On a Train

Trains are quiet, if you are lucky enough to sit in a car that is mostly empty with people who like to mind their own business. Most of the time you can barely even feel the tracks that fly by underneath you. Their sound is heightened only when someone opens the doors leading to the space connecting the car to another. The apparent silence is almost intoxicating to me - I can feel my thoughts jumping around, but they are not stuck in what ever it is that worries me at home, it makes me feel better.

I spend a lot of time on a train when I can tear myself away from my university life and my exhaustion. It’s when I go visit my father, who lives almost across the country. I used to despise it, the traveling. Seven hours is a long time to sit still even if you have books or a paper and a pen with you. In the end, all you have is your thoughts, which tend to start lingering on the subject of your numb ass after an hour of sitting. But I like to think I have found a certain balance to this. I am writing this as I am sitting on a train, two hours into the journey. Yes, my butt is numb, but I don’t feel too dismayed about it. Maybe a bit. But I’m focusing on other things on the side.

When you go on a train across the country, you end up seeing quite a bit of Finland in one sitting. Most of what I see is familiar to me - they look like the kind of landscape I’m used to. Small towns with wooden churches that are clearly visible all the way to the train station, fields after fields, pine forests, birch trees. Then there are the old run down houses, built to the model of the houses the government once provided the nation’s soldiers, returning from war. I find that no matter where you go, you see those exact same houses, and they do have the tendency to bore me. Sometimes they even annoy me as I see their worn down facades and yards, overpowered by unkempt flora during the summer. But sometimes I see a bit of history. I wonder if they are inhabited when they seem so worn out, I wonder who takes care of them - or who neglects them. I wonder how it came to this.

During the winter, everything is covered by a thick layer of blinding white snow. Unkempt yards become hidden and the fields look more like white oceans, dotted with islands of forests. I want to go for a swim. But then my mind goes back to my numb ass and the fact that the seat table in this particular seat can’t fit all the way down without cutting into my stomach. I don't know if it's broken or if they really expect people to be so skinny and short. *Twiddles with the table* God damn table, making it harder for me to internet...

Here, have a song that has the word train in it:

Thoughts from a statistically significant place.

I tried really hard to think of somewhere that was I'd consider my favourite spot. Apart from my bedroom (cause it's where all my stuff is), nothing really came to mind. And I decided that I was taking the wrong approach. I was looking for somewhere meaningful and significant and metaphorically resonant, when what I really needed to look for was where I spend a significant amount of my quality time. Which led me to this place:

 

Somewhat accidentally, the collaborative study room on the ground floor of the library at uni is where a large proportion of my socialising takes place. A close second to its welcoming couches is the adjoining cafe:

Which subsequently led me to the conclusion that since starting uni my social life has consisted of hanging out with a rotating group of five to seven oddballs in either a study room or a coffee shop. In short, it has all the window-dressing of a (very boring) sitcom.

I find it fascinating how groups end up congregating around 'spots' - all through high school, for example, we hung out under the same fixed umbrella in the same courtyard. It seems that this might be a case of Truth in Television. And the geography of those places comes to shape the way your group interacts, what pastimes you bring there, what you talk about and how you talk about it.

Inevitably, you end up defining your group by where they hang out, like the friends in Friends and their coffee shop, or the community in Community in their study room. And it makes me worry about what's going to happen to my group of friends once we don't have some central, constant place - if not to call our own, then at least to temporarily stake claim to over a lunch hour. Where will we meet? Will we find another table, another sofa? Or will we drift apart if we don't have anything physical to force us together?

And what happens to the places? Will they grow new groups to replace us? Is there another group of mates hanging out in our courtyard now, under our umbrella? Will they be anything like us? Will they make the same jokes, about the ragged looking bushes and the stack of apple stickers on the umbrella pole as we did, and will they wonder if anyone was there to make jokes before them? Do they define themselves by that dozen-odd square metres of space like we did?

Because that's the thing about these spots. They seem private and fixed and intimately yours when you're in them, but when you're gone, they just go back to being furniture. I guess ultimately, if I had to come up with a moral for this TfP, it'd be something like this: Places by themselves are meaningless. It's the people in them that make them interesting.

Thoughts From Places: My Little Spot

I am a person who, these days, prefers to stay in her little room instead of randomly venturing outside, making my choice for a favorite place rather limited. I’m pretty sure my actual favorite place is my bed, but while I could write an ode for it, I don’t think…yeah no. So instead, you are getting what is likely my second favorite place. Or third. Or fourth. I don’t usually rate them.

In Helsinki there is a large blindingly white building, raised on a podium of grey, stony steps, looming over the Senate Square. It is The Helsinki Cathedral, designed by Carl Ludwig Engel, completed towards the end of 1800‘s. And on its steps, there is a spot I always choose to sit on, just off to the side, on the other side of the railing, out of people’s way, where I can look down upon the Senate Square without being disturbed by others.

It is a high place where the cooling wind caresses me no matter how hot the weather seems to be. There I could sit through the whole day, enjoying beautiful architecture, and watching tourists and the birds that are all too comfortable with humans by now. Actually, I’ve done that; I’ve spent a day there a couple of times, silently looking at things and drawing. And earning some sunburns since there is no shadowy shelter where I choose to sit. But I find it entertaining and calming to watch the people from the safety of my little spot.

the cathedral as shot from my spot

I can’t help but to be curious about tourists. A lot of them are elderly. What ever the age and nationality, I like watching them as they climb up the steep stairs, huffing as they go, maybe giving me a glance and a quick smile, as if to say, “Man, this climb“ when they grab the railing by me and use their arm to help them up. Then, on the top, they turn victoriously to marvel at the view over the statue of Czar Alexander II of Russia, and the old buildings surrounding the square. They take their photographs, maybe sit a spell, then, eventually, they have to climb down. Something I see all of them slightly dread doing as they realize how high they are and how steep the way down is. But when they are finally standing on the street again, there is another, perhaps more wistful, victorious glance up at the steps. Usually there are more photos too. This is a ritual most seem to do there. Surely it could work as a metaphor for life itself, but I don’t think I will go there.

Then there are the people who want to sit on the steps for longer than few minutes and pick their place in a knowing manner. They the spot, they open their books, dig their lunches out of their bags, or enjoy the sun, pointing their noses slightly upward, seeking the heat. Often these people are Finnish, perhaps students of the university located nearby. I can’t help but to wish I was studying at that university, just to be able to venture over to the steps to read more often than a couple of times a year. Yet again, maybe I would grow bored of doing that, you can become numb to almost everything after all.

As I now think about observing these people, I am reminded of a time when I was younger. I used to imagine what it would be like to be someone else, to a point where I vividly imagined what that someone was seeing at that moment. Then I would wonder what really made me me. And as my 9-year-old brain tried to grasp this, I started to feel like nothing chained me to my body anymore, and I’d move my foot, just to make sure, I was still me. With the twitch of a foot, I was back. Though I don’t feel like I’m gently floating away anymore, the tendency to wonder what it would be like to be someone else never quite went away. When I look at those tourists, and those people who carefully pick their place on the steps of the Helsinki Cathedral, I wonder what it would be like to be them. And sometimes, I find people, who make me wish I was them. Yet often I just silently sit there, at my spot, drawing, and hope that someone notices.

"I love being in cities with lots of other people because I’m reminded that there are billions of people like me and we are each stuck inside of our minds feverishly trying to crawl out to make connections with other people." - John Green

Thoughts From Places: UWA

Right. Wow. Okay. Exams are over.

I'm finally going to do this Thoughts from Places post. I know it's not this week's topic, but it was one of the ones I suggested, and I already have notes for it, and yes. Anyway.

The first thing anyone will say to you if you mention that you go to UWA is something along the lines of "Oh, it's such a lovely campus." While I guess this is technically true, it's not something I can say really played into my choice of university. But I think it tells us a lot about how we see and think about places like universities. They're not just learning factories. They're places that people have to spend a lot of their time, and whether or not that time is pleasant - whether in surroundings or in company - is actually important.

The lawn near Hackett Hall, Home of the Postgrads, Where Undergrads Doth Fear To Tread.

The other thing this made me realise is that, like Ali, I don't pay nearly enough attention to the environment around me. It took dragging a camera around for a day to make me realise that actually, the campus was beautiful, but that I was pretty much just rushing through it to get to places rather than actually spending time there. I spent some time a couple of weeks ago (yes, this post's been a while in the making) revising for exams in on the grass front of the library instead of inside it, which I've always dismissed as something which only happens to the unnaturally happy students on the front page of the website. It was actually really pleasant and, strangely, much quieter than the library.

Peacocks, which live in the Arts courtyard. There is a rumour that anyone who touches them is kicked out of the university.

That said, there's some stuff I realised I don't like as well. Like, there are these "friendly" rivalries on campus between faculties - Engineering vs. Law is the big one, but Everyone Else vs. Arts is the one that pisses me off the most - which I don't think are particularly productive. And this is sort of codified in the actual physical layout of the campus. One side has arts, social sciences, economics, and law, and on the other side is engineering, computing, mathematics and physics. I've never been one for the hocus pocus surrounding architecture and layout and stuff, but I have to say that maybe, if they weren't quite so physically separated, we might end up with groups which are slightly less isolated by faculty. Like seriously. All my friends from high school are engineers, and it makes finding somewhere to meet a right pain.

This is the library, which for some inexplicable reason, has a moat

So now that I've covered the philosophical, and the critical, it's time for the whimsical. If the east-west axis of my campus' cartesian plane is the humanities-sciences continuum, then the north-south axis is labeled something like 'fields, in order of obscurity'. At the north end there's arts and physics and such - big, broad, important ideas. And then, the further south you go, the stranger things get, until you reach - I kid you not - this:

Which is about as ludicrously specific as you can possibly get.

Anyway, that's my thoughts from uni. Hopefully with assignments and exams out of the way I can put some more time into this kind of stuff - after I get through my Youtube backlog, that is.

Thoughts From Places - Not Particularly Deep

My university campus, the main campus I should say, since I will blissfully ignore the separate and humongous teaching hospital. Anyways, my campus is mainly just the building - the estate is not much to look at as it’s filled with little streets ideal for biking. The building itself is like a small village within the city I was born in, a village with several restaurants, cafes, and if you venture far enough, you might even find a random store that sells back bags and computer sleeves. The campus, or the building, is a strange mixture of old and newer that they never tried to fluently match together, and its length reaches at least 1 kilometer as I understand. (No wonder the non-academic university staff darts around on scooters, huh?)

When you look at a large part of the main building, you’d think you were looking at a factory. To many, that’s the first thing they see - a box-like building that looks like a place merely full of loud machines and the smell of glues and paints, from above it looks like a micro chip. The exterior is painted in several gaudy, saturated primary colors like green, blue and yellow that make you wonder…why? Then you step inside. And there you face more of those saturated primary colors, painted on thick concrete walls. Most of the signs guiding you to departments and various class rooms are bright yellow and of metal. After seeing pictures of it, a friend of mine told me that it looked like an air port. It sort of does, but a more popular comparison among its pupils is a Soviet factory from the 70s. Funny enough, students have nicknamed that part of the campus Siberia, because it’s cold (I disagree with this). Yes, people scoff at how the building looks. But I have to be honest, I fell in love with it the first time I laid my eyes onto it. I have no real idea why, I am not a fan of primary colors used in…anything. But something about this I liked. This place that we call the old part of the campus has a certain charm to it, maybe it’s the uniquely ugly that made me attracted to it.






Then there is the new part of the campus. When you walk across the factory-like hallways and lobbies, you will come to a hallway, surrounded by glass and support beams, across that you will enter the part of the campus that might just be a polar opposite to “Siberia”. Instead of strong colors and heavy looking doors, everything is white and steel grey. There are large windows to allow light and all the signs are plain steel.

I could draw a deep meaning out of this, sure. Here, see me do it.

The building is divided in two by a glass hallway, much like the university politics seems to be, much like anything in life seems to be. On the old side there are the engineer students, the physicists, the mathematicians, the chemists and what-nots, you know, the useful and hence better-funded fields. While the humanities, the useless, reside (You should know that I use useless and useful terms with a tone of bitterness here). In an ideal world, departments work together, experts from a variety of fields come together to revolutionize the world. In the real world, people look at each other from their own buildings, across a feeble glass hallway, wondering what could have been at best, often forgetting the other side is even there. In the real world these people struggle for funding and the ones that do not come on top complain, and the ones that do get annoyed over the complaining. You know, how almost all fights work.

So, that was one way. Let’s see about another. A friend described it to look like an airport. It would be a suitable metaphor, wouldn’t it? For a university to look like an airport. Much like airports, universities are a stepping stone on our way to somewhere else. Uh, yeah, that’s about it. How about the factory metaphor? Universities trying to churn out professionals fast for the unemployment office, worrying more about getting us out of their hands than about the quality of education we really received and how well equipped we are for the job market. Let’s leave that metaphor at that. This is starting to sound like an astoundingly bitter post.

Ultimately, this strange building houses thousands of extraordinary, and less extraordinary people. People with their own lives, hopes, dreams and problems. Some cry themselves to sleep, some can’t wait for the next day. It’s a fascinating thing to wonder about if you manage to conjure up the energy to look further than yourself and your friends, which I often fail at. Because let’s be honest, even now I’m just writing all this for the sake of Thoughts From Places and I haven’t particularly thought of this stuff before, not really. Well, except for wondering what the designer of the old part of the building was thinking. Now that is actually interesting. Was he inspired by a Soviet factory theme or what on earth?

And sometimes you just find...strange things going on in the building.

Thoughts from Places: HELP University

4am, last day of May. What better time to find inspiration to write a thought provoking piece stemming from your university campus, right?

Here's the thing about my university campus. Calling it a campus on it's own is almost ridiculous. There is no campus. It's merely a hodge podge of random buildings in which students exist within. It's a day university, so everyone comes for classes and leaves. The "campus" is split into three parts, all separate from each other and all located in the midst of a offshoot of the city centre. Everywhere you go, you see offices and office people interspersed with students. It can be quite amusing.

The pre-university building is located underground, below a whole stretch of office buildings, and affectionately known as the "dungeon" because that's really what it's like. Sunlight was a scarcity. Every single student from my university will have complained about the campus. But then again, other private universities across the city tend to share our sentiments about their own, although some really are better off than us.

As I walk to crammed hallways and the busy streets from lecture hall to lecture hall and building to building, I complain too. But in the end there's one thing that hits me. The place doesn't matter. It's the people. Because the fact is, many years from now I will not be able to remember how messed up the place was but I will remember the antics that occurred within the walls. What I'll remember is the times I spent rolling on the floor just because I could, and the conversations that were never ending but never went anywhere either.I will remember attempting (and partially succeeding) to stuff myself into a locker because the holidays were approaching and my friends asked me nicely.  I will remember the heartbreak, the joy and the laughter.

Concrete and steel will eventually lose to mother nature and the sluttiness of time. Memories won't.

The campus is what you want it to be. A receptacle of memories, or simply a place.

Thoughts from places: Keele University

Where has everyone gone? No one's posted in ages :( Don't worry, I know most of you have exams and deadlines, but come back soon? :) So on with my blog:

I found myself pondering what thought provoking and inspiring things that my University brings to mind. I thought for a very long time and got nowhere. So I looked at the many photos I'd taken to gain inspiration. Luckily James and I took a few photos only a couple of months ago!

When I think of my Univeristy, I think of this:

A big mass of concrete, in which one works hard, studies hard and parties hard. A metropolis, full of energy and stress. Lots of people. Many friends. Too much to do and too little time. Friendly but distant. A tool; a step in the staircase of life.

But that wasn't the story which most of my photos told. They painted a completely different picture. It's so easy to forget the true beauty which we have lying right on our doorsteps. So easy to get caught up in every day life. This is what I saw when I browsed through my photos:

I completely forget in day to day life, that infact my University is built on top of an old stately manor, has a massive woods and 9 lakes all on campus. These photos show beauty, richness and a peaceful place. I abuse the privilege that I have, by ignoring it and taking it for granted. The worst thing about it is that it's so easy.

How often do we do this in life? Get so caught up in who we are and where we're going that we're blinded and miss the beauty right in front of us. We live in a culture that is so privileged, we become immune. Immune to the simple gifts in life. The smell of freshly mown grass, the taste of home cooked meals and the cold side of the pillow on a hot summers night.

What I'm trying to say, is try and appreciate the good things you have already, rather than the things you used to have or don't have yet. 

Ali