Things fall apart...or, everything comes back to Jane Austen

Why is it that when electric appliances decide to expire, they have to do it all at once? This morning I found out my battery charger had stopped working. Then, on my way to S-Market, the headphones of my mp3-player started acting funny. These are minor things, and easily (and quite cheaply) repleacable, but I'm waiting for the inevitable third casualty - I'm guessing it'll be either my computer or my freezer (just my luck it'd stop working while I'm on holiday).

Nothing much has been happening here. I've spent most of today reading Sicily-related web pages and blogs, trying to find out what to see, eat and drink while I'm there. I've also been listening to some more of Dowland's lute songs - and to my surprise discovered that 'Weep You No More, Sad Fountains' was originally written by him. Although I knew it was an old song, I had always associated with the famous pianoforte scene (below) from Sense and Sensibility.

For me, this is the definitive version of the song (with the melody composed by Patrick Doyle). I play it on the piano quite often, and each time I perform it, I imagine Alan Rickman walking through the door and stopping to listen, mesmerised.

If only...

Castle 1 - Academia 0

I just got back from a conference trip to Turku - my first ’official’ performance outside my own alma mater. As I got up at 4.30 on Thursday morning, caught an early train to Turku and then had to find my way first to the B&B and then to the university - in a city relatively unknown to me - by the time I had presented my own paper I was completely knackered. Which was just as well, as there was very little in the symposium to get my academic teeth into.

What annoys me about these gatherings is the sheer amount of bullshit that goes on between (and sometimes during) the sessions. Maybe it’s just my Finnish nature that doesn’t agree with empty small-talk, but I feel extremely out of place when people start complementing each other on their ‘interesting’ work - while at the same time they probably don’t even remember (or care) what it is that these people do. Of course it’s always nice to meet colleagues etc., but otherwise there's very little substance to these conferences, at least when compared to the amount of money and time that goes into organising them.

During the weekend I also got a quick tour into the unbelievably narrow-minded world of some of these academics (some of them well-known in their respective fields). Musicologists for one seem to be terribly concerned about keeping their own field carefully fenced, so that those people who don’t do ‘real’ musicology (ethnomusicologists, for example) can’t get in to steal their precious resources. An interesting paradox in itself, as the purpose of the conference was to celebrate the multi-disciplinary nature of music studies. Ha.

On a brighter note, I skipped the last day of the symposium altogether in order to get a closer look at the Turku Castle (which I’d previously seen only from the outside). So while the others were busy patting each other academically on the back, I rambled the halls and corridors of the castle - and boy, did I get my money’s worth! Actually, there’s so much to see that three hours wasn’t nearly enough; I especially would've liked to ask more questions from the guides (who seemed to be very knowledgeable of the stories of their respective rooms - and also eager to share that knowledge).

Also the city itself had a surprisingly welcoming atmosphere; I say ‘surprisingly’, because I’ve always thought all people West of Jyväskylä tend to be glum and more reserved compared to us easygoing Easterners. However, all the people I met were friendly and talkative - but then again, we all tend to be like that in the first sunny days of spring.

Talking of that: this time next week I’ll be sitting in a piazza somewhere in Sicily, soaking up the Mediterranean sun. Should be good.

Looking forward to

Phrasal verbs are weird. They go against my Finno-Ugaric language sense as they make up new meanings in unexpected and totally illogical combinations. 'Taking someone in' sounds perfectly innocent, helpful even, which of course it isn't. Quite the contrary. Yet, some of these verbs are extremely descriptive, like the one above (although, as A Student's Grammar of the English Language reminds me, it's not strictly speaking a phrasal, but a phrasal-prepositional verb. Thank you, Messrs Greenbaum & Quirk.).

Above is also my beautiful new necklace (purchased here) - and my groovy new tablecloth, courtesy of M. They both remind me of the coming summer, as does the sun that is now flooding my kitchen with insanely brilliant light. There are lots of things I'm looking forward to: a trip to Taormina, the long-expected party, Juska's wedding...

The snow's melting already.

Mielenmaisema

There's something particularly Finnish about the scenery above, and something that well summarises my current mood. A narrow slice of dirt track bordered by tall trees, meandering deeper into the forest until it meets a lake or another road or a dead-end. Roads like this have always fascinated me; I love their randomness and their prosaic mystery - you never know where you’ll end up when you start following one of them.

That particular road is in Korpilahti; I spent the weekend there at M and J’s house, looking after their animals (two horses and a dog). Or, more precisely, the dog looked after me - she kept following me everywhere and watching my every move. I think she might report to M later.

I really should have got some work done as well, but lately I’ve been feeling acutely unmotivated. Partly this is because my supervisor has (apparently) been ignoring my Licentiate and therefore I don’t quite know how to proceed with my research. So instead I’ve spent the past month travelling around the country and thinking about Renaissance food and frocks.

Which reminds me - the necklaces Otter and I ordered finally arrived. And they are gorgeous. I also got myself a French hood; god knows if it’ll match the dress and the jewellery, but as I’ve set my mind on having one, I really can’t complain. And I suppose I can use it as a sun visor if nothing else goes.

Frock fetishes and wobbly milk cubes

This Renaissance party thing is starting to get out of hand. I spent a weekend in Hämeenlinna with Otter and T, and in addition to visiting the local theatre to look at available dresses and tunics (for those who aren’t willing to spent their month’s salary on period clothes), cooking some ‘authentic’ renaissance milk jelly, planning a web page for our very own Stereotypical History Society and just generally planning stuff to do with the party, Otter and I also spent ridiculous amounts of money on ‘authentic’ Renaissance dresses and jewellery.

At least you can’t blame us for feeding the economic depression.

I don’t know what it is about period dress that fascinates so many women, myself included. It may be the fact that in this day and age, dressing up in fabulously ‘feminine’ but completely impractical clothes is not an option for many of us; a heavy full-length skirt and a tight corset may look fabulous on you, but imagine going through your day unable to go to the toilet. Occasions like our little Renaissance party give us a taste of what it was like to wear ridiculous clothes - and then go back to wearing jeans and T-shirts for the rest of the year.

Another reason I can think of off the top of my head for this frock fetish is that I don’t expect to get married - and thus am not entitled to a day of meringue fabulousness, surrounded by fussing friends and members of my family. Thus I have to make up my own fun - which in fact should be even more fun than a wedding, since as a member of the Stereotypical History Society, I can indulge in my period dress fetish every year; furthermore I don’t get riddled with a husband and five toasters.

In case you’re interested, the 16^th century milk jelly cubes turned out pretty well. Their taste can be best described as ‘interesting’ - but that’s only inevitable since these wobbly cubes are made up of boiled milk, sugar, gelatine and rosewater. They taste faintly of milk and rose, and then sort of disappear in your mouth. And, because they are such a strange and unexpected dessert, Otter and I decided they’d make a perfect snack accompanied by fruit and wine.

I’m pretty excited about my dress, by the way; however, because I ordered it via the Intertubes, there are many things that can go wrong with it. Therefore I’m not saying anything more about it at this point. After the Renaissance party there’ll be pictures.

In addition to the dresses, food, websites and general planning, I’ve also promised to contribute to the cultural content of the party. So far, I’ve listened to some Renaissance music (I particularly like John Dowland’s lute songs), looked at some Renaissance dancing on Youtube, and read a depressing book about Renaissance women (apparently they were nowhere near as versatile as Renaissance men - most likely because Renaissance men didn’t want any competition). I’ve also dug out my tarot cards and am trying to relearn the basics so that when I’m in a merry mood after a few goblets of wine, I can tell people their approximate fortunes.

Still, there’s a lot of stuff that needs organising. We don’t know how many people are going to turn up, what the venue is really like - and most importantly, how we’re going to get there. Luckily we’ve started our planning in time; many things can change between now and late June.