Category Archives: Memories

Gatwick thoughts

I’m traveling between time zones. And realities. Yesterday I was in Mauritius, this morning I woke up in London, and tonight I’m going to bed in Denmark. I have three different realities the three places, and I’m wondering if they fit together. My life has been in Mauritius for two months, and everything going on has happened there. That’s how I’ve experienced it anyway. In a few hours I’ll land in Copenhagen, where my family won’t understand what I mean when saying ayo or alala. That means I’ll have to remove what has been and still is my reality, because I’m the only one living it. It is really a shame, as nothing covers the meaning of ayo like ayo.

There are some things – well, loads of things – that are hard to leave behind. Boyfriend, friends, language and to some extent even my personality. I’ll miss all of this. Still, there is something lovely about coming back to another home. Things you didn’t even know you missed. Like your own duvet cover, or the smell of Sainsbury’s washing up liquid. All those small things that you can’t really take with you.

Now is the time to make sense of what has happened for the past two months – go through everything again. Look at pictures and digest the experience. I’ll probably write about it, just like my shrink told me to. Writing is my way of philosophising. While living in Mauritius everything has been a flow. Even though no one is stressing, there is never time to sit down and figure out what is happening. Everything is a kind of flow.

Mona asked me yesterday what I’d done at work, and it turns out all those hours when I didn’t feel like I did something actually resulted in tangible stuff in the end. So what did I do? I initiated a training course in human rights for Mauritian hotels and businesses. Hopefully in five years it will mean that more that the current 1/3 of the population knows Amnesty. I have gone into factory buildings and dormitories I wasn’t supposed to visit. Sometimes I was stopped and kicked out by aggressive guards, and other times I was invited for tea. I’ve taken pictures and had dinner with migrant workers who want to leave Mauritius to see their families at home. They’ve told me their stories, and I’ve published articles about them. Some of which have been discussed in the parliament. Reading the parliamentary debate afterwards it turns out some of the ministers don’t really appreciate my work. Then again, I’ve played a main role in giving the workers an opportunity to go home. Eight have gone from being harassed at work and being paid 40 pence an hour to now being on their way home. Meeting some of these workers after they got their tickets has meant the world to me. I know they are forever grateful, and that is so much more important to me than worrying about getting a new residence permit or one of the ministers refusing to take my hand.


Countryside Anthem

I requested one final performance from the boys, as a last gift. Here it is. Aren’t they amazing…

Au Revoir

After a tiny journey compared to what lies ahead, I’m now in London! It feels good to have one last night at home. The hallway smells different now, almost like in a hotel. The place has changed a lot after everyone moved out. My lease expires in ten days, so I guess it’s about time I packed up and left. It has been an amazing year in the heart of London. Unfortunately I’m not even close to being able to afford living in the City of London next year as well, but I’m ready to check out new parts of town. But before that I’ve got a job to do. I got my residence permit just a few hours ago, which for sure will come in handy. Mauritius here I come! 

The Norwegian flag and chocolate is ready to go.

And someone’s guarding the bags.

Au revoir!

Nouveau départ

I started this blog at a point in my life when things were falling apart. I had university, work, friends, exams and travel, and it was all making a mess in my head. My reaction was to cut out everything and just get out of bed when it was absolutely necessary. Or when my friends forced me. I love them for it, because I know it was what I needed, I just couldn’t do it alone.

I’m about to catch up with things now. That is, I already have. The sort of catching up I’m doing now includes books that have nothing to do with business. It includes longboarding and sitting in the sun while looking at the skin getting darker. I’m simply refueling, and that’s all. After a long and stressful, but incredibly rewarding, year, this is what I need. It’s what I was longing for those days when my alarm woke me at 05:30am and I got home from work at 9pm. That was when I was thinking that I should just settle down for a bit; chill out, have barbecues in the garden and be happy. I’d read books about happiness and suck in more knowledge. So I did take time off – time to reflect. And now I’m bored of it.


What doesn’t kill you only makes you stronger. There is something to that expression. I don’t think experiences solely makes you stronger, they are also what make you happy. Happiness comes with experience; it comes with learning from others, but more importantly it comes from within yourself. See it, believe it, achieve it as we say in AIESEC. That means getting new experiences, which is definitely tough. But if you learn to love the journey great things will happen.

So I’ve been in Norway for some weeks, I’ve fully recovered and now I’m ready to experience more of life and more of the world. Hopefully someone will take a picture of the first time I see a mango still on its tree – that would be capturing true joy. I’m ready for everything! Well, except eating the boiled dogs that my Mauritian friends have told me about.

Home number 2

I visited a friend today. He is the most pessimistic person I’ve ever met, and whenever we are together I take on the role of being the double-positive one. I’m optimistic for me and optimistic for him – it takes it all to a whole new level. It was his graduation, and while he was planning his retakes, I got some time to think about my time there too.

I finished the exact same programme a year ago, after living there for two years. It was my first home after moving out from my parents’ house, and I loved it. I lived on 17 square metres, in a tiny one-room thingy, without a shower for two years. We called it the doll house. They were two amazing years!

The first sun after a long winter over my roof back there.

Whenever I’m with my friend I relive that time a bit. We went into the city, and seeing the main square, the harbour and my old way to school made my heart go all warm on me. It was a strange feeling. It is as if I never lived there, still it feels like home. I love the place because it feels like home, after all it used to be, but it feels so unreal thinking that I lived there for so long. It’s too intangible, in a way. The only real thing I have from there is my friends and who I became by living there. I had a beautiful armchair in my livingroom when, and my parents and I are fighting about throwing it out at the moment. I want to keep it because it is one of the last things that give me the feeling of that home. I understand them, though. It is huge! But that’s why it is so lovely…

He’s gone.

One year ago this picture of Mona and me was taken, celebrating that exams were over!

Right now I’m overlooking the view of Sletten havn in Humlebæk (still Denmark), visiting my grandmother. My days in Copenhagen are over, and my best friend has left me. Not really for good, but for quite a while.

The last year, I’ve been living with my best friend. He’s been the first one I’ve seen before breakfast, and the last one after washing my face in the evening. I see him for more than 10 hours every day. He’s the one who got my through my usual winter depression this year, the one who brings me tea in bed those really dark days and now he’s off on summer vacation for 12 weeks. It’s strange how you can become so dependent on someone. A year ago I had lived with Mona, on the picture above, the same way. If you ran into her, I was probably somewhere close by. Then she moved to Bath and I moved to London, both of us sort of starting over. But once I go to Norway and she’s not there, something is wrong.

Having a last goodbye-beer in Istedgade yesterday. 

It is so unreal that I won’t see him in three months, though. The crazy think is, I don’t even miss him. Well, of course I do, but I don’t feel sad, simply because not seeing him for 12 weeks doesn’t even seem like an option. It is slowly sinking in, though. Like right before dinner, when I had some raisins. Every Friday we’d buy 1 kg of raisins, and he’d spill them all over my bed. Rosiner i sengen he’d say in Danish, which simply means raisins in the bed. Right now he’s on his way to go skiing (I know, wierd time of the year right?) in Austria, and then he’ll be off to do and internship in Uganda for 10 weeks. But after that we’re gonna find a place to live together in London. I’m not gonna say too much about it before it’s settled; I hope my dad doesn’t read this, but let me spoil the fact that it includes something about a boat.

This is Mini, his fat cat.

Q: Do you have a friend like that, other than a boy- / girlfriend?

The Last Days

I’ve been having a countdown in my head. Today, I have 9 days left before summer vacation. And it is with mixed feeling.

Look at that view! Summer vacation most often gives positive associations, but there is nothing as good as coming home to this view after a long night out. Yes, that is the top of London Eye!

Since last September, this has been my home. A tiny little room, with a shared shower, toilet and kitchen. Even though we’ve sometimes been standing in line, with complete strangers, to use the shower, it has been the most amazing time I have ever had.

Summer vacation means champagne and strawberries for breakfast on the 17th of May. It means internship in India, visiting grandmother in Denmark and seeing my family and friends in Norway. But it also means leaving this room for good, as they are planning to tear the whole place down and build something new as soon as my rental agreement expires. When I return to university in four months, the entire building will be gone. But I guess there has to be balance. I can’t have both this room and four months off. So it is a bit sad.

Then again, summer vacation in 9 days means summer vacation in 9 days!

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