Sliced bread is now only second

Yesterday Joe told me about Stumble upon, a toolbar in ur browser that after you have told it about your particulat interests, lets you stumble on a random page within those parameters every time you click it. It is possibly the best thing since Google, I love it! Today I have read The ultimate rejection letter, the cost of the Iraq war been to the British museum, learnt muslim prayers, seen sign karaoke, read about unexplained mysteries and last but not least I have read the Table of CondimentsThat Periodically Go Bad.

Even if you´re only interested in on-line games, scientology, rodeo or botany it will be like a fat kid on a christmas day all-you-can-eat buffet!

More Economic waffling

When I went to university it took me quite some time to get a hang of the archaeological terminology (and lots of it still baffles me), so I guess I shouldn´t expect to be a vocabulary expert when I plow through my new growing collection of literature on economic theory. I am leaving contextual seriation, morphology, isotopic analysis and paleopathology, in favour of fiscal austerity, aggregate demand and devaluation. Neither of the groups sound all that exciting now do they?

But even though I need to consult my dictionary now and then, and even though I would turn and leave as soon as someone tried to talk economics to me a few years ago, I´m finding this new topic surprisingly interesting. To the degree that I sometimes have to shout straight out or underline whole paragraphs.


I have just finished Globalization and its discontents by the former head of the World Bank and winner of the Nobel prize in economics Joseph Stiglitz (who of course gave a talk at the Hay-on Wye festival this year. Why is it that everyone went there this year when I was too ill to join in?). I´m not gonna dwell long on what the book is about, but it centres mostly on the International Monetary Fund (IMF) which was created after WWII to ensure global economic stability. Although it is a public institution, meant to serve the public, it is completely non-transparent and US holds the only veto. Those who hold high posts within the IMF are a pick from the US business community, and the minute they step down they re-emerge in to, for example Citigroup or other multinational corporations. As Stiglitz says, there is no doubt that the economic decisions affecting development countries all over the world, made by economists in Washington, are designed to firstly benefit Wall Street. In many cases of IMF involvement in development countries, it employs a narrow minded "cookie-cutter" approach, focused on privatization and capital liberalization meant to attract foreign investment, while ignoring social stability, market control and regulation, with disastrous results. The IMF has confused ends with means and are blindly forcing their ideology regardless of individual circumstances, and to this day they are very reluctant to admit to any wrong doing or will to change.

I was shocked to read that an institution with almost absolute power, can get away with so much incompetence, and cause, rather than resolve many development countries spiraling crises. It is so bad that the author argues that "today´s IMF has, in my judgement, not articulated a coherent theory of market failure that would justify its own existence and provide a rationale for its particular interventions in the market" (p.197).

Read it, I had problems putting it down.

The Podcast Virgin

I have a confession to make. I repel technology. Never ask me to have a look at your computer or tune your telly. It will always end up far worse than before. When I bought a new laptop I got it to blue screen within 3 hours, when I bought my boyfriend a mp3 player for Christmas I picked the one specimen that had a built-in bug, even when I change batteries in a remote control it deletes all settings, and never-ever could I connect to the internet on a mobile phone. Guess I have it after my mother who is close to tears when someone sends her a text message, or when the internet support people asks her to restart the modem (for the 6th time in two weeks), and she has it after her mother who´s sole technological career was when she 1986 killed our VCR by forcing in a tape without pressing "ON" first.
I´m owning up to this because of the phenomenon of podcasts. Podcasts have been on everybody´s lips for quite some time now, but because I never had a very good relationship with my iPod I´ve never bothered exploring it further than sometimes overhearing others raving about this program and the other. But today I took pitty on my poor and very expensive music device and downloaded iTunes on to the main computer of the house. As I wright this it is still updating and synchronising announcing and searching und so weiter, not sure for what anymore though.
I was always annoyed with iTunes because it locks the music and you can´t use the iPod as an external device copying it to other computers. And since I used to travel alot I met alot of iTune-less new computers in which I wanted to plug and play allsorts. But no, always getting the cold shoulder.
But after much hair-pulling I got on to my very knowledgeable friend Rich, who quickly got me to download Sharepod. And behold! I could then copy all the music I had on the iPod, and now have it safely tucked away in the computer´s music files (probably not legal at all, or? Its still for personal use with albums that I mostly have bought. Do everyone actually read the fine print for this kind of stuff?). I´m sure iTunes has evolved alot since I got the iPod about 2 years ago, and maybe now there are ways and means to fix these things without having to download other programmes, but regardless of means of conduct, I can now happily click OK for every odd question the programme asks me, and laugh confidently when it turns out that the command in fact recycled whole folders into virtual nothingness. I am now, so to speak, insured against my technological illiteracy.
So I then went to check out the whole podcast scene. If my legs take me out to the car in a few weeks, the plan is that I´m going to Denmark for a while, lazying about in our little brown house with brown furniture, brown water and brown neighbours by the beach on Langeland, and then I might need something new to listen to.
So I managed to sign up for a bunch of promising programmes, and it seemed easy enough. But no, that didn´t necessarily mean that they appeared on the iPod of course. So what do I do? I click and click and click. And now I haven´t a clue whats actually on there, but it´ll have to do, I need a cup of tea.

Knitting phase 3 and the spaniard

I woke up this morning without feeling like I got hit by a bus. Only people with ME can understand what a glorios window of relief that is. All I want is to get in the car and leave the house, visit someone or maybe walk in to a shop. But I´m terrified to do just that. What if I run out of steam while on the road, or what if I get through it alright, and then the next morning feel like being hit by a bus would be mild in comparison to the 15 carriage steam train that would sweep me in to conciousness (for the following 2 weeks).

So what will I do with my day of clear head and abillity to get up the stairs without trembling knees? Probably just have a shower and take the opportunity to wash my hair. Cook my poor over-worked mum a nice dinner maybe.

The knitting has moved in to the "prison" phase, i.e. sweater. Last night I had trouble holding my toothbrush cuz my fingers were arthritically stuck in various stitching terminology. Dunno really what will happen to the result in the end cuz when the recipe recommend something that seems like Greek to me, I simply ignore it and move on to the next set of instructions. But I admit it is sort of addictive, maybe I too will be one of those who knit to wrap lamp-posts or parking meters in the end (although I would have to do the domestic ME-friendly version instead and opt for kitchen chair-legs, the old TV antenna and bits of oven)...



My Spanish exposure project is also slowly progressing. I have decided to try and consume all the films by Pedro Almodóvar, and yesterday I saw Dark Habits (Entre Tinieblas) twice. Only in his films can the nuns raise tigers, take heroin and sew glittery costumes for the statue of the virgin. He seems to live in an alternative reality, and I mean that in a good way, no other director can tell a story with so much love and passion in situations that would make anyone else weep with despair. He certainly makes it easier to persevere with my Spanish and next I aim to get a hold of his first film Pepi, Luci, Bom and Other Girls on the Heap.

What is left for Zimbabwe?

My heart goes out to the people of Zimbabwe. Is there really hope for the future by pursuing these elections? Tsvangirai said yesterday that he is withdrawing, and anouncements today are saying that the elections still are on, without the leader of the opposition. So many of those who voted for the opposition the last time around have been threatened and even killed, almost every rally the opposition has tried to hold is sabotaged, and Mugabe has already made it clear that he won´t step down for Morgan Tsvangirai or anyone else anyway. Now he is certain of the smell of victory and has no interest in postponing anything.
It feels like repeating history to see Mugabe rise to such power, insane and at the same time very intelligent. By giving all his ministers land and riches he has them bribed in to remaining on his side. But one wonders how he expects it to last in to the future. The country is already on its knees, and eventually there won´t even be enough for him to steal from the people to keep his dogs happy. Then what?
I can´t help but thinking of the book (and later film) "The last king of Scotland". Doesn´t Mugabe echo Idi Amin? Doesn´t he also hide behind the argument that western Europe is trying to interfear with Zanu PF´s "perfectly humane and peaceful" business, and want to force back the old colonial relationships of oppression. And since Zanu PF controls the media it is hard for the people to believe anything but what they hear.
I hope that neighbouring countries stop trying to avoid their hands getting dirty, its not like they aren´t in it up to their eyeballs already.
I have nightmares that this is going to go as far as the final pursuits of Amin, or even Saddam, that Mugabe isn´t going to give in nomatter the sanctions.
And all we can do is watch it happen...

If you go radio - go SR Världen

Wherever I´ve gone in the world I´ve always brought with me my favourite swedish web-radio station, and I´ve even managed to spread the word and have friends all over who listen to it now. It may sound patriotic at first, and when i say that the station SR Världen (world) plays popular music it sounds very mainstream and non-me and rather un-appealing altoghether. But in saying popular music I`m not talking about much of the swedish or even european kind, but it includes top plays from anything from Brazil to Kenya, Irak to the US, and it is anything from rai to reggae, flamenco, kletzmer or jazz.

Its a great way to discover new music, and its so easy now when u can get all the songs listed on the website. To listen go to http://www.sr.se/ and klick on "Lyssna på webradio" on the top left. A new window opens and klick on "kanaler" to get a menu with all the stations. SR Världen is the very last.

It has made me spend many a krona on albums that have stuck in my head, and the reason I´m writing this now is because I´ve just been out emptying the mailbox, recieving a CD I´ve been meaning to buy for a long time, and completely fell for through this station. It is Simone Moreno´s Samba Makossa, and its great. She´s a beautiful woman from Brazil, where her musical roots are, but she´s been living in Sweden the past 4 years, and it makes for really cool mixes and collaborations in some of the songs.

Proceedings of the hammock society

I´ve been wanting a hammock since I was in Central America a bunch of years ago.
For Swedes, a hammock is something hanging down the back of the summerhouse, from the beginning bought by the book lover of the house with the illusion that they will have lots of "me" time during the holiday to contemplate their navel and snooze the days away with a 5 pound brick (think Crime and punishment) splayed over their face. But without fail the grass need cutting, the roof mending or you get dragged in to digging up the vegetable patch against your will (that is if you even can afford to fill up the car with petrol and even get out there this year).

So the hammock is forgotten by the adults, left to feign for itself in some trees, and only enjoyed by ice cream spilling kids, who forget how great it is when they get old enough to sneak away with the neighbouring farmer´s son/daughter on secret teenage ventures.

To sum up, the hammock culture of the Swedes is suffocated before it even takes off, and until a few years ago, I was not the one to oppose that holiday labour legacy of mine.

But after sleeping in hammocks on the Pacific coast of Mexico, in the jungle of Belize and porches of Guatemala, I realized that beds are redundant. Once you learn how to move around in it, there is no end to how it can please you.

So I see no reason to wait any longer. I had a look at the cheap places like Clas Ohlson and the likes, and they do sell hammocks. But they are tiny little ones that you couldn´t even share with a barbie, and they all stubbornly put a wooden bar in each end to "open up" the hammock. Well that might make them look more appealing to the Swedes, who just want something in as close similarity to their Ikea beds as possible. But you gotta think outside the box here, cocoon is good, and can open up to whatever you want it too depending on how you move in it.

A bunch of years ago I was out at wonderful Rosenhill on Ekerö outside Stockholm, and in the midst of all the trees the hammock shop Stora famnen had set out an out-door shop, and we spent ages trying out the entire range. They might cost a whole lot more, but they are all well made and since they actually behave like a hammock is supposed to, maybe more people than just me will be born again in to the world of swingin and chillin.

Now to the problem that might be one more of the contributing reasons why Swedes have such a crap hammock culture. In our vain obsession of tanning we don´t feel its really summer if we don´t optimize all opportunities of UV exposure, and subsequently demolish all garden plants reaching above the hips. I.e. there is nowhere to hang anything. Now some companies sell metal or wooden structures which allows you the choice to position yourself in the ideal Swedish position (in the sun), or the sensible position (in the shade), but the cost a fortune, and I´m not sure I trust them entirely. Of course is also the option of hooks that can be attached to anything from walls to inner roofs, but being an eternal rent-payer, that would reqire hefty discussions with the owners of said walls.

But again, shame on she who gives up. So watch this space for further proceedings in the search of the perfect hammock.

A thousand splendid suns

This is not the first book about Afghanistan and certainly not the first about women´s situation in a society ruled by shari´a. But that doesn´t make it any less relevant. I´ve grown up associating Kabul with missiles, Talibans, burquas and the massacre of the Buddhas of Bamyan, but it is important that we hear that before the soviets invaded it was a country where the women taught in universities, families took in the matinees in the local cinema and children played in the streets without fear.

This book is easily accessible for everyone, in its language and straightforward storyline. Khaled Hosseini writes with a love for his native land, that amid struggle and desperation, makes the hills of Herat and the streets of Kabul glow in the afternoon sun. And it makes me humble when I am reminded that even though I have an illness I think has cursed me unfairly, and this half-life of mine is in fact a mistake that soon will be corrected, many women spend their lives on stand-by, and then die without never being allowed to rise to their full potential.

Some people might opt out of reading this book because its been reviewed in every newspaper, climbed the top 10 lists everywhere and had big sums spent on creating a media hype around it and the preceding "The Kite Runner". But I think that if any piece of literature should enjoy just that, it is a book like this one. During the 90´s there was an urgency to highlight what the Nazis did to Europe, to make sure no one will forget and risk repeating history. Let this decade etch in our memories what the Talibans did; to Afghans, to religion and to the rest of the world. And then, maybe we can allow Allah to again become the forgiving god he once was.

Murder convention!!!

I wantIwantIwant!
Just saw on the Midsommer murders homepage that in the end of june they are organizing a fan convention around the locations where it was filmed! Oh why does it seem like the world spinns faster and with more in it just now when I stopped being in it!?!?!?
I´d murder to go...

Midsummer banter (not)

So today is Midsummers eve, and the longest night of the year. It is traditionally celebrated with lots of intoxicants, acompanied by herring here (us swedes acompany everything with pickled herring to get an excuse to get shitfaced, possibly cuz u can´t eat enough of the stuff to fill your stomach and prevent the shots of aquavit going straight to the head).


My folks are on their way out the door to do just the above at the neigbours house. I am invited too, but since I barely can type this, streched out on the sofa, I doubt its a good idea. 2 weeks ago I was starting to feel slightly better. I had a few friends visiting and I could potter about in the kitchen. And I thought that maybe that 3 month long period of hardly being able to shower or even hold up a spoon, was over for this time. But how wrong I was. A few days ago I simply ran out. Again. And now there is no way I could sit at a dinner, because I simply can´t sit up long enough to get shitfaced. Guess I could get shitfaced anyway though, horizontally...


Today I got company. She was a little moaning lady walking in as if she owned the place. And she can have it for all I care...

No the only Midsummer I care about is the Midsummer murders. I was deeply disturbed when SVT 24 ran out of episodes a few months ago, and not all the Miss Marple in the world can make up for it. Its terrible how this illness makes you so geared towards television, and I have already given my word that if I ever am to get well, I will never own a TV again. I´m dying to do and not just watch!

Well anyway, Midsommer murders have had the decency to record a new season, and although its hard to believe that there can be many left in the county to murder, I shall devour my beloved English countryside all out.

Till then, I have joined Lovefilm. I was once a member back in the sun-burnt days of living in L.A., and I think they were alot quicker to send you out films back then. But in Sweden the post is like everything else under our capitalist government, slow, expensive, and soon to be privatised, so you just have to say thank you and wait for the next elections. Anyhow, I decided that just cuz my body is drying up and weakening out, I should at least try to keep my brain somewhat alert. I guess I could have opted for something more suitable than learning more Spanish, since I hardly have anyone to talk to at all nowadays, let alone in Spanish. But I have said it before and I say it again. Shame on whoever gives up. So I began my rental membership with only signing up for films in said language, and have so far recieved quite a few peculiar dics that certainly wouldn´t have made me stop in a usual videostore.

These two were pretty morbid I must say. Voces Innocentes I can even recommend, if you got the stomach for injustice and human courage. About the civil war in El Salvador, told in the perspective of an 11 year old boy.

Anyway, this chicken might splash out this fine friday night and treat herself to a sleeping pill, so she can be rid of it all properly for a few hours.

I bid you adiós.

Its a hat!

Yes it was hard labour, but now I feel like a proud parent! Well honestly it wasn´t all that difficult, even though it was my first time making something round, "sock" style. And throughout the process I had the wool guru hot line on short dial. Although I confess that the revolutionary advantage was when I realised that we in fact had a fifth knittin needle, so I didn´t have to make do with only four (those who knit will know how awkward that can get)...

Now all I can do is wait till it gets below 10 degrees...

On ´fair´economic development

So on to some serious business here, because I do occasionally dwindle away from sarcasm and comics. Had I not been so unfortunate to contract this neurological restraining order, I would in fact have been located in York, UK, studying a masters in "Conflict, Governance and Development" in said political faculty, and far too busy to be spending my over-worked braincells on blogging.

When I got accepted to the course I went straight on to amazon to start buying some of the recommended course litterature, and then when I realized that I really was too ill to be able to attend the course, or even stay in the country, I was stuck with a respectable stack of publications on econominc development. But as we say in Sweden "Skam den som ger sig" (shame on whoever gives up), so in the periods when my brain doesn´t have the attention-span of a 5 year old, I do my best to absorb the information the course litterature wants to get across. Last weeks reed was interesting as always, and written in a language that is easily accessible, so I thought I´d make an attempt to a brief summary of what the author wants said.


Contemporary economists ignore the truth of economic development of the western world in favour of the view that the high levels of development in the NDCs (Now Developed Countries) were reached much thanks to the adoption of a free trade policy. Pointing to this historical account of their success, they now firmly advice all development countries to follow suit if they are ever going to be able to reach standards comparable to for example UK, the Netherlands, Germany, USA or Sweden.
But Chang looks at the actual historical development of these NDCs, and proves that they all in fact relied heavily on infant industry protection, export subsidies and tariff protection until they had caught up with their domestic industry and the protective legislation was no longer neccesary. So the truth is then that NDCs warn developing countries from the ´bad´ (protective) policies, and advice them to adhere to the ´good´ (free trade) policies, although themselves used the ´bad´ policies during their catch up phases. And they don´t only advice, but force developing countries to sign unequal treaties, giving them no options but to keep their tarrif rates on very low levels.

There is also the pressure on developing countries for institutional development that should reach a certain global standard within a very short time span. These institutions involve, to mention a few, democracy, central banking, public finance, regulations against child labour and competition laws. Chang acknowledges the need for this development, but claims that it is not feasible for development countries to raise the institutional standards within the 5-10 year period that the NDCs demand, and threat with sanctions if not adhered to. He reminds the reader that it took several generations for the NDCs to develop these institutions themselves, and longer still before they actually were implemented. It is also important to note that "contemporary developing countries have much higher levels of institutional development than the NDCs did at comparable stages of development" (p.111). Naturally we cannot compare the global situation in the 19th century with that of today, and the developing countries have advantages of being follower nations who will not have to introduce completely new ideas, like democracy, to their societies, but will already have a generally informed public opinion from the start. But it is still important to see that, although these institutions will develop, it is not feasible to expect them to be financially viable straight away. Chang illustrates this with the institution of maintaining property rights to a global standard, it would "reqire the developing countries to train (or even worse, to hire from abroad) a large army of world-class layers and accountants. This means that they will inevitably have less money (their own or donors´) to spend on, say, the training of schoolteachers or of industrial engineers, which may be more necessary given their stages of development" (p.135).

Chang concludes that "in recommending the allegedly ´good´ policies, the NDCs are in effect ´kicking away the ladder´by which they have climbed to the top" (p.129).

I can only say shame on us. Its remarcable that we think only of ourselves, even when we are so much ahead, that we hinder developing countries to get a fair chance to catch up. But as Chang says, many of those who hold posts on desicion making levels, are not actually informed of our economic history, and can only rely on what they are told by today´s leading economists. There are naturally arguments against this focus on industrial development as the starting point for development, like that if institutions such as social security and various increases in individual freedom were put foremost, economic growth would follow. Whatever should come first, I do feel that all this involvement by the NDCs has led to questions like who is it that actually benefits in the end? So I recommend this book to be read, and hope, like its author, that more along the same lines with be published.

The knitter and her wool guru

The past few days I´ve actually been feeling half decent, meaning that I can expand my activities beyond just chewing, dreaming of showering, watching telly and listening to audio tapes (that period lasted so long my ears were getting sore). At present I´m living pretty far from everyone I know (not even counting those outside the country), so visits are unfortunately very far and few between. But yesterday my favourite Erika and Björn took their time to borrow a car and drive out here.
In my world Erika is to swedish textile crafts what the stream of new books are to a library. She consumes all known techniques, making like an internal conveyor belt and produce things like there is no tomorrow. Quite a long time ago I´ve been cheating a bit in knitting and quite alot in nålbindning, and lately I´ve sort of felt that it might be fun to take up some sort of creative activity. And when I have my very own wool guru at hand, whats better than giving knitting a go.

My gran´s sister down on a little island in Denmark has recently lost the battle against her own hoarding of crap and the town´s entire squatting cat maffia, and so has been forced to opt for an old folks home down the village. This means that my gran and mum (wearing face masks and near enough burning their clothers afterwards), this spring, tried to save the few pieces of family heirlooms that hadn´t already completely corroded under cat´s urin, feces, or manicurial needs. To get to the point of this rambling I arrive at the grandest solid wooden closet (built by my great grandfather), which at an early stage of the house´s decay had had its doors barricaded with various organic and non-organic matter. This matter had started from the floor and by unknown scientifical reactions grown high enough for the doors to remain shut solid for years of double figures. When my mum shoveled in to this (living?) mass, and opened the doors, she found the entire closet filled with high quality knitting, weaving and embrodery yarn, some of which we brought back to Stockholm.

I now feel it is my obligation to treat this premature inheritance to knitting needles and long evenings of cursing. So on yesterdays visit I left the weaving and embrodery yarns to Erika, and she lent me a "fool proof" but really nice book of knitting patterns. I started out straight away, but decided to opt for something small scale before I knew if my claims to once having known the basics of this art was in fact something I had dreamt.


And behold my new iPod cover! Not that I think I will want to be seen actually using it, the leather cover I already have looks in comparison to the knitted one like scallops next to Tesco value fish fingers (thats Coops blåvitt för svenskar). But hey, now I know I can go straight to prison (sweater) possibly not without passing go (hat).

Elves on my shelves

When I was in my late teens I had a friend who was one of these admirable people who felt they without a guilty conscience could spend their money on (several) giganticly long series of comic books, you know those series that made your bookshelf look really lopsided if you didn´t have every single issue sorted in order. Well I was one of those friends who didn´t get struck by a guilty conscience borrowing every single one of those issues.

Although we did have a little bit of mutual lending (I was occasionally tempted to buy the odd second-hand X-men of the older generation), I remember one particular hard-back series that he introduced me to, and that I then clinged to his door-bell on an almost daily basis (we had flats in the same building in those days) just to get him to take pitty on me and lend me the next, and the next, and the next...


I`m talking about Elf Quest. I don´t know how many books were published in the series, but I know that I lived, slept and ate them for quite some time. When I was 17-18 I felt rather embarassed to admit that I sort of fancied several male specimens of the Wolfriders and the Sun Folk, embarassed mostly, I think, because apart from my friend Tickan, who lent me all these books, I didn´t have any other friends who were into comics. Much later I have realized that lots of people continue this sort of devotion well past their 30´s, and I can´t help but wonder what my list of merits and interests would look like today, had my social network incorporated more friends of this inclination.

The reason for this slight trip of nostalgia is that I accidentally came across the Elf Quest website this morning introducing the "Complete Digital Elfquest Online project", meaning that during 2008 they intend to publish the entire series (more than 6000 pages) online! It sucks big time to be as sick as me, but there certainly are some advantages of being unable to work...

On "halelujah" companies

In UK there is, I think, a much higher acceptance of alternative medicine and treatment than in Sweden. But since there is no cure for ME/CFS, those who have it tend to spend small fortunes on anything they hear might help to at least alleviate their symptoms. And I´m no different. My last attempt was to inject myself with extremely high doses of a certain type of B12 vitamin. It may sound hazardous, but it was all prescribed by a doctor, and my mum who happens to be a nurse, introduced me to the syringes-in-the-stomach business. Well 3 months later (and costing around 900 sek per 10 weeks) I can tell you it did absoulutely nothing in my favour.

So I was then recommended by a friend of a friend in UK to try a special kind of Aloe Vera gel, supplemented with a number of bi-products from bees. This woman friend of a friend allegedly has ME/CFS herself, and has with the help of these products gone from not even being able to driva a car, to climbing Killimanjaro. So I was introduced to a company that sell these products. Because ofcourse its just not as easy as getting to the shop and getting some. No, you have to get in contact with a registered whole seller, and either buy from him/her "Tupperware party" style, or to be sponsored by that person to become a whole-seller yourself. And although once you are registered you can buy it cheaper, we´re talking pretty big sums here. Its all a bit of Halelujah over it if you ask me.

Once I was registered I got a heap of information about the company, and how it operates in Sweden. I was told that for legal purpouses I am under no conditions allowed to promote these products as containing any form of medicinal properties. They are health-food supplements that can balance us and provide nutrients. The Aloe Vera is giving the body the best possible internal environment in which to heal itself. If I was to make any other claims the company would loose its permits to sell in Scandinavia. Thats all well and good. I just wonder then, are the laws on supplements really that much looser in UK, since this friend of a friend even promoted the stuff as a miracle cure in a national UK magazine?

Anyhow, I´ve been taking all these things for about 3 weeks now, and apart from that it tastes vile, I can´t make any claims in regards to the ME/CFS. Although my stomach is actually feeling really good, and regular. Lots of people with ME/CFS have IBS, so for them it might be a good idea to try this. The bee products (pollen, propolis and royal jelly) are supplements that have been used worldwide for centuries, but since they turn out so expensive if you take as high doses I was recommended, I bought another brand from the local health food store because I got a huge discount when I bought them in bulk. All in all I´ve spent about 4000 sek for everything to last me for 3 months. Thats quite alot when u as me don´t even get sickpension, but have to live on social welfare since the government is dragging out on the application process.

So its never bad to be full up on vitamins, you just have to make your own ideas about the stuff. Luckily they come in more flavours than just natural aloe.

Attempt on Mexican food

So yes, I don´t understand why us chocolate loving swedes don´t cook more with chocolate. I made this dish with chicken, and I actually ate it. U might not think that is so strange if u don´t know me, but if u do u know I have been a rather keen vegetarian for well over 10 years. I actually remember the last time I ate chicken before I gave it up. It was in 9th grade, so it would have been about 1995, and it was at luch in school.

But lately I´ve been so ill that I can´t really be bothered to keep a completely separate diet from the rest of the house. Luckily my family are all keen followers of organic produce, so the chicken was a big "KRAV" (organic) labled bugger, and this household rather have organic chicken once per month than mass produced broilers twice a week.
So it was chicken with mole then. Mole is normally in Mexico like a sauce you buy in a jar with all the spice mixes to add to your dish, but since we are far from any Mexican grocery shop I madey own makeshift mole.

Chicken with Mole

about 4 small fillets of chicken, or bits from all over

1 onion

3-4 cloves of garlic

500 ml of tinned tomatoes

1 cinnamon quill

1-2 chopped red chillies (more if u have the guts)

2 tsp paprika

2 tsp of ground coriander seeds

salt and some stock granules

40-50 g of good dark chocolate (70%)

Cut the chicken in bite size pieces and chopp the onion. Brown in a pan in some butter and oil. Add the garlic and the tomatoes. Stir in the spices and let it simmer about 20 mins. Taste and adjust seasoning. Stir in the chocolate. Serve with tortillas and a sallad.

Tortillas

2.5 dl spelt or wheat flour

0,5 dl natural yoghurt

1 tbsp olive oil

1 tsp salt

0,5 tsp baking powder

(tomato purée or mixed herbs)

Mix everything together and work the dough untill its elastic. Leave a few minutes. Divide into 4-6 pieces and flatten them out with a rolling pin till they are as thin as u can get them. Fry in a hot, dry frying pan about 2 minutes on each side, or untill they begin to get a bit of a colour. Serve immediately.

Well it certainly didn´t look very good, but it tasted at least half-Mexican. Bastante bien, estoy contento

All hail to the chocolate king!

I am a self confessed choco-holic, and I would probably raise a few eyebrows if some health guru would mound up all the chocolate I ate in a year on a table, TV style. But I only like the good stuff, preferrably of about 85% cocoa. No milk chocolate passes my lips, no no, in fact it stays away if it contains any milk at all.

Here I could march on at length on the origins of chocolate, because I am actually something of an expert on the subjectject. This comes from that during my second year in univeristy, studying to be an archaeologist, I studied at a Canadian university (Trent University), and there I took the best course I ever took, Mesoamerican archaeology. In short I can tell you that when the spaniards arrived in the Caribbean, and eventualy the rest of Central America, the native people of various names (Teotihuacanos, Olmecs, Mixtecs, Mayas, Aztecs etc), had used cocoa in numerous ways. The bean itself was often used as currency, and its consumption was reserved for the royals and other wealthy individuals. At that time the indigenous did not keep any form of beasts of burden, meaning they didn´t mix the cocoa with milk, nor did they cultivate sugar cane or beats. The classic recipe for their chocolate drink (refining it in to bars came much later), was to add water and chilli. It was then poured from a heigh height in to drinking vessels (which were highly decorated with said process), to produce a frothy head.

It might not sound very appealing, but I think that is mostly because we are so used to that chocolate has to be sweet. During my stay in the Americas I missed no opportunity to travel till my bank account begged me to stay in, and I spent an amazing few weeks travelling around Mexico during christmas and New Year. The culinary capital of Mexic se llama Oaxaca. There is just no end to what ur tastebuds can experience there. In a little café I remember a bowl made of coconut shell, filled with a mix of water, cocoa, sugar, and corn. It was strangely fulfilling actually. In one part of town was all the chocolate shops lined up, they were completely opened up to the street, sort of 3 walls and a roof. Inside were massive drums where the cocoa was milled, and others where it was mixed with other ingredients to make bars etc, and when u wanted to buy some you could decide exactly what you wanted your bars to contain and in what proportions. Just point sugar, cinnamon, almonds...

I could go on and on about Mexico, and I thank all higher powers that I got the opportunity to travel so much before I got this illness. Its a country that has everything. Loud crammed citys, amazing archaeology, beautiful people, great culture, foggy jungle, chilly mountains, sandy beaches... Think I´m gonna have to post a few more photos from that trip. Above is the main market in Oaxaca.

The Mayan site Palenque

Colourful crafts

Zocalo in central Oaxaca on christmas day

Fabulous beach in Zipolite, a middle of nowhere town on the Pacific coast

And our makeshift hotel in Zipolite. We arrived on New Years eve and all thy had left was a couple of hammocks

Temple of the Sun, Teotihuacan, about 30 minutes outside Mexico City

Ok, I had a reason for writing about chocolate, namely that I, in memory of Mexico, made chicken with mole. But I think this post is so bloody long already, that I´ll just put the food stuff in a new one

Horizontal eye candy

Yesterday was classic film night in my world. Seventh seal (Sjunde inseglet) from 1957 has been haunting me like an unholy ghost for years, and because I´ve never been that big on Ingmar Bergman (Fanny and Alexander actually always make me wanna hurl) I´ve always opted for something else. But yesterday I was feeling so crap and knackered that I put on the telly already in the afternoon, something I usually try to avoid (think it might be cuz of the old threat mum used when I was little, that ur eyes go square like the telly screen if u watch it too much), and at 5 pm all else I could choose from was re-runs of gardening shows, The bould and the beautiful (season 48?), or football tactics.


But I was happily surprised, and even became a bit philosophical on life myself. I must give the devil some cred for being a pretty skilled tactic (live AND performing). There seems to have been a lot of knights figuring in litterature and films lately, and they all have had their own reasons to doubt. But The Seventh Seal must be the original battle between the blind and un-questioning belief of a higher purpouse, and the desire of earthly sins, and it plays it out with more humour than anyone would even dream of doing in the "Arn" film for example. "du e lycklig du som e så slängd i käften och tror på din egen rappakalja". I say hurrah for Nils Poppe!


But why finnish there. When you have ME everything but just staying in the horizontal position is a struggle, so I went nowhere, and stumbled upon "The Reivers" from 1967. Well I can only ask, what woman can resist them eyes of Steve McQueen? He may have been a right spoilt twat to work with if ur a director, but he is bloody good value :)

On fever

"And the earth hung on the line of the horizon, an enormous looming
boundless polenta of cornmeal still cooking in the sky and almost falling
upon
him, gurgling with fevered and feverish fevery ferocity in boiling
boils on the
boil, plop, ploppity plop. The fact is that when you have the
fever, ou become
polenta, and the lights you see all come from the boiling
of your head"
/Eco

I´m gonna lay of Eco for a while now. I get far too few influences from the real outside world not to risk over-indulging in his linguistic labyrinths.

The grass is always greener...

So just because it is now over for this year, and so not only me, but also those who are well but still uninitiated in the wonderful, miraculous "Mecca-ish" pilgrim event for all book lovers will also have missed out on it, I´m going to mention the Hay festival. Yes so there, now I´ve mentioned it. Just go there, I can´t describe how good it is. If I get a hang of this blog page thingy I might be able to put up a link to it or something.

Yes anyway, the grass is always greener on the other side. Although in Sweden we´ve had a heat wave for so long now that the grass might be greener a bit further away than that, try UK... Well, cuz for me, that´s where it always seem greener nowadays, that and that it seems to always manage to rain there. A year ago I lived in a little house called Ffos-y-bar, near a little gathering of houses called Pentrebach (a very common Welsh place name, bach meaning something along the lines of "little", but we still have a warrant out for what a pentre might be), a few miles of the A40 at Sennybridge, in the middle of the green hills of Wales rather close to the Brecon Beacons. Anyway, I read somewhere that just the area around Sennybridge was actually the wettest in all of Britain. Well all they would have had to do was just ask us bunch working dogs out staring in the mud 12 hours a day and we could have informed them that such was the case, and saved them all them fancy measurements.





See, its bloody green in the Brecon Beacons...

Again I seem to drift from the point. Even though the swedish lawns might have dried out, the world outside our garden seem like the promised land, where anything is possible, with a cherry on top. In the past month I have worn a pair of shoes twice, once when I had to go to see a doctor, and the other time a shrink, both times I was wheeled there in a wheelchair. A few months ago I would drive to the shops, maybe go to the local cinema, but now I can´t even remember the last time I walked further than our mailbox. My world move in smaller and smaller circles. Its not that I can´t walk further, I would probably make it around the block if I tried. Thing is that I have tried a bunch of times, and sometimes I seem to be ok even the day after. But ME is a sly bastard. It sort of collect the times I´ve gone out and done things and thought it was ok, and then, when I least expect it (cuz I haven´t done any more than usual the days before), I crash in to a month or so of almost not being able to move a spoon to my mouth. So I´m terrified to push my boundaries now. People I know with this illness have told me it took them at least 5 years before they got a hang of how they really were affected. And feck, I dunno how many more of those crashes I can take.

But on the bright side, since I hardly ever wear shoes I am all clear from fungal infections. Jealous?

Bite me!

Your Slogan Should Be

Malin. It's What's for Dinner.

http://www.blogthings.com/theslogangenerator/">The Slogan Generator

"Being Umberto Eco"

Thats a film I really would like to see, because his is a head far more interesting than whatever might be hiding in that of John Malcovich.

I´m just nearing the finnishing lines of The Island of the Day Before, very briefly described as a book dealing with the matter of longitudes, and I gasp almost every other page when I think of that this is only one of a mound of books this man has written. I sort of think of Eco as a man who has lived several lives. I mean a normal person beginns learning as a child, and by the time he or she is an adult they have accumulated quite a bit of knowledge, which you can then see in various litterary pieces that person might produce. But Eco writes as if he has accumulated knowledge for centuries! His brain has enormous capacity! There is just no way I could get anywhere near that mix of imagination and complete account of all technological innovations since the middle ages...

The language is fantastic, and this is still only translated editions, but I´m not gonna be so raving about it that I take on learning Italian...

In one chapter, titeled "Anatomy of Erotic Melancholy", the main character suffers its horrible symptoms.

"the image of the beloved awakes love, insinuating itself as simulacrum
through the meatus of the eyes, those doorkeepers and spies of the soul? But
afterwards the amourous impression allows itself to glide slowly through the
veins until it reaches the liver, stimulating concupiscence, which moves the
whole body to sedition, leads straight to the conquest of the citadel of the
heart, whence it attacks the more noble powers of the brain and enslaves
them"

My english dictionary can´t even handle that. How does he do it?
Meet the antagonist in the book, who describes women as:

"the portrait of inconsistency, minister of fraud, fickle in speech,
belated in action, and quick in caprice. Educated by would be ascetics who
never ceased reminding him that El hombre es el fuego, la mujer la estopa, viene
el diablo y sopla, he was accustomed to considering every daughter of Eve an
imperfect animal, an error of Nature, a torture for the eyes if ugly, a
suffering of the heart if beautiful, tyrant of any who loved her, enmy for any
who scourned her, disordered in her desires, implacable in her dislikes, capable
of enchanting with the mouth and enchaining with the eyes"

Well if that fellow didn´t have issues I dunno...

Älskade välfärd!

Until I was forced to move back home I always saw my home country as the land of opportunity. We take care of our old, sick and weak. But I warn each and every one of you, this is a curtain of the past that occasionally sweep by in the back of people´s memroy.

I was reading the paper DN today and it had a comparison between John Mc Cain and Barack Obama now when it looks like the candidates are set. Obama was for compulsory healthcare insurance, withdrawal of US troops from Irak, and no decreases of taxes for rich people, while McCain was just the opposite. Am I missing a vital part of the thought process here? Is there really anything to consider? I confess that I got solidarity in with the mothers milk ( my mum even pumped all excess out and gave it to the milk central for all mothers who were without), but are there really folks who reason in the lines of: "well since I make more money than Joe Soap (who works his ass of at a non qualified job because he or his parents couldn´t afford to pay his way through university), there is no way I think that he should get any chances to catch up, and let his children experience equal opportunities in the next generation". Guess that not all people know how to spell compassion, but the fact that the prognosis for the election indicate that its going to be a close count of the votes is extremely worrying for the development of humankind.

Maybe I´m feeling this even more because of the last few years of political development in Sweden. We´ve had a history of government led by the social democrats, but lately the conservative party has been in office, and even though they surely (and hopefully) will loose in the next elections, they have, by lowering taxes so rich people will get even more, financed the whole packet by selling out almost everything the state has owned and earned an income from. So if they are allowed to continue, only those benefiting from the tax reliefs (i.e. rich people) will be able to afford the private health care, education etc that is to come. I still sometimes wonder if what they write in the papers are meant for april fools...

So being sick in this society in times of change of policies is not the easiest. Even those who´s job it is to save on the little tax money that is left to dish out to the hungry keep making excuses and telling me that you "have to be well to be ill". The sicker I get, the more help I need, the more difficult it becomes. A year ago I was of the opinion that if you wanted anything done you have to do it yourself, now I can hardly boil an egg or hold up a book sometimes, let alone qualify for the phone queue for the only specialist in various fields I have needed in the past year, who happens to only take calls between 7.45 and 8.15 am. Naturally the government has noticed that there is a certain problem here (for the rich), so the proposed solution is not to use tax money to provide a better service, but to suggest what we call a "gräddfil", a private queue on the side for those who can pay for it. So being the poor archaeologist that I am, with not even a proper sick benefit because I worked in UK before I got ill, noone with any affluence would ever notice if I lay down and died, because I wouldn´t be fit enough doing it...

If I only could stand on my two feet, I would really want to pay a visit behind the scenes at Försäkringskassan. I´ve been trying to ring since march, and it took until may for them to inform me that the woman responsible for my case, is herself on sick leave for an indefinate period of time, and there is no substitute to deal with her shit.

Because it is shit