Sunshine Scandinavia
Life at 59.53 degrees North
October 25, 2011
X100
There is an odd thing happening with my camera life; I grew up with Canon slr cameras, once decided that Nikon is probably my favorite, but I already purchased my second Fujifilm camera instead. It started some years ago with my odd camera for my high end needs: the S5 Pro, which I noted then for its high dynamic range. Now my choice for compact camera also fell on an odd Fujifilm: the X100. Both cameras are somewhat top end of their class of cameras (at least what price is concerned) and they give the feeling that you have something special.For the S5 Pro it was the exceptional dynamic range back then. Rarely under or overexposed highlights and shadows. At the time of writing other cameras are catching up and it is a matter of time before the quality gets surpassed. Still, it was 5 years of fun and pictures are still good. The weird thing was the structure of menus and buttons. Logical, but not always practical. One gets used to it.
The X100 is about 5 years newer and reviews give it similar comments about the menus and buttons, but coming from and old Fujfilm system I found it delightfully simple. The first attraction of the X100 is its retro look. The font side looks a good 1960's design and would easily be mistaken for being a very old camera (as it happened already by passers-by commenting on my camera). Yet, the back side reveals it has all features of a digital camera. Nice touch is the optical viewfinder and the ability to actually use an old fashioned shutter release cord (tested and works). The specifications will no doubt be outdated soon, like most compact cameras these years, because digital camera technology is far from being fully developed, but it has several advantages over its competitors.
I was looking for a portable, yet reasonably good photo camera that I could take with me almost any time. So no separate lenses, some automated features - but with full manual control if needed and it should do well in low light; think indoor parties or winter darkness. Basically you then have to decide then if the camera (meaning you) needs a zoom. Zooming is useful, but comes at the cost of less light on the sensor (giving higher noise), requiring flash for indoor use for compact cameras. At Fujifilm they figured that too and decided to build a dedicated wide angle lens for their X100 camera body. They put in a relatively large sensor (larger than in comparable class cameras). This, together with good performance tests at high iso values were convincing enough. A better camera is not about more megapixels, but what it gets out of its megapixels with its optics and sensor. The ability to see (and hold) with a viewfinder is the best guarantee for image stabilization.
The fixed lens has a 35mm small-film-equivalent view that captures what is more or less our human view angle. I noted that no in-built zoom (you would have to walk closer to zoom) makes me think better of composition. What do I see? Does it make a nice picture? What if I move half a step forward or backward. I came to be more concerned about the scene.
And that is the greatest thing about the camera. Good looks, no thrills, it brings you back to making pictures.
http://www.finepix-x100.com/en/x100
August 10, 2011
Bird poo
A short excursion to Germany prompted me to rent a car. I decided on a BMW 1 series; more comfort, but not a big car and only slightly more expensive than the eco mini cars. Dropping by the rental desk after two short flights the friendly lady from Sixt informed there was none available right now. I checked my watch and indeed, I was earlier than I had booked. She rapidly checked other options: a Ford Focus would be there now, but if I could wait 10 minutes there would be a comparable class car; an Audi A3. "That sounds fine to me.", I replied. "And, oh, it is a new car.", she said. "How new?" "It has 14 km." "Forty K?" "No, for-teen."While I tried to handle the concept of going to drive a brand new car I tried to recall my driving lessons - a mere century ago - in a small BMW. Come to think of it, I had never driven a new car ever since. When I found it in the garage it was violet-lila. I checked the counter: 17 km. The lady fooled me by three kilometers. The interior as clean as it will never be again. And surprisingly: no new-car-smell. How did those Germans manage to get rid of that? I started the engine and drove off and on to the motorway. I still had to get an hour further today. First gear, second gear, third gear. It speeds up to 100 in no time. Fourth, fifth, sixth. Going 140 and I barely notice it. The engine - so quiet, steering - so easy, the balance - so stable. Oops, going 160 now. Amazingly gentle. What is the limit of this machine? Ah, 240 km/h and we have all year round friction tires the sticker says. This car does 3000 rpm at 160, while my Golf does 3000 rpm at 90.
Then disaster strikes. Bird poo on the windscreen. This amazingly shining car, spoiled forever. The windscreen wipers cannot get it off no matter how much soap I add. That night I slept restless.
Next days it rains heavily. The dirt washes away from the car. In the dry times the engine swiftly and safely brings me wherever I go. On the last day around one o'clock I head back to the airport for my flight at six. Three hours to get from Munich to Stuttgart should be enough on the motorway. But then: traffic jams. The Audi gets sandwiched between Dutch caravans. Bugger. Ok, I can skip stopping for lunch. Half an hour later I start to get worried. It will get tight at the airport. I still have to stop at least for fueling up. The clock ticks away precious minutes. When the motorway gets three lanes again the jam dissolves. I had spent almost two hours standing close to still. It is four o'clock and I still have 90 km to go. I have to come up with a plan. The German motorway has no speed limits. It is time that I use that. 120, 130, 140, 150, 160. Back in fifth gear. Pedal down, 170, 180, 190, back to sixth. This car has an amazing traction and comfort. Without the speed dial I would not be able to tell the speed. It is a quarter past five when I reach the airport with a full fuel tank. A rush from the parking to the check in desk with all the luggage brings me through security 5 minutes before boarding. In the aircraft I relax and breathe normally again. Then, I start wondering. There was a lot of sand on my shoes. The car must look terrible inside. I hope they tidy it a bit before they hand the keys to the next person.
March 17, 2011
The hungry transferer
How much time does a plane transit take? That depends. It depends on the carrier, time of day and which airport you fly. Take a flight starting 18:25 at Europe's fourth busiest airport to Europe's second busiest airport on Sunday evening and you will have the shortest time between flights. Or just miss the second. I was supposed to have more than two hours in between my flights from Amsterdam to Stockholm via Frankfurt. As frequent traveller I know that leaving on time is unthinkable at that time of day at these busy airports, but I had hopes to have at least time to sit down and have a decent schnitzel to complement the ever shrinking on board snacks. In the end I had 20 minutes.First, our starting flight left with congestion delay. The crew was anxious to make us eat the sandwich and started handing them out before departure. The flight time was officially 45 minutes. This got extended by queuing up for landing at Frankfurt. We swirled around the night lit city half a dozen times during which I failed to spot the Roömer main square. When we finally were landing, our approach was called off due to another aircraft on the runway, which meant queuing up again in the Frankfurt circle. Thus we exited the plane about 40 minutes late (remind the flight time was supposed to be 45) on a remote gate without docking connection, because we had missed our slot. The doors opened and aparently we were to be transported by busses to an airport entry. It started to rain as well while we were waiting outside. Finally inside at terminal B, I see that my connecting flight leaves at terminal A. That is a claustrophobic 15 minute underground walk with elevators and moving walkways.
Not all Sunday evening travel is misery as I could look forward to a buying the real schnitzel. Unfortunately, all the delays had given me just enough time to buy myself a quick snack to make me survive the evening. To my surprise, Lufthansa did not serve a meal on the remainder of my journey - the two hour flight to Stockholm. Not even a sandwich, but just a small salad. I was already on my way for four hours and would be arriving home after midnight. Someone had made a decision that a decent on board dinner is unwanted on these kind of flights. I wonder who that was. It must have been a morning traveller.
Januari 5, 2011
The cloudwatcher
The alarm woke me up and after a short while wondering why I set it in the first place I remembered that I had a flight to catch. Still dark outside, I moved into some clothing, fetched breakfast and showered, or something in that order. I walked to the bus. The freezing air outside brought a little life in my otherwise still sleeping head. I was well on time to get an early airport bus connection, so when I arrived at the check in desk I was praising myself for not having to rush and have time for a coffee.The flight was scheduled to Zurich, where I was to connect with my final flight to Vienna, with a transit time of 50 minutes. Zurich is not big and as a frequent traveller I trusted the Swiss clockwork. But I was still waiting to board my flight. And waiting. There seemed to be no aircraft yet. It was then announced that my flight is delayed. Weather condition or so. (Would they ever tell if there was something seriously wrong with the aircraft?). I was reflecting on the fact that the Swiss are famous for chocolate too and if that would have overtaken their clock skills.
Now people pour out and our vessel apparently arrived. Our take off was swift and I had good hopes we could make up for the lost time. The flight was nice and quiet and I was studying various cloud types for a change. Deep into Germany we started to make a circle around a town in the middle of the hills. This does not look too good. Another circle followed, and another, and another. "Ladies and gentlemen, due to bad weather conditions only one landing stripe is open in Zurich so we are queuing up at the moment". I peeked at my clock; half an hour left for my next flight. I resolved to studying our new town. Look there is the main church, and there the station, and that must be the historical center, that looks like a suburb. It was as if the crew wanted to calm us with a permanent view on this peaceful looking town. What was missing was a Mantovani tune.
Finally we broke the circle that Zurich traffic control put us into. I stopped looking at my watch. The pilot informed us that also all departing flights are delayed so we'll make most of our connections, but I heard such before. If we are not landing soon, they are not going to hold them, otherwise they will congest the airport. I am waiting for a miracle. We are going down now. Turbulence. Air pockets; we are dropping 10 meters at once. We steadily fly lower. Another drop. We are getting close to the ground now. The plane is shaking left to right. Almost there; I can see the asphalt. The pilot corrects tremendously, 20 more meters, I tighten my seatbelt. One more drop and we are as flat as omelets. We accelerate! We are pushed into our chairs and go up again. As much as I would like to land, I am glad the pilot takes no risk. I would not like to end my life in a airport which' name translates as 'bollocks' into my language.
We queue up for another try. Turbulence is still heavy. Slowly... one drop; more shaking, we continue and land correctly. I take a breath. I am only 600 km away from my destination now. Let's see if my plane is still there. The door opens and I patiently await my turn to disembark, then rush to the gate. There, terminal, where am I, A65, where am I leaving, A67. That is close! I can make that. A67, that is... I turn around and stare at the plane that held my life and I just so eagerly left. Gate A67 to Vienna, that is the same plane.
October 28, 2010
The edge of winter
The time between the colouring and falling of leafs from deciduous trees is the time we mentally define as autumn. It takes about three weeks at the level of Stockholm. The leafs are all down and carefully winter is starting. Mornings are frozen and the afternoon sun thaws up the land. I witnessed a not so common phenomena that can occur around this time: the formation of mist by the midday sun.Happening exactly at the forest edge where, in the shade of trees, the winter prepared crop land is frozen. When the sun turns around it reaches so far frozen surface and the light is just strong enough to let the temperature rise above freezing point, but not enough to immediately evaporate the water: it stays as a little mist on the field for a few minutes before it finally dissolves into the air.
I was fortunate to be around with my camera. The fields are full of wet and deep clay so very difficult to enter. My shoes sank almost to my ankles and then got sucked to the sole. Taking them out was only possible with the addition of a few kilograms of clay stuck to my soles. A small expedition into the field let me decide to better capture this phenomena with 200mm zoom and not risk the cam (and me) going down in the mud. I ran around the field to find the best position, but this was as close as I could get. Perhaps it is time to get the rubber boots like the natives here have.
October 7, 2010
Early photograph
There is something to be said for getting up early and taking photographs. Light at sunrise gives a special feeling to any picture taken. There is a significant drawback, however: it involvles getting up early.Undersigned got out of bed at the unchristianly early hour of 6am - and that on a saturday morning - to enjoy his hobby. After coffee things felt a little better but it was only outside that one really wakes up: it was freezing. The clear sky during the night had cooled down the landscape. Everywhere were ice crystals. There was enough humidity to form a mist that slowed the sun's progress trying to warm up the earth. Perfect for moody pictures.
Covered in gloves, hat and autumn jacket it was not so bad. Every plant and feature looks different with a white layer, becoming interesting enough for a photograph. So I spend a considerate amount of memory card space documenting the new impressions, with wonderfull shapes and colours. When the sun was finally getting throug and I could feel its warmth on the face I even got a strange idea: I actually liked getting up early.
September 27, 2010
Are we North or are we not?
There are a number of places that have to be visited because of their geography, rather than their intrinsic interestingness. Mount Everest, the South Pole, the Florida Keys; when looking at the world map it is easy to find places to go to. When it comes to actually doing it there is a truckload of excuses to say that "perhaps this year is not so convenient.". How many of us did go to the places we found so exotic?It took me a number of years before I decided to go up North. I have been living relatively close to Lapland for several years and still, going to North Cape, the Northern most point of the European continent was on my to-do list. Excuses and phrases like "I can always do that, I have no time now" prevented me from going while living in Scandinavia already for seven years. But this time, I had the company, the car and the money (although not much time) to explore the cold end of the continent. The trip has to be made in summer; anytime else the weather and light conditions make it impossible. After a few days driving (it is still quite far from wherever you come) we arrived in Northern Norway. On the way, the landscape gets rougher. Deciduous trees make place for pine trees and far up in the Northern hemisphere the trees dissappear altogether untill only grass and rocks are left. Even in summer, the temperature is 15 degrees at best, or - in my case - 10 degrees. Too cold to put up a tent so better to rent a heated cabin. First we would warm up and next morning we would explore the End of Land.
At the ring of the alarm clock ('sunrise' or 'dawn' are futile expressions because in summer there is 24hr light) we got up and started the last kilometers. It was drizzling, clouded and barely 10 degrees. At the gate of the cape one pays an outrageous 200NOK just to drive the last 200 meters and enter the visitors center. Many will pay after having driven many thousands of kilometers and being so close, but our goal was a foot path that branches off from a parking lot a few kilometers earlier. From here starts a seven kilometer walk that leads to the next cliff which is in fact the northenmost point here. Unfortunately visibility was reduced to 100 meters and the rain did not seem to end so having faced the option of doing a slipperey stone-and-mud-walk for the rest of the day at a chilly 10 degrees or drive in the heated car and sip warm coffee the comfortable option was chosen. A few pics from the mud was enough to satisfy the soul.
Driving southwards there was a mix of feelings. "Did I really go to North Cape, or did I made it myself to easy?" But then I realized we were on an island. The cliffs we call North Cape are not connected to the continent. They are the northernmost Cape. The actual northernmost continental point is a rock at the Kinnarodd-Sandfjord, a day driving east. This eased the mind of having missed nothing at all and gave an excuse for future travel. North cliff, here we come ... but perhaps not this year.
June 22, 2010
Cutting frenzy
The start of summer brought all plants back from their winter hybernation state and fields are blooming with new flowers every week. One could argue that this is a reason to celebrate; after all, for the best part of the year nothing grows at all at this northern lattitude. Not so in Sweden.Since the first sprouts of grass came up the cities' botanical army attacks every green growth taller than 5 centimeters with an array of motorized grass cutters. The machines manouver on a daily basis into every corner of the town and roadsides to reduce the green invasion. One week we had a field of yellow dandelions, the next week alarmed grass cutter were on their way to deminish the danger.
The inmense grass field in front of my house is cut every few days. While having my morning coffee I observe a stiff looking head passing by my window steady and horizontally. Going back and forth like a pendulum and leaving behind a clear, shortened green carpet. Biking to work one smells the dialy fresh blend of ruptured plant cells, carried by the morning breeze. Witness of a newly made battlefield. And there is always the sound of the machine engines somewhere of a machine storming a new line of plants.
I am astonished by the Swedish urge to cut down all that can't grow in the rest of the year. The small places that escape cutting for a while develop new colours every week. Yesterday the turn came for a variety of 5-fold, tall purple flowers that I never had noticed before. Last friday in front of my house it was all tiny yellow flowers in the grass; today all turned into equally small white-pink. It all happens very quickly as if the creatures realize they may have only a few days before the cutting frenzy returns.
June 8, 2010
Macchinetta
One of the intriguig things of living abroad is that after a long time one starts to miss the things that one thought never would be missed. I am thinking of coffee creamer in particular.Back home I never was that much of a coffee drinker. Instead, I was a tea addict, trying all kinds of flavoured black tea, red tea, green tea and white tea. I slowly changed that habit in Scandinavia, which after all has the highest coffee consumption (measured in liters of brewed coffee) in the world. I was not tempted by the watery draft that Swedes dare to call coffee, but started making my own with the italian macchinetta. Finely grinded beans of higher quality give a fantastic taste with this device. Perhaps a real espresso machine gives even better taste, but the macchinetta is straightforward and a few orders of magnitude cheaper. There is a small choice of italian coffee sources for the moka in the regular supermarkets. Initially I took it black, no sugar.
One day I was late and cooled down my coffee with milk to drink it faster. That was interesting and made me put milk every time. On one of my trips to the homeland I obtained a pot of coffee creamer in powder form. Handy for making trips I thought. One day I started to put some in my morning coffee. That was a revalation. The pretty good coffee that I produced before became twice as good with the concentrated powder of the creamer. It was a sad moment when, after several weeks, the creamer ran out and I was back to regular milk again.
I searched every shop in every town to find me this nice tasting creamer and even went to the capital, but no one appeared to have it. Sweden is a Creamer Void Country. A black spot on the world's creamer map. I made a deperate call to my parents to send me a creamer refill. They sounded surprised but asked no questions, knowing that I come up with strange ideas frequently. This week I received my long awaited supply together with matching cookies. The cookies are another story, but for now I am back in Creamer Coffee Heaven.
March 15, 2010
Legal
"Ah, a message from the traffic ministery, let's see what it is". Tearing open the envelope, I found an invoice for 1500 crowns co2 emission tax. Hmm. Oh, there is a second note. "Your vehicle did not pass inspection and is grounded from the the 1st of this month". What? How? Why? Oh, right, wasn't there some inspection appointment form? Christ, I totally forgot about that. Where did I leave that? Hmm, ah there it is: "You are scheduled for the 18th". That was last month, crap."Let's check the internet booking system. Hmm, no place this week. Mm, nor this month, let's see at the other garages in town." Neither had any available slots for a 20 minute car check for at least a month. Thinking if I could leave my car for a month or would risk getting a fine. Probably not a good idea as foreigner. I checked other places around and found a slot for the next day in Tierp. Tierp? Yes, tiny Tierp; a mere 45 minute drive along a deserted 120 km/h motorway. And back of course.
The guys checking my car found no problems. The only thing I could think of what was needed was a car wash. But that, is another story. On a sunny winter morning I drove back legally on a deserted motorway.
February 15, 2010
Black Slope
Friends proposed a ski trip to the nearby ski resort in the weekend. This would be my second time downhill skiing. We gathered 10 people in two cars, leaving at 6am. Environmentally concious we avoided a third car and sat crammed for three hours.One started a conversation: "Hey, I read the weather forecast said it will be -13 there" Damned, I thought, I should have taken my warmer jacket, but perhaps the prediction is off; it would not be the first time. Outside it was still clouded and -5. After 2 hours the cloud ended and beyond lay an endless area of blue sky. The car thermometer started to drop to -9. Hmm. A while later it was -13. And then it continued to drop; -15 ... -20 ... until it said -24. The prediction was indeed off.
Getting out of the car was not as cold as I thought it would be. Getting the rental boots and skis took a while. Waiting in the soft Scandinavian winter sun was not to bad, except that the toes went numb. Once I climbed into the boots it was better. Yay, lets go up with the lift.
At the top, goggles on, ready to start, I automatically went right to where I skied last time. Oof, this looks steep. Very steep. How did I used to go down here? I took off and I remembered: falling. A gentle Schwalbe and I lay down with one ski continuing the trip. Collecting the skis I realized this is a black slope. Too late now. I managed to go down somehow, proud of my first descend.
After gulash lunch I explored the other slopes. Some are steep and some or not. I came back to the black slopes, because they are more fun and to figure out how to do the descent. The day remained beautifully sunny and the view on top was magnificent. All trees covered in loads of frozen snow. The slopes perfect white.The trip home took a while and after that a well deserved bath waited for getting my black slope degree.
February 10, 2010
itsoambmuotdi ... and Ruby
I sat in my chair, staring at my script code, and couldn't recall the last time I was in the gym. "Perhaps I should do some action", I told myself and started to check out the new training schedule. They still had the 70 minutes iron bar training after 6pm - one of the hardest gym classes. "That'll have to be it" and I grabbed my things and rushed to the training center. 'Classic Iron' they call it now. Warming up, strechting and then the class started with the instructor as energetic as ever showing and telling us what to do. Bar lifting exercises for the back. Easy, steady pace, stable, think of technique rather than force. Jumping for condition and arm exercises for the muscles alternated each other until I was feeling all muscles I thought I did not have. Shower, finally. The working day was forgotten.Meeting friends in the pub after this and eating a pizza. Hungry and happy. We played a few rounds of our favourite shooting card game Bang. I seemed to win but got killed twice in the end. All in all fun day. I even discovered a hidden gem: a ruby. I was looking at my lines of ugly Perl code and thinking "Yes I understand how I came to write this, but how the heck to explain this to someone who has not written it?" Perl is a versatile scripting language that is easy to learn but it can end up in having lines which look cryptic. My chemistry teacher used to write on the black board explaining different methods of chemical separation like this: 'itsoambmuotdi'. He summed up several ways to separate chemical mixtures using this shorthand notation for '... is the separation of a mixture by making use of the difference in ...' Perl is a bit like that; understandable, but not nice to read. I was reminded of another language: Ruby. Surprisingly easy to read and after a short introduction I could already write a few lines of code.Hopefully I can replace a few Perl routines with Ruby soon.
February 8, 2010
Never ending snow
I grew up in a mild sea climate where once every two winters we could enjoy a short period of ice skating. Snow fell perhaps one week per year. Enough to have fun as a kid and to mess up the streets for adults. The last 20 years have been much warmer and ice skating happens every 7 years now. Untill I moved to Scandinavia.The first snow flakes this winter came in November. From December on it froze during the day so the snow accumulated throughout December, January and February. Morning after morning I had to dig out my car from fresh snow. Evening after evening I had to do it again when leaving the office. It became so much that I opted for having a garage place.
Since I grew up loving to ice skate and not able to ski I look forward to every winter in anticipation of the ice covered lakes up North. This year however, the snow destroyed all chances of skating. The snow came directly when it started to freeze so all lakes were covered in an insulating layer of snow. Ice grew extremely slow, despite weeks of -20 degrees temperatures. Furthermore, when it finally was thick enough to stand on it was rugged, white ice. Full of cracks and bubbles. No skating this winter, just snow. And the end is not in sight yet. It is freezing, more is predicted to fall. Spring will come in May...
February 4, 2010
The old man and the squid
"Trust no man over 30" is an adagium that has different sources, but I prefer the one in a spy novel where the elder secret service leader explains his prime agent tricks of the bussiness. In the end of the story of course he himself appears to be the main traitor and the apprentice has to finish him off. Growing old comes at a price.Ageing beyond 30 does indeed make you loose a certain innocence. It makes you independent. You learned to trust yourself more than others. You became wiser. Wiser not to burn your fingers when not necessary, but to take action when important. Some would argue that you are ripe for making up a balance of achievements, but that would probably put you on track to a mid life crisis, since most of us don't lead that spectacular lifes. The best you can do is being content and confident, knowing that patience pays off and from time to time beautiful things come your way. As cliche as one can be it is best to enjoy life as it comes. Carpe Diem.
Recently I was looking a a squid in the city aquarium. Squids can be single minded creatures, grabbing food as it comes and not wanting to do much more than procreate and floating in the water. His options in a closed aquarium are limited of course and he will not live long enough to write a book or to learn to play an instrument, so given the cirumstances he probably makes the best of what he has. Watching him made me think a little about my own life. Thus he became an evolutionary unlikely envisioned point of reference and reflection. As I throttle in my aquarium I do my best for the food and procreation and try to enjoy the life beyond the glass walls, given the means that I have at my disposal. Life beyond 30 does not look bad. Not at all.
