Start

Sometimes you don't know what the hell you are doing.
You get caught up in a senseless routine. Everything seems horrible and pointless.
You don't know why you chose this, because in that moment it equals misery.
Sometimes you just need a win.

And that is what I got: I won.
I have an exciting history with winning: it is never the lotto or a car or money, but it is always an experience. Somehow I end up winning adventures.

The first three times these experiences took me to France (or rather, the French embassy did as part of the annual Francophonie celebrations) and every time I met the most wonderful people. We came from all over the world to share our passion for similar subjects(be it language, the arts or photography), and we bonded in those hot Paris/Perpignan summer weeks filled to the brim with lessons in Frenchness: in between language courses we ate baguettes and went on a cheese tasting, we climbed the Eiffel tower and the steps to Montmartre, and the one time we took the TGV down to Perpignan for the Visa pour l'Image photojournalism conference.

Through one another we learned about other worlds as well: practicing an Iranian dance on the Pont des Arts; eating a maple-shaped cookie whilst hearing about life in Canada; wondering about the strange habits of the girl from Azerbaijan or being taught by a young Serb how my camera works. We reveled in being a young, multicultural group on an all-expenses paid trip to France. The memories from those trips, and the new friends from all over the world will stay with me longer than winning an object in any case.

This time the win was again unexpected. I was skyping with my mother when an unknown number called on my cell. I thought it was the bank or some government agency wanting my non-existent money. Instead, it was a nice man from some company explaining that I had won a dinner for 10 people, cooked in my kitchen by a professional chef. It was part of a promotion by Telekom at various German universities and I had entered through Facebook.

Elisabeth Opel showed up loaded with fabulous food and I had invited some of the other students. It ended up being another fantastic experience. Somehow we managed to squeeze into our little kitchen and different teams worked on different dishes. As a starter we made a parsnip soup; the main course consisted of Spätzle with filet, an onion sauce and onion rings; and dessert was Kaiserschmarrn with apple compote. They had asked if I wanted a specific dish and since I haven't had a traditional German meal in a long time that is what I asked for.

Parsnip soup with croutons and duck breast. 

Spätzle with filet and onion rings. Although Spur's onion rings will always remain #1. 

My German grandmother used to make Spätzle as well with Rouladen and she'd fill our plates with a second enormous helping as soon as they were empty. I don't remember much about her, but her food was always delicious. Her dishes were traditional and time consuming and not really suited to the climate of SA. It must have been strange for her to come to such a hot country knowing only recipes that were suited to the cold - somehow rich and creamy does not work as well when it is 35° (except if it is a rich and creamy ice cream). Now my mom makes Spätzle on occasion as well as a special treat.

Kaiserschmarrn

With the courses we consumed 6 bottles of white wine, 2 bottles of sparkling wine and 2 bottles of red wine so irrespective if you liked the food or not you would have had enough to drink to make up for any distaste.

Hello new friends.

So glad I now have an apron. 

I was a bit apprehensive at the beginning of the evening, because in Pretoria I would know exactly whom to invite and how to lay the table. I'd have had everything we needed in an enormous kitchen, and we could've eaten outside on the porch, enjoying the spring. Here, the kitchen is quite small and none of the utensils are mine (I have a knife). Also, I just invited the first 10 people that I saw during the course of that day, so it could have been quite a fail. Luckily everyone was really into the cooking-together thing and I hope that it may have sort of laid a good foundation for moving from being merely people who study together and are all new in this city to actual friendship.

Separator

Dedication in Christian Bök's Eunoia

The new ennui makes me organise four years of past papers, collected images and photocopies I'll never use again. I thought I could just recycle it all, because I had backed-up the pdfs to my hard drive, but since it failed on a whim I have to actually look at everything again. Now my brilliant plan is to somehow use it all as wrapping paper. Here are the earrings I bought you, and some Foucault on the side. Win-win.

Treading water

The reason I went to France was for writing a short story about my social awkwardness. I posted earlier about going to a party where no one appreciated my wit and talent. But ultimately I should probably thank the party-goers for ignoring me and giving me something to write about.

If you want to read the story, here is the link. However, it's only in French. To make up for this fact this is a link to an article on the event, also in Francais, but with images. Man, in the one image I look like a mountain. Doesn't help that the other two laureates are 9 and 13 years younger than me and always look adorable. You know sometimes you wear things and think you look decent enough, and then, years later, you scroll through old photographs and wonder how you could ever have put that on. I don't feel this way about my wardrobe now, but perhaps I should reconsider. But actually it is funny. I appreciate a good bad photograph.

I make it sound like I am this super-socially-awkward hermit who cannot interact normally with others. I can. Giving tutor classes is no problem, or presenting something, or talking to people I know. But I detest the small-talk one has to make at functions, I hate having to talk to people who have no real interest in me if there is no profit for them. Also, I like discussing topics, events, anything exciting. The emphasis is on discussion. If the other party fails to add anything stimulating to the conversation, I would mostly like to just walk away, but since that is considered rude I fumble with my clothes and hands and words because I feel I need to save the situation, somehow, and it all just becomes very weird and uncomfortable.

Even reading is uncomfortable. 

Ne me quitte pas

Oh yeah. This time next week I'll be in Paris. It is different from a holiday, because I have no need to go see the Louvre or the Sacre Coeur or climb the stairs of the Eiffel Tower. I just want to spend time with my friends, and smell a different air. I am so excited to sit in the Metro and watch people. Or to buy books which I cannot order here. Or to go to H&M. Or to eat a fresh baguette with the supercheap Mozzarella that floats around in a little bag on top. Or Kinder Pingu. It will be great. Greater than great. Awesome.

So excited. SO excited.

I can (photo)graph

Throughout the year, the University's Archive Department and Qphoto (a local photographic store) host four workshops throughout the year. A lecturer from Vega School of Brand Leadership comes and condenses their intermediate photography course into the four Saturday mornings. One learns about the basic mechnics of a camera, about filters, lenses, flash, etc. My understanding was that if one attended all four workshops, one would receive a certificate attesting that one completed an intermediate course, which I thought could be useful if I would want to take other photographic courses in future. However, the deal was that one had to hand in all four assignments, which I did not do. I missed the fourth assignment and for the fourth I only had my little Panasonic because my mom took the DSLR on tour with her. Last night I attended the prize-giving ceremony and I thought I would receive a little condolence basket and a pat on the back. To be honest, the whole event was a bit of an irritation to me, because I had an assignment due for today that I had far from finished and I was thinking how Derrida and post-humanism and memory are more important for my future than watching people eat Sushi and drink Sherry. When they handed out the 10 "well-done"-awards, I was sure they had mistakenly invited me. This was a waste of time. But then, WHAM BAM, 2nd Prize. For taking a photo of a building with a bottle in. With my little one, my disregarded one,  with the one I throw in my handbag when we go out to take bar-brawl-party-pictures. Here it is ( not sure how the copyright is now, since I think it belongs to the UP Archives, but I took it? If anyone from Archives reads this and wants it removed, just let me know).

The Chemistry Building at the University of Pretoria ( 2nd prize QPhoto Awards 2011)

I think the best image I entered was this one though ( you might notice,I like buildings. They don't move. They like their picture taken):

New building at University of Pretoria and moon, 2011. 

And then, another WHAM BAM moment: the Pretoria Stadstapper Fotoklap was featured in the Beeld, a local Afrikaans newspaper. They spelled my surname wrongly, but I am glad they got my first name right. Such a minefield, these foreign names.

Here is an image of the article:

Beeld Pretoria Stadstapper Fotoklap feature, 26 October 2011.

Guess which one is mine? 

Admittedly, I cannot merge photos on my own, it is all technology and selecting which fotos could fuse together. Hell, I shoot in auto. 

Pretoria at sundown, viewed from Hotel 224.