Queer

Apparently, William S. Burroughs’ novel Queer – left half-finished for three decades before finally being published in 1985 – was adapted into a film last year, premiering at the Venice International Film Festival in September. Pouring myself a glass of Austrian Pinot Blanc on the balcony after six hours on Zoom, I am suddenly transported to Mexico City in the fifties by the literary original.

Luckily, I was able to break up the Zoom sessions with a lunch run in the sunshine, as I really want to make the most of these precious spring days, finishing the run at my new favourite Vietnamese restaurant. With another class on evaluation starting on Friday and ten different thesis projects to supervise, I am struggling to find time for longer runs. Still, with a bit of luck, I am hoping to do my first half marathon of the month tomorrow morning, heading up to Brödfabriken in Jonsered for a post-trail breakfast.

Nésophilie

With islands being a recurrent theme here on Rawls & Me, I just had to borrow my dad’s copy of Anders Källgård’s Islands, fresh off the printing press. In chapter 22, the author recounts his colourful interactions with my dad and his rail travel agency over the years, and all the help he has received in planning his trips to the most remote of European islands.

Before leaving Kalmar, I of course had to play a round of “Ticket to Ride” with Eddie and walk out to the old pilot station turned café (“Lotsutiken” or “Lotsen” as it is colloquially known). Long before any of that, I did 10k at dawn across my old hometown, and went for one last swim in the public swimming pool which is soon to be demolished. Now on the train back to Gothenburg, I have tons of work to catch up on so I am afraid I will not be able to plan any bold new island trips for now.

Stensö revisited

Almost four months after my last visit, Eddie and I took the train across Sweden this morning. Even if I had started the day with 20 km of running in Skatås, I obviously could not turn down my mother’s invitation to run around Stensö together.

Considering that she just turned 76, it is quite impressive that she can still jog for more than an hour without feeling tired. I can only wish I will be able to do the same in thirty years from now.

Too much

My mother often cautions me against exerting myself too much. Yesterday at the gym, I listened for once – stopping already at 6k when my heart rate crept up toward 180. Instead, I slowed things down with a quiet coffee at Tony’s, the kind that stretches time and brings back memories of rainy mornings in Genoa, Livorno, and other similarly dreamy places.

Later, I took the tram into town for the first in-person meeting of our new research project, “Bioclaims”. Spanning the entire afternoon and evening yesterday, and continuing through today, it was intense, exhilarating – and a little overwhelming. As in the past, I am left with that old fear of being too much: too eager, too opinionated, too present. Not quite as bad as WPSA in San Diego back in 2019, but enough to make me wonder (again) why I find it so hard to stay quiet when I know I probably should.

Still, there is hope in next time. We will meet again in September, this time at the Bio+ conference in Stockholm. Maybe I will find a better balance then.

Hills to die on

Sometimes, I feel like I do not write enough about contemporary affairs on Rawls & Me. The reason is not that I do not think about them but rather the opposite, that every time I try to put something into words, I fear coming across as one-sided. However, in today’s The Bulwark, William Kristol correctly points out how silence and acquiescence play into the hands of autocrats like Trump and Erdogan, that if we do not stand for the democratic rights of those we disagree with, we do not stand for anyone’s rights. As such, even if the polling perhaps suggests that the deportation of (alleged) members of Tren de Aragua to El Salvador without due process may not be the hill that those with any sense of democratic decency should die on, what does it make of us if we do not?

Meanwhile in Turkey, fierce protests have broken out after the arrest of Ekrem Imamoglu, perhaps the last credible electoral challenger to Erdogan. Passing through Istanbul in October, I remember thinking that Erdogan’s rein has at least kept doors open to the world in a way that a more progressive regime would probably have not, but that should not be interpreted as excusing Turkey’s depressing slide into autocracy.

Still, justice is not about picking the easy cases. Sometimes it is precisely the unpopular causes, the marginal figures, and the inconvenient moments that test our principles. That is where we find out which hills matter. And which ones we are willing to die on.

Crispy seaweed

Today has been all sunshine and fresh spring air, first a trail half marathon with Anna that I topped up by running Parkrun in 23 minutes and 17 seconds, finishing as number one in my age group, and indulging in pancakes on the balcony afterwards.

Then, Anna and I persuaded the kids to go for a hike up to Östra Långvattnet. Though I have crisscrossed much of the Delsjö-area in the past, this led me onto some new trails that were truly lovely, and which I will definitely return to in the future. Once at Östra Långvattnet, we made a fire and enjoyed some family time together before hiking back, for a total of 13 kilometres.

Back home, I made salmon with oven-roasted golden beets, toasted pumpkin seeds, crispy Korean seaweed, and a miso mayo inspired by Anna’s and my visit to SK Mat & Människor last Tuesday. This turned into an instant favourite and something that I will repeat when in Kiruna over Easter.

Spring commute

Knipeflågsbergen

With five loops (53k) on the Alpaca course coming up in June, I decided to trade my usual gravel roads in Skatås for some technical trail running by following Vildmarksleden up to the Knipeflågsbergen Nature Reserve, a rock plateau with a system of rift valleys, all filled with small signs of spring.

Today is not only the spring equinox but also my mother’s birthday and we started the morning by singing for her on the phone, before deciding to book a trip to Kalmar for Eddie and me at the end of the month. Having not been in Kalmar since December and with the coming months already very busy, this felt like a good time to go.

 

Finally, in other news, my wallet completely gave up the other day, luckily only literally and not figuratively. Considering that I bought it at the Grand Bazaar in Istanbul in 2008, I am still very impressed by the quality since it was obviously not an original Boss wallet. In light of the times, I decided to go for a minimalist card holder rather than a traditional wallet as I basically never use cash any more.

SK Mat & Människor

Waking up at 4:30 am, Anna and I headed out for an 11-kilometre run under a misty full moon, once again feeling so privileged to have the forest right outside our door. After a quick shower, I went into town to have breakfast with my dad, who had spent the night at a hotel. We got to talk about our upcoming maritime adventure – sailing for two days on the Queen Mary 2 between Hamburg and Southampton in August.

Unfortunately, William still was not well enough to go to school, so the rest of the day turned into yet another round of “vobb.” I accepted a request to review a manuscript on ecomodernism for the Journal of Environmental Policy & Planning and supervised a couple of students over Zoom. Meanwhile, my dad was busy being the railway version of Father Fouras, representing his travel agency at Chalmers University of Technology as one of the stations on their “climate quiz walk”. His question? How many islands in the Mediterranean have railway lines? (The correct answer: four – Sicily, Sardinia, Corsica, and Mallorca).

Then, at 5:30 pm, I met Anna at the Michelin-starred restaurant SK Mat & Människor for the first of our complimentary “Dining by Amex” experiences. Having been awarded 25 out of 25 by our local daily Göteborgs-Posten, our expectations were honestly through the roof – which is not always a recipe for success. Located just above Berzeliigatan, the restaurant felt very sophisticated yet relaxed, with parts of the kitchen set right between the tables so we could watch our food being prepared.

First out on our set menu was an amuse-bouche with duck liver, which would not normally be my first choice but tasted excellent. It was followed by an innovative fusion of China and Japan: miso cabbage pudding with duck breast, celeriac, and black currant, all served with a perfectly matching glass of Pinot Noir (or more accurately, Spätburgunder) from Baden – reminding me that Germany is not to be overlooked when it comes to Pinot Noir.

After our main course, we were served a generous dessert of toffee ice cream with raspberry, hazelnut, butterscotch, and meadow sorrel, which was simply out of this world. All in all, we paid 490 SEK for two divine glasses of wine and an espresso, while American Express covered the rest (1,150 SEK) of the bill, which I think makes this benefit really worthwhile.

Verdejo

After a few days of grey skies and snow, the sky finally cleared this morning. But with that came a sharp drop in temperature, all the way down to -7 degrees. I could not help but worry about the spring flowers in the garden outside. Around noon, however, the quicksilver had climbed back firmly above zero, just in time for a 12k river run (in reverse this time) wearing my old trusted Hoka Clifton 6s.

With William still coughing like crazy, this week has been one long “vobb” as I have been working on the first article related to my new research project on competing sectoral claims for biomass and planning the remainder of the spring semester. On Monday, I am back to commuting again as I head down to Halmstad to grade exams and meet a new batch of teachers who are writing their final theses.

Later for dinner, I decided to make a long-time Rawls & Me favourite, namely Kerala-style mango salmon together with some self-imported Marqués de Riscal from a bit north of Madrid. Based on the Verdejo grape, it has a fresh taste of pear and melon, making me dream of Salamanca and all the other magic towns of Castilla y Léon.