Right Back Where We Started From...

And it's alright,
And it's comin' along,
We gotta get right back to
Where we started from.

- Maxine Nightingale

I got home last Saturday night and headed straight for Bojangles. I've been devouring American food ever since. I should probably stop or I'll gain back the weight I lost in Europe.

I'm here until around Jan. 5, so if anyone would like to speak with me or see me you can call or come by and visit. I've got many more pictures and am having a slideshow burned to DVD to show you all, if you like.

This has been a terrific experience and I appreciate all of your support. Thanks for reading the blog.

COME SEE ME!

That is all.

d

The Wanderer...

Cause I'm the wanderer
Yeah, the wanderer
I roam around,
Around,
Around,
Around.

-Dion & The Belmonts

Well, I have returned from my whirlwind tour of Rome and Berlin.

I'm not going to use this blog as a forum in which to express my utter displeasure with certain members of my 3-person travelling party. That can be done on a private basis. Sufficed to say, this trip teetered on the edge of complete disaster thanks to the attitude(s) of one (or more) of my fellow traveler(s). Period!

Other than that, the trip was wonderful. Tuesday. First we flew to Helsinki and then to Berlin. We stayed at a very nice hotel with a shuttle to the airport since we had to leave for Rome the next morning. We visited the Reichstag, the headquarters of the Third Reich during WWII. I saw the former location of the Berlin Wall. There is a thin line of bricks that runs right down the middle of the city, through streets and parks, signifying where the wall stood. Some pieces have been left up for, uh, sentimental (?) reasons. I talked my two fellow travelers into getting Blue Man Group tickets for Sunday night when we returned. We climbed the TV tower where you can look out over the entire city. We ate Chinese and went to bed.

Wednesday. Off to Rome. We land and take a train to the main station, Termini, which was quite near our hostel. A certain member of our party (not me) left his bag on the train, so we spent a few hours speaking English with people who spoke no English trying to get this bag back! Well, we got it, and made out way to the hostel. It was very nice. Everyone spoke English, the rooms weren't crowded, and the drinks were cheap (What more could one man want, I ask!) We got on a hop on/hop off tour bus to see the city. We stopped briefly at the colosseum with plans to return the next day. We saw the whole city and many impressive buildings. People in Rome are encouraged to drink from the fountains. It's strange to have your bus driver pull over, stick her head under a fountain, and get right back on the bus.

The next day (Thursday) we took a tour of the Colosseum, which was not nearly as impressive as we are led to believe. Don't get me wrong; it was really big and old and cool. It just wasn't as big as I thought. It's nothing like Gladiator, which was actually filmed at a different location (as were Ben-Hur and Spartacus). After spending some time fighting off all the Indians who are trying to sell us crap and the beggars who are, well, begging, we made out way to the Vatican. It was raining. It was closed at 2pm. We got there just after that. Did I mention it was raining? We met a nice American girl named Samantha who decided to join us for a couple of days. We had a great dinner and made a brief stop at the Internet Cafe. Then to bed.

On Friday, we got some gelato (Tiramisu flavored) and stopped by the Pantheon. It was closed due to the holiday. An official Pope-ish kind of holiday. Well, my fellow travelers wanted to see the Pope. He was going to make a speech at the Piazza d'Espagne at around 4:00pm. We got there around 2:00 to get a good spot (I couldn't have cared less). So the Pope, in all his Santa Claus-esque glory, came riding by in his car, waving at his adoring fans (Pope! We love you! I have all your albums! Will you sign my boobs?!) My fellow travelers ditched me to run down the street through the crowd (I've never seen a crowd like this in all my life) to witness a speech. Which was in Italian and Latin. We went our separate ways from Samantha and we had dinner. Then back to the hostel for drinks. These hostel folks were pretty wild.

On Saturday we flew back to Berlin (we had to do this jumping around because there are no flights between Rome and Helsinki, only to Berlin). We went to the famous Berlin Zoo and Aquarium. We saw some pretty cool stuff. I can show pictures of the animals to anyone who's interested when I get home. The city was all decorated for Christmas. It was much cleaner than Rome. Rome was dirty and the people were pretty rude. That's probably just the "big city" thing we all hear about and believe so faithfully. Their English is also terrible. The Berliners' English was good enough to get us through our stay there. We had dinner at a German pub where there were two cowboys playing American country music (Johnny Cash, etc.) for tips. I had a real German beer! (Just like a real American beer, just not quite as disgusting!) Off to bed.


On Sunday we took a bus tour of Berlin and saw the entire city. Then we did a lot of shopping for folks back home (and a little for ourselves, of course). Then, we saw Blue Man Group. The first few minutes were in German, but that was okay since the remaining two hours had almost no dialogue. One member of my group did not care for the show. The other member and I decided that we did not care for his attitude and ignored him. For those of you who don't know, these guys are the ones who played on the Pentium 3 and Pentium 4 commercials. They do a show with audience participation, comedy routines, paint, and play music on various forms of PVC pipe. It's really entertaining and almost completely pantomimed. I had a blast. They have about 5 shows in the States (they opened off-Broadway in New York in the late 90's) and recently opened in Berlin. Bedtime.

We were up and gone the next morning. Plane to Helsinki and then to Oulu. Our luggage was delayed by a day due to an airport worker's strike in Helsinki. I got it the next day and all was fine.

Whew.

Now I'm tired!

Check out photos: Dustin's PhotoBucket!

d

'74-'75

Got no reason for coming to me and the rain running down.
There's no reason.
And the same voice coming to me like it's all slowin down.
And believe me -

I was the one who let you know
I was your sorry-ever-after. '74-'75.

It's not easy, nothing to say 'cause it's already said.
It's never easy.
When I look on in your eyes then I find that I'll do fine.
When I look on in your eyes then I'll do better.

I was the one who let you know
I was your sorry-ever-after. '74-'75.
Giving me more and I'll defy
'Cause you're really only after '74-'75.

Got no reason for coming to me and the rain running down.
There's no reason.
When I look on in your eyes then I find that I'll do fine.
When I look on in your eyes then I'll do better.

I was the one who let you know
I was your sorry-ever-after. '74-'75.
Giving me more and I'll defy
'Cause you're really only after '74-'75.

I was the one who let you know
I was your sorry-ever-after. '74-'75.
Giving me more and I'll defy
'Cause you're really only after '74-'75.

'74-'75,
'74-'75,
'74-'75.

- The Connells

I have been conducting a special anthropological study for the past week.

I was at a party at the apartment of my German friend Fabian and Czech friend Roman. A group of us got together to eat potato pancakes and cake and rink Glögi and red wine. A mix of random music on Fabian's computer was playing throughout the evening.

We began discussing guitar players, for some strange reason, and I mentioned that my brother-in-law David plays bass. This was met with minimal excitement until, that is, I casually asked Fabian, "Have you heard of the Connells?"

"No. What was a song of theirs?"

"Did you ever hear of the song '74-'75?"

"Of course! I love that song," he replied.

I was pleased and surprised. Let's ask the others.

"Have you all heard of the Connells?"

They didn't seem to think so.

"'74-'75?"

Puzzled looks.

I began to sing:
I was the one who let you know
I was your sorry-ever-after...

And 7 Europeans (2 Czech, 3 French, 1 German, and 1 Slovanian) began to sing with me:

"'74-'75"

They all knew it. Half of them knew the words. The others just knew the chorus. They told me that they all love it and heard it on the radio in their respective countries about once a month. They also play it at 80's music parties.

I then decided to take my question to the next level. I had been making the mistake all semester of asking people if they'd heard of the Connells or mentioning the song specifically. What I needed to do, however, was sing the damn song!

My roommate knows it. He's Italian.
His friends know it. They're from everywhere.
His girlfriend knows it. She's Hungarian.
Her friends know it. They're from everywhere.

Almost every person at a huge international party I attended (see the previous post) knew it! I met a German guy at the party who plays bass and can actually play the song!!!

The Americans, however, do not know it.

Strange how life works, isn't it.

A special hug and kiss to my sister Natalie and her very talented (and popular!) husband David, both of whom I've been missing very much and cannot wait to see.

All for now.

d

Come together...

Holiday, celebration,
Come together in every nation.

-Madonna

I went to a terrific party last night hosted by my friend German friend Kerstin. It was organized to bring together all of the students of the Finnish intensive language course in August from all over Europe. I was the only person invited not from this group. I was the only native English speaker, not to mention the only American.

The group welcomed me with open arms (about half of them I already knew). There were about a dozen languages being tossed around in a very crowded apartment. I spoke a good deal of French and helped others with their English. Fabio spent all afternoon baking a pizza and a lasagna, which we brought with us to the party.

We all brought a gift and received one when Joulupukki (Santa Claus) arrived. Most people got things like candles, water guns, and candy. I, however, magically received a bottle of Russian vodka. It had been brought, apparently, by someone who went on the St. Petersberg/Moscow trip and brought it back with them, as it is genuinely Russian. I was amazed and became instantly popular.

I met a really nice Slovakian guy named Martin who is a huge Stephen King fan and wrote quite a bit himself. I met some interesting French characters (I do mean characters) and there were also people from Germany, Slovakia, Czech Republic, Austria, Spain, Lithuania, Portugal, Italy, Hungary, Poland, etc. (I'm sure I'm forgetting a few).

I was home by 5:00am. I was not the last to leave.

Check out the PhotoBucket for some great pictures of the party.

I'm feeling kind of sad about leaving. I'm really getting on a roll with this social activity thing. I'm spending a lot of time with Fabio and his friends, as well as other internationals, and less time with the Americans and kids in my class. It's time to start getting things organized for departure.

I've successfully sold my bike to a Nigerian medical student and am now the proud renter of a bedroom in a house off of Tate St. in Greensboro for the spring! My friend Amy and I intend to get an apartment together in May for the following year, while I go to school and she works.

I'm off to Berlin and Rome on Tuesday. A huge update will be given after I return on Monday, Dec. 11.

All for now.

d

The Lapland Darkness

Last night, we were asked to present a piece of short fiction to our literature classmates at a pub downtown. I was consistently told that mine was the best, but I'm not sure what that says about the work of the others. I was told that it was very Stephen King-esque. It was, at least, inspired by him. Here is what I presented:

I am going to tell you a story—one that needs to be told—if for no other reason than in hope that you might believe me.

We left for Rovaniemi on the 20th of November. I was just 21 then, but can still remember the names and faces of my 22 classmates, our two group leaders, and our bus driver, though I’ve not seen them in many years. We were all on exchange. Our little troupe was getting a glorious 5 days, 4 nights stay in the winter wonderland that is the Finnish Lapland.

During a brief stop on the way to Inari, I picked up a free copy of the local Finnish newspaper to bring back to the United States as a souvenir. Bored with several hours of bus travel, I decided to use my pocket dictionary to translate a passage or two from the day’s news. Translating anything this way takes a frustrating amount of time and patience and I got no further than the front-page headline:

Kymmeniä kateissa. Etsinnät jatkuvat yhä. (Dozens missing. Investigation continues.)

I considered this information for a moment, perhaps two, and filed it away in the temporary storage file of my brain—from where facts seldom return. It would, however, re-enter my mind no less than 24 hours later.

I rose late in Vasatokka the next morning, having missed the sleepy, staggered departures of my four roommates. I was the last to reach the bus. This had proven to be not all that unusual.
We would visit a Sámi reindeer farm that afternoon. Anticipation built up inside with an intensity akin to my acid reflux, though decidedly more painless. We arrived at the farm at 2 and, while we waited for our guide, I made a brief visit to the facilities. I went alone and when I returned the group had moved on without me. The dark was coming.

I was not sure where they had gone, so I followed the footprints in the snow. This worked until the footprints dissipated and I could not continue with my tracking. The human footprints were replaced with hooves that led out into the deep forest. I wondered what the reindeer were doing outside the pen but brushed the thought away, unimportant.

Several pair of hoof prints began to appear in the snow. So many, in fact, that I could no longer tell where they were headed. They spread all over the forest in various directions. This struck me as bizarre until I saw the blood. It appeared to begin where the human trail ended and the reindeer trail began. Is this where they’re slaughtered? No, it’s too small an area with too little blood. They would have a special location for that sort of thing. This must be where they do the earmarks. A large open area, a little blood, human footprints and reindeer tracks—it all seemed to fit that conclusion.

I walked back to the main camp, where the bus was parked. I checked, just to be sure, but it was empty. I entered the small workshop and found no one there, either. A small thread of panic began to weave an elaborate fabric inside my stomach.

The temporary file of my brain suddenly flew open, releasing a single article:
Kymmeniä kateissa. Etsinnät jatkuvat yhä.
(Dozens missing. Investigation continues.)

No one could kidnap 25 people at once. Besides, where are the owners of the farm? Nothing is locked. The lights are on. Everything seems to have been left as if they were going for the mail. I walked up the small hill to the reindeer corral. It was completely empty. How could this be? I will admit, I do not know that much about reindeer farming, but I know enough to know that the reindeer are not normally all removed from the corral at once.

I searched high and low, as they say, and nary a German did I find. Nor did I find any French, Austrians, Russians, Chinese, Lithuanians, Americans, or Finns.

I walked toward the corral, the only area I had not checked, and noticed that the gate was wide open. Near the gate, in the soft, white snow, was a splattering of blood. A hat lay close by—one that I immediately recognized as Sámi. It was torn and bloody. Hoof prints led out of the corral to the area where I had seen them congregate in the woods. I followed these hoof prints back to my previous spot, deciding to continue straight ahead to see what I found. Something was terribly wrong.

I searched, lost in the woods for hours. Losing my grip, about to cry, I heard a scream. Not a scream of surprise or fright, but one of unbearable pain. It was the scream of a young woman. The woman began to bellow hysterically, as I began to run through the woods toward her voice. I ran with two distinct thoughts—thoughts that still haunt me today. For one, I ran quickly, hoping to reach the young woman in time to do some good. Save her, perhaps? Secondly, and more present in my mind at that moment, was the thought that I should stop, turn around, and run even faster in the opposite direction of the screams. This seemed to be logical. I was no longer moved toward that scream by any sense of duty, but by uncontrollable curiosity. What would I find out there in the woods?

The snow crunched beneath my New Balances. Occasionally I would reach an icy patch and have to maneuver desperately across it, hoping not to fall flat on my back. This, too, had turned out to be not all that unusual. In the snow lay a digital camera, which I barely noticed in my panic.

The screaming stopped. I ran even faster. A few meters later, it all came into view.

They were lain out across the open expanse of the snowy forest. All 25 of my group members—or, as I should say, what was left of my group members--plus dozens more. Heads with no bodies. Bodies with no heads to match. Limbs strewn about. Blood was everywhere, as were bones, teeth, and strips of meatless flesh. It was fully dark by now and I realized that the only way I was able to witness this scene was by the light of a huge bonfire. A human bonfire.

In the distance, I saw large pieces of human skin stretched out across a few logs. Bones were set up to dry and teeth were lined up neatly in little rows, as if on display for me. Someone had massacred my group and dealt with their bodies as only a proud hunter could—by making them into handicrafts.

I heard a crunch of snow behind me. I heard a low, heavy breathing approaching. I knew then, in an instant, what was happening. I turned around, everything moving in slow motion, and saw them. There were three. One, large and white, the others smaller and brown. The antlers of these smaller two were caked with blood. Their black, glossy eyes met mine and, in that moment, we knew each other. The white one signaled to the other two.

Then they were upon me. And it began to snow.

I am an old man now. Life has been good to me since then, save the nightmares. The others here often asked me how I lost my right leg and eye. I tell them, as I’m telling you, that I fought hard to escape with what I now have. They have never known exactly what happened on that night in the woods. That night of unbearable pain. Not only pain—something worse—terror.

I will never return to the United States. Dr. McAllister says I may someday, but I'm sure they will keep me here forever. It has been 53 years since that trip and the investigation and still the doctors try to force me to admit that it is all in my head. They say that I’m delusional, that I’ve created an elaborate plot in my own mind in order to avoid the truth about the disappearances. They call me insane. If I am insane, it is the price I pay for being alive.

It is snowing now. Some nights I can still hear the hoof beats. And I know they are waiting for me. Waiting to finish what they once began. Waiting…for revenge.

They are telling me that I must turn out my lamp and go to sleep now. I’m sure you have many questions. You may be asking yourself how was I tried and how I ended up in this bleak place—one filled with moans and tears. Or perhaps it is the immortal question: How did I escape? That, my friends, is a complicated tale—a painful one—that I cannot share. That story will remain in that cold, snowy night, out in the Lapland darkness.

Lapland

Petteri Punakuono (FINNISH)
(to the tune of "Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer")

Muistat Tuhkimon, Lumikin, Ruususen varmaan
ja Punahilkan ja sudenkin harmaan,
mutta poro tää sulta usein unhohon jää.

Petteri Punakuono oli poro nimeltään,
ollut ei loiste huono Petterimme nenänpään.
Haukkuivat toiset illoin majakaksi pilkaten.
Tuosta vain saikin silloin joulupukki aattehen:
Aattoilta pitkä on, taival valoton.
Petteri vois nenässään valon tuoda pimeään!

Petteri siitä asti pulkkaa pukin kiskoen
johtaa sen riemuisasti luokse lasten kilttien.

Literal English translation:

You remember Cinderella, Snow White and
Sleeping Beauty, Little Red Riding hood, and the big bad wolf,
but this reindeer is often forgotten.

Petteri Rednose was the name of the reindeer.
It hadn't a bad glare from the tip of our Petteri's nose.
At evenings others disparged him mocking as a lighthouse,
But from that Santa Claus got an idea.
The evening light is long, the sky is out of light.
Petteri in his nose can bring light to the darkness.

From that time on Petteri has pulled
Santa's sleigh leading it cheerfully
To nice children all around.

MONDAY

Up at 7. We meet at St. Luke's Chapel, in the parking lot of the Faculty of Education on campus. We should have left at 8:00, but ended up leaving around 8:15 because our professor couldn't get a taxi.

3 hours on bus. Arrival in Rovaniemi, 11:15 at the Santa Claus visit. We met Santa, which was really neat. He spoke to all 23 of us in our home languages (of which there were 6). I got my picture taken with Joulupukki (Santa) as well as a photo done with some of the UNCG kids.

Lunch at the University of Lapland at 12:00. Then a 3.5 hour drive to the Sodankylä Geophysical Observatory in Inari, recceiving a lecture on Nordic environment (for most of us this was old news, since we went on the excursion to the Oulanka Research Station).

Then to the cottages of Vasatokka in Inari. The cottages could house 8, but there were only 5 guys, including me, in our cottage. It has a kitchen, upstairs bedrooms, a fireplace, and a television. It was right on a huge iced-over lake. It was myself, Lee (UNCG), Frank (Germany), Emanuel (Germany), and Martin (Austria). We would be here for two nights, cooking pasta, telling foul jokes, learning German/English from each other and, unfortunately, witnessing a violent...well, let's say...flatulence tournament. The one-person (not me) Team America took the gold. Both nights.

TUESDAY

Up to make breakfast and on the bus around 9:00. We reach the Siida museum at 10:00. In the museum, we got a basic education on the lives and environment of the Saami people, the indigenous people of Norway, Sweden, Finland, and Russia (they would be the focus of our trip).

Then we were off to the Saami radio station in Inari, where we met a man who appeared in a Saami film we had seen in class. We had a great time talking with the head of the radio/television station, which provided an 8-hour daily broadcast entirely in the Northern Saami language (there are 4 predominant Saami languages in Finland).

We made our lunch back at Vasatokka in the cottage, then were off to the Paadar farm.

This would be the greatest experience I have had so far on my trip to Finland and will not likely be topped.

We met a Saami man whose family ran the Paadar reindeer farm. We were able to mingle with dozens of reindeer, feed them, take photos with them, and learn about how their are raised and their various uses (sledding, meat, skins, bone). Then we went to the kotta (a large hut with a central fire-pit). It has tables all around the edge of the kotta, where we sat and were served tea, coffee, and home-made biscuits. We drank from these wonderful, hand-carved wooden cups that are very popular and useful in Lapland.

Next, we stopped at the Paltto atelier in Lemmenjoki, where we got a lesson in felt and leather art-making from a lovely woman named Kaija. Her craft work has appeared in art galleries and museums around the world. Her work is exemplary and we loved seeing it.

Back to Vasatokka for some Russian vodka, more fulgar jokes, and some good sleep.

WEDNESDAY

Breakfast in Vasatokka, then departing for Norway.

(I should note that Norway, while being on the Western side of Sweden, which is on the Western side of Finland, actually borders Finland on the North, as it stretches all the way over to the tip-top).

We arrive at the Saami Artist Center in Karasjok at around 10:00, where we got a preview of a new exhibition of native Saami artwork. After lunch, we visited the Saami Parliament building in Karasjok, where the Saami parlaiment meet and come to decisions which will later be brought to the Norwegian government for consideration.

At 2:30, we left for Alta. It has been dark for an hour, as Norwegian time is one hour earlier than Finnish. Once in Alta, we stayed at Alta River Camping, where the same 5 of us stayed in a much smaller cabin. We cooked pasta.

Let me explain the pasta. This is basically all we ate at night. Meals consisted of 15-minute stops at small grocery shops to raid them of anything cheap and edible, usually dry spaghetti and cheap sauce. Always enough for 6. We only had 5, but Lee eats for two. At least.

We were invited by the international students group at a Norwegian university to have dinner and drinks with them at a local bar. We had a great time singing, dancing, and playing games. Then back to the cabin.

THURSDAY

An apple for breakfast, from the large bag of apples I bought from a grocery shop.

We got a lecture on the Kvens of Norway at the Alta Högskolen i Finnmark, a Norwegian university. A few slept through it with their eyes closed. The rest of us slept through it with our eyes open.

We stopped at the Arctic Ocean where several people jumped in for a swim. They all lasted less than 30 seconds. That is understandable.

We then left for Kautokeino to the Saami University, where we learned about Saami higher education and some about Yoik music.

Next, to Juhl's Silversmith, where we saw some amazing pieces of jewelry and various other interesting pieces from around Lapland. Then we left for Hetta, to a bed and breakfast.

Thanksgiving dinner was cooked while I played the piano. Vegetables, imported Stove Top stuffing, chicken, etc. We ate and played an interesting game called "Never Have I Ever." For example, Dustin says "Never have I ever gone in the Arctic Ocean" and Hunter, Julie, Val, Gary, Wade, and Tye take a drink of beer to signify that they had, indeed, done that.

Sauna and a long chat with Vulnavia and Frank in our room, this time with the same group of guys, without Lee. He roomed elsewhere.

FRIDAY

Breakfast at Hetta, which I slept through. This would prove a problem later in the day. Next to the Fell Lapland Nature Center, which wasn't exactly open. We saw a short film and then went on a two-hour hike up a mountain in two feet of snow. It was beautiful but exhausting. I took a picture of the sun peeking through the clouds over the moutains from the mountaintop. I will probably use that for the International Programs study abroad photo-contest at UNCG.

Now for the trip back down into Finland and down to Oulu. Lunch is obtained around 4:00 in the afternoon (remember what I said about skipping breakfast?), long after it is dark. We watch a few more films (we watched films on the long trips: Napoleon Dynamite, Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas, Monty Python's Meaning of Life, Lost in Translation, Screaming Men, Some Like it Hot). We arrived in Oulu in 8:00 pm. I got some good sleep, waking up very late on Saturday in time to go to the Kummi family Christmas party.

Please check out tons of photos at:

Dustin's PhotoBucket!

NOTE: When looking at the PhotoBucket, it is best to click on the first photo and then use the arrows to scroll through the pictures, so you can see them in their full size and read the descriptions.

All for now. Will update again soon.

d

Facelift

You may have noticed that the blog has a new look. I thought the last one was getting a bit old and I thought I'd give it a facelift. I hope you like it!

d