Alex

The story didn't end there. More ink was added and more blood was shed. I think I'll wait a while before I show off the result though. The tattoo is now covered in greyish scab. It doesn't look very pretty. In fact, it looks more like the skin of a dead, black elephant. It took me seven years to get around to do my first tattoo, but now it's there, for life.

Special thanks to the lady in the hawaii-shirt, Mia Norén (Flash Fighters Tattoo in Aspudden).
Probably the coolest tattooist in the universe.



Alex

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My admission letter has still not arrived, and I leave Sweden in nine days. I've been terrorizing the Swedish Institute (the ones who gave me my scholarship) the last couple of days, desperately trying to get hold on my letter. They have however not recieved any of the admission letters for China from the Chinese embassy, and they can't really do anything to hurry up the process. I've even tried to harass the embassy, but they refuse to answer the phone, very clever. 

I asked our contact at the Sweidish Institute if she thought it would be better for me to apply for a tourist visa (I really don't want to do that, I want my student visa from the beginning) but she advised me to wait a couple of more days for the admission letter. I don't really have a couple of more days. The embassy do have a express visa service, but it costs more, and what if something goes wrong and it takes longer time than expected? I'm leaving next Sunday god damn! If the letters still haven't arrived to the Swedish Institute on Monday, I'll take the stupid tourist visa.

But.

Today I got an e-mail from the earlier mentioned Swedish Institute. They said that they still don't have the forms needed, but that they now know where we'll go.

Huazhong Normal University in Wuhan, Hubei province.

I believed that I would be dissapointed if I wasn't admitted to a university in Beijing, but reading that e-mail made me realize that it doesn't matter at all. I'm just so thrilled to finally know where I'm going, and I think Wuhan will be great.

I understood the possible advantages of going elsewhere other than one of the big famous cities in China, like Beijing or Shanghai, even before I applied for this scholarship, so Wuhan actually feels quite good. Wuhan is not a small city, it's one of the six largest cities in China. But how often do you hear someone say: "I'm gonna go to Wuhan over the summer!". How often do you hear this city being mentioned at all? I like that. I think there will be less westerners there, compared to Beijing. And that is good, because then I'll have no choice other than speaking Chinese.  I wonder if I'll have a southern accent after one year in Wuhan?
We'll see.

Wuhan has something that Beijing doesn't. Something that I have been thinking about, thinking that the lack of this in Beijing is actually quite unfortunate. Water.

The Han river (Hanjiang) joins China's longest river (and the world's third longest river), Yangtze, in Hubei province. Both of these rivers are winding through Wuhan, dividing the city into three parts, connected again by long bridges. The fact that I've had a crush on the Yangzte river for quite a while now does't really make it worse.

Coming from a city on water makes me feel comfortable with moving to this unknown city on the other side of the planet, knowing that it's another city on water. Water is important.  There is nothing more beautiful than water, and cities come to life in another way when there is water.

I haven't really been nervous about moving. I believed that I would be able to stay in Beijing, and I know Beijing, at least a bit. But now I'll go somewhere else, somewhere I've never been before. I've also heard people say that the dialect in Wuhan is quite incomprehensible in the beginning. So I'm a tad nervous now.  But just a tad. And hey, living by Yangtze... I can do that for a year.



Alex

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Amanda Shortall, my my, what can I say? We met last year in Beijing, and she's one of those persons that you just can't... not like. I fell for her immediately. When we said goodbye last year, the same morning I was leaving (we had a final goodbye breakfast at the hostel roof before she left for school), she said: "Well, guess I'll see you in five years or something." We truly did believe that we would see eachother again, and that it would take many years before we did so. But things don't always turn out the way you expect it to. We'll see eachother again in 11 days, just a little bit more than a year later. Amanda is now once again in Beijing, working there over the summer. She is the reason why I'm going to China two weeks earlier than I had originally planned. We will have a week together in Beijing before she goes back to the U.S. I had to go earlier, it would have been so silly if I would arrive just a couple of days after she'd left.

She has been my breakfast company each weekday morning the past couple of weeks, we talk over MSN Messenger every day. (You can't have much to do at work girl, considering how much we talk.) She just makes my day, she is so sweet! And how can you not like a girl who eats scorpions on a stick?

"I love your blog. You sound like me a lot of the time, and it makes me happy to have met you. (Not that I wasn't already.) It's just always funny to think that there you are living life and there might be so many other people out there that share some of your same thoughts, living anywhere in the world. And maybe, if you are extra lucky, you go to a hostel and some Swedish girl starts speaking to you in Chinese at a bar one night and you end up with a friend." /Amanda

One evening in Beijing last year, this new-found friend of mine decided that I was going to have dinner with one of her friends. She was going to a dinner party and told me that I should join her later in Sanlitun, a street edged with bars, most frequently visited by westerners. This friend of hers was also joining her later, so she fixed us up for a dinner. She didn't have a cellphone, which I had (I was only there for three weeks, but I got myself a Chinese cellphone number the first thing I did, no one else did.). We decided that she would call me when she was done with her dinner, and then we would go and meet her at Sanlitun. When we finished dinner we went back to the hostel and drank beer on the hostel roof, waiting for her phonecall. We sat down with some random people, like you do in a hostel. It doesn't really matter that you don't know eachother, or that you just met one or two times before, you just sit down and get to know eachother. By the time Amanda called, we had convinced two of the guys to come with us.

The confusion was complete when we arrived to Sanlitun. It's not a small street, there seem to be no such ting as a small street in Beijing, and we hadn't decided exactly where to meet up. Amanda actually called me from her taxi-drivers cellphone and asked me where we were, I had only been there one time before, and didn't really know, so she gave the taxi-driver the phone, and we tried to figure out where she should get off. In chinese. Right. That didn't really work out, to be honest, so we walked around looking for her for quite a while. All of a sudden we just bumped into her, it was sheer luck.

We went to Kai, the bar where me and Amanda had first met by coincidence, like every other meeting in China that got stuck in my heart. So many things would have turned out differently if the coincidents would have been different. I like my Beijing coincidents. I like the coincidents of that night at Kai. We didn't plan to stay there, but it started raining. A lot. "What the heck", we thought, "We'll just wait until it stopped raining." That seemed to be a thought shared by everyone else at Kai. The trouble was that it didn't stop raining. We got stranded. The bar was cramped with people, no one left for several hours because of the rain.  

Me, I love rain. The heavier the better, especially when it's summer and the air is warm. I love to sit indoors and watch the rain through the window, listen to the raindrops beating against the glass. What I love the most is to walk in the rain, feel the raindrops against my hair, my face, my bare arms (I'm one of those crazy persons who actually take off my jacket when it starts raining.) And I loved the rain that night. Especially since this bar had windows in the roof, I sat and watched the rain run down the glass from underneath. 

We managed to get hold on a table after a while. Well, actually, Amanda managed to get hold on a table for us, by yelling (in Chinese, you gotta respect that, she had only studied Chinese for 6 weeks or something) at some poor guy belonging to the staff for not giving us the table they had promised us.

There was a lot of people who sat down with us, I don't know where they came from. Amanda seemed to know some of them. We spend hours and hours in those couches, drinking, talking laughing, (taking pictures with Amandas camera. We were both trying to make silly faces, how come she looks cute while I look... well... I can't even find words for it. Let's just say that I succeeded where she failed. Ssseeeexyyy!) She send me a bunch of pictures from this evening earlier today, nothing like photographs to make you nostalgic.

I think it was about 3 A.M. when the rain stopped that night. The street outside Kai was covered in two inches of water when we left. Amandas friend let her piggyback ride him and carried her over the flooded street. I looked at the big boy by my side and asked him if he was going to be a gentleman about it. He was, and me and Amanda both arrived to the hostel with dry feet, unlike the rest of our company. (Can you believe that? I actually asked a man to carry me over the water. You do strange things when you've spend several hours at a bar.)

That, my friends, was a great night. And this is a very long text. I always feel a bit uncomfortable when I write these long long looong texts, as if you will all have gotten bored by the end of it.

(Is this good enough Amanda? At least you'll have enough reading to amuse yourself until I get online tomorrow. Thanks for the pictures and the nostalgia.)



Love,
Alex

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My mother, Brigitt, she's a funny person. We sometimes have our disagreements, of course, but she's a most loving and supportive mother, and all the things in my personality that I like the most, I owe to her.

Both having disagreements with me, and being a supportive mother at the same time, sometimes results in interesting situations. Like when I shaved that mohawk of mine in July last year. (God what a great hairdo, I miss it every time I see a picture of it.) She looked at me and exclaimed: "But Alex, you look like a fourteen-year old!". That is the disagreeing part. (She was right though. I looked exactly the same when I was fourteen, fifteen.)

A few days later, we were eating dinner at my grandmother's house together with some other members of our family. My 76 years old darling granny, being as traditional as she is, asked me what in all god's name I had done with my hair. My mother gently stroked me over the head and said: "She is so pretty!", in front of all our relatives. That is the supportive part.

So, between the two of us, she often speaks her mind about things I do that she thinks is crazy, or just plain wrong. But in front of others, she just can't resist being proud of me for letting my own ideas lead the way, no matter how crazy they might be.

Even though I already know this, I was still a bit surprised the other day. I was talking to my mamma and my granny in mamma's kitchen, when granny asked me why I'm going to China.

A few months ago, when I recieved the news of that I had been alloted a very generous scholarship, mamma said: "I'm happy for you, this is such a great opportunity, and it will be so exciting. I just wish that you wouldn't go so far away. Can't you go to Germany instead?". Later in the spring she wondered what she would do without me for a full year. Not wishing to upset her in any way, I told her that I've been thinking about doing my Bachelor's degree in China, and depending on the requirements, I might have to stay there two more years in order to do that. She was upset, of course. Not wishing to upset her more in any way, I felt obliged to tell her that I've also been entertaining the idea of doing my Master's degree in U.S.A., once I'm done with the Bachelor's in China. She was more upset, of course.  

And the other day, my granny started asking those same questions: Why do I have to go all the way to China? Why do I have to be away for a whole year? My mother raised her head and stated in that matter-of-fact voice: "Well, she might not come back after just one year! She might do her Bachelor's degree in China. Then she might go to America, maybe we won't see her in five years!". And she said it proudly, with that tone saying "don't you dare question my daughter's plans, because they are great.".

And, because my mamma have always told me that I can do anything I want, I know I can do anything I want, no matter what granny says, even no matter what mamma says. It must be so difficult for any parent when their child breakes free, it must be so difficult to let go. I hope she is proud of herself, knowing that even though she would prefer me to stay home, I can leave to find my own path because she gave me the strength to do so. And even though we sometimes have our disagreements, I'm so proud of her.
 


/Alex

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I woke up this morning with the regular first thought of the day: "GAAAH!". I usually succeed to calm myself down a bit while eating breakfast though. I dragged myself up at 06:45 and started doing my laundry at 07:00. A great way to start the day indeed. I figured it was just as well, because I started working 06:00 yesterday, and had to get up at 04:00. The best thing is that I'll do it again tomorrow! Hooray! No point in sleeping the whole day away in other words, because I have to go to sleep by nine tonight. (And no matter what Steven says, I'm sure there is some kind of human rights law prohibiting that innocent people have to get up 4 A.M in the middle of the night to get to work. There must be! That's just plain inhuman!)

There is an old Swedish saying: "Morgon stund har guld i mun", Morning moment have gold in mouth (my god what a great translation). It supposedly means that it's great to be up early. I always feel like slapping someone in the face whenever I hear that.

Yesterday was a busy as every other day lately. Finished work at 3:00 P.M. and went and paid my airplane ticket (with money I've borrowed from my sister, thank you sis). Went to pick up my brand new passport after that, I look like a complete idiot in it, that's a phenomenon which seemes to be hard to escape from. I called a friend of mine, Alex (who's also an ex-boyfriend of mine, we were Alex and Alex, ha ha) and said that I probably couldn't go out to drink beer with him and his friends later that evening, as he had invited me to do a few days earlier. He kindly reminded me of the fact that it was his birthday, so of course I went, additionally feeling a bit embarrased about that I hadn't remembered.

We went to a sleazy rock bar, that's the kind of bar I like the most. I love to party with him and his friends, they're just downright insane, the lot of them. But by eleven I was so tired that I almost fell asleep with my face in the beer, and decided that it was time to leave. Party is my middle name. Yes siree.

Today I'll work 03:30-08:30 P.M., I'm very annoyed with my work, giving me the latest work-hours the day before they give me the earliest work-hours. Idiots.

As soon as my laundry is dry I'll go into town and get that insurance I need, and then go to the bank to get a Visa-card and fix some other things. Yet another day filled with funny chores and tasks. Emigrating is complicated.



/Alex

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I've had quite a busy weekend. As a matter of fact, I've had quite a busy last couple of weeks. It's now 20 days left until I emigrate to China. Not forever, but for a while. I wake up every morning in panic. Not because I'm moving, of course it will be difficult, and of course there's some people that I will miss like crazy. But this is right for me. This is what I want to do, and I've been waiting two years to do it now. I set my mind on my goal, and worked towards it, and now I'll be there in less than three weeks. It feels good to move. Well, it feels good to go back to China, it sucks to move. I've always hated moving, who doesn't? You have to take all your stuff, pack it down in boxes, probably live in a house full of boxes for a while, then transport it to some place else, begin to unpack it all, and probably live in a house full of boxes for a while once again. But now I can't take my things with me, and thank god for that. I'll stuff it in at my mom's, and some at my dad's, what would one do without parents? This do however require that I get rid of a lot of things. Went through my wardrobe today, why do I have so much clothes that I never use and never even liked? I saved maybe one third of it, and will give away or throw away the rest.

The packing isn't the worst part though. It's the rest that makes me panic. For example, I still haven't got a sufficient insurance, and I still haven't recieved my admission letter telling me where I will be studying (right now, I don't even know in what part of the country I'll be). I was supposed to recieve this letter last week, but wasn't very surprised to find out that I hadn't. This is a bit of a problem though, becuse the admission letter will also contain forms for my student-visa application. Can't apply for my visa until I get the damned letter.  Can't relax until I get the damned visa. Can't think straight until I'm relaxed. I respond very badly to stress.

Another undeniable proof of the present state I'm in is that I haven't written almost anything in my diary the last week. I'm a frantic journal-keeper, normally. Have been for quite a while now. I have to write, it's almost the only way I have to express myself. I've heard this phenomenon refered to as grapho-mania, the manic need to write. It's something I do for my own sake though, no one else ever reads it. Sometimes it doesn't even matter what I write, as longa as I write. Sometimes I write four, five, six times a day, producing tens of written pages. But even when I don't write that much, I alwas write something, at least a couple of lines. Normally. But not when I'm stressed. My brain just quits on me. I get absent-minded and can't focus enough to put my thoughts down on the paper, I'm too tired to even try. And it feels like I've lost something for each day that I haven't written anything. Besides being a vital way to get out the zillion thoughts cramped up in my head, my journals are also an archive, something written for each day, to remind me of what I did and how I felt that exact day. I wrote it, for no one else's sake but my own, and it's the truth I've written. Maybe it's not the true truth, but it's my own truth in that very moment when I wrote it. I can go back, read what I was thinking in a certain matter, sometimes I agree with it, sometimes I don't. But the important thing is that my journals is the ultimate truth of my heart, each day. So not writing regularly make holes in the records, I've forever lost the truth of that day.  

The stress puts everyting else aside. Soon it will be over though. I have five weeks of summerbrake once I'm in China, I guess that's enough time to calm myself down before school starts. I guess that'll be enough time to put me back on track as a grapho-maniac again.



/Alex



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