When I woke up today, it was surprisingly cold and sunny outside. One of those nippy and bright winter days which have been in REALLY short order for the last three years or so. The previous week had left me feeling like a roadkill warmed twice over. All the hassle with the apartment and the fever, dealing with the insurance companies, searching for a new flat and trying to do some work at the same time had left me feeling pretty damn dead. Susi and I had to skip my little brother’s superhero themed masquerade party, where we had planned on going as Rorschach and Black Cat (although my current physique would have fit Nite Owl far better). Alas, all the hassle shot down that idea.
Right from the moment when I opened the bedroom curtains a veritable tsunami of stir craziness hit me – there was no question that some outdoorsy activities were in order. Hiking in Nuuksio would have been nice, but by the time I had got my gear together and hauled my ass to the location, the sun would have set. The second choice was to do some light urban exploration after a long pause.
On my way to work I walk past this abandoned silo, which is a pretty well known place for UE enthusiasts, but also for junkies, graffiti people and consequently, the authorities. The place is closed more tightly than George W. Bush’s asshole, but I decided to check it out on my way to the day’s main target.
I wasn’t really expecting to gain entry, but there was a faint glimmer of hope that someone else would have decided to break into there earlier. The basic idea of urban exploration is “leave only footprints”, which means that you don’t break anything, mess with stuff, steal stuff or generally don’t act like a dick. Apparently earlier some explorer had found a nice “secret door” which some homeless or a junkie had built, but it has apparently been plugged.
My main target was a big freight dock which was closed down recently. There wouldn’t be that much to see, just huge warehouses, some cranes and administrative buildings, but the weather and the lighting was pretty photogenic. Thinking smartly I was dressed in my work clothes, so I wasn’t really equipped to vault over barbed wire obstacles or crawl through holes in chicken wire fences. I treated the trip more as a “casing the joint” type of thing.
Approaching the area from the north I ran into a guard booth, which kind of surprisingly was occupied. One thing some people don’t realise is that social skills are handy in UE. Security guards are just people and if you are not up to something nasty, often they can be reasoned with. Of course, you get these morons who are still on a testosterone trip over getting a baton and a tear gas canister, but that’s a different thing. I know some long time security pros who get this really tired look in their eyes when morons like these are mentioned.
So, I basically just asked if I can go in and take some photos. Although the guard wasn’t supposed to let anyone in, he told me it’s ok if I stay within a line of sight from the guard booth. This regrettably meant that I couldn’t go and roam in the buildings, but at least I got some photos.
It didn’t really matter that I didn’t get into the area this time, since I managed to find a way in that requires the least amount of trying to drag my pudgy body over two meter high fences topped with barb wire. So, one of these nights I’ll have to steal in and check out the actual buildings.
From the docks I walked to Kurvi, where I jumped into a tram that took me to the swimming centre I frequent. I made a decision to try and go swimming twice a week before our trip to the Red Sea. Swimming has been something I was kind of able to do, but in practice it took a shitload of learning to do well enough to matter. This learning took place last spring, when Susi and I went to the scuba diving course. One of the requirements was to be able to swim for 250 meters – my record being 50 meters of dog paddle.
I seldom get the experience of learning a completely new skill really fast. Last spring the first time I went to the pool I managed to do 25 meters of breast stroke and in total 250 meters of splashing forward with a pause every 50 meters. It took me a month to reach the stage where I swam for one kilometer non-stop and stopped not because I was too tired, but because I got hellishly bored. My current aim is to pick up my swimming speed from the rather pathetic one kilometer per hour – just because I get bored so goddamn easily that I’d need to get the kilometer done in half an hour.
In any case, here I am at home now, feeling relaxed from the outdoors stuff and exercise. Now it’s the time to cook some burgundy roast and fire up either one of the consoles or WoW, haven’t decided on which one. Nerdiness is afoot in any case this evening.
Next week – going to be a nude model in underwater art photographs, learning how to dive with Nitrox, hopefully a ton of apartment showings and whatever life throws our way.