yangtorp pt. 2: deep red

While sorting out a few other posts with recent finds and other things, I thought I'd make some room for another lot of inspiring and beautiful pictures from the amazing Yangtorp (find the first part here). This time I'm letting the wonderful reds take over, much like in my own home. We did not get in through this magnificent door, which is slightly intimidating if you ask me.



Interiors from the temple, which is a rebuilt old gym.





Interiors from the restaurant, where we didn't eat this time, because we were there pretty early in the day.



I can just imagine how great the Scandinavian summer light will look in this room.


Interiors from the store, where most things were for sale and I wanted to get everything.







I mostly regret not buying this gorgeous wooden box with painted peacocks. Why didn't I buy it? Well, I can only hope it's still there when I go there next summer to see how Swedish summer greens surrounds this white haven.



My father's wife did however buy this Tibetan little mask cabinet that I almost don't have words for how much I adore! I shall be very happy to know I can look at it as much as I want every time I visit them, which is a very good thing indeed. One needs beautiful things that inspire all around.

to kongo and back

I've spent the last few days in this house, called Kongo (it was supposed to be shipped to the Kongo, but never left this tiny island in the outer archipelago of Stockholm). Not too shabby, not too shabby at all. But it's nice to be back home, finally getting to go to bed knowing I'm not gonna have to do it alone for that much longer.

And I do believe summer is officially over.

old hometown looking older

Even though the greenery outside right now is luscious, and beautiful, I wanted to post some pics I "made" the other night. Read in another blog about this cool Japanese site where you can transform your pictures into vintage looking ones, and it was so much fun. These are all pictures from my hometown, Nyköping, a small town about an hour south of Stockholm. There are a lot of cute places there, and it's very nice for long walks, but I wouldn't want to live there again. The above picture is taken just down the small street where I lived the last three years before I moved away from home.


I love the stream, and the little walks by it's sides, and there are some adorable wooden bridges. Or maybe it's just the one, I honestly don't remember. Here it is anyway. It's also very beautiful in the winter, with lots of snow everywhere. There are some gorgeous sweeping weeping willows along the stream, it's one of my favorite trees.



I usually go by train when I go back, and this is the pretty little old station house. I've loved this station ever since I was little, maybe cos it also meant I was going somewhere else. But mainly cos I really love old station houses in red brick, although there aren't that many left nowadays I guess. There was a time when I dreamed about living in one, but I'm not too sure about that anymore. Trains are definitely my favorite mode of traveling, there's nothing like it. Well, it's not always great, it can be horrible, but when it's good it's the best.



Here's the most famous building in Nyköping: the castle. Terrible things happened there in 1317, during the dark middle ages, and every summer we get to relive it in the courtyard if we want. I've seen it enough times. One of the weirdest and most daring things I've ever done was climbing around the main part of the castle with a friend. She was always very daring and loved climbing, the complete opposite of me who've always been terribly afraid of heights. But for some reason, one night with a full moon, I just went for it, and nothing bad happened. It was incredibly scary at one point, but my friend encouraged me to jump and I made it. Crazy moon.



Also very close to the stream next to our old house, you'll find the old brewery, which is one of my favorite buildings. My dad used to have his office on the third floor, and there were some terrifyingly huge spiders outside the windows, one night I was even scared to walk home alone cos I imagined they would attack me. As is so often the case of course, attacking giant spiders are quite common in Sweden. The picture is taken from a bridge, and just below that bridge a heron called Harry usually stands on one leg looking very statuesque. For real. I wonder if he ever eats the spiders.



Here are the sweeping weeping willows, looking amazing as always. The house is another part of the old brewery, very classic redpainted wood with white window frames. In the Swedish countryside it's the most common house you'll see, well maybe except for the southern parts where a very low one storey white stone house is more common. As far as the weeping willows go, I've got one outside my building here in Stockholm, but I have no idea how common they are anywhere.



Finally a picture of another house that at least got a very famous architect, Ferdinand Boberg, and thereby should be famous. But is seems not even that many people from Nyköping know about the architect and the story behind the house, they might just think it looks a bit odd opposite the castle, with it's national romantic Swiss look. I'm not gonna give a lecture about it either, cos it's not that I'm an expert, but it's from 1906 and called NK-villan, that much I'll say. I'm not sure what I should say about the ghost standing in front of the house ... Let's leave it alone. Maybe it's just Harry flying by.

grahamstown, city of saints, pt. 4: churches

So here's finally some pictorial evidence to why Grahamstown is known as the city of saints. And these are all in one street, except the one below, so it's far from all of the churches in town. Not all of them are in service still I was told, which doesn't surprise me cos there seemed to be more churches than people. But we were walking around on a Sunday, so maybe all the people were already inside, I wouldn't know actually. I've always loved churches, as buildings, as architecture, as a safe haven, even though I'm not religious at all, and never have been. I don't go into them often, but when I do I love the whispering, and the cool air, and the statues, and seeing the painted glass windows from inside, and the incredible church organs, and I always light a candle for the ones in my family who have passed away.



I really love gothic churches, possibly the most of all architectural genres, or whatever you call it. Not only cos I was once a goth girl (and will always be one at heart I suspect ...), it's just something about how dramatic they look, and a bit delicate, and incredibly ornamental and the complete opposite of "less-is-more", which is also the complete opposite of my life's motto. More is more and more beautiful is more beautiful. I regret not going into this one, but I wasn't dressed properly and after being chased out of a catholic church once I'm not taking any chances. I was only 13 and the guy chasing me was yelling in French, which I didn't know then and don't know now, and it was all pretty terrifying.



I can understand that he was upset cos he thought I was being disrespectful to his religion, and not wearing appropriate clothing, which apparently there were big signs about out front I realised once outside again. So, my bad. I still think maybe he overdid it a little bit, after all I was just 13 and clearly didn't know better. Maybe he just didn't like blondes.



I do think I have respect for religion and the fact that people have different beliefs cos of different reasons, and that in many cases it's very helpful for a lot of people too. I won't go into it more than that, but it would be easier if that respect went both ways. And any religion that states that for example homosexuality is an abomination, or that women are put on this earth simply to serve men, well, I'm sorry but that's just not okay in my book. And I will fight anyone on that if necessary. Sweden is for most parts a very secular society, so I was a bit surprised when I came to South Africa the first time and realised religion is a much bigger part in people's lives here, in general, it seems. I was even asked a couple of times what religion I belonged to, which has never happened before. After seeing the disappointed look the first time I replied I didn't have one, even if I didn't say I was an atheist (not sure it would've made a difference), the second time I kind of dodged it a little saying that most Swedish people are Christian. I know it's a ridiculous answer, but I just didn't want to end up defending my non-belief-system at that point. After 22 years of explaining why I don't eat meat and that I don't expect other people to not eat meat when they're around me, I like to leave it at that. You do what you do, and I do what I do. Unless what you're doing will hurt someone I care about.



For a long time I've thought of music as my religion, cos the effect it has on me I believe is very similar to what effect religion has on others. I could be wrong, but that doesn't really matter does it, it's just the way it is for me. And in the end that's all that matters. To me. Music has always saved my life, has always been there for me in my darkest hours and let me seen the light again, has always made me feel less alone when I was hurting from loneliness, has always made me the happiest when I've needed it the most and thought I deserved it the less. Isn't that what religion should be all about? Correct me if I'm wrong, but I think it should be at least.



Going to live shows, more than anything, has given me most of the best experiences in my life, without hesitation. After about 20 years of going to concerts it still effects me the same exact way when it's good: with complete and utter ecstacy and happiness. Few things in life can compare to that, in fact for a long time I didn't think anything ever could. Turned out something, or rather someone could, and I married him, but it hasn't taken away my love for music one bit. Just this week The National, probably my main musical god in the last 4-5 years now, has just released a new album and they have managed to once again complete me, even though I didn't feel the least bit broken before hand.



It's just something in Matt's voice that comforts me on an almost subsconcious level, it reaches into my innermost dark hidden places and makes them peaceful. I don't care if their lyrics doesn't make any sense, it's not about the lyrics saying anything about my life in particular, as it can be with a lot of other music I love. It's different, and I love that feeling just as much as I love the music. And I can't wait for August, when I'll see them live again, in Gothenburg, and possibly maybe even again during the fall, when they return for more European dates. I know they'll make me cry, the first and only time I've seen them so far I cried during three entire songs, and I thought my heart was gonna break, cos it couldn't take that much happiness. But the heart is a powerful muscle, it can take pretty much. I know that for a fact, cos I love a lot. And every day I fill it with more music, giving it more blood to pump and beat and sing a song for itself. Amen.

Grahamstown, City of Saints, pt. 3: porches

Grahamstown was a very nice town to walk around in, as I've mentioned, and we saw some really beautiful houses along the way. I've never really dreamt of owning a big house, I like living in city flats, and see no reason to have a lot of rooms you're never gonna be in. I would like to have a huge kitchen in the future, that I dream of. At least as big as to fit a table that would comfortably sit 8-10 people, so that I can cook while my family and friends sit and talk and have a drink meanwhile. I wouldn't say no to a small garden as well, preferably secluded. But most of all I dream about having a porch.



I don't know why I dream of a porch, maybe from seeing movies from Maine or the American South or New Orleans, when people always sit on their porches on hot summer nights, in porch swings, drinking ice tea, chatting away into the night. Or old men sit with an old cracked guitar singing the blues. Or old ladies sit in the morning splitting peas for dinner. I guess that's the romantic picture I've got of porches. Apart from them sometimes being very ornamented and pretty as well.



This blue house is the Observatory Museum in Grahamstown. Unfortunately we didn't have time to check it out, but met someone who told us one of the old uses for it: if you were looking for someone you'd go up in the tower and look for them, see which street they were in, and go meet them there. That's how flat and small the city centre of Grahamstown is, it wouldn't be a problem seeing someone from this after all rather small tower.



If I had a porch, I'd get a porch swing first, and some old wicker chairs and paraffin lamps. Then I'd sit there, peel apples for a pie, pet my cats, listen to the crickets, take out the guitar and sing when the sun goes down, sip mint julip (I don't even really know what that is, but it sounds tasty), wave to the neighbours walking by.



That is if the porch isn't infested with ants, or it's got snakes underneath like a friend of mine's, or the evenings bring clouds of mosquitos forcing me to stay inside, or the neighbours are inconsiderate idiots playing bad music too loud and getting too drunk every night. Anything can happen. Even in my dreams I assume the worst so I won't be too disappointed if it happens.



But I'll keep my dream of the perfect porch, something like this one above. So pretty and relaxing by the look of it, with just enough shade for the hot days. With apple, mango, avocado, and lemon trees in the back, sided by some raspberry bushes, and rows of beans, lettuce, tomatoes, herbs and other edible greens, I'll be quite happy. Quite happy indeed.