POST SCRIPTUM

C’est fini.
We just came back from checking the nets out on the lake with my father, my little brother (1,5 years old) and my aunt. I gutted the two whitefish we caught and we put them in the freezer.

Concretely, it’s over, my year in Paris. I know where I have been for a year, the people I have known, the places I’ve memorized, the paths I’ve taken from one place to another, and I know all this of the place I have come to now too. Logically it should all be neatly arranged in my mind, in a kind of linear continum of sequences. But, at least for the time being, it’s all scrambled up, displaced symbols, like flashes from unconnected places and people. I guess it will take time, and then, if past experience has told me anything, my year abroad will be like a dream – in the sense that it will be a vivid experience, completely disconnected from my ’real’ life, possibly never to have happened. And after all, in a sense it will be, as almost all the people i befriended, won’t be in Paris if I ever go back there. But I also know those people will be out there to meet, in new places to discover. So be prepared, I seriously intend to visit as many of you as possible in the years to come. And of course, you are warmly welcome to visit Finland.

My last week in Paris was nice, even though it was a bit of a hassle, since I left the norwegian house a little earlier so i would pay only half the month’s rent, and lived at Gonzalo’s house outside Paris. On Friday I had a going away party, which, loyal to tradition, ended at the Hideout bar. On saturday I went to see the Rolling Stones with Gonzalo, where some frenchies (eight of them) wanted to kick our asses. That kind of killed the mood, until Sympathy for the Devil came. What a show; you could feel the heat from the flames all the way to our spot.
I spent my last day saying goodbyes to some of the people I’d met during the year, which was horrible as always. I guess they don’t have good social models on how to do that.

When I came back to Finland, my mother, sisters and Niki were there to greet me with a finnish dinner. After that we hit the bars, and at 4AM in Molly Malone’s I pogoed on my glasses which miraculously survived, even though somewhat deformed. BTW, I am typing this on my computer, so I got it fixed (for errr... 550e). I spent midsummerfest on an island owned by my friend with some 20 people. Going into a smokesauna after a year was reviving. And now, I am at our summerplace. It felt like home to swim on the placid lake with an aura of light after midnight.

Peace to you all
Until next time,
Niklas

EXCELLENT WEEK

All in all, last week was pretty cool. Summer finally came back from it's holidays.



I worked hard on the last paper i had, on the disarming of colombian paramilitaries. I had read more than enough on what is a very complicated situation, and managed to do (in my opinion) some relevant analysis on the subject. Although the initial page limit of 5 stratched to twelve, heh. But, i turned that in on wednesday, and was a free and happy man.

The next morning the Ivan and Marius, the norwegian guys, managed to convince me (and themselves, since it was at an early hour) to go and try to get tickets for the Roland Garros tennis tournament. We got in and with thirteen euros, we could see all the matches except the mens and womens singles. We saw John Mcenroe play, as well as the mens doubles semi-final. The best match was still the boys semi-final; these little guys whacking the sh** out of the ball. And yeah, they all really wear those white hats and sweaters neatly placed over their shoulders.

Thursday night was a sciences-po party my friends had organised which was loads of fun. The next morning, having had a big night out and feeling a little shaky, a game of ping-pong was in place (we have a table downstairs). You wouldnt believe it, but ping-pong makes you sweat; so we took our shirts off, and by the time we were done, we were soaking weat. To go back to our floor, we decided to take the elevator, so as to avoid anybody seeing our naked sweaty personas. Down came the elevator, and we opened the door and the new girl from our floor was inside. There wasnt anything left to do so we went in, into the 3 square meters. What a jolly ride. The conversation was uncomfortable, to say the least, and the elevator isnt too fast either. She must have stuttered Marius' name three times, until Marius said "you can just call me mr.M".

This week I am moving out of the norwegian house, and i am flying to Finland the 19, tuesday (plane lands at 14.05). I think I have to start organizing my departure here. To cancel or close anything (cell phones, bank accounts, social aid), you have to write and send a handwritten letter. Stone ages baby, stone ages.