Parachute

I love my bed. The sheets smell lightly of detergent and lightly of me, the futon has never made me wake-up with a back ache and although the bed is just a simple Ikea construction it works (for now). After two weeks of sleeping elsewhere, I love my bed even more. It was the greatest relief to come home to it and pass out, finally getting a good night's rest.

The first week was spent at a conference for PhD students on visual methodologies at Aarhus University in Denmark. About 20 students from all over and doing very different PhDs came together to discuss the manner in which we choose to study visuality, and how traditional approaches can be remixed to fit the individual topics. The course was led by three wonderful women whose insight and ways of navigating academia was inspiring and ultimately it was more than I had hoped it would be. When I came to Germany, I expected students from various backgrounds and engaged lecturers wanting to discuss canonical works, as well as debating current trends and developments. It is a course in culture, language and media, but somehow it feels as though we stagnated for 18 months and are all feeling rather over it.

The beach near my AirBnb

The week in Aarhus by contrast was exactly how I had imagined by Masters: people with diverse backgrounds, all with a desire to be there and learn from one another, coming together and exchanging worldviews, knowledge and a few beers. We were assigned specific groups, but could combine our various talents to best research the various tasks we were given (or rather, where we were given a wide framework to choose our own specific task from). It was a learning curve to see how the other students approached the research, how each used different methods and how things that I had considered frivolous and more for my own interest than as academic research could be validated (such as doodling or making subjective notes or simply taking photographs).

Before Flensburg, I thought I had found my way. Academia would be where I wanted to spend my time, where I could learn and teach, where knowledge and interaction and working together would be valued, because that is how the department I was in worked (despite administrative bickerings). But the system at this university and the lecturers' attitude of simply not giving a fuck chipped away slowly at the desire to go into the same field. What if everyone, everywhere was like this? Would I want to spend my time surrounded by people who, outwardly at least, have no passion for their jobs, no wish to talk with the students, no  desire to work with instead of against others. I am being unjust to this city, because it does have its beautiful moments and I do value the time spent, the wonderful apartment and the new friends made. And yet it took a little of an optimism that previously would not yield to mumblings of having to choose differently. Now I hear the whispers, ingest the insecurities, constantly overthink whether I can do this. Whereas I looked forward to whatever happens next, this place made me fear it.



Aarhus gave back a sliver of reassurance since I could see and talk to others who had struggled with the same thoughts. Aarhus also gave me music, a saviour in all cases.

Mo. 

Ginger magic Jack Garratt. 

The Northside festival was part of the field work we did, which is also why I initially signed up: a reason to rationalise the great expense of the festival ticket. Friday's line-up already made it all worth it. I stood front and centre for Jack Garratt, and hot damnnnn was it good. As a British guy behind be said: "Yeh, he's a proper lad". I caught Death Cab singing Soul Meets Body and then got into angst-ridden 20-year-old mode for Incubus. The Danes filled the hills for Mø, a Danish singer who dresses like Sporty Spice and whose songs all sounded the same to me. Our little group headed to a different stage to see FKA Twigs, but for having being rather hyped this past year she just seemed exhausted and ingenuine. She came on stage, had her back to the audience, stood there for a few minutes, then left again to come back dancing sultrily and breathing into her microphone, which was her entire performance. Northside redeemed itself through a great set by Alt-J and then the Wu Tang Clan got everyone to jam. At 1:00 in the morning Grace Jones gave the performance of the evening: I cannot remember having consciously listened to her music, but she was enigmatic. She changed costumes, had her tits out, made jokes with the audience and just seemed like a fantastic person with fascinating skeletons in her closet.

IPA. 

Bruschetta Burger. Fancy. 

Little tarts. Fancy #2. 

Saturday was a rainy and windy day, but it suited the set by Anthony & the Johnsons perfectly as he sang with the Aarhus Symphony Orchestra. Somehow the melancholic music and the sound of the rain falling on everyone's raincoats worked so well together that I could forget the miserable weather, the loneliness felt when not going to a festival with friends, and thinking that I shouldn't miss the bus again because walking home for an hour in the rain would suck.


Sunday I decided that just chilling with the others was enough, so we grabbed some beers, stood in a queue for an hour to get a tshirt printed, saw the marvellous man that is Ben Howard and danced a bit to the final act of the festival: the Black Keys.

'Sup Handome. 

The next two days we used our research to formulate concrete findings and suggestions before presenting these before a panel from the festival and ReThink2017, a group charged with making Aarhus a cultural capital in the coming year.

I travelled back to Flensburg, chucked my dirty clothes on the floor, packed new ones, slept a little and went off on the next adventure.

High Hopes

“You will never be completely at home again, because part of your heart always will be elsewhere. That is the price you pay for the richness of loving and knowing people in more than one place.”

― Miriam Adeney

After 6 years of friendship and living on two different continents for most of those years, my friend has finally managed to visit me (usually I would manage to win a trip to Paris and see her). We spent three days in Flensburg just catching up and testing how long we could lounge around on the couch before we headed to Copenhagen for three days.

It is the most silent city, like a ghost town. Even the swarms of furiously pedaling cyclists make no sound. Very strange. I don't know if it is the climate or because we were there during the week, but the noiselessness was astonishing.

The first day we arrived, booked into our hostel and walked to the Tietgenkollegiet near the University of Copenhagen. It is a residence that looks as though the architect was playing a game of Jenga. There we also saw the Konserthuset (concert hall) before finding our way back to the main shopping street Strøget to eat something (which turned out to be Burger King because it was the cheapest). 

That evening we found the only source of sound in the entire city: our hostel. Monday nights were apparently acoustic night or something and there was a band playing below us (our room was directly above the bar/check-in) til well into the night.

Hello Copenhagen.

Tietgenkollegiet, or playing Jenga. 

The next day we made our way to a bakery because we thought we'd always grab some Danish pastry for breakfast, but sadly the store had disappeared. We found another though and then walked past Nyhavn to the Amalienborg castle to see the changing of the guard.

Like in John Irving's Til I Find You. 

Changing of the very young guards.

Then we jumped on a canal tour and saw the city from the water. We were extremely lucky with the weather during our entire stay in Copenhagen. Given that it was not even spring yet it was fairly warm and we had no rain. Yay! NO RAIN!!!

Nyhavn

Vor Freisers Kirke

After the hour-long boat ride I spent more money on a pair of beautiful earrings than on the entire trip (bad bad Sabine) . We wanted to go up the Vor Freisers Kirke but were too late so we instead went directly to Christiania, which is a neighbourhood that doesn't see itself as belonging to the EU and where drugs are dealt openly. It was a bit too hippy-ish for us so we went in search of pastry yet again and walked along Strøget (it is one of the longest shopping streets in the world, so enough space to drift along silently). 

It was so good to get away from Flensburg for a few days and to spend time with someone where I don't need to explain my jokes or feel self conscious about what I am allowed to say without being too honest. It is a strange tightrope one walks when being alone in a new place and has to find new friends. But it makes me all the more thankful for the old ones that I can carry with me whether they live in the same city, the same country or 12 000km away.