Adventure Lillabo

OK, today I reached the big 3-7. Wait… I think you are only supposed to say that for base-10 years, like “the big four-oh”. Well, whatever, this is my blog entry, and I’ll cry if I want to. Reaching a milestone like a birthday immediately before a significant, life-changing event causes one to pause and look back (this is where the screen would get all wavy if I were on TV).

As I look back, I think of all the things I wanted to become; fireman when I was seven, photojournalist for National Geographic when I was 14, architect when I was 21, college professor, diversity consultant…. The list has been ever-changing. A consistent thread has been that the things I wanted to do “when I grew up” were tasks that were in the REALM of possibility. But, life throws curves in the road, you know? The one thing I never (NEVER) expected to be was…… an action figure. This-here is the story of Mini-Greg and Mini-Riikka.

It was April 14, 2004, and, as usual, Riikka and I were in a panic about getting our taxes done. “Why oh why did we do this to ourselves AGAIN?” we lamented. On bended knee, we arrived at our friends Eric and Tara’s house. Tara has many talents, not the least of which is being an Accountant (I was going to write CPA, but I’m sure she has some sort of advanced accounting title that involves a lot more letters.) We had in our hands a wad of neatly-organized papers (thanks to Riikka), and the standard “payoff fee for friends and family in need of urgent ass-saving” (Tara, you know what I mean!). Tara smilingly took the papers, and told us to return the next day.

Sheepishly, we arrived on the 15th to collect our completed taxes. Eric opened the door and handed us the paperwork. As I was promising for the umpteenth time to name any future son or daughter after Tara, Eric grabbed my arm and said “Dude… We got you and Riikka something at Ikea. YOU HAVE TO SEE THIS.” Intrigued, we waited at the door, expecting him to come out with a bag of tea-lights or a cool, sleek ottoman or something. Instead, he produced a tiny bag. As we peered in and pulled out the single package, both of us gasped aloud, and temporarily went onto a kind of human screen-saver.

The bag held cardboard display box, about the size of a sandwich. It was constructed in such a way as to resemble a bench. Attached to this bench with strands of that twisty-wire-stuff that closes bread bags were the objects of our amazement. There, smiling at us with sunny Scandinavian grins, were Mini-Greg and Mini-Riikka. As if reading our minds, Eric said “I know! Isn’t it WEIRD? It looks exactly like you two!!!”

What you, the reader needs to understand, is how surreal these little things are to Riikka and I. Those of you who have known me since, oh….. let’s say 1997… LOOK at this! [INSERT PICTURE] Remember when I wore the little, John Lennon style spectacles, and still had spiky un-highlighted hair? And used to wear shirts that were EXACTLY like this? I mean, look at a picture of me from then! GAAAAAAH! CREEPY!

And Riikka… [INSERT PICTURE] OK, this one is just **shudders** TOO much. SHE USED TO HAVE A BLOUSE AND SKIRT EXACTLY LIKE THIS!!!!!

Slightly dazed, we looked closer at the packaging. These little folks were from the children’s section of Ikea, and are called “Lillabo”, which means (I think) “Little Village” in Swedish. Anyway, we could have been completely weirded out to the point of feeling the need to ritualistically destroy them. However, we were low on goat’s blood and sulphur, and we took a second look and thought “DANG these are cute!” We congratulated ourselves on our likeness to them, and drove home.

Mini-Us have accompanied Riikka and I on many travels, usually used to wow and/or annoy our friends (Greg: “I know, right? They look EXACTLY like us!”). In between travels, they have reclined peacefully on our cookbook shelf in our beloved little apartment on Milwaukie Avenue, which we only recently vacated at the end of June of this year. As we were packing to move, we took a look at Mini-Us and decided that they HAD to accompany us on this trip! Well, both of us love the movie “Amelie”. Any of you who have seen the movie instantly know where this is going, and if you HAVEN’T seen it, I don’t want to include a spoiler here. Suffice it to say that Riikka and I both thought it would be cool if our action figures were to not only travel with us, but figure prominently in our travel blog. The camera adds 10 pounds, and I sure as HELL don’t need that, so unless the picture of me is AMAZINGLY flattering, Mini-Greg will be my body double. Riikka has absolutely NOTHING to worry about in regards to looking chunky in pix (quick thinking there Greg), but she liked the idea. So yeah… let me introduce you to Riikka and Greg in Miniature, ready to travel the world!

LUGGAGE PROBLEMS
Geez. Sometimes rules push a person to break them. Generally, regulations are in place for a reason, but that reason can be arbitrary and capricious, and lead a normally honest person to consider less than upright options. Example: Traveling from Portland to Helsinki, via Frankfurt, I was allowed two check-in bags, each of which could hold up to 20 kg (about 50 pounds). The carry-on bag could weigh 10 kg, and I had the option of a “personal item”, like a laptop or shopping bag. Now, it may seem that over a hundred pounds of luggage is a lot, but when you think about ten month’s travel, and needing everything from academic materials (heavy reading in both senses), formal attire, casual business clothes, casual duds, and trekking gear… well, clearly that can weigh in at the maximum weight.

I already compromised my principals in Portland. I am used to being able to bat my eyelashes at the ticketing counter (if the person working there was the right gender and/or orientation) and get some extra kilos for free. Lufthansa’s Portland ticketing counter was having NONE of this. I arrived with my bags, and handed them over to a young trainee, whose trainer was watching her like a hawk. Only when I had gotten both my bags evenly distributed and under 20 kg was I deemed ready to check in. “Oh, I need to weigh your carry on bag as well!” “Huh?!?!” NEVER in all my travels had I needed to weigh my carry-on bag.
“It’s 4 kg overweight. You’ll need to redistribute the weight!”

“Grrrrrrrrr”

Enter questionable-behavior Greg…

As I unladed things from my carry-on, I piled them on the floor next to my other bags. When the allowable weight had been reached, I thanked “Team Regulation” behind the counter, removed my carry-on bag from the scale, and stealthily put everything piled on the floor right back in my bag. Now, I understand that the luggage compartments above the seats can only hold so much, but I ask you…. 4 kg?

Adventure Lillabo

Monday, August 27, 2007

The story of “Mini-Us”

Friday, August 3, 2007

Transitions

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