osmoala

Well, since noone seemed to bother about reading these reports anyway I thought I might just as well write this in my contemporary language. Which today, with the hangover from the full moon party yesterday seemed so much easier.
   It’s not my first language, nor my second, it’s my third, but all the same – it’s the spoken word of the brave conqerours of this vast planet, among some other European nationalities, of course, that, in the first place gave as a complete sense of this shrinking and declining world where we live today. I used it every day – I was thinking, reading, talking and dreaming in English.
   And even though the world was shrinking in a sense, the nations, at least in the Nordic, seemed to separate themselves further and further from each other and from the outside world. The current election in Finland, where right wing nationalists got more than nineteen percent of the votes, showed what was going on in some people’s minds, and it made me think of the word xenophobia – the feeling of being afraid of strangers.

I was sitting with Kalle, a Swedish guy, at Babylon the reggae bar and I was surprised to hear that he was from Kalmar, my own home town. I told him. He offered me a high fiwe.
   ”There is a boat leaving to Monkey Island for the full moon party within an hour. You want to come?”
   I thought about it for a second and said, ”Sure.”
   We jumped on the boat, the eight of us, a fast going speed boat that took us to the next island, and the party was there. The stout guy from Gecko was here, barefoot on the sand, juggling with the fire in his hands, and even though he dropped the sticks now and then he did some really nice moves.
   The music was loud from speakers that would gradually lose the base as the night went on. I took a walk on the white sand, lit up by the full moon shining from a cloudless sky. I talked to a Lebanese guy who was sitting with his friends. He said: “I’ve lived in Kuala Lumpur for five years. But now there is a war in my country and we have no place to return to.” He was a bit agitated and Adam came by, I asked him to pull me up from the sand and we went back to the party.
   I was here with Kalle and Maja and Marianne. The girls came from Norway, Maja from Bergen and Marianne from Oslo. They were a lot of fun and I liked their crazy way of looking at the world. Marianne was one of these beautiful redhairs you only meet once in a while. And even better – she was about ten years older than most of the chicks I’d been hanging around with lately. I went to the jungle for a leek. I danced with Marianne. I had forgotten to zip up. I saw her looking at my dick dangling out of my pants. I felt ashamed.
   “I’m sorry”, I said afterwards, “For showing my dick to you.”
   “I didn’t see anything”, she said politely.
   What the fuck is now that supposed to mean?