You paint yourself - NY : Bailandoooo.... una noche loca

                                                     My romance with Marylin started when
                                                    I was 16, give or take some years... cause I am bad with remembering dates
 (as well as names... even though this time I am sure I got it right! =D

I was a collector of her pictures, and I believe I had a poster of her. Actually many, but one a real favourite- yes....exactly,
          the one with her trying to control her wild skirt as the subway charges somewhere underneath her.

The same subway that would enable me to stand beside her, at Pratt Manhattans art show of upcoming talents, many years later, and smile. I had made it, to the big apple.To the glamour and excitement of USA´s most intense city. To the key of the American dream!

However... the road to this final show was not smooth, easy or even in any way. Definitely not. Starting with the day I arrived.... to Brooklyn.

   I have always been blue eyed... and walked in clouds of pink.... and so my horror when my cab stopped at the Willoughby apartments can be more easily understood. I had been warned about cab drivers in NY, that they drive around for hours knowing the tourist has no idea where he is, and so make triple or quadruple earnings. This one had done that....yes,  but what really scared me was that he had stopped at a place that did not resemble at all what I had expected from a University ranked among the top 5 of the states. I looked out in horror at what seemed to me to be a ghetto.... and was sure the cab driver was gonna call some thug friends of his and start some gruesome party with petrified me. "You must be wrong" I whined.... I want you to take me to PRATT!!!! Where the hell are we???? "This is it, my man" he said.... and so it was.

     The ghetto continued into the dorms, which I recall now as a chilling block of concrete with dirty corridors and graffiti all around. I really could not believe where I had landed as I dragged with a droopy head my suitcase to my appointed room... it felt like a nightmare. And my room!!!!!what a joke to even call it that... I remember thinking that cells in the movie Alcatraz looked cosier than where I was standing. As my body went numb, and cold.... and horror spread through my cells... my brain worked frantically grasping for solutions...."call home and get the hell out of here ASAP" it hollered. Over and over the same text. Stronger and stronger for every chill that ran through my body.

    Which is when I saw the view from my window.... and a small but mean looking Mexican walked into the room.....

                                         this view with zoom and probably months after
                                         my initial shock.

                                                      Rodolfo, a true Tenochtitlan warrior.... here
                                                    months later dressed up as Sinuhe =D

 I guess it is true when they say, its not where you are, but with who... that makes the difference.

( In all honesty I must say, I did call home... and it was my Father who convinced me to try and stay. Its like with a book, he said... you have to read a hundred pages before you judge it.... so calm down, relax and attend some classes... let the thing grow on you... THEN we can see if you still want to come home).

                                         And so I stayed, and started life-long friendship with
                                         Rudy - alias Xô coyote to me.

He was the sportsman... a black belt in some Fu style... that trained whenever he was not doing homework, siesta, or eating.
                                         Oh, forgot to mention... or saving my ass! (but I guess that could be included in his training part! =D)

    I was the party animal.... and sometimes trained with him.

With Rudy we walked outside, late at night, on the streets of Brooklyn - when no one else dared... looking for ice cream: Häagen Dazs it had to be, from a little shop on Flatbush... I believe. On our side we had that we spoke together in Spanish (thus mingled a bit easier with the local environment) and as a back-up we had his raw martial talent - which, luckily... we never had to put to test.

We also walked together to the laundry place, carrying big bags full of dirty clothes over our shoulders... calling the bulks our sins.... =D
 Both having been raised in catholic environments... we knew all about that and liked to laugh at the weight of the ones we had to carry =D
Not really sure what sins Rudy was carrying... but I do know where some of mine might have come from....

Rudy had made sure I joined no fraternity... that was totally un-cool. But this did not stop me from attending their parties. For some weird reason... I was allowed in.... and it was Rudy who made sure I always came out alive from them. Because of the pitchers that were emptied at these happenings, I have no real sense of how many times Rudy had to save me... or the reason for him having to do so. But One happening I remember... vaguely. Seems I had been flirting with some fraternity guy´s girl... and she had done the same back... which caused the "brothers" to go beezerk, get together and try to throw me out. I was at the bar, with a full pitcher I had just got my hands on, and diplomatically tried to explain to them that I would leave when finished... also that it was unfair to put all the blame on me when the girl had given enough hints of liking me - not a good thing to try and reason with! They stood ferociously forming a growling circle around me... waiting for a clear reason to break my neck. THAT... is when Rudy walked in. =D =D =D  With the killing machine beside me I got to slowly, very slowly and really enjoying my time... drink up my beer and give them my good nights - never having to ponder on what might have happened next if my friend had not stood by my side.

Another of Rudy´s tasks was to try and clear my sight when my beer goggles were too dense. He would come to the local bar late at night.. about closing time... to get some fresh air into his head after home-working. And so he would find me making my moves on some girl I had decided might be fun to spend the night with. We had agreed that he would try and judge... would this girl be someone I would like when sober... in other words... was the booze clouding my judgement. And usually it was!!!! Sometimes he managed to save me... others I woke up the next day somewhere and realised my friend had failed... to my utter horror!!! =D

One time though, I realised my error long before sunrise. I had made it to this exotic girls apartment despite Rudy´s warnings... and after sweating away my beer in bed decided it would be nice to go home and sleep the buzz off. This did not seem to please exotic (I recall her saying she was Russian)... who asked me what the hell I was doing. I told her... going home... she got all worked up and asked me if I thought she was a slut.I told her we were both adults, wanted the same thing, and no money had been exchanged for the fun... so no... she deffinitely was no such thing. We discussed a benefits and such but all the time she got more upset... so I just left. Once on the deserted early morning street... thanking all the gods for my goood fortune at having escaped and not having fallen asleep at that place... I hear she has come out to a balcony and see her waving a bow and arrow... saying she is gonna hunt me down!  CRAZY Diana in full wrath...
       this wasjust at the time the movie "fatal attraction" made a success... so I was thinking here might be a good sequel for Michael Douglas as I ran away.... I did not run straight home... fearing the huntress might be close on my steps... and find my haven... so I zigzagged and probably jogged my way through most part of Brooklyn before I ventured home. If I recall correctly... she had already been there... or did she come another day... and Rudy had explained to her there was no mike to be found.

That same week... when I came home... I found something hanging from the roof of my apartment... oozing what seemed to me to be blood. As I stared at it in awe and wonder... Rudy approached behind me with a kitchen knife.... imitating the horror music njeek njeek njeek from the Fatal attraction movie... and scaring the bells out of me. After that we renamed exotic and called her psycho B, someone to be feared whenever roaming the streets of our neighbourhood... or hitting local bars.

Guessing you already can picture where my bag of sins got its content from.... bailandoooooo!!!! bailandoooo!!!!

Anyway.... I found a picture that might fit here after all this pitcher talk =D

                                         even though its  with Andrew and Mike... who belonged to my Manhattan group of friends....
           which is part....of another story. ;)

                                           For now, I had found myself a soul-mate who shared with me life, with its ups and downs.... ate with me gigantic breakfasts to ease my hangovers and
    totally understood the fact that we are who we are.... no judging needed... and if we accept that,                                              and carry our bags of sins laughing with a friend....
                                              life becomes joyfull and worth living - even in the roughest of places
                                                                       =D
             

         


     

Looking at the light

                                                     I have been looking at the darkness...
                                                     for a while now.

 I mean, when I start to paint.

I like to start by dividing the canvass... with the use of two, sometimes three colours. I work for about an hour, mostly feeling, but during my brief pauses balancing things up with the use of logic. And I have used earth and dark tones for this, following the traditional recipe.

Once the hour is up... I gaze into the darkness I have created.... my instinct and fantasy freely interpreting and providing me images I can pick from in order to proceed. Its the most interesting part of creation... not knowing what you are going to do... and having a million options in front of you.

In Life, this seems to scare us. I guess it is because when we don´t know what to do... we tend to forget that we have a million options ahead to choose from. Instead of savouring the moment... we go numb... and our body and mind simply paralize.

Today... I decided to break Tradition!
              I started of with one bright colour... simply because when I looked into the can where it is kept... I noticed it was drying up. Is this what happens in life too???? Can all the bright and colourful options ahead of us start drying up.... if we just stare into the darkness????

   Tradition is meant to be there, as a guide and teacher... something to look back upon and learn from... but NEVER to hold us back. As soon as it starts working as an anchor.... we must do something about it... I am certain we are not meant to stand still > even though that usually is the safest and easiest way to go about our lives.

So I am now going to stare into the light... and see what happens to my painting. A first gaze at what I have done already filled me with positive energy...  
 
                                          my first options are there, bright and inviting
                                         now I just need to pick
                                          and proceed.... into the light!

It could possibly become a young boy.... 

asleep on his desk from too much study...

 It is certainly something I have pondered on.

Like... why do we accept to live in a society that is built up around productivity - with gains for the few! Study, study, study.... and then work, work... WORK. We are taught and brought up with the notion that rest is something to be earned by sweat,

                                            fun something to do on holidays....

 when really ALL days are holly... and life is meant to be savoured and enjoyed. BURN OUT is a new disease, little talked about... but worryingly lethal and widespread.... now also amongst the very young. Something worthwhile thinking about.

It could also be about a couple sleeping together,

Their heads almost like one, hands still feeling each others warmth.

A reminder of how important physical contact is for well being. A call for us to learn the importance of touching and embracing each other... letting our friends and family feel our warmth, our love. I think people tend to forget about that.... in their stress, in their hurry. they live together but slowly drift appart... eachone in their own space... same house... yet still so far appart.

Or it could simply become a minotaur,

  resting at midday after a good lunch, under the shade of a tree.

taking a siesta. Just a fun image... with no critique behind it. Like Matisse used to say, a piece, that when you look at it - is restful as a good sofa. 

THAT, is definitely my view, of what art needs to be today!!!! 

No controversy, no irritation...(there is enough of that in our hectic lives)

... but  plain comfort and love.  

And so I play... in the light. For a couple of days the minotaur is worked on... warm relaxing siesta taking over the feeling of my ateliejé....

yet Picasso's mysterious woman haunts me... and slowly starts to creep back into the minotaurs day dream... I struggle with the combination...

I obsess...

 I HAVE TO MAKE IT WORK!!!!

                                                   fortunately Inda knows how to play...
                                                                in the light....

  She points me in the right direction...
Don´t force things in life! Go... with the flow. Light, feeling, let things come to you....
be curious and grab to what comes along... play with this
                                                                           play with that - dont obsess!!!!

                         so, for a while.... I play with another mysterious woman that I believe to be,
                                     amazingly beautiful....
                                                       

                                          Also about rest... this one at night. I simply love
                                        the way she seems to be floating in the air... or under water...

Picasso has the talent of saying so much, with so little. 

I move along... a bit slowed down by a flu...
     my powers gone.I know what I want... but don´t have the strength to go for it. I rest. And wait. We should deffinitely be thankfull for our health!


Today I woke up, not in prime condition yet... but better...
                                                                    ready to play!

                                          Mystery You... I´m coming to get you!!!!! 

Easier... when not attached.... not afraid. I let my

playful me free....

and she is there!

probably not ready yet....

    but enough... for NOW....  

because I have to move on and play

                                                       now that I am feeling stronger!

                            HAPPY FATHERS day... I say...
                                                           and start yet another PICASSO =D

You paint yourself - Finland 4 :The sailor

                                                    and so it came that off I sailed...
                                                    into the army sea...
                                                    ready to become a true officer....

but it did not take me more than a week before I noticed it really was not my thing.  =D

Don´t know if it was the way they marched us to the toilets, or the fact I hated the idea of having to poo in group, having friendly conversations with a bunch of other guys pressing their foodly contents into the bowls...
        or was it the "Taakse poistu" endless game they played with us... having us run back and forth without any point to it.
     IT might have been waking up in the morning to a screaming officer... or skiing after a bunch of guys who were born with skis under their feet... desperately trying to keep up... watching them disappear into the distance... then suddenly seeing them again, taking a break... the length of a cigarette (tupakan mittainen taukko)...
                                    feeling joyful relief knowing that not too far away is waiting rest....
only to find out that it does not take THAT long to smoke a cigarette...
                                                                                 and the group is leaving rested as I arrive to the once resting place sweating and out of breath.

   Maybe it was the fact that when I complained about the unfairness of putting a Spaniard to ski with Finns... they solved the problem by exchanging my light attack "rynnäkkö kivääri" for a heavy machine gun.... but
    I certainly did not like it either when we had to pedal on our bikes for hours under the guidance of an officer who supposedly knew where we were headed to...
        only to find out... when our groins were already bleeding...
            that he was lost and had been so - probably for the biggest part of his life! =D

                                                       One thing or another
                                                      the little gentleman inside
                                                      decided he had way too much on his hands...

and it might be a good idea to skip the "officer" plan.

   Being a person with a decent IQ... I figured out that the best way to ensure not getting selected for the officer training would be not to learn the language too quick... in fact... I decided to give the impression I was not learning at all.
     However... because of my dislike for the place I made sure I did superbly in all competitions where "kuntsarit" (points for free weekends and days off) were distributed. So... I ran fine, shot great... and assembled my weapon in no time... earning many days off with my girlfriend
                        ... allways making sure I was going in the wrong direction or doing the wrong thing when delivered an order in Finnish.

                                                    Believe it or not... my plan backfired....
and I found my name on the list for those chosen to become officers.
 I think any other time in my life I might have accepted this - as destiny...
                                                                but not now: I marched into the Captains office and in my most brutal Finnish ( much like the language Tarzan used when he met his sweet-heart) I asked how I was supposed to lead a bunch of guys into war IF they could not understand me. I guess my Finnish was bad enough... cause despite the Captain not understanding at first - he got my point.

   I became a foot soldier " jääkäri" and was posted in Helsinki because of my talent with other languages =D
     A much easier life with two big advantages... I could see normal civilians every day and I had time to do some drawing!!!!

                                                            Thus, a happier me survived
                                                           what was left of my eight months,
and wondered, when the time was over... if they had made me a "kunnia jääkäri" (honourable foot soldier) because of my language... or drawing skills
                                                                     =D
Some dreams however...
                      don´t die easy.... and for some reason there still was a spark in me wanting the title of officer.

I was a free man again... seeking for what it might be I would like to do with my life... when I saw an ad calling young people in to try and make it to pilot schooling.  I am not sure if around this time I had been to watch "Top Gun"...
                                   or if my mothers tales of her times at Finnair with hot shot pilots (after the second world war) had stirred something in me... but
                                                     I decided it might be worth a shot.
               

                                                        I know I loved the idea that
                                                        "only a few have what it takes"...

           so I was totally out of myself when after the extensive tests I got accepted!

                                                   =D =D =D
                                                  H   U   U   U   U  U  U  U  R  A  Y  Y
    sempre fi!!!!
         YES!!!!!
          I was so much closer to becomming an officer now!

         The wonderful thing, of being a sailor at sea... is that winds can change at any moment.Its unpredictable, its fun... its an adventure.

There was another fire burning in me... one that had been warming my soul for many years. I believe the fact that I had been accepted to pilot training proved to me that my officer desire was achievable... 
                   so before accepting I decided to explore the possibility of a career as an artist.

I was not successful in Finland - made it to the final rounds at what used to be "Ateneum"... but was told I was not eligible because I had too much of an own style already -  I was not malleable....

      but... refusing to give up... I did make it, in the end... to a much more interesting adventure!

                                         I was 22,
                                                       when I jumped into my canoe

                                         and rode the waves... off
  
                                                                   to the BIG APPLE!

                                          Back in the days when there still were 2 towers!

                                          

      




   
                                                         

on LOVE 2 - playfull joy

                                          with Napoleon on me =D

I have heard it said... that people when hearing they are going to die... oftentimes live what is left to live,with a sense of relief. They suddenly get things into perspective... re-evaluate their lives and what is important. It becomes clear to them that everyday is a gift that has to be valued and enjoyed.
 The strange thing is,
                                  we are all going to die...
we just seem to think it will be far away in the future, or then we don´t like to think about it at all.
   

                                         Picasso's dancing girl becomes the joy of life

   When I was in hospital with Pancreatitis I visited the threshold of afterlife a couple of times. I recall reading an article (while recovering) about the 5 things people who are gonna die believe are the most important in our lives. Time has passed, and unfortunately I just seem to remember the second... time with friends... people said they should have spent more time with friends and concentrated, been aware, of the quality of those moments.

 On my list  definitely number one would be children.
      Spending time with them, enjoying them... having your own! I have been blessed with two wonderful ones, Napoleon and Inda. A boy and a girl - who could ask for more! =D It is through them I have learnt to see the joy of life, the wonder of living in a new way. But what is more important, it is through them I have come to understand what love is all about. Hard to explain in words, actually impossible,but when you see in a child's eyes the joy of recognizing you, there is a moment there so bright, so pure, so amazingly colourful that nothing else in the world comes close to it.

                                                         My throne of plenty

With children everything comes from the heart.The joy, the laughter, when they run... in the moment of curiosity. Children have a way of taking you back there... to the core of existence... the wonder of life. It is just a matter of letting go, forgetting the serious fool you have become... and living the moment through their heart.

                                         love of life... through Napoleon.

A friend of mine asked me what  my favourite moment is when I am painting. Without a doubt... it would be the beginning. The canvas is blank, ready and waiting for you to mess it up. Attracting you to play, be free... wild. A child reaching out and shouting: come and have FUN with me!
 I like to leave starts for the weekend... somehow society has convinced me that THAT is when you are allowed to play and have fun - the week is for working!!!!!
But...
            sometimes...
                in a moment of mischief...
                       I begin a painting in the middle of the week! =D =D =D
    and it feels..
          like if I were a child, putting my hand into a jar full with colours....
                 and experimenting what happens when I press it against a white wall =D

                                             
There is only one artist for me who comes close to the wonder of being a child: PICASSO. The man really knew how to play!!!! i have sketched his work, I have painted it... carved it... stood in front of it in awe and wonder...
                                            and smiled!
   The vitality in his work and the way he beautifully transmits talent through play is amazing... a true master in how to approach life - and art.
    Simple
             sharp
                   true.

                                         Playful talent - as captured by humble me! =D

The beauty of play and fun is its freedom. Pure sizzling energy exploding in laughter. THAT is to be alive, those are the moments you will take with you to the afterlife.

                                         I am alive with INDA.

Then the day comes to an end, and the child goes to sleep. Cuddled in bed... you can feel as you lovingly watch you child how play has been transported to another place - not too different, cause I sense dream and life are quite the same for children. Anything can happen, everything is new.

You look, and think...My children are the one thing I love more than myself.
      Love in the true sense of what love is, not expecting anything in return, simply feeling warmth and gratefulness for being able to be there and share. Hoping to be allowed to give. Wanting to make sure all is well. Taking part in the wonder of living. 

Children are the key to life.
    Forget yourself, forget serious, mature, experienced and well bred.
                                       And feel.
                                          Our children should know... they owe us nothing.
                                          It is we who are in debt for having had the pleasure
                                          to be with them =D <3

  

the climb

I like listening to music...
      sometimes it is the rhythm that takes me...
           then there are the lyrics...
One particular song I love is "the climb" by Miley Cyrus.

Its not about whats on the other side,
                                                                  its the climb.

                                                    Our minds have a very strong tendency
                                                     to always believe the grass is greener
                                                      on the other side.

I can never stress enough to my pupils the importance of enjoying the ride.
 They tend to start the project with a vision (if and when I am lucky). This is important. To have a goal.
However, I truly believe that in art, as in life... I would have to agree with Miley: you will reach your goal if you really desire it... but it is crucial to make the most of the trip that leads to it. To be patient. To be open to all that happens on the way.

       We tend however... to focus so much on arriving... and what comes next... that we miss the joys of the path, and of life.

An art piece, as well as a life, is... for me, the sum of many a joyful moment... because in the end - fortunately,we tend to forget the rough and tough... and keep the sparkling vivid. So... when the Reaper comes knocking on our door... all we will have left to take with us... is a bag full of experiences and moments of love and joy.

   I love the notion of an Art piece being the balanced sum of many parts... like a continent, like for instance Europe. Each country with its own flavour and spice... each one with its traditions and culture. Very independent... yet all part of the whole. This is the way I see the artwork... a puzzle put together in different sessions... each one containing a fraction of the artists life at that given moment... each one containing the artists vision of that day and moment... his experience... slowly woven together to fit the whole... the original idea. There will be bright and shiny pieces, other dim and dull, sharp and bold efforts when a strong statement has been made,,, soft and mild ones when poetically easing around.
             Each part contributing to the beauty of the neighbour, and thus to the whole.

                                                  what makes me want to touch this bench
                                                  is the life printed on its surface, not its
                                                   original design,.

 There is something truly beautiful about a child at play, something to learn from.

                                         the original idea is watering... but as life offers wonderful
                                         events, the child enjoys
                                                   carrying the watering can
                                        obviously planning to use it, at some point or another...
                                        yet missing nothing along "the climb" =D

Curiosity, no second guessing yourself and a play full attitude.

                                         The keys that ignite experience and discovery.

                                       
                                         "Dulcinea"... that's what we named her.
                                          Somewhere in the middle of the desert of Atacama,

in the north of Chile, a police officer stopped us. We knew we could not have been driving too fast, cause her top speed was 75km / h. So we asked what the problem was. The officer explained the naked girl on the back of the car was a risk in traffic - people might loose focus on driving! We looked around and could only see sand. Claudio asked him if he did not think it would be a pity to paint over her... and the officer agreed. So we agreed a bikini would do just fine, and proceeded with our journey.

Years later I would find myself in a similar situation, this time in Europe.

                                       
                                         This at a subcontracting fair in Tampere.

Its funny where women have taken me! As a young starting artist my father told me I might want to reconsider "what" I was painting. He had accepted the fact I would not become a diplomat or an economist... but wanted me to have a minimal chance of succeeding. " Painting naked women is not gonna take you anywhere!" (as opposed to landscapes, sailing ships or horses).
       
Well, I said... I am gonna paint them till they take me.

                                         A goal,
                                          a target
                                         ... and many adventures along the climb.

                                         My women gave me a profession as a teacher.
                                         One I have truly loved.

Together with many a colourful experience that make for the vibrant parts of what is my "LIFE".
Which is why, at the end of the day... I can´t help but stressing the importance of the climb, and the fact of never forgetting that

                                                "the beauty of the whole resides in the vitality
                                                                        of the parts
                                                   - and how these relate to each other!"

                       
                                                                               =D

You paint yourself - Finland 3: the sky is the limit

                                                  the thing with life is...
               you should never try to mold it to your expectancies....
                                                  never take it for granted
                 and be totally open for change and surprises.

At times you will feel like you are soaring straight through unclouded skies....
                  a straight white line with purpose and destination....
                                      smoothly. Fast. Young and crazy. Powerful.

I guess that is why I like Dance so much. You get into a rhythm, you start swaying... letting yourself move to its beat... and when the music suddenly changes... you change your step without faltering...
       in a split of a second, the mood, the style, the whole thing has changes... but the flow hasn´t... and if your sensibility and perception where unhindered, neither has your dance. 

Its the big picture we are unaware of as we cruise... we only get to understand life, as life... later... looking back at things, seeing how one relates to the other... seeing what change of events finally leed to. The whole, as opposed to the parts. The bue sky as well as the clouds that are a part of it.

    I,
       was once again at the cruising stage... the white line on the blue sky, enjoying Finland, confident... with friends. Over where the white cold clouds of my first winter. Looking at my diary I see, of course... ups and downs... doubt, confusement .... worries... but in the overall they are swept away by wonder, excitement.. and self-confidence.
                                                    I was savouring the joys of life. =D

                                                        a sketch from my book during my
                                                        travels in south America depicts
                                                perfectly what I was feeling at this moment (since it was drawn many years later it very well proves that SAVOURING life has always been one of my hobbies =D Funny thing is, though, that when it was drawn, I had been a whole week without money and therefore very little food... I was in Argentina, looking at a restaurant / bar where people sat and savoured good healthy courses... oftentimes leaving on the plate half what they had got. In my mind I imagined the food orgy I was very much in need of =D

  Anyway, in Finland at this point there was no scarcity,  
                                                       I was truly rocking

                                       
                                          and rolling =D

                                       
                                         Life was a blast, but it - or should I say I, did have SOME
                                        purpose.
Amidst all the partying and fun, I made sure that my grades dindn´t falter... I relentlessly continued drawing and searching for beauty, I did a lot of sport and often went to the movies =D
           After dotting a million pages... long and assiduous job... I decided there must be a better way to achieve the perfect smooth surfaces I was aiming for.... and bought myself an airbrush.

                                       
                                         With time and a lot of practice I slowly approached my vision,
                                         and goal.
I am quite sure, that in the bliss of the tremendous moments I was having, I might have made myself an ass on more than one occasion... THAT is the beauty of being young, THAT is the beauty of being recklessly happy. You just do, without hesitation or second guessing.

                                         Despite this fact...
                                                    without much effort, I did get my hat...

  which I believe was, in many ways a tremendous victory ... considering how difficult it actually was for me to move from spain in the early 80´s... and the fact that I had to study in a language that was certainly not my mother tongue - despite it having been the tongue my mother spoke =D                                                         

                                                          
 There is something strange, however,  about achieving goals...

Its like... the journey is over...
                             the path comes to an end and suddenly you are at a crossroad... unable to continue savouring the joy of auto-pilot... of movement without effort... of rolling down a grassy hill and just letting go, enjoying the moment. You stand still.
   in truth, your life is still rolling... but your mind thinks its not.
                        You feel you have to think... take control... figure out the next step.

                                                    
                                                     Many years later, I would learn in Brazil
                                                    how joyful it is not to have a destination,
                                                    or a plan. just sit under a palm tree and let
                                                   life unfold.

At this stage of my wandering though... I felt I quickly needed a next goal.

Not being too sure of where I wanted to go with my life... I decided it was the perfect moment to get my compulsory army training done with...
         I don´t know if I had seen too many movies - I believe "officer and a gentleman" did cause some impact on me.
    I don´t know if it was the article on the news stating I was a gentleman (  see -you paint yourself, finland, 2 "time of hooligans is over")... 
   but I had a strong feeling my next step was to become an officer.

I was also tired of being Paajanen (a true Finish name) without speaking Finish! =D, which is why I applied to be posted at a Finish speaking garrison - Santahamina.

   Craziest thing one can do is go to the army for a language course!

         Young, reckless and on a winning lucky feeling... I jumped into this new adventure, making sure I was in the front row! =D =D =D