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Peace offerings January 19, 2007

Posted by BiB in Uncategorized.

…make you fat.

The Russian and I spend about 99% of the time with one argument or another on the go. As with any couple that has been together for more than about twelve seconds, it is likely to be a matter of grave importance, such as, “WHAT? You finished the milk? Oh my god. How could you? You wanker! We MUST divorce. Today. That’s worse than infidelity, you secretly being a woman and you having a family I didn’t know about in Petropavlovsk-Kamchatskij/Polperro,” that sets off an ongoing, almost permanent quarrel which then only normally passes when we are forced to behave at some social occasion together and we forget about the milk until the next milk-saga about, say, twelve minutes later. And so on and on.

We’re quite good at the quarreling. We’ve got quarrel etiquette down to a t. There’s quite a lot of silence. Quite a lot of doing things separately. Quite a lot of being in separate rooms. Quite a lot of not passing on vital everyday news. If the silent treatment lasts especially long, it can be exhausting updating the Russian on new news and being updated by him on his. “Oh, by the way, I forgot to tell you my sister had twins and they’ve grown up and gone to university and graduated and one’s become a drag-queen and the other’s the president of Botswana.” Such oversights! Or, “By ze vay, I forgot to say, my braazer buy Gazprom for 20 roubles and now own Siberia.” You just never know.

Anyway, so when the quarrel is still fresh, and I am still seething at not being able to have my Weetabix or the Russian can’t heat one drop of milk for his coffee – I remind him (we have one of those depressing electric hobs that always remind me of documentaries about neglected, snot-encrusted children) it would probably be cheaper to fly to Paris to have his coffee every morning – we know that we’ll get a good few days of peace and quiet. I can get on with blogging and pretending to work knowing I’ll hardly be interrupted. He can get on with whatever unseemly things it is he gets up to: money-laundering and hiring contract-killers to liquidate his brother’s enemies, I shouldn’t wonder.

Then comes phase II, when after, say, a week, we can begin to calm down from our admittedly righteous anger at the milk-incident and are probably quite keen on a hint of the other. Thank heavens for hormones. We are willing to spend more than fifteen seconds in the same room. May exchange the odd pleasantry over the dinner-table. Might accidentally, in a moment combining moral weakness and forgetfulness, touch the other with something bordering affection before remembering the slight and returning to our separate lives.

But phase III is the most fatal. This may involve hardly seeing each other at all for, ooh, months on end, but we’re both beginning to feel a little bit silly, can’t even remember which milk-incident it was that set the snowball rolling and probably need each other for practical purposes. I may need a letter written to the medical insurance company – incapable of writing a literate sentence in German still – or the Russian will want my advice on which fantasy holiday to most concretely fantasise about. So we get into serious peace-making mode.

With food.

We know a good quarrel is reaching its apogee when the croissants start appearing. To start with, when the dairy-anger has not yet quite ebbed, the croissants will be plain. Butter croissants, as they are called here. No filling. Either of us will wander into the kitchen and find the paper bag from the bakery lying fully, promisingly and calorie-ladenly on the table. “Oh good, it’s almost over,” we can think (if I may think on behalf of the Russian). “Might even have some jiggy-jiggy before the year’s out.” But far from thinking a bad peace is better than a good war, or whatever that expression is, we wring the quarrel dry for every last drop of valued conflict. Having tried and failed with the butter croissants, we will move onto cream-cheese ones. From there to ham-and-cheese. Until we finally hit the obesity peak with the lard-and-chocolate variety.

We make-up-make-up-never-do-it-again, perhaps over booze and at someone else’s house, and wobblily enjoy the quick-as-lightning good times. Just like, I imagine, at least 99% of all other couples who’ve been together for more than twelve seconds. Single folk, plan your next steps carefully.



1. wyndham - January 19, 2007

Clearly a recent row is on your mind, Bib, and if so, give us all the gory details!

2. pleite - January 19, 2007

I THINK our latest row – it took about six years to pass from Phase I to Phase III – was, funnily enough, initiated by me. We were invited out, needed to buy items for said occasion, and the Russian spent the whole day money-laundering or something and that meant we had to rush, and I don’t rush for no-one. So that put me into an ungovernable rage. And we probably insulted each other’s mothers. (And siblings and grandmothers.) But there have probably been 8000 micro-rows since then. Tricky being in a couple, innit? I’d be so much thinner if I was single.

3. Marsha Klein - January 19, 2007

Oh yes please! As Mr K is not an argumentative soul by nature, I am without a sparring partner at the moment (my relationship with the children being on a relatively even keel for once).

What’s your preferred arguing style? I favour shouting (lots of) coupled with a list of his (probably imaginary) shortcomings delivered in a highly sarcastic tone and, almost always, culminating in tears (must try harder). He on the other hand tends to go quiet and look sad, although recently he seems to have mastered going quiet and LOOKING PISSED OFF. Is this a sign that our relationship is maturing, do you think? Or is he just pissed off?

4. wyndham - January 19, 2007

It is tricky, yes. I think a constructive argument is a contradiction in terms, particularly when I’m involved. Me and Veronica argue less and less these days – although they are pretty spectacular when we do, and usually involve me braining myself with a suitcase as I lift it off the wardrobe – but I’ve begun to argue with the rest of the world more and more. I guess I’m a chippy little soul.

5. wyndham - January 19, 2007

When I tried to post that comment WordPress told me I’m posting comments too fast, and to slow down. Was it referring to my lightning click of the mouse or should I go away and come back later?

6. Marsha Klein - January 19, 2007

Overlapping comments (my “yes please” was in response to Wyndham’s comment)

If I was single (and childless) I would be built like a greek goddess, rather than a greek restaurant!

7. pleite - January 19, 2007

Marsha, I favour shouting, grammatical errors and listing all slights and moments of poor behaviour to have occurred in the seven years of our acquaintance. Listing personal flaws is also to be encouraged. Things – cups and (softish) shoes – are only thrown on Very Special Occasions, and normally aimed away from the other but at a nicely noise-creating surface (wall, keyboard, doors). I think we enjoy our rows enormously. The neighbours less so. They (don’t know who) came to complain/check we were alive after one particularly loud one but we didn’t answer the door. I cringed on the stairs for about the next six months. Crying is a very rare feature.

Wyndham, I don’t know why wordpress has a speed limit. It’s probably to do with anti-spamming, but seems an unnecssary feature to me… But, anyway, I’m SO glad that you dramatically get the suitcase down. (And gladder still that you then put it back where it belongs.) That is lovelily dramatic. And I think spreading your arguments around is a good thing. The Russian was vaguely stunned but not logically floored when I first abused a member of the public in his presence. He thought it was probably in the arguey nature of things.

8. Mangonel - January 19, 2007

Well I think you are all very lucky. Significant Other is so morally superior to me in every way, that I have to have very firm grounds for even suggesting that I might be less than pleased with the way things are going. Doesn’t happen often, I can tell you. Oh for a bit of plate throwing *sigh*.

9. pleite - January 19, 2007

Mango, damn those perfect partners. Luckily, I don’t have any inferiority complexes when it comes to the Russian and vice versa so we usually have no problems finding grounds for a barney. Russianness helps too, though. Rudeness is built into many levels of communication. You can normally squeeze some exasperation into, “Pass the sugar,” for example. We’ve had at least 700 micro-rows today already. It’s great.

10. A Blogger - January 19, 2007

Ah, love. Can you believe (and can you believe I’m admitting) that I’ve signed myself up to an Internet find-the-love-of-your-life dot com thingy this very evening?

The drunken Flatmate told me she found her perfect Moral and Ethical Philosophy Boy on said site and was convinced, after the Impossibly Beautiful Friend was Impossibly Distant and oh-so-beautiful this evening. So, after fortifying myself with wine before and after her suggestion, I submitted myself – photo, pithy lines and empty heart in all its desperate gloriousness.

11. pleite - January 19, 2007

AB, good move. Inspite of the fact that you’ll be obese within minutes of meeting your ideal lady, love and relationships do have (quite) a lot to be said for them. Mind you, so does singledom. And the internet is a brilliant tool for meeting folk. Brilliant. So I hope it reaps oodles of success.

12. Christina - January 19, 2007

Hubby and I don’t argue, we just get exasperated at each other. Me: “Uh! I can’t believe you put an empty milk carton back in the fridge. Tell me God, what did I do to deserve this?” Hubby: “You knew what you were getting into before you married me.” Me: “Oh yeah, that’s right…”

I can’t believe I’m admitting this, but I had an ex-bf and we used to get into tremendous rows. I once threw a salad dressing bottle in his general direction, so he called the cops over and tried to have me charged with attempted murder. Then he tried to make up. Yeah right! That was my Jerry-Springer-moment limit!

13. pleite - January 19, 2007

Christina, that’s fantastic, and certainly deserves a show. “She wanted to kill me and then we got married.” I can see it on Maury. But, thankfully, you didn’t get married, and married Rainer instead. My one (major) ex and I never argued. Ever. Occasionally, there was an annoyed(ish) exchange of views. My god he was civilised. His civilisedness rubbed off on me, but washed away the second we split up. The Russian and I are currently microrowing about a piece of HIS work which I just CAN’T help him with. We probably won’t even get a week of silent treatment out of it. Or get to the ham-and-cheese croissants.

14. Christina - January 19, 2007

We have the same problem. Rainer used to ask me for help on his work, then he’d diss all my ideas. I now refuse to offer him any work-related advice at all.

15. MountPenguin - January 19, 2007

What’s wrong with putting empty milk cartons back in the fridge? Never could work that one out.


16. BiB - January 19, 2007

Actually, Penguin, even though I made up the finished-milk scenario, food does provide the odd, good, niggly moment. Empty-cartons-in-fridge can get us to the chocolate-and-lard-croissant stage because there’s all the excitement of fishing out a carton and thinking, “Sex, there’s still some of that stuff-in-a-carton left,” and then opening it, and seeing it’s empty, and realising that the Russian has only put it back in the fridge empty to pretend to both me and himself that he hasn’t eaten everything in the house in a rapid-fire, gorging frenzy. I’ve taken up doing the same thing as I like the croissants.

Christina, the Russian is currently on the phone to his mother for some REAL tips. I’m happy to have my ideas dissed when it comes to translation. I try to come up with imprisonably bad suggestions so that he won’t ask again. Ah, (non-married) married life…

17. bowleserised - January 19, 2007

Cohabitation seems to cause arguments. I only cohabited once, on a temporary basis (2 weeks), with Mr He-Knows-Who-He-Is. I think the one “why can’t you do this? why do I have to bloody well ask?” moment was a result of his own attitude to housework, rather than some innate ability of mine to turn into a nagging housewife out of Last of the Summer Wine.

Fingers crossed, anyway.

18. pleite - January 19, 2007

I suppose the nature of the grounds for an argument change with time. I can’t remember what the Russian and I would have argued about when we first moved in together (having been a couple for about half an hour). Maybe not domesticky things. Probably me moaning that he has no heart and him moaning that it was so difficult having such a perfect boyfriend. Now we do do domesticky arguing. Galore. But I’m sure it’s all still really about the fact that he has no heart and him finding it so difficult having such a perfect boyfriend.

19. Welsherella - January 19, 2007

My ex and I used to row lots and I would slam a door and leave the house for three hours or so (walking in the rain, sobbing) and then return to find he had gone back to his place and was drinking Stella and eating pizza, clearly concerned for my well-being. I think he might read your blog, though, so I might stop now.

20. pleite - January 19, 2007

“My ex and I…” I dashed to your site to see if you had announced a split today, and you haven’t, so I see you mean a real ex, and not the current boyfriend. So that’s good.

I’d forgotten about door-slamming. We do quite a bit of that, except some of the hinges or fitments or something are a bit rubbish so you can’t give them a good swingy slam, but rather have to stay with the handle to the final moment of slammage, which destroys the effect a bit. But noise is important in any good argument.

21. pleite - January 20, 2007

Mmm, almonds. I don’t eat nearly enough almonds. Well, sweetness signifies a serious whopper of an argument, to counter the sour taste left by the row. If you want to buy almond croissants, I suggest you make some accusations – preferably false – and smash a thing or two, scream till you begin to cough and storm out of the house with, natch, a slammed door and neighbours tutting about how loud the foreigners are. You would so deserve your almonds after that.

22. Welsherella - January 20, 2007

Oh, bless you! Thank you for your concern. No. Mr Current is still very current. Perhaps after all this time I might consider him almost permanent, which is nice.
Sorry to hear about your slammingly-ineffective doors. Perhaps you should get that sorted. I think a good door slamming might speed up the phases somewhat. I am off out to buy croissants this morning despite not having a row to justify them.

23. BiB - January 20, 2007

Quickly have a microrow so that the croissants can have a purpose. But only one deserving the plain, fillingless variety.

24. bowleserised - January 20, 2007

What kind of argument would one need to have in order to buy flaky almond croissants?

25. Daggi - January 20, 2007

Are the croissants stored pre-baked in the freezer, ready to remove and stick in the oven, should a post-argument pre-sex moment be nearing and the baker’s already be closed?

26. Welsherella - January 20, 2007

I would attempt a micro-row but seeing as he’s not here, it would have to be by telephone (not an option: he’s on the way to work) or text message which I’m reluctant to do because they always seem to turn into mega-rows. Hmmm. Tricky. I really want those croissants. I could ring my best mate, who’s on her way to mine as we speak, and shout a couple of nasty things at her and then have croissants ready for when she arrives – how do you think that would be for justification?

27. pleite - January 20, 2007

Daggi, they aren’t, but what a brilliant idea. Just as soon as I’ve finished my coffee (with milk, unheated), I’ll trot out and buy a selection. The Russian is quite good at sniffing out food from a 3-mile radius but I don’t think smells can emanate from the freezer and there’s never anything in there – apart from lemon sorbet to add to gin-&-tonics, but we never normally have gin or tonic. Although we do today, actually. I suppose 11.10am is too early – so it’s not even somewhere to look when you’re desperate for a quick calorie or two. Thank you. You will have made our lives quite a lot easier.

28. pleite - January 20, 2007

Welshy, yes, quickly insult your friend a few times by text. Personally, I think text is a perfectly good medium for arguing. The Russian has occasionally been known to discover an acerbic, spiteful text from me in his phone months after the event, at which point he shows it to me and we have the perfect excuse to refresh hostilities. It’s croissants before you know it.

29. bowleserised - January 20, 2007

Oh yes, text messages and stray text messages. That’s the way to do it.

30. pleite - January 20, 2007

Oh, what’s the stray-text-message method? Claiming you’ve written one when you haven’t or accidentally sending to your beloved a far more affectionate in tone than usual one which was clearly destined for someone else? I once sent my ex a text which was destined for the Russian. Thankfully, it was in Russian and he couldn’t understand it. (Anyway, I think it only said, “Buy some milk (and frozen croissants).”) The same ex once phoned me when he had meant to phone his current love and then tried to pretend he’d meant to phone me, which was a minor hoot. The Russian and I didn’t manage to argue about it though, I don’t think.

31. Ed Ward - January 20, 2007

I dunno; seems like an awful lot of psychic turmoil for those rubbery things the Germans insist are “croissants.” If you’re going to row, for christsakes get some properly flaky French-style ones and a couple of pain au chocolat, while you’re at it.

Mind you, being still unattached at my age, I’m not sure I’m the best source for relationship advice. But I do know my croissants.

32. BiB - January 20, 2007

Ed, do you know where I’ve had the best croissants in this city? From the crappy, corner-shop-sized Spar – probably now renamed Edeka – near Vinetastr. U-Bahn. We had French guests once who stayed for ever. Food was important. The Russian rustled up delicious (to us) dinners every evening, which the Frenchies ate happily, but never commented on. We thought this must mean it hadn’t met with their approval, and it may not have done, but I have since heard the BBC’s Paris woman saying that it is the height of mauvais gout to comment on food, apparently, so I’m assuming they were watching their ps and qs. ABER, breakfast was their shout (because they got up earlier than us) and they used to dash off to get croissants – I don’t know if they’d argued – and they DID sing the croissants’ praises – so they probably just didn’t like the Russian’s cooking. Oj vej – saying they were as good as anything you’d get in Paris. On Berlinerstr. near Vinetastr. U-Bahn! Imagine!

33. bowleserised - January 20, 2007

The stray text message in my case is one that is sent but then disappears into the ether and never reaches the intended recipient. Still, that can be swiftly overcome.

Ed – there’s a ruddy French quarter in this city, and a long history of French residents. I’m sure there’s good croissant somewhere, even if it is up near chez BiB.

34. pleite - January 20, 2007

Mind you, the shop’s so depressing it might be worth eating the stale stuff you get elsewhere just to save yourself the journey.

I’m off to see Kaurismäki’s latest and, I hope, utterly miserable film in a sec. You need a bit of extra misery with weather like this.

35. Blonde at Heart - January 20, 2007

The last row the Canadian and I had lasted for two days and then it was just over. It included many “let’s talk this over” conversations that led nowhere and then it was just gone. I wish we would have the croissant peace making. It sounds so much more fun than just making up.

AB: You did not! Why? It is maybe a good way to find a Girl like E’s Boy, but why?!
If you would not have insisted on your serious girlfriends to be Christians it would have been soooo much easier.

36. Marsha Klein - January 20, 2007

What is the film called? We have friend who is a major Kaurismaki (can’t remember how to do umlauts) fan. Sorry for being lazy and using you to research this for me!

37. daggi - January 20, 2007

Having seen the latest Kaurismäki, I must say that the older stuff was more enjoyable (as far as Kaurismäki films are enjoyable), but I did gleam some interior design tips, should I ever end up living in an ex-warehouse at Westhafen, which would be handy as it would probably have coal heating, my coal coming that very place. I think we’ve mentioned Spar before – but, yes, they are disappearing, so the only branches left will indeed be on caravan parks on the Isle of Wight, or in Dovercourt – where Kaurismäki will probably be filming, as they do have the right kind of atmosphere, and odour. As does the “supermarket” in Ernst-Thälmann-Park, largely unchanged since Gorbachev and Honecker opened it in 1986.

That BBC French woman also said that you have to keep your elbows on the table and not serve yourself any wine – that particular From Our Own Correspondent wasn’t the best advertisment for the French. And don’t say “Bon Appetit” – it’s the equivalent of saying “Cheers Me Dears” at a Buckinam Pallast “do” and pinching the Queen on the bum while doing so. Apparently. Which reminds me, that Helen Mirren film (the trailer for which you probably saw before the BBC World ad before Aki’s latest begun, and which caused a number of laughs (laughter at the slogans trying to get people to see it) is something I wanted to look at during the 6 days it gets shown in Berlin. Perhaps I’ll go in a moment.

38. redneckarts - January 21, 2007

Good timing, this little thread, for me. After twenty brilliantly happy odd years of grammar correcting, boot flinging, fist flying, ineptly and cruelly analyzing marriage…I find myself trying now, after a few years of widowhood (for which I was not convicted, by the way) I find myself having my first serious argument with a reasonable man. I really hate it. Like, I can do it but what’s the point. It’s hardly like a real argument. I want to negotiate nicely and call it love I’ll go wash dishes for the lesbians up the street. It’s the makeup sex with the overtones here and there of bondage like nobody’s really given up an inch of territory I liked. Beats pastry every time.

39. Ed Ward - January 21, 2007

B., there was indeed a French Sector here during the occupation, but it left virtually no traces except for the French Cultural Center way up on Seestr. I lived in that part of Wedding for almost a year, and never saw the least trace of French culture except that lonely building.

A friend who grew up here once told me that the French were horrible occupiers, taking every opportunity to punish the Germans — understandable, if not commendable, given all the history. So maybe it’s not too unusual that the croissants here — except the very far-away ones BiB’s found — suck. Hell, even the ones at Galleries Lafayette are gummy!

40. bowleserised - January 21, 2007

BiB – I was in love with your scrolly links thing so I’ve installed my own! Hurrah!

Ed – there were Frenchmen here before then, wayyyy before then. I’ve found some non-gummy croissants here, and I have yet to try the ones made at the really good local bakery.

41. pleite - January 21, 2007

B., do you mean that thing called Snap that pops up whenever you hover over a link? I saw it chez Beaman and thought it was awfully clever… and then they/it just APPEARED on my site. I have absolutely no fucking idea how they/it got here. Maybe they’re contagious. Or I clicked on a random OK somewhere and they upped and installed themselves. They still give me a panic attack about 99 times out of a hundred, but I’m getting used to them. (My latest annoyance is that wordpress keeps accusing me of spamming myself. A tad infuriating.)

Ed, the Russian and I were out till all hours yesterday and tried to get croissants on the way home (in case we argued), but it wasn’t all-hours enough, so we had to settle for the regular sausage. I desisted, but the Russian plumped for some type of Wurst or other with chips/fries (delete as appropriate) and some drunk old German cunt – sorry, I have to use the word, even if I slightly wanted to adopt him – told the Russian this was a cultural crime and then, when the Russian explained he was Russian and sausage-culture wasn’t so entrenched, the drunk old German cunt gave us a lecture on Russian culture and said, what with us being so young ‘n all, we probably didn’t even know Shostakovich. At which point the Russian decided to start playing along, and said he’d never ‘eard o’ no Kostakovich geezer and it all ended farcically with the doGc shouting. So, the moral of the story is, don’t go home at 3 but stay out till 6 so you can buy croissants of questionable quality but avoid the doGcs.

Redneck, I do think a good, shouty, screamy argument can be better (and quicker) than a nice, reasoned chatty one. And shoutiness and screaminess seem more honest to me, in a way. Anger’s as good an emotion as any other, innit? Well, or as valid. It’s a pain in the arse too, of course, but sometimes nothing else will do.

Daggi, I still liked it but I didn’t think it was quite as good as some of his others. It had a few dips, a few (unintentionally, I think) super-slow moments. But I do love Kaurismäki and his nice combination of smoke, tango and desperados makes me want to move to Finland every time. How does he achieve that look his films always have? A little bit Hoppery. But I can’t be unbiased about anything Finnish. Kaurismäki could make 90 minutes of paint-drying and I’d still say it was marvellous. (Must google Dovercourt.) (And Ernst-Thälmann-Park.)

Marshypops, it’s called Laitakaupungin Valot or Lights in the Dusk in English, apparently. Kaurismäki is, I think, properly barking, but god I love his films. I’ve only seen one long documentary about him and he was permanently, psychotically drunk throughout it. But it obviously gets his juices flowing. Now here are an ö, an ä and a ü for you. Keep them in a safe place.

BaH, the croissant-stage comes MUCH later. Give yourself about another five/six years and it’ll be non-stop croissants and you correcting his Hebrew and him correcting your English. Just you wait and see! Don’t say I didn’t warn you.

42. Liukchik - January 21, 2007

I’ve pinched Snap as well now – I’m waiting for the Kaurismaki to come out in the UK – did he do ‘Leningrad Cowboys go West’? – I vaguely seem to remember that his films are filled with a very dark, bleak, absurd humour – probably typical of the Finns.

43. pleite - January 21, 2007

Yes, I think all those Leningrad Cowboy films are his incarnations. Tulitikkutehtaan Tyttö, or The Match Factory Girl, was the first one of his I noticed apart from the Leningrad Cowboy ones but they had noise in them so I couldn’t get quite as attached. (It’s a shame it’s not one word, isn’t it? Tulitikkutehtaan Tyttö, I mean.) That one is monumentally bleak. Have you seen it? I think the first word comes after about half an hour. And it starts with the workings of the match factory, which might be right up your alley. I suppose I shouldn’t say too much about the one I saw yesterday, but… no, I can’t say. Well, there’s one smile in it (from our hero). You’ll see when.

44. daggi - January 21, 2007

Snap (as in “The Power”) played a gig in Berlin on the 30th December. I wasn’t there (unfortunately?), but the entry price was reduced for those in suitable Snap-like “bad taste” gear. And my, as I walked past the queue, I thought, they won’t be taking much money on the door tonight.

I prefer this “Cult of Snap” to the Snap on this website though. And will Kaurismäki come out in the UK? I doubt it. “Man without a past” was the first UK release for donkeys years, where as here, they’re all old-hat for a cinema with nothing else to show on a day when noone comes anyway (e.g. Tuesday matinees).

45. pleite - January 21, 2007

The mildly annoying thing about Snap here – has it become standard for wordpress, I wonder? – is that when I go to a link, and might want to right-click to open it elsewhere, Snap sometimes gets there before me and has a mind of its own about how matters should proceed. Oi! Snap! Screw you! Inanimate objects with a mind of their own are one of my least favourite things. But I like it when it comes up with a nice visual.

46. Blonde at Heart - January 22, 2007

It is already like that, but without the croissants. Maybe it is a good thing. I do not want to have double chins prematurely.

47. BiB - January 22, 2007

Quite right. Delay the croissants as long as possible (and become absolutely flawless in each other’s languages). Arguing is terrible for your figure.

48. Beaman - January 22, 2007

Snap, the hovering thingamajig, was super fun for about…oh…a day. Now I either swear when it pops up prematurely (ahem)…thereby hiding the link I really want underneath, or takes me to places unknown.
I don’t have the heart to get rid of it though.

49. Daggi - January 22, 2007

Snap seems really to have “got the power”.

50. Taiga the Fox - January 22, 2007

I once saw Aki filming one of his movies in Hakaniemi Square. Less is more in his filming techiques too: a camera, Kati Outinen and a rope surrounding the scene. Not very hollywoodian.
When in Helsinki, for a perfect Kaurismäki atmosphere visit bar Dubrovnik: http://www.andorra.fi/en/dubrovnik/index.php.

51. Taiga the Fox - January 22, 2007

For fox’s sake, that was bit too empty, even for Kaurismäki. Another try: http://www.andorra.fi/en/dubrovnik/

52. pleite - January 23, 2007

Daggi, it does, it does. And Beaman, that’s precisely my experience. It’s always a race between me and Snap. Snap normally wins.

Taiga, the Russian said to me after this one, “At least Kati Outinen wasn’t in it.” But she was, of course, even if only for 20 seconds as the checkout-girl. Is Aki loved and loathed in equal measure in Suomi? One good Finnish pal is bored of the Finland he creates.

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