries to hardware.

Speaking of hardware, would you ever think an old rusty padlock would be very romantic? Well so do the Latvians. There are some bridges here in Riga that are practically cramped with these padlocks. They are locked to the bridge as a symbol of love, and many of them are even engraved with the names of the lovers. As a symbol for eternal love it must be quite practical since all you have to do if you brake up is go back and unlock the damn padlock again. Or do they also throw the key in the river as a part of the ritual? That is yet to find out...

No hangover today

Today I woke up in Riga for the first time without a hangover. This I celebrated with running 3km and meditating for half an hour. Yesterday Antoine moved out and took the bus to Vilnius. Antoine is a young and enthusiastic french guy who I met the day I arraived and there were just so many bars we had to try. One in particular was called Tequela Boom and they had 46 different sorts of tequela.

We spent most of the days walking around town taking pictures. And I have even found a place where I can develop my B/W films for a third of the price as home in sweden.

We also met this Latvian guy who used us as an excuse not to go home to his girlfriend. He draged us allong from one bar to the other until we eventually ended up in cuba and met the Norweigians. They are really helpful and friendly these Latvians, espescially as drinking companion. (I just heard that his girlfriend was so pissed on him so she exchanged his shower gel with washing liquid, a mild revenge but still)

Now I'm going to have lunch have a nice day.

Potato with food!

Now I am gratefully on firm ground again. I sweat out the last of the sad atmosphere in the sauna just before we arrive in Riga after almost 17 hours at sea. Sun is shining and I'm on my way to find a hostel called "the tiger". The ad says that they have, lockers, Internet and beds from 10€ per night, which is just what I need right now.

On my way to the hostel i find a really good cafe in an old apartment building that looks so worn down that I almost think it's abandoned. On the outside there are broken windows and iron bars visible through the concrete but inside in the cafe, there is a warm and very modern lounge with good music and a pleasant atmosphere. The menu is totally vegetarian and naturally in Latvian so I just order what ever the person in front of me is having.

-Potato with food. Says the girl behind the counter when I ask her what the dish is called. Yes I can see that I say but what is it called? and she looks at me as if I had said something terrible and repeats -Potato with food! I realize that this conversation isn't going to make either of us any wiser so I sit down, shut up and enjoy my Potato with food, and it is absolutely fantastic. After the horrible food on the ferry, Potato with food tastes exactly like heaven with bliss.

17 timmar till Riga

I am in Riga now. I traveled from Stockholm by ferry yesterday and I woke up six thirty this morning to the sound of a Russian cartoon. Five hyperactive monkeys screaming and singing and their striving mother, a poor chimpanzee was trying to keep them all well fed and out of trouble. Actually not at all a bad way to wake up and really amusing even though I couldn't understand a word of what they were singing.

I don't think I'll ever get tired of loud and noisy cartoons. When I was a kid I used to get up seven in the morning and spend the whole morning in front of the cartoons on Sky Channel and Super Channel. That was how I learned to speak English, this morning kind of reminded me of that. Who knows, maybe I can learn some Russian.

The good thing about the ferry is the sauna. I stumbled down there this morning, with frozen limbs and Russian monkeys on speed climbing around in my head and It felt like a sanctuary to step inside the dark and steaming hot room. And of course the usual sauna talk. "Which do you prefer, the Russian or the Finnish sauna? Is life in Sweden better or worse now or before the European Union?"

In exchange of my opinion the Latvian businessman gives his version of the European Union. "I don't like it" he says, "And it's not only because the Danes bought our sugar plants and shut them down, just to sell us sugar at a higher price. They told us it would get cheaper, but instead the price went up. Every year the price for living goes up here, today the average Latvian worker pays half of his salary only to food and rent"

"We had the chance to become an independent nation after the fall of the Soviet union. We are a small country, and we haven't had time to figure out our national identity since the Soviet occupation. At least I think we should have tried to make it on our own. But the main reason I don't like the EU is that those who run the European union put the money before the people, and the people does not even come in second place."

He says he has been in Sweden on a business trip. One of his trucks that he rents out had an accident and he's bringing it home for repairs. I could have asked him how he would think it be possible for him to rent out trucks to Sweden if it weren't for the European Union, but I really don't want to get into that discussion so I let it be.

If the good thing about the ferry is the sauna and the Russian cartoons, the bad thing is almost everything else. The atmosphere is a strange mix between a sleazy cabaret show and a enormously over sized pick up van owned by a sexually neurotic teenager. You can smell old dried up puke and spilled liquor here and there, and most of the crew members have a look on their faces as if they had too much to drink last night and rather would be somewhere else right now.

The cheap food tastes like wallpaper, the shrimp salad looks like it would jump up and kill you just for looking at it and the beer on tap has a foul taste of jeast and badly cleaned pipes. The scene that really freaks me out before I go to sleep in my chair is the two passengers in the closed cafeteria, smoking cigarettes and watching soft porno movies on the cafeteria television. Both in complete absorbed silence as if they were watching something of grave importance and contemplating the ass and pussy of the world.