This afternoon Ingrid and I flew up to Hemavan for a three-day skiing trip.
Well, flying was the plan. But our flight stopped in Vilhelmina. We were informed that it was too windy to land in Hemavan and put on a bus, for a three-hour ride up to Hemavan. (I wonder how the bus driver kept awake: the drive was incredibly monotonous.) Instead of reaching our hotel just after at 9 in the evening, we got there at midnight. Dumped our things in a corner and went straight to bed.
I’ve had the same dumbphone since 2008 I believe. Its screen broke shortly after I bought it, and it’s been broken ever since. My phone company keeps contacting me and telling me that I can get a new phone if I sign up for another twenty-four months, and I keep telling them that I don’t want a new phone.
About a week ago I dropped it and one of the four corners of the crack got indented, so it looks worse than it usually does. It’s happened before, and after a while the plastic has popped out again. I expect it to do so this time, too.
I tried to photograph myself brushing Adrian’s teeth. He couldn’t help but wiggle and try to look at the camera all the time. Instead, here he is washing his hands and mouth just after I finished brushing his teeth.
We went to the Vasa museum. Fun for the entire family.
A ballet evening in two parts.
Part 1, Ballader, was an intimate piece: a man and a woman and a pianist. It was as if we were watching a couple in their living room. I found it utterly boring. The straightforward story-telling choreographies that are half theatre, half dance, are not my thing.
It struck me after seeing this piece that I have similar preferences when it comes to dance and to books: plain realism does not interest me. Novels about quarrelling couples etc, or kids growing up in concrete apartment blocks – why would I want to read about it? Instead, give me something that I haven’t seen yet, cannot have seen yet.
But the music! I don’t go to concerts to listen to classical music, and I don’t know any of the names, the famous musicians, the conductors. So I had no idea who was playing; the name meant nothing to me. But listening to him play Brahms was wonderful. About half the time I sat with my eyes closed, ignoring the dance and focusing only on the piano music. (Afterwards I found out that it was Roland Pöntinen, one of Sweden’s foremost pianists.)
Part 2, Rite of Spring, was something completely different. So different that I wondered how this combination was arrived at. Who thought that this combination made sense, and why?
The music is wild and so was Johan Inger’s choreography. Wild and forceful, at times uncomfortable, dark and brutal. Never a dull moment. Add to this interesting but subtle costume design, and well-designed lighting that ranged from smoky to stark and made great use of shadows, and the sum of it all was a stunning performance.
Eric and I went to a ballet performance at the Royal Opera.
Meanwhile, my mum and the kids played with Lego.
Ingrid leading her pony from the stables to the riding hall. Muddy and icy.
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