abby & ben

good night and good luck

2008-04-21T18:24:00.010+01:00

Join us in bidding farewell to this faithful blog. Rolling Stones got us through some crucial months of life, from our wedding, to our honeymoon, to a new start in the Faroe Islands, but it is time for something fresh. Don't think of this as losing a blog, think of it as gaining a cooler looking blog! A few weeks ago I promised a big change to our concept, and here it is. Switch your bookmark link, wipe your tears, and check it out.

www.copyandcutline.com

-a

why i now eat mary's little lamb

2008-04-16T21:04:00.006+01:00

Last year I did not eat meat. I cannot say for sure that the greasy cartilage of a dead creature never passed my lips during that time, but without notable exceptions I lived the vegetarian life. My reasons for abstaining from meat are both ethical and environmental. While I do not think it is wrong to kills animals for food--they are able to turn plant material that we cannot eat into a substance that we can--I think that humans do have a moral obligation to treat life with care. In the case of animals, that means raising, slaughtering and consuming some of them in a wholesome, moderate and thankful manner. In the environmental camp, I object to the ground water and runoff pollution that results from confined feeding operations where thousands of animals are kept in close quarters to await mass slaughter. I also question the amount of energy, particularlly fossil fuels, that go into raising, slaughtering, packing, and shipping an animal in its short life span within the corporate livestock cycle. There is also the rub that so little of the profit from this three-ring circus go to the primary producers and laborers. Someone is getting rich off of corporate livestock, but it is not the Wyoming family ranchers or the immigrant laborers working in the packing houses of Greeley, Colorado. There are almost as many issues with the corporate fruit and vegetable industry, but in this case I am choosing what I perceive to be the lesser of the two evils, and besides, local organic tomatoes are a lot more affordable than local organic steak. These being my basic beliefs on the topic, I was pretty much set to go as a lifelong meat mostly-abstainer/local eater/free range junkie. Imagine my surprise at moving to a tiny island in the North Atlantic where the most environmentally responsible thing I can eat is meat. The only food stuffs that grow in any volume on the islands are rhubarb and sheep. Potatoes will grow, but they are labor intensive and you have to be pretty buddy-buddy with someone before you can get your hands on them. Fish also comes in by the boatload, and whale can be had if you are willing to brave the mercury. It has been humbling and curious to find that my formerly modest meal preferences like beans and salad involve a worldwide network of growing and shipping before my tomatoes from Sicily, lettuce from Argentina and carrots from Denmark arrive. So I adapt. My fish is undercooked, my whale overcooked, and the lamb leg is still sitting in the freezer because I have no clue what to do with it, but I am embracing the carnivorous life. Of course I have not given up all of my pleasures--on a rare night you will still find me enjoying a luxurious meal of lentil beans and rice. -a p.s. For those of you who feel like I am being ungrateful to the the five generations of ranchers who have labored faithfully on the land to provide a privileged life for me, touché. While our place in the corporate structure is perhaps not what I would have it, I believe passionately that my family's animals are raised in a wholesome, moderate and thankful manner, and whatever I know about respect for life I learned from them.

"links of the week" or "it is a slow week for cultural insight"

2008-04-14T20:21:00.007+01:00

1. I read the Real Estate section of The New York Times religiously, and my favorite feature is the "What You Get..." series, which documents properties at a specific price all over the country. The latest installment, What You Get for $600,000 has an especially swanky find in Miami. 2. Ben and I have recently been discussing the concept of "Christian Humanism", and he found this powerful article articulating the concept that, "Those who are pro-life and pro-family should have no problem being pro-human." The author, Glenn Stanton, works for Focus on the Family, which is not an organization you will usually find us referring to, but this piece is worth reading twice. 3. If I were going to have a baby, and then spend $236 on 50 designer announcements, these would be the ones.

-a

a. I love photographers' blogs, but few have as good of insights into the life of a photojournalist as Justin Mott's. Justin is a photographer based in Hanoi, Vietnam and his recent post about whether or not humanitarian photojournalism can actually make a difference is a great read accompanied by gorgeous images. b. Such a large portion of modern photography is sharp, polished and predictable, which is why this collections of images from photographer Christopher Anderson are some of my recent favorites. He took a plastic "toy camera" with him on assignments around the world and these images are the result. c. Banksy is an English graffiti artist whose humorous, striking and typically anti-establishment work covers the streets of London. My favorite installment, however, is from an exhibition in a Los Angeles warehouse. The "elephant in the room" represents society's intentional ignorance of poverty.

-b

the ballad of bill and al

2008-04-10T18:58:00.003+01:00

It has been interesting to observe two political figures that are as well known to me as Bill Clinton and Al Gore in a new arena. During their respective visits to the Faroe Islands, each man had the opportunity to represent himself in a fresh way, a chance that he will never get in front American audiences whose minds are inescapably flooded by complex preconceptions ranging from talking-heads commentary to moral indignation to environmental apathy. When Clinton visited last October, there is no question that he conquered the Faroe Islands. During his days here he offered interviews, walked the streets of the capital visiting shops and posing with fans, and even bought wool sweaters that he said were for Hillary and Chelsea. He opened his official speech with an anecdote about how he would export the idea of grass-roofed houses back to the United States, and then proceeded to talk fluidly without notes in his warm, folksy way. The Faroese loved him. He was personable, interested, and brought a touch of world glamor to these modest green slopes. Although I could not read the coverage of Al Gore's visit earlier this week, I have heard several renditions of his brusqueness. He arrived in the Faroes late on Sunday night and went immediately by car to his hotel. The next morning he met briefly with the Prime Minister, and then delivered his talk at the TransAtlantic Climate Conference, which is rumored to have been built mostly around slide from his documentary "An Inconvenient Truth". Per orders from his foundation, no digital recordings of the presentation were allowed. He then left by car to go back to the airport to catch his outbound flight. He allowed no interviews, and when a Faroese journalist caught him in a parking lot, Gore told him he got to ask one question. The reporter asked him how he liked the Faroes so far. Gore replied, "It's pretty nice." His only lasting impression in this country is that of a moneygrubbing, personality-less block of a man. So all my sympathies to both the Clinton-haters and the global warming combatants, but the Faroese score currently stands at Clinton: ten gold stars, Gore: zilch. -a

a life less involved

2008-04-08T15:57:00.002+01:00

At this moment, an hour's drive from my home, the TransAtlantic Climate Conference is being held. Its goals are to, "come up with a 'road map' for how to establish TACIT – a TransAtlantic Climate Institute for the coordination and facilitation of applied research and innovative projects regarding marine science and technology. Another outcome of the conference will be a compendium describing the climate challenges in the Atlantic Ocean." As a self-proclaimed greenie you might think I would be involved with this significant show of environmental concern and creativity. However, having failed to either ingratiate myself as a journalist for the event, or come up with the €910 conference fee, I sit here on my tush. Al Gore, the keynote conference speaker, will just have to go on without me. Having also missed the conference on sustainable tourism in November that would have been free to attend, I think I have safely established myself as not a leader in environmental thought for the Faroe Islands. -a

the rule

2008-04-06T21:51:00.003+01:00

This afternoon as I shellacked my eyelashes with a new brand of mascara, I kicked myself for breaking the most fundamental Law of Transitory Faroese Living: Don't buy anything. The well-designed, high quality Scandinavian products that fill Faroese store shelves often tempt me away from this mantra, but my after-purchase rush is always followed by a guilty crash when I remember that the same product bought almost anywhere else in the world would cost anywhere from 30% to 70% less. Case in point: Yesterday I purchased mascara and concealer from The Body Shop. These cosmetic basics are listed for $12 and $15.50 respectively on the Web site, while I paid almost $60 for the exact same items. For that price I could have bought products from virtually any high-end line in the United States. Better yet, I could have just saved $30. This reality makes it hard for Ben and I to fully engage in life here. Even as we work to be present spiritually, intellectually and emotionally, we continually draw away because we know that whatever "it" is can wait to be bought "when we leave," giving our time in the Faroes a temporary feel. Even easier is to order everything but our food through the Internet. With taxes (at least 25%) and shipping included, Amazon.com still offers significant savings. This temptation directly pits our values of supporting the local economy and saving the carbon cost of shipping against our economic reality. -a

vino

2008-04-04T17:53:00.004+01:00

One Italian Thursday Ben and I visited this family-owned vineyard in the Campobasso region. Located within sight of the Adriatic Sea, our first two questions were, "Is it for sale?" and "Do you take IOU's?" Locals can bring their own plastic bottles and get white, rose, rosso or merlot wines pumped gas station-style at about 7 euro/5 liters. The bulk of grapes are harvested by machine and aged in the enormous metal tanks. The select grapes, however, are harvested by hand and the wine is aged in these French oak barrels. Our guide told us that it was very important that the barrels have both dark and quiet for the wine to develop properly. -a&b

meet my favorite person

2008-04-01T18:00:00.006+01:00

Abby has already written about the food and drink of Italy, so now it is my turn to talk about what I consider to be the best part of our trip: This kid. Noah is my 5-year-old trilingual nephew who has more personality than most people four times his age. Hanging out with him is a good reminder of how simple life should be. -b

ch ch ch ch changes

2008-03-30T16:49:00.003+01:00

Over the next two weeks I will be making changes to our blog, both visual and textual. Since we first posted about six months ago our ideas about what sort of forum this should be have constantly evolved, and we are ready for another phase. (Don't worry--my insightful commentary and Ben's pretty photographs aren't going anywhere.) The first thing on the chopping block was our former banner. It optimistically listed the best of our passions in life: faith.photography.sustainability.design.cultures.life. Each of those elements play a part in our direction, conversation and thought life, but it seemed a touch pretentious considering what it might actually have read is: "what book comes after romans again.the new york times won't return ben's phone calls.i can't remember to recycle our plastic bottles.good design is an excuse for me to buy things i do not need.we ate at mcdonald's in rome.we are 23-years-old and what do we know." So now we are back to the basics, the three "R's" of education, just trying to read, write, and figure out what is next. Hopefully whatever changes we implement will more honestly, but still optimistically, reflect our trajectory and what holds our thoughts during these rainy Faroese days. -a

ships in the night

2008-03-29T12:54:00.003Z

After a long day of travel and a short night of sleep, I found myself back at the money counting desk Wednesday morning. In a few dizzying hours the wonders of modern travel transported me from a world of fresh cheese and dusky-colored villas back to the windswept, and snow covered, Faroese mountains. And to the reality that I still do not speak Faroese. I am making progress, but the latest phase of my learning process is stuck in the maddening rut of mostly understanding things. In a given sentence I seem to understand either the noun, or the verbs, or the adjectives, but never the twain shall meet. This situation gets especially sticky when people ask me a question. What I hear: "[blank] you [blank] Faroese?" This leaves an enormous margin for error as I try to construct a response. Do I respond to, "Do you like Faroese?", "Do you not like Faroese?", "Do you speak Faroese?", "Why don't you speak Faroese more often?", "Why do you butcher Farose?" The possibilities are endless, and inevitably about 70% of the time I respond incorrectly, usually going with "Yes", or "Good!" Example: Them: "Do you like Faroese?" Me: "Good!" But it did feel a little like coming home to see my friends and family here, and the sun even came out for the first time in months to greet me. -a

the riches of italy

2008-03-25T17:00:00.003Z

Our apologies for not keeping you abreast of our Italian travels. We did not have good Internet access during our stay, so now we will try to recreate some of the highlights of the trip. The latest and greatest adventure was the 30 hours Ben and I spent in Rome before today's flight back to the Faroes. It felt scandalous to be a city where you cannot swing a stick without hitting some priceless treasure of Western culture for such a short time. But the timing combined with a looming cold on my part kept our touring schedule modest. The only thing we made a point to see was Michaelangelo's Pietà at Saint Peter's Basilica. Perfect. The other highlights were finding a pub that carried Strongbow Cider on tap, and the curious cat colony behind our hotel. As Ben and I explored the neighborhood near the central train station we found a public park containing the ruins of an ancient Roman building. Carelessly sunning themselves on 2,000-year-old columns were 20+ cats of all shape and color. We watched in delight as a wobbly local woman slipped canned cat food through the fence to them, calling the cats by name. Also of note was the wonderful Easter holiday we enjoyed with Heidi, Regin and Noah, Ben's sister, brother-in-law and nephew. Regin preached that morning at the small Brethren church they are helping to found in Campobasso, and then we were joined by another missionary family for lunch. We sat down at 2 p.m., and what proceeded was a decidedly decadent meal. Fresh fettuccine noddles with a simple cream sauce, grilled steaks with cream whiskey sauce and broiled Rosemary potatoes were the stars of the show. We did not roll away from the table until after 6 p.m. I have not yet processed all of the experiences that we had in Italy, but fortunately we have made a big effort to bring Italy home with us. Barring a customs crackdown, the Italians goods we are set to enjoy for a few weeks includes: -Enough dried organic spices to raise suspicion that I have intent to traffic. This includes: Oregano, Porcini mushrooms (3), Bay leaves (2), Rosemary (2), Thyme, dried whole peppers, pepper flakes, dried garlic and chives. -Overpriced Tuscan praline truffles that I bought impulsively at the Rome airport duty-free shop. -Limoncello, the Italian digestif of choice. -A wheel of aged sheep's cheese. -A kilo of cheese infused with truffle (the vegetable kind). -A wheel of new buffalo cheese. -Cream of Tarter. This is not Italian, but it is impossible to find in the Faroes. -A small box of Espresso Pocket Coffee chocolates. -Two varieties of dried salami. -A bottle of olive oil made by one of the women in Heidi and Regin's church. -Balsamic vinegar. There are a few more treats tucked away in various pockets, but I am beginning to feel a little sheepish about the length of the list. Needless to say, I have been extremely impressed by Italian food culture. The only thing on our trip that I enjoyed more was the hospitality and conversations Ben and I got to have with our hosts. Fortunately for me, Heidi is an accomplished Italian chef, so the conversations and the food were never far from each other. -a

more food

2008-03-18T14:46:00.002Z

All of my expectations for delicious, local, fresh Italian food have been met in the three days since I joined Ben at his sister and brother-in-law's house in Campabasso, Italy. For example, last night's dinner included: -Fresh ham, dried sausage and local salami -Peppercorn Brie, smoked Mozzarella, a creamy sheep's cheese and a salty Caciocavolo -A round loaf of fresh bread with balsamic and olive oil dipping sauce -Truffle spread -The sweetest, most firm cherry tomatoes I can remember eating -A Sicilian Rosso wine followed by ice cold Lemoncello to finish off the meal -a

eat it

2008-03-13T15:02:00.006Z

I have been informed that our readership cannot survive on the stale posts I leave up for days at a time, so here is something fresh on which to chew.

In the Faroe Islands I have access to basically all of the food stuffs that I could get in the United States. Often the variety is limited, but from tofu to taco spice, from eggplants to fresh dill, it can be had. For months this has falsely led me to believe that this similarity meant that Faroese eat the same way as Americans. After six weeks in the workplace taking breakfast and lunch with real live Faroese people, I realize it is not so.

Breakfast is often bread or crackers with margarine, jam and cheese. Fruit juice seldom makes an appearance, while strong tea and coffee are a must have. Heavy, hot breakfast items like omelettes, hash browns, pancakes, etc., are not part of the food culture, but the quality of the Faroese bread makes up for whatever cholesterol cravings I encounter. Most people buy their bread from the local bakery, which makes wonderful crusty, nutty breads and rolls. My favorite kind includes shredded carrot and sesame seeds in the mix.

There are two ways to go for the noon meal. Historically, at noon everyone went home for døgurði, the hot meal of the day, which would likely feature either fish or some sort of roasted lamb alongside boiled potatoes, which Faroese always peel before eating, and a sweet pickled cabbage condiment. The whole plate would get doused in liberal amounts of gravy, which is dyed a dark shade of brown using a special food coloring. More recently, you might also run in to pizza made with hamburger and a store-bought crust, a dish called bolar soupa which combines frozen vegetables, sausage balls and dough dumplings, or large baked fish nuggets.

However, the arrival of globalized business practices has made it impractical to take a long lunch break, so døgurði is now usually taken at night. The noontime meal, an open-faced sandwich extravaganza, is a curiosity to me. It consists of one or two pieces of dark heavy bread, cut either into halves or quarters, and loaded with an endless array of toppings. These might include a boiled egg and mayonnaise, margarine, cheese and bell pepper, cold pickled fish salad, potato salad and fish sausage, or rolled lamb sausage and red onion. Then, using a knife and fork the Faroese cut each piece of bread in to delicate bites, getting the impossibly loaded fork to their mouths without dripping potato salad on their lapel.

Lunch is again washed down with tea and coffee. Impossibly strong coffee. I would be skeptical that most Faroese drink their eight glasses of water a day.

The thing that characterizes Faroese food in my mind is meat. It is the focal point of every significant meal. Spicing tends to be relatively simple, and I am always putting off dinner guests with my zealous use of cumin, cilantro and curry. Although young people have a more adventurous palate, there is still a definite Faroese-ness to their preference for mild dishes.

The other element of Faroese eating that must be noted is drekkamunn, the evening coffee and dessert social time usually taken with friends. Store bought cookies, marzipan-filled treats, vanilla ice cream with nougat chunks or a warm fruit truffle are commonly served. Likely whatever you get will be accompanied by Romi, the Faroese produced brand of heavy whipping cream. It is rich, it is decadent, and the Faroese offer no apologies for eating it often and in plenty. It is the part of Faroese cuisine that I have embraced the most enthusiastically.

On occasion the traditional Faroese dishes will pop up. This includes roasted lamb made from mutton that has been left to hang outside for a few weeks, giving it a strong fetid flavor. I would deem it an acquired taste. I have also eaten whale meat and whale blubber, dried fish, and other varieties of air-dried mutton. To my relief I have not yet been confronted with sheep's head or blood sausage.

Another note on food culture is that it revolves almost completely around the home. In my five months here I have eaten out perhaps ten times, and with the exception of some take-out pizza and a trips to the bakery, they have all been on day trips to the capital of Tórshavn.

For all the differences, I have done very well here, as attested to by my trousers which fit a little more snuggly since I came. I think it has been all of the cream.

-a

a true story

2008-03-10T18:40:00.006Z

Setting: A small coastal village bosomed between soaring green mountains and the cold, crashing Atlantic Ocean. As darkness approaches, a warmly lit house shelters guests gathered to celebrate the birthday of a new member of the family. Players: Tracie Faust, American wild woman and intrepid European traveler. Grímur, 69-year-old patriarch of the family, a dignified Faroese man with clear blue eyes and bristly gray hair. Grímur: "Hello. I am Grímur." Tracie: "What's a Grímur?" Grímur: "That's my name." -a

re: yuppie

2008-03-10T18:32:00.003Z

I say this tongue-in-cheek, but the general consensus is that if I care this much about being or not being a yuppie, than I probably am one. Along these lines, I would like to direct you to another, funnier, more popular blog. Although it would probably be more accurately called, "Stuff Upper-Middle Class, Well-Educated Americans Like," Stuff White People Like is cynical, hilarious and uncomfortably close to home. -a

i have a fabulous handbag, therefore i am

2008-03-06T23:32:00.007Z

Over a recent game of Settles of Catan, Ben playfully, but earnestly, called me a yuppie. His prosecution relied on the dual facts that I shop at JCrew, Anthropologie and Urban Outfitters, and that I have a Macbook. In mock anguish I wailed that I was not a yuppie, and we both had a hearty laugh. Two days later I am still wailing in anguish, but now it is in earnest. I am terrified to realize that I am, truly, predisposed toward being a yuppie. If you are unfamiliar with the term "yuppie", this is an informative definition from UrbanDictionary.com. "Yuppie" Acronym for Young Urban Professional. Group whose culture blends the hippie/counterculture values of the 1960s and the materialistic monetary-based values of the 1980s. Usually congregate in Starbuck's, Whole Foods, Trader Joe's, and a wide variety of vintage clothing boutiques. Includes both moderate Liberals (majority of yuppies), and moderate Conservatives (smaller group of yuppies), although both the far left and the far right enjoy dissing them. Far left dude: I hate these yuppies! They claim to be "artists" and "bohemians", yet their materialistic pursuits embody the very antithesis of the counterculture, and price real "artists" like me out of the neighborhoods they move to! Far right dude: I hate these yuppies. I can't stand how they flaunt their metrosexuality with their designer labels, lattes, luxury cars, and globally conscious health food stores. It's European-wannabe wimps like them that corrupt America! Ben and I have somewhat less elaborate working definitions for "yuppie". Ben considers a yuppie to be a person whose purchasing decisions are based primarily on what other people think is interesting, a person who is always concerned about getting the "right" thing. I think of yuppies as people whose lives are defined by material consumption, and who are far-removed from the workings of the natural world. If you are still having trouble defining "yuppie" in your mind, we discovered a good litmus test last night. Think of something that at one time was considered "indie" and edgy, and now has become the stuff of mass consumption. There is a good chance that whatever you thought of is part of the yuppie lifestyle. Some of our findings include: -Organic food shops, esp. Trader Joe's and Whole Foods -The music of Death Cab for Cutie -Anything made by Macintosh -Hybrid cars I take a small bit of solace that at least I fall into the relatively new category of "Green Yuppie". That is a person who alters aspects of their life to be more environmentally sensitive, such as driving a used Volvo instead of a new Suburban, using canvas bags for groceries instead of plastic, or even going as far as to erect a windmill or solar panels around their home to reduce energy use. Unfortunately, these efforts still tend to be influenced heavily by posturing and can involve very little real sacrifice on the yuppie's part. It is easy to save the earth if all that involves is driving a more hip car and buying interesting food at expensive stores. And I buy it. In my heart I buy it all. The positive spiritual and material influences of my university experience kept some of the emptiest desires at bay, but now free from the example of my non-yuppie friends, my covetousness and vanity is running wild. I dream of owning a pair of olive green patent leather Prada wedges to go with my tasteful vintage pea coat, both which will draw admiring stares as I balance my organic soy sugar-free vanilla latte, extra hot, on top of the interesting book I hold nonchalantly (A Clockwork Orange, perhaps?). I want a $1,100 Shaw fireclay sink to go in my carefully manicured kitchen, and I want my husband to wear trendy square-framed glasses. That life will look so great paired with my reputable law degree. And it is all so empty. Richard Foster's classic book "The Freedom of Simplicity" stares at me unread from the bookshelf as I surf the latest additions to my favorite home wares blog. I see the lives of people I respect, more often than not, exemplified by generousness to the point of want, and a struggle to not accumulate possessions. With one hand I write that I want to live a life like that, and with the other I give over my credit card for a pretty new thing. I wonder if there is some sort of cosmic limit on hypocrisy that will one day find me overdrawn and strike me down? In desperation I looked to my sister, the other person who knows me best, to refute Ben's assertion that I am fated to a yuppie life of yuppie wants and yuppie waste. She didn't hesitate a second to agree with him. But she also said that there was one thing about me that isn't yuppie, and that is my childhood as a rancher's daughter. A working cattle ranch is not yuppie. At that, I remembered back to my morning at work when I had heard an unfamiliar song on the radio, and had crouched close to the speaker until it was over, because I thought it just might be Garth Brooks. I don't want to desire objects and plaudits, but I do, and probably the craving for the Prada pumps will always be a part of my struggle. For now I rest in the knowledge that I am not, and never will be, 100% yuppie. The song was by Garth Brooks, and I loved it. -a

some disassociated thoughts

2008-03-02T15:21:00.009Z

In the Faroe Islands official signatures must be written with blue ink. In the United States black is the signature-standard.

I have been asked to remove this note. Refer your objections to HEK@gmail.com.

This weekend I started knitting my most ambitious project yet, a cardigan out of gray Faroese wool. I am working without a pattern, so it will be seen if my fledgling designer inclinations are anything more than fancy.

Ben and I have spent the last two days at a church retreat with other Klaksvík youth. We partook in the three meals and three snack breaks per day with zest and enjoyed the chance to cultivate our budding friendships.

We are going to Italy for Easter to visit Ben's sister, brother-in-law and much loved nephew. "Hip hip hooray!" for credit card debt and Heidi "Big Sister" Guttesen's cooking.

-a

'tis the season

2008-02-28T20:35:00.004Z

As we get closer to summer the days are getting longer, the weather warmer and the grass greener. It is the season for fun, adventure, and weddings. And while I have the fun and adventure pretty well covered, I wanted to recruit all of you to help with the wedding part. Abby and I have decided that we are going to be in the Faroes until sometime in September or October, so I am going to be spending this summer shooting weddings here. So let me know if you have any friends or family members who are getting married this summer and are looking for a great photographer. Have them check out the blog and my website or just email me their contact info and I can get a hold of them. Thanks, and I will leave you all with some of my favorite wedding images from the past several months. -b

weddings, i love weddings

2008-02-24T13:07:00.003Z

This weekend we finally had the chance to sort through our wedding pictures, and we were thrilled to come across "The Lost Photos", a hitherto unappreciated collection of images from the photo booth at our wedding reception. There are some undeniable classics, with a special shout out to my brothers Mick and Charlie, Phil and Mary Parsons and Ashley & Lucas Sheaffer.

See a slideshow of the photos

-a&b

wind gets in your eyes

2008-02-22T23:29:00.001Z

Today as I battled the fierce North Atlantic wind on my 10-minute walk home from work, the mangled face of a balding, middle aged man kept forcing itself into my mind. This particular mangled face had been the front page spread in a national newspaper last week for being bodily thrown 10 meters by the wind in a nearby town. I didn't get the details of the accident, (for three days I thought the article was about gang violence in the Faroe Islands) but the summary has stuck with me. The wind here can be very, very strong. And as I clung to the fence beside the Lutheran church, the wind seeking to make me the next front page tragedy story, I thought, "It is not just being blown away that I have to worry about." I am also concerned that the Faroese keep their sheep, fishing boats and children tied down securely. If there is one thing worse than being helplessly thrown into the air, it is getting hit by a sheep doing the same. -a

leaving on a jet plane

2008-02-22T22:48:00.002Z

Tracie is leaving this afternoon, so I figured I would do a post to commemorate her time here. It has been fun to have someone to go out shooting with everyday, but even more than that, it has been nice to have a friend here who knows both Abby and I so well. While she was here, Tracie and I went out exploring nearly everyday, which was great because I have seen more of the Faroes in the last two weeks than I have ever before. We explored the harbor at night, met windblown horses outside of Klaksvík, hung out with sheep farmers in Hellur, talked with skaters in Klaksvík, and went to Kirkjubøur with Abby and our friends Margith and Reiner. Every single night has been spent playing Settlers of Catan, and Tracie recently discovered it online here. Hopefully our ongoing tournament will not have to end just yet. -b

hu·mil·i·ti·a·tion

2008-02-20T17:34:00.003Z

Pronunciation: \hyü-ˈmi-lə-tēˈā-shən\ Etymology: Late English-Faroese humiliatus, past participle of humiliare Date: circa 2008 : the state of being which combines the positive lessons of humility with the personal erosion caused by constant unintended foolishness. Most often experienced in cross-cultural work environments. -a

johan & anna

2008-02-19T12:02:00.005Z

Tracie and I went out with Johan and Anna for an engagement portrait session on Saturday. We had a great afternoon with them in Kunoy, and then they came over that evening for a game of Settlers. It has been really fun having Tracie here, and an über post to commemorate her time here

is in the works. Just you wait.

-b

another thing to like about the Faroe Islands

2008-02-17T12:32:00.006Z

Members of Faroese society seem to have taken a silent oath to forgo commercial convenience for a higher quality of life. For example, the bank I work at is only open from 9:30 a.m. to 4 p.m., MTWF, and until 6 p.m. on TH. There are no weekend hours. This means that if someone who works regular business hours needs to come to the bank, their only option is Thursday evening. Americans do not like to be limited by things like "closing hours," and so in response Wal-Marts, grocery stores and restaurants are open nights, weekends and holidays. "All day every day," is our motto. Unfortunately, someone has to work all of those odd hours to serve Americans' vast appetite for stuff. Kids are left on their own at home, couples live separate lives, and thousands of workers have to staff our movie theaters on Christmas Day, but by God, we have options. Here, the options are limited. During holidays you have to be sure to have enough milk in the house because stores are closed for several days at a time. The only time I can run errands is a brief hour after work, or from 10 a.m. until 2 p.m. on Saturday when most retail stores are open. There are no coffee shops operating late into the night (or at all), and I think that the only store in town open on Sunday is a gas station. Sometimes my indulged spirit rebels at the constraints the Faroese have erected. When living in the United States I am prone to get irritated when Barnes & Noble is only open until 10 p.m. on weeknights, and that I cannot call my credit card customer service at any moment in a 24-hour cycle. You can imagine my consternation upon finding that what I can purchase here is basically limited to what the local proprietors actually have in their shops, and that the weekend's entertainment will always revolve around coffee at a friend's house. I have espoused a "slower life" philosophy based on greener living and critical thinking about capitalism for several years, but this is the first time I have lived in a place that gives me perspective on how few changes in my life I had actually made along these lines. Buying more expensive organic produce at the hip grocery store and reading Wendell Berry books is not, apparently, as far as a person can go in changing their lifestyle for the better. So I embrace a new mindset. Despite my best efforts, I still feel entitled and crotchety when I cannot get my organic Danish sea-salt at the grocery store in a nearby town because we did not realize it closed at 4:30 p.m. But I also appreciate that a friend always has an open door in the evenings, that people know how to have a good time without spending money, and that society does not assume that hours a week spent at your job should naturally be longer than those spent with your family. Now I just have to quell the spindly voice in my soul that cries for somewhere to go at 11 p.m. where I can get a great cappuccino and peruse good books. The Scandinavians, apparently, do not have everything right. -a

the radio star

2008-02-13T21:01:00.005Z

At times I have been a vocal critic of Faroese radio. The stations are few and reception is easily lost 'round the bend. News updates are incessant, and talk-radio is very popular. It's a formula for disaster. Or that is what I thought before I started listening to the radio for seven hours a day. Unbeknown, my problem has been that I wasn't listening to the radio enough. Most Faroese households and businesses have their radios tuned in all day long, and in response to that cultural nugget, stations assemble incredibly diverse programming. For example, in one morning of radio listening at work I will hear: Top-10 pop songs, hymns and a heartfelt devotional, an exercise segment narrated by a smooth-voiced woman giving breathing instructions over remixed Elton John songs, a children's story, the news multiple times, folk chants, and other assorted musical selections. (Blocks of Sting, R.E.M. or the Gaither Brothers. Classical overtures, opera excerpts and the Beatles. Old Tom Waits, new White Stripes, David Hasselhoff.) Faroese radio, in fact, has become one of my most consistent companions. It makes me feel happy when a Ravonettes song comes on, unloved when I must listen to a car dealer advertise his goods for an entire hour, and transported home when an old favorite finds a spot in the eclectic mix. I am befuddled and isolated in so many ways at my job, but I am always anticipating the next song. -a

the new mac/me

2008-02-12T17:16:00.000Z

Name: Abby Kirkbride

Sign: Aquarius Music to Feel: David Bowie. He really captures what it's like to be in an alien environment, and there are good colors to his music. Current Read: "Slaughterhouse-Five" by Kurt Vonnegut. Design Trend That Needs to Go: Antlers in chandeliers. Things I Cannot Live Without: Eggplant, the color "mustard", scarves. Computer of Choice: Macbook. Write it. Blog it. Love it.

(I am trying to be ironical and self-effacing about the Mac ethos of "designer-cool", but I have been told this blog doesn't make sense. So it goes.)

-a

ain't no party like a Faroese party

2008-02-09T16:47:00.000Z

This is a special blog entry, a birthday blog entry. This week I turned 23-years-old, and to celebrate we had a family party last night. It was festive, it was cozy, and it deserves a round of thank yous.

Hostess with the Mostess This prize goes to fabulous Aunt Magdalena. Six hours before the party was going to start, Ben and I realized our apartment was much too small for the party-goers, and so I asked if we could relocated to her home. She said "yes", and with no visible stress converted her entire kitchen and dining area into party central.

Madame Secretary

One of the highlights of the night (though not the only one!) was getting my gifts, given jointly by the extended family. Ben's cousin Hedvig gets this prize because of her coordination to get me my list of birthday wishes, which included a Stelton vacuum coffee jug and sugar server, and a colorful throw for the living room. I am now as sleek as the Faroese, and humbled by the gorgeous gifts.

Artist in Residence

The incredible cake you see below is the creative work of Cousin Durid. She usually reserves her talent for the birthdays of her young nephew and niece, but at my special request she created a delicious three-foot long cake complete with banana-cream filling and marzipan ladybugs for last night.

The "it" Family

They have only known me for four months, but I continue to wonder at my luck in getting the Rasmussen extended family to be a part of my life. Last night I was surrounded by friends, and honored as one of the clan. The gifts were gorgeous and extravagant, the food delicious, and if I may be as bold to say, fun was had by all.

Special Commendation My last acknowledgment is for Eyðfinn, co-host of the party. His cheerful and tireless work kept the coffee pots filled all night, and it was he who was up the latest cleaning the kitchen. Can it really be my party when it only happened because of the goodwill of so many others?

As a new visitor to the country, Tracie got the particular honor of trying a classic Faroese treat made of air-dried lamb on bread with a pinch of salt.

Madame Secretary herself.

The cake in all of its glory. (And there were really 23 candle on there.)

Ben caught in his own signature child-portrait shot.

- a&b

guestest who is the bestest

2008-02-08T18:53:00.000Z

The Tracie Faust arrived last night. She entered the county in very much her own personal style, making friends with about 1o Faroese people before we even picked her up. She is going to be here for a couple of weeks, which will inject a nice bit of southern America into the northern Atlantic. -b

the proof is in the web

2008-02-07T19:03:00.000Z

Today Ben discovered some press on Norðoya Sparikassi's newest employee. You can even peruse my mini-autobiography if you read Faroese. Click here to discover the magic. There are a hundred anecdotes from my first four days of work, but after six hours of sorting old bills to be sent to the National Bank for disposal, the headache and paper cuts have dampened my enthusiasm for typing them out. I do have energy, however, for one of the shortest. Co-worker to me: "Phrase in Faroese that sounds like 'Are you fine?'" Me: "Yeah!" (With enthusiasm.) Co-worker: "What I said is, 'You look nice.'" -a

the money counter

2008-02-04T19:09:00.000Z

Some of my most faithful readers have been anxiously awaiting word on my first day at the bank. A few words in summary: "It went very well," and "counting, counting, counting". I arrived at work at 10 a.m., my usual start time is 8:30 a.m., signed employment documents, got a cursory tour of the building, and got started counting business deposits. As a check on all large cash deposits the bank has a person manually count the money, and that person is me. Today many germ-infested thousands whipped through my fingers. I work at a small corner desk behind the tellers in the main lobby of the bank. Three other women man the desks, and my main interaction is with them. They all speak English, but we try to use as much Faroese as I can handle. Today I did not understand (in Faroese) the instructions to put the deposit slips and cash inside the red envelopes, but I did understand (in Faroese) that only deposits made after-hours are recorded in the ledger. Approximately 40 people work in the building, and I was able to interact with many of them over lunch and coffee break. The bank has a wonderful food service as part of its employment benefits, and it is tempting to eat cake, chocolates and lattes three times a day. I finish work at 4:10 p.m., and today Ben picked me up and took me home to a celebration dinner of potato chips and dip. I was exhilirated this morning by my first measurable tasks in months. By the afternoon I had a headache from the Faroese radio playing in the lobby and a sore back, but I remain optimistic. My work contract is for two months, and I imagine for a few weeks I will continue to be on counting duty. But as my Faroese improves and I become more familiar with the work environment, I hope to move up to electronic transfers and other transactions. My duties are routine, but they represent my education and growth in a cross-cultural work environment. In the meantime, I appreciate that in Faroese culture it is appropriate to sit through an entire meal at a table of coworkers without saying a word. -a

life is too short to not look cool

2008-02-01T22:41:00.000Z

In honor of New York Fashion Week, which began today, here is The Satorialist--a blogging photographer who has made his name shooting stylishly dressed “real people” on the streets of New York, Paris, Amsterdam, Stockholm and elsewhere. There are incredibly interesting looking people in the world. I wish I could both know them and steal their slacks and scarves.

The Satorialist

-a

kópakonan - legend of the seal woman

2008-01-31T16:37:00.000Z

The Legend of the Seal Woman takes place in the traditional hometown of Ben's family, and all the Rasmussen children grow up hearing about their magical seal ancestor. The version I have included below is from the Færøsk Anthologi by V.U. Hammershaimb, and it is very close to what I was told by Ben's aunt. Seals originally come from people who committed suicide by jumping from cliffs and then drowned in the sea. Once every year, on the Twelfth Night, they are allowed to take off their skins and be like other people. That night they enjoy themselves by playing and dancing on the rocks by the seashore or in the seal-caverns. The story tells that a young man from Mikladalur on Kallsoy had heard that the seals used to assemble on Twelfth Night in a cavern not far from the village. That evening he went down there to find out whether the story was true or false. He hid himself behind a boulder close to the cavern. After sunset, he saw a lot of seals come swimming to the cavern. They all took off their skins and left them on the rocks by the shore, and now they actually looked like normal people. The young man was pleased to watch them from his hideout, but suddenly he saw the fairest and most beautiful girl he had ever seen, take off her sealskin. He noticed where she put her skin, crept up to it and took it to his hideout. The seals danced and enjoyed themselves the whole night, and when the day began to break, they put their skins back on. But the seal-maid could not find her skin, and started to wail in her misery as she searched for it, because the night was gone and the sun was about to rise. But before sunrise, she caught scent of the skin and the man, and had to go to him and ask for it. She pleaded him to give her the skin back, but he would not listen to her and went up the steep track to his house. She didn't have any choice but to follow him and the skin he carried. He now took her as his wife, and they lived in harmony like other married couples. But he always had to make sure that she didn't get hold of the skin. He kept it in a chest, locked it securely, and always carried the key upon him. One day he was out fishing, and as he sat there out on the sea and pulled in a fish, he accidentally touched his belt, where the key used to hang. He was horrified, because only then he realized that he had left the key at home, and cried out in sorrow: "Today I am going to loose my wife!" His boat mates drew in their fishing-gear, and they rowed swiftly back ashore. When the man came home, his wife was gone and the children sat quietly in the house. She had put out the fire and hidden all knifes and sharp objects, so that they shouldn't hurt themselves while they were on their own. Then she had run down to the shore, put on the skin and thrown herself into the sea. She had found the key while her husband was out fishing, opened up the chest and found the skin. After that she couldn't restrain herself, and from that comes the expression: "Can't restrain herself, no less than a seal when it sees its skin". At the same moment as she leapt into the sea, the bull-seal she had been with before, came to her, and the two now swam away. All these years he had been waiting for her. Ever since, when the children of the seal-woman came down to the shore, a seal appeared in the sea and watched them. It was the common believe that this was their mother. Many years now passed, in which nothing more is to be told about the farmer or his children. But then it happened, that the men from Mikladalur decided to go to the seal-cavern to hunt for seals. The night before the hunt, the seal-woman appeared in the farmer's dreams. She told him, that if he went with the others, he had to make sure that they didn't kill the bull-seal who stood outside the cavern, because he was her husband. They should also spare the two seal-pups that were lying innermost in the cavern, because they were her sons – and she described what they looked like. But the farmer ignored the dream. He went to the cave with the other men, and they killed all the seals. When they shared the catch, the farmer got the bull-seal and the flippers and tails of the pups. That night the farmer boiled the head of the bull-seal and the flippers and tail from the pups for supper. But when the food was put on the table, there was great noise and commotion outside, and the seal-woman entered the living room in the shape of a horrible troll. She sniffed to the dish and cried out in anger: "Here lies my husband with his nose turned upward, the hand of Harek and the foot of Fredrik. You have got your revenge – and now revenge shall come upon the men of Mikladalur. Some shall be drowned, some shall fall from cliffs and slopes, and this shall continue, until as many have been lost, that they can link arms around the whole island of Kallsoy!" When she had said this, she left, and no one has seen her ever since. -a

a thing of beauty

2008-01-30T16:27:00.000Z

I give you Etsy, the quirky American-based online community dedicated to handmade and vintage goods of all varieties. It is part of a larger commercial movement in the United States away from a corporate-driven and monopolist shopping mall culture. The world will never be saved by buying things, but if it could, it would probably be found at Esty. To read an interesting article from The New York Times about the handmade phenomenon, click here.

A few lovely sellers

-Mystique Products: Specializing in all natural and organic body products. These Skeleton Soaps are weird and wonderful. -acajou: The homepage of this crafter says, "Featuring prints and handsome things that are beautifully constructed." What she really sells are cools bags like this Kite Shoulder tote. -kim westad: These ceramics thrown by Westad in Brooklyn are on the pricier side of Etsy, but they are unique modern pieces. I covet this sale-priced "Sweet Pea" pot in yellow. -workingclassheroes: With the tagline "You lose what you don't hold," this Austrian duo craft German gray felt covers to make your Macbook and Moleskine even cooler than they already are. I admit, I have already bought one of these. A Quiet Lark: The profusion of art for sale on Etsy can make it hard to separate the good from the bad, but this print would make a unique and affordable housewarming gift. -a

out of the mouth of babes

2008-01-29T23:38:00.000Z

A number of people have kindly commented to me that a group with which I should practice my Faroese is children. I believe the idea is that our language level is very similar, and that they will dismiss my language mistakes with innocent laughter. This simply is not true. Every Tuesday night I go to our church and work with several other women in charge of the "magic dough" station. "Magic dough" is a salty concoction that can be molded in bears, elves, clowns and figures of Charlie Chaplin, baked, painted and glazed to sit for years at the back of a kitchen cupboard. Children from the ages of 5 to 12 come and participate in their craft of choice for an hour before Bible story time. This is my main interaction with Faroese children, and after several months I have learned that our language level is not similar, they are much better than I am, and they do not brush off my mistakes with laughter. They look at me confusedly, repeat their question, and when I still do not understand what they want, they go to one of the other volunteers with tears welling up in their eyes. Children can be a wonderful first-group within a culture to connect with, but that happens much more easily when neither party is trying to communicate a significant point. My guess is that the beautiful Somalian children Angelina Jolie holds in her arms for the UNICEF photo shoots look so happy because they are not trying to ask her to glaze their "magic dough" clowns. Tonight Ben made a good point on this issue. He said that talking to children is easier because their expectations are lower for things like correct grammar, scope of vocabulary, etc. My counter to that statement is that you may not have to know a lot of a language to talk with children, but what you know has to be clear. They are less likely to know what I am trying to say, and cannot consult with me in English to clarify the point. Children also have less of a buy in on me. Adults in the community often know my father-in-law and are curious and gracious toward the American spending time in their midst. To children I am simply the lone adult in the group who cannot talk properly. (In my defense, what I am speaking is actually a version of pygmy-Faroese.) The point is thus: People have to be quite good at their own language before they can begin to understand others speaking it very badly. -a

snow, and lots of it

2008-01-26T15:19:00.001Z

it's faroese to me

2008-01-24T23:20:00.000Z

Learning a new language is difficult. I spend my days alternately feeling guilty for only speaking English in a multi-lingual world, saying sentences in Faroese like "I am do not understand it," and rushing home to fall into Ben's arms, muttering slang terms in my fastest English, knowing that he will understand. First, a few notes about Faroese. I don't know a lot about the language, which is one of the challenges to my learning. There are very few texts for foreigners who want to learn Faroese. In fact English to Faroese dictionaries have not been printed in almost 20 years and are extremely hard to acquire. It has been explained to me that Faroese is a verb-based language as opposed to English, which is noun-based. An example of this could be the concept of withdrawing money from the bank. The Faroese designation for this might be single word meaning "withdrawing money from the bank," where English speakers string together a sentence of five words. The sentence structure of Faroese is not dissimilar to English, but the conjegations blow my mind. The language the most like Faroese grammatically is German, and having never studied German, and never gotten past "to be" verbs in my Spanish education, nothing in my life has prepared me for the mind boggling ways to alter words to address their gender, scope, tense, etc. Another challenge for me is the lack of index cards available at stores here. I am serious. I do not know a lot about linguistics, but what I do know is that if a person is going to learn vocabulary words they need index cards to put the word in English on one side, and the memory word on the other. No index cards, no vocabulary. If anyone would like to send me a pack to help with this dismal situation, I can give you my address. You can write it off on your taxes as, "Charity for a desperate language dweeb". (No, really.) But it is not all gray skies for me. I have learned a lot of Faroese in the three months I have been in the country. I know how to greet people, ask for things at the dinner table and make positive exclamations. No one has volunteered to teach me the naughty Faroese words, so all my cursing still happens in English. Thus far the easiest way for me to build my language base has been to learn useful sentences by rote memory. This includes, "Can you say that again?" "Do you have . . .?" and "How many/much . . ." However, I am moving on to more complicated tasks. This week I started reading a children's book called "Mamma" with the help of Ben's cousin. I go through the book, listen to the audio recording, and translate as much as I can. She then helps me fill in the gaps and quizzes me on what I have learned. An excerpt: "Mamma er tjúkk. Bumbutjúkk. Og hon luktar ein pylsuvogn hundrað metrar burtur. Og hon vil ikki eta gularøtur og verða kløn." Which means: Mamma is fat. Explosively fat [literaly "bomb fat"]. And she can smell a hot dog stand 100 meters away. And she will not eat carrots and be skinny. Although words like "bumbujúkk" will probably not get a lot of action in my future Faroese banking career, Ben and I are having a lot of fun with it. And I think that is the key. The biggest problem I have with language learning is that I get scared and I get embarrassed, and I am a bad liar. I arrive at the check out counter at the grocery store in a cold sweat, knowing that everyone will know I am a foreigner if I speak, with a terrified expression behind my forced smile. There is no end in sight to my current existence of public terror, but with every word I learn and new sound I master, it gets a little easier. And someday I think I will get beyond obese women, and it will be one of the biggest accomplishments of my life.

a sense of place - 02

2008-01-24T16:34:00.000Z

I spent this morning at the factory of Faroese trawl manufacturer Vónin. They hand make industrial nets, which are around 1 km long and can catch up to 700 tons of fish in one trawl. It was quite a departure from last week's line fishing, where we only caught several hundred pounds. -b

a great day

2008-01-21T16:56:00.000Z

Today during one of my intermittent Law School Admissions Test (LSAT) practice sessions I surpassed my dreaded 160 mark for only the second time in a year of practice and classwork. This signifies neither that I am academically brilliant nor particularly ambitious, just very, very desperate. But as long as it seems to help my score, I will continue to slog away at this mind bending test until I actually understand the Logical Reasoning section. If anyone would like to see how they fare among geeky lawyer-hopefuls, here is a link to some practice questions. To celebrate my small success (and motivate myself to keep setting aside three-hour chunks of time every week for, sometimes, nothing more than a blasting headache) I am rewarding myself with a blatantly self-indulgent post, complete with a list of some of my favorite things. -visits to the chiropractor -the "ding" at the end of a line on a manual typewriter -packet lattes that come in a box of eight and cost $6 -seeing the constellation Orion -champagne -e-mails from my sister -the first pages of a brand new magazine -a

they happened

2008-01-20T19:01:00.000Z

A writer does not usually do herself a favor by putting disclaimers at the begining of a blog, but when said blogger is writing about yesterday's national elections, it is only honest. *Disclaimer: It is hard to follow the happenings of an election when you can't read or understand the coverage. Anyone with corrections to my crude sketch of the Faroese electoral process are welcome to submit them as a comment. However, as a (hopeful) student of Faroese culture, I couldn't let such an important event go by without mentioning it at all. The national elections took place yesterday to fill the 33 seat parliament, called the Løgtingið. There are seven political parties represented in the Faroe Islands, the most prominent divisions caused by unionist or anti-unionist sentiments toward Denmark, and "conservative" versus "liberal" leanings. There is also a relatively new Christian party, which would have laws made based solely on Biblical principles. After election numbers determine how many seats each party will recieve, several of the parties will form a coalition to create a voting majority. That coalition will decide on common goals for the next four years of ruling, and appoint the country's five ministers and prime minister, or Løgmaður (literally "law man"). Both the ministers and Løgmaður could be individuals not elected to the parliament. If a person within a party is selected to "move up" to minister or Løgmaður, the candidate in the part with the next highest number of votes moves into the vacated parliament seat. Click here to view the full election results. Although Ben and I will not be here long to live with the decisions the Faroese citizens made yesterday, it was interesting for me to observe a political system with an extremely high rate of participation (90% of eligible citizens vote) and extremely low amount of hype. Campaign budgets are modest, consisting mostly of plywood signs posted at key intersections and public debates in town halls, and political differences are confined by the highly personal nature and small size of the Løgtingið. The Faroese elections provide particular insight into the culture. What does that mean for America's upcoming, grossly protracted, multi-million dollar dog and pony show of an election? -a

a sense of place - 01

2008-01-18T17:12:00.000Z

On Wednesday I went sailing with Óla Karl Olsen, a local long-line fisherman. It was incredible to be out on the ocean for nine hours in such a small boat--to be at the mercy of a force as powerful as the North Atlantic is an amazing experience. -b

the good times are killing me (it's a song title)

2008-01-16T14:23:00.000Z

Ben has gone away for the afternoon to take photographs of a local fisherman at work, leaving me with my daytime drama television (currently an Australian series called "Mcleod's Daughters"), knitting, visiting other ladies of leisure (though not so leisurely as me) and tea drinking. But that is all coming to an end, at least from the hours of 8:30 a.m. until 4:30 p.m. Last week I got a job. Starting on February 1st I will be working at Norðoya Sparikassi, a local bank. Initially my job will be to count money and enter data for electronic transfers. The job is on a two-month trial period, with its continuation relying on criteria that is a little vague. I think it is probably a combination of my cheeriness, timeliness and ability to learn Faroese quickly. I am just glad to get a chance to work. In less than two weeks I will be out in the community, blasting away with my toddler's Faroese and earning a living wage. -a

visions : feature 1

2008-01-13T18:29:00.001Z

Something that has been on my mind for the past couple of weeks is, "What makes an image great?" Photography is an exceptionally oversaturated market. Anyone with a couple hundred bucks of camera equipment can try to pass themselves off as a professional. There are millions of photos taken every day; the online photo site Flickr just announced that it just had its two billionth photo uploaded two months ago. So what can pull a a great image out of this swamp of mediocrity? I think that good photography must to meet two criterion. First, it should tell a story. If a viewer is going to take the time to view an image, they should come away knowing more about the subject. It should make you feel. Secondly, it should be beautiful. This is a criterion that many in media disagree with, especially as it relates to documenting war, poverty and famine. Some people think that it is wrong to try and depict ugly and evil things in an aesthetically pleasing way. Perversely, the way that we are wired is that we pay more attention to things that attract our attention, and we are attracted to beauty. For an example of this, it helps to look at how the same story is captured by two different photographers.

Amputee soccer tournaments in Africa

One of the most visible marks of the civil wars in many African nations is the missing limbs with which so many men, women and children have been left. The first Africa Amputee Cup was held as a way to make the effects of war more obvious, and to show how its victims carry on their lives with pride. This image, by photographer Fiona Aboud, was published in Sports Illustrated. It is a fine photo, but it tells little beyond the fact that men missing limbs played a soccer match. It says nothing about the men, what they have gone through or what the sport has done for them. This image of one of the players goofing off on the beach, by Spanish photographer Pep Bonet, goes beyond illustrating the match. It shows that even though this individual has been through traumatic experiences, he has found freedom and enjoyment in soccer. It came from investing in the players and getting to know them beyond just a one time match. Great photography is not just about conveying information, but about sharing ideas. A snapshot can speak to the mind, but beauty and art reach the soul and spirit, which is what is needed to move people to action. "Beauty shall save the world" - Dostoevsky -b

podcast of the week

2008-01-11T00:40:00.000Z

Being a photographer is a job with two parts. There is the glamorous part: traveling to new places, meeting new people and experiencing new things. But for every hour I spend behind the camera there is 1-3 hours spent in front of the computer editing, color-correcting, designing wedding albums and ordering prints. While I don't like spending all day starring at my computer screen, one of the great things that I have discovered are web-based audio broadcasts called podcasts. These are free programs available on the Internet and through iTunes on virtually every subject imaginable. And since I spend 8-10 hours a day listening to them each day, I figured I would pick one of my favorites each week to tell you about. I have spent most of the last three days listening to podcasts from an organization called TED. TED stands for "Technology, Entertainment, Design" and describes itself as a, "group of remarkable people that gather to exchange ideas of incalculable value." Their podcasts are all from their annual conference that, "brings together the world's most fascinating thinkers and doers, who are challenged to give the talk of their lives (in 18 minutes)." There is something about an organization that has both best selling Christian author Rick Warren and leading atheist Richard Dawkins as key speakers. One of the most notable speeches is by anthropologist Wade Davis, who is National Geographic's "Explorer in Residence". Davis talks about disappearing indigenous cultures and languages, noting that of the 6000 languages spoken today, 3000 are not being taught to the next generation. Every two weeks, the last speaker of an indigenous language dies and the language, heritage and traditions of that culture dies with him. These thoughts have given me a new appreciated for learning Faroese. Even though it is a language that I will never interact with outside of this country, the people who speak it and the culture that is an important part of my heritage make it a worthwhile pursuit. Here is a link to their blog and to their podcasts. -b

re-greening our life

2008-01-08T21:11:00.000Z

Yesterday I started reading “Animal, Vegetable, Miracle”, a family memoir/local foods handbook about a year in author Barbara Kingsolver’s life in which her family moved to a farm in Virginia and made a pact to, “feed ourselves animals and vegetables whose provenance we really knew.” The book passionately describes, “how our family was changed by our first year of deliberately eating food produced from the same place where we worked, went to school, loved our neighbors, drank the water, and breathed the air.” I, in turn, passionately agree with the principles that prompted Kingsolver to write her book. Eating food grown and raised locally is one of the most important ways a household can invest in the place where they live. It cultivates knowledge of growing seasons, local geography, weather patterns and lore that informs an awareness of the earth. Eating locally, which includes eating produce naturally in season, also saves carbon miles, keeps money in local economies, and directly compensates the people who contributed their labor to grow the food. Local eating is also healthy eating, as the products are unprocessed and lack the additives (mostly high fructose corn syrup) that find their way in to almost every grocery store item. One of the reasons I was excited to move to the Faroe Islands was because I assumed I would find a thriving local produce economy. The country is isolated and the independence sentiments strong, so I thought that it would be relatively simple procuring a small range of local food for Ben and myself. I was wrong. The grocery stores are true representations of globalization, with only milk, eggs and cream evidence of Faroese agriculture. Granted, there are environmental challenges here that make food production difficult. If we were to eat strictly Faroese-grown food our diet would consist of fish, lamb and potatoes, seasoned only with salt. Still, I miss the “green” awareness increasingly present in the United States. The small organic food section in the local store is exclusively seen as the “stuff no one buys because it is too expensive.” But I know there is more to the local food scene here. Everyone loves Faroese mutton, people connected to farms savor homegrown potatoes, and hunters bring home wild hares in the fall for dinner. My problem is that I am not connected to local agriculture. There is no Web database of local producers; if a Faroese person wants something, they know exactly which neighbor to call. Inspired by my current read, I am reinvigorating my efforts to live locally. Sixty percent of you who read this blog are Faroese, and you know the farmers, growers and doers of this country. I need your help to find out what resources are available. If you have any ideas, leave a comment or send an e-mail!

Who would sell me local lamb meat? At what times of year can it be purchased?

Is there someone living in the Klaksvík area that would let me use their property to start a small garden this spring?

What kinds of vegetables will grow here? When is the growing season?

Does anyone in the Faroes produce cheese, from either sheep or cows?

Could I buy butter, milk, cream or eggs directly from a producer?

I would like to build a small window box for growing herbs and starting plants. Is there anyone with a workshop where I could bring my materials and assemble them?

Where can I buy vegetable seeds or seedlings?

-a

woe

2008-01-08T16:16:00.000Z

“The trouble with a personal brand is, you’re yoked to a machine,” said Paul Kedrosky, a friend of Mr. Malik’s who runs the Infectious Greed blog. “You feel huge pressure to not just do a lot, but to do a lot with your name on it. You have pressure to not just be the C.E.O., but at the same time to write, and to do it all on a shoestring. Put it all together, and it’s a recipe for stress through the roof.”

-An excerpt from an article that appeared yesterday in The New York Times entitled, "Some Brand-Name Bloggers Say Stress of Posting Is a Hazard to Their Health." Click here to read the full article. We were just glad to sense solidarity from others who face the same overwhelming stress from having a celebrity-grade, cutting edge blog. Just kidding. -a

pretty bird

2008-01-06T23:27:00.000Z

Abby and I went out today looking for some cool new places to use for portraits. -b

details : feature 1

2008-01-04T00:58:00.000Z

This is the first installment in what I plan to be a frequent feature on our blog: posts dedicated to design that solves problems, making daily life more functional and more beautiful. Scandinavia is rife with examples, and I am excited to start making people on the street uncomfortable as I ask to photograph their shoes and eye glasses.

feature 1 : The Faroese Phonebook

I wish the United States would take a clue from this svelte phonebook and drop its ubiquitous garish yellow design for something a little more comfortable to live with. The cover's matte finish, jewel tone tabs and clean font make it an object that doesn't scream to be hidden in the kitchen cabinet.

-a

klaksvík's burning

2008-01-02T16:31:00.000Z

Having spent the better part of last week dodging sparks and stray Roman Candle plumes on my afternoon walks, I was ready for Klaksvík's New Year's celebration to commence. And it commenced with style. The closest thing I have previously experienced to the Faroese New Year's Eve festivities was Orangemen's Day in Belfast, NI. Men from Protestant community organizations parade through the city streets on July 12th holding aloft orange colored banners, commemorating the 1690 Battle of the Boyne. It is a time of increased tensions between Catholics and Protestants, replete with 100-ft. bonfires, effigy burnings of the Pope and shows of paramilitary strength. Although the militant elements were missing the other night, to this Wyoming woman used to tame December 31sts, there was a general feeling of lawlessness. Figures dashed furtively through the streets in the flicker of firelight, teenagers walked through town slouching to conceal bottles of beer, tins filled with burning cloth and kerosene lined the streets, and the normally pristine town was covered in litter. Bonfires lit up the hills, and burning Christmas trees were the glowing centerpieces of many lawns. At midnight everyone shot off their remaining rockets, and Klakvík's harbor lit up. My favorite fireworks were the emergency ship flares. They expire at the end of the year, so instead of throwing them away, seamen set them on their graceful arc into the sky to fall like slow red stars to the earth. The evening isn't all flames in the dark. Many Brethren churchgoers (and us) gathered in the church for a nice meal, choir performance and quiz bowl early in the night. After the fireworks are over, neighbors visit each others homes to warm up with bowls of soup or glógg, a mulled wine treat with slivered almonds and dried fruit. Ben assured me that the display was rather tame relative to the pyrotechnics in Manila every New Year, but I was impressed. -a

mawage is wot bwings us togheder today

2007-12-30T15:00:00.000Z

I shot two weddings this weekend, which after three days of Christmas celebration means that I have feasted five out of the last six days. I love my life. Here are some of my favorites: -b

the childless housewife lament

2007-12-30T14:50:00.000Z

A year ago I would have sworn that 24 hours was not enough time to fit all the life that demanded to be lived in one day. I fought to snatch an hour to read or have a cup of tea in between newspaper meetings, interviews and column writing, lunch with my mentor, savoring my sparse time with Ben, homework, yoga class, and a dozen other energizing opportunities. It is easy to idealize this time from my comfortable couch in the Faroe Islands, but there are lifestyle drawbacks to a pace that only allows a person to sleep for five hours a night. When I left college I needed some time, even a few months, to rest, refocus on important relationships, read, think and invest in my faith. But yesterday went too far. With Ben out of the house, I was left with what to do with myself. After a gluttonous week of Christmas celebrations, I thought a quiet day would be appropriate. On my agenda was take a walk, study for the LSAT, make walnut sticky buns, read some of the books I recently got as gifts and continue knitting the cherry red socks I am making myself. In the Faroes the hours in a day are stretched out by the strong magnetic pull of North. After completing all of these activities, I blankly realized it was only 5 p.m. I bounced around the walls of my small apartment aimlessly for a few minutes, and then took up the television remote. Over the course of the next several hours I watched all, or parts of: Terminator 3, The Family Stone, Ray, Mr. & Mrs. Smith, Scarface, Cribs: Young in Hollywood, Friends with Money, Take the Lead and The World’s 25 Sexiest Supermodels. If watching too much mindless television would have been the only element of my destructive lifestyle it could perhaps have been excused, but I added gluttony to my sloth. Over the course of the evening I also ate the rest of our coveted bag of Lay’s potatoes chips ($6/piece), the rest of our crackers with brie, three large Christmas cookies, a fish sandwich, and a quesadilla with so many jalapeños that I had to immediately fortify myself with heartburn medicine. At least I know how I don’t want to live. Over the past few months I have been gently teased for being a “good wife”. I knit, I bake almost every day, I host people over as often as we can find volunteers, I make Christmas gift trays with five varieties of sweets, and once I made dinner place tags out of fresh Bartlett pears. Seemingly I am after the title of “Martha Stewart—Faroese Edition”. In fact, I am just trying not to go crazy. It is not that matters of home and family excite me so much that I am compelled bake another loaf of multigrain bread; I just don’t have anything else to do. I am used to applying my energies to conversation, academic work and relationships, but as I find myself knocked out of my usual stride, I am trying to pursue my new life with the same energy. I hide my insecurity at my sudden lack of occupation and friendships behind a big tray of cookies, clean counters and a fake smile. I expect any day to be contacted about a job at the local bank that would provide structure for my life here, but until that time maybe I will take up cross-stitch, running, wood whittling and stamp collecting. I need something to do for at least the next week until movies come on our television that I didn’t see last night. -a

turn, turn, turn

2007-12-25T20:55:00.000Z

The Christmas letter is often accused of being an antiquated, tiresome form of communication. Despite the criticism I always enjoyed sorting through the designated basket at my parents house reserved for the page-long evidence of the passage of time.

2007

January – On the night of the 29th Ben lured me into the office of John Brown University’s student paper under false pretenses. In the presence of a dozen calla lilies he presented me with a gold ring hidden in the pages of an antique poetry book and asked me to marry him. I said “Yes.” February – My 22nd birthday commenced on the sixth of the month. I ushered in another year of life by staying up all night supervising an issue of our student newspaper, of which I was editor. March – Five of us spent our spring break prowling the streets of New York City from our base on the living room floor of an Indian physician we had met through the travel site Couchsurfing.com. My highlights were coffee shops open at 2 a.m. and visiting the Museum of Modern Art. Ben’s favorite visit was to a Greenwich Village gallery featuring a show by one of his favorite photographers, Jim Nachtwey. April – The month involved staying up until the wee hours of the morning each day, trying to enjoy the last month with our wonderful group of school friends. May – Early in May we both graduated from John Brown University. Ben received a bachelor’s degree in journalism, and I received bachelor’s in both journalism and history. After graduation he stayed in Arkansas to live with friends and work the breakfast shift at a local café. I went home. June – From Denver, Colorado I flew to Kolkatta, India where I met my sister, Hannah, at the end of her year-long international travel stint. Unable to find our destination after an hour-long taxi ride from the airport, our confused driver dropped us off in the middle of an empty street at 1 a.m. We thought we had the correct address for the friend-of-a-friend we were supposed to be staying with, but the houses were dark and shuttered. In desperation Hannah yelled the name of our host into the night, and we were awed when a moment later a head peeked over the balcony above us and shouted back, “Hannah and Abby?” July – For six weeks Hannah and I explored India, a vast country with great diversity of ethnicity, religion, flora and fauna, and geography. One of the highlights of our trip was a five day trek in the Himalayan wilderness of northern India in the Lakahk region. On the last day Hannah attempted the summit a 19,000 ft. peak while I stayed behind in the tent to read. At the end of our time we both felt like our goals had been met. Ben worked hard through the summer, finally discovering a side of our university and surrounding community that he enjoyed. His most productive afternoons were spent prowling neighborhoods for people who might make a good photo subjects. August – Ben met me at the airport as I returned from India less than a month before our wedding. Guests began to arrive a week early for the festivities, and we filled the evenings with parties celebrating life and friendship. Some of the best memories in my life are from our wedding week. There was so much to be glad about, and everyone was at their most generous. On Sunday, August 19th “we did,” in front of 150 friends in Cheyenne, Wyoming. We were lucky to have great friends come from all over the world (Germany, Philippines, Faroe Islands and from every corner of the U.S.), and not even the strange flu bug that infected at least 30 guests could knock the day off track. September – After a week at home Ben and I got on an airplane to Athens, Greece. For two weeks we enjoyed the perfect weather and cheeses of the Greek Isles, and then made our way to Kosovo via Macedonia. We spent 10 days doing media work for a pair of missionaries in the capital of Prishtine, and were fascinated by the picture of a country rebuilding. October – We arrived in our new home in the Faroe Islands and were greeted by a Rasmussen family party in our honor. We have been humbled and grateful for the enthusiasm, practical help and friendship our extended family has offered us. I settled in to a life of keeping house and managing a budget, trying to live a balanced life when there isn’t a single person in the world to hold me accountable to getting out of bed before noon, and learning a new language for the first time in my life. November – Last month was enormously exciting for Ben professionally. He started a business as a freelance photographer, not knowing if there would be full-time work for him. There was, and there is. Although the dim winter light is challenging and the social injustices that motivate him rare, it is exciting to get paid for doing the thing he loves. He turned 23-years-old on the 15th of the month. My highlight for November was having my sister here for over three weeks. We laughed, we fought, we cooked, we took walks, and we talked about how to be involved each other’s lives when it seems unlikely that we will live on the same continent in the foreseeable future. Decmber – Our Christmas month has gone by quickly. We have enjoyed Faroese traditions such as three days of Christmas celebrations (Christmas Eve through Boxing Day), goose for Christmas dinner and marzipan with everything. Ben has two weddings to shoot at the end of the week, while I await word on an open job at one of the local banks. Right now we are tossing around idea for graduate school, Peace Corps applications, mission work and What Comes Next. We will be in the Faroes at least until fall of 2008, but until then we will work every day to invest here, prepare vocationally and live well. Thanks be to God -a

the 12 pigs of christmas

2007-12-24T13:46:00.000Z

One of the best things about spending Christmas in a new country is experiencing the different traditions, foods and symbols. This Christmas in the Faroes, the greatest thing that I have discovered is the Scandinavian Christmas pig. They appear at Christmas time in the form of decorations, cookie cutouts, candle holders, ornaments, stuffed animals and children's stories. The history of the Yule pig varies from an old fable involving gnomes and swine, to the pagan sacrifice of hogs to the god Freyr. But personally, I like to imagine that they replace reindeer up north as the big guy's preferred method of transportation. -b

'tis the season to be tricksy

2007-12-21T11:50:00.000Z

Christmas is the time for rice pudding, The Chipmunks album, watching It's a Wonderful Life/White Christmas, and most importantly, Holmes-esque sleuthing. Wrapped presents are simply puzzles waiting to be solved. You are given an item which you can not see, so you must employ the other four senses. Since Christmas is right around the corner, I have decided to enlist all of you to help me figure out what I am getting. #1 - This present is about 10" x 4". It is soft in the center and firm on the outsides and seems to be in the outline of a foot. It feels like furry slippers, but I am just not really the "gets furry slippers for Christmas" kind of guy. #2 - This present is the size of a ream of copy paper, and it weighs in at just under a kilo. It is a box with what sounds like paper and plastic that move around inside when it is shaken. #3 - This present is 10" x 8". It has no distinct shape, which typically puts it in the clothing family. But it is too large for shirt, too soft for a jacket and too small for a sweater. Plus, there are no buttons or zippers to be felt inside. Well, the clock is ticking. I only have about 80 hours to figure out what is inside these little bundles of joy, so please help me out and take a guess. You can leave your answers in the comments section. -b

heim sweet heim

2007-12-14T14:24:00.000Z

A few requests for images of our apartment have crossed my desk from across the Atlantic, so I stole Ben's camera during a slow morning and tried my hand at a little architectural photography. I wanted to capture some of the best "moments" in our 60 square m. living space This is our sitting area, which is part of one large room that includes the kitchen. Our windows often fog up a because of the heat and humidity from all the living, baking and breathing that goes on. The condensation is my arch nemesis, and I am in a constant dance of wiping windows, adjusting heat and opening doors. We have huge flat screen Samsung in the corner that is not pictured. It came with the place and looks impressive, but it has neither channels nor a DVD player. My first "moment" is the kitchen window. I am always trying to nurse along potted herbs despite the lack of sunlight, but my success rate is low. On the sill are my three English cookbooks (New Moosewood Cookbook, Great Food Fast and Nantucket Recipes from the Fog Island Cafe), my Faroese cookbook (Lætt & Leskiligt) and my Danish design books from the library. Ben riffling through our fridge. Behind him is one of my favorite housekeeping sights--a clean counter. My favorite kitchen "moment". On the shelf is our glossy red Turkish coffee maker we picked up in Kosovo, our antique church bread stamps from Greece, my Danish Nise (nome), and the artisan salad tongs that my sister got at an Appalachian craft show. The large cork board above the kitchen table is a new addition to our home. The idea is to have a place to reflect what we are thinking about and what is influencing us currently. This could include quotes, photos, postcards, articles, questions and reminders. The lack of media going through our home right now (magazines are hard to get here) has made the concept launch a little slow, but we are gaining steam. My favorite bedroom "moment" is our orchid. It was a present from Ben in our early days in the Faroes. We have a comfortable room with nice down duvets and crescent shaped reading lights above our bed (which you can see), but it is fairly bare. Just the way we like it. The bathroom was hard to capture because it is a small space and Ben's camera has wide fixed lenses. The walls are textured and gray, water goes all over the floor when we shower and the fittings are new and shiny. Ben's office is a small room across the entry hall. The two pieces of furniture in the room are a futon with a cover that would look at home in the bedroom of a teenage boy in the early 1990's, and a white rolltop desk where Ben edits most of his photos. The most outstanding feature of the room after Ben has been working for a few hours are the piles--this one contains invoices, an empty candy box and mailing labels. Our apartment is the basement level of a large family home. Visible here is the front entrance, our trashcan and the two windows of the sitting area/kitchen. Faroese covet good views of the ocean from their homes, and ours is rather impoverished on that sliding scale. The white van on the street is on loan from Ben's cousin Josef. -a

legal beagle (and it happened so fast!)

2007-12-12T09:41:00.000Z

Fax

Recipient: Generalkonsulatet i New York

Attention: Residence permit

The Danish Immigration Service grants a residence permit to:

Name: Abby Lynn Kirkbride

Nationality: USA

The Immigration Service kindly requests the Embassy to issue the residence permit (sticker H) according to the conditions stated below.

The Immigration further asks the Embassy to inform the applicant of the following:

“Residence permit"

You have been granted a residence permit in the Faroe Islands.

The permit

· is valid for 12 months up to 11^th January 2009 on condition that you enter the Faroe Islands no later than 6 months after issuance of the permit and that your spouse take up residence with you in the Faroe Islands;

· is granted with a view to a long-term stay;

· entitles the applicant to accept paid employment in the Faroe Islands in accordance with the rules of the Danish health and safety at work legislation;

· is granted under paragraph 2 of section 9 (1) in regulation no. 182 of March 22^nd 2001 about request when the Danish Aliens Act will come into force in the Faroe Islands and;

· is conditional upon the applicant’s national passport being valid for three months after the expiry of the permit, see section 39 in the regulation.

The Immigration Service asks the embassy to inform the applicant that as long as the applicant’s residence permit is time-limited, the permit is, among other things, conditional upon

· the applicant living together with the applicant’s spouse at a shared residence and this person being permanently resident in the Faroe Islands,

· the applicant’s spouse being able to use and dispose of his or her own dwelling of a reasonable size.

The Immigration Service also asks the embassy to inform the applicant that the permit may be revoked if the grounds on which the permit was granted are incorrect for example or no longer exist or if the permit was obtained by deception. The permit lapses if the applicant gives up his residence in the Faroe Islands or if the applicant remains outside the Faroe Islands for a long period. Residence in Greenland or in Denmark is considered to be a residence outside the Faroe Islands.

gifts of Christmas

2007-12-09T14:06:00.000Z

Although materialism has almost destroyed the joy of Christmas in some parts of the world, I maintain that it is fun to have an excuse to buy interesting gifts for the people you love. My obsession with color, penchant for surfing the Web, and interest in design that solves problems has led me to some holiday gems. With Polaroid photography making a comeback on the collegiate scene, why not one-up your palls on Facebook with a Kiev 88 medium format camera? While the cameras do not offer the sharpness of their $3,000 capitalist counterparts, these Soviet models (made in the USSR in the 1950s) capture the world in dreamy, vintage-feeling images. With love from RusCamera Store. For the person who doesn't really want anything, a charitable gift is always an appropriate choice. Heifer International out of Little Rock, Arkansas has an interesting model of providing livestock for communities that becomes sustainable income. Try a llama or a trio of rabbits this Christmas. From Heifer International. I first discovered Utility Canvas in the kitchen of my culinary muse, Ms. Kirk. These unisex aprons are immensely durable and come in nine bright colors. From Utility Canvas. I am always trying to get the word out about Sundance Catalog, Robert Redford's genius retail creation that is the best place for all things artisan and beautiful. Charm the yogi in your life with this silver hand brushed Possibilities Ring. From Sundance. I have recently discovered Zingerman's, a zany bakery, restaurant and wholesaler out of Ann Arbor, Michigan. Their discriminating and internationally savvy food selection can be shipped anywhere in the USA, and this Beginner Cheeses of the World Gift Box should melt the heart of your favorite gourmand. From Zingerman's. As I spend most of my days in a single room that makes up our den, kitchen and living room, I have become more conscious of ingenious ways to make small spaces multitask. This Nomad System from Jaime Salm and Roger Allen is an attractive and practical tool for people in similar circumstances. From Branch, fabulous design for sustainable living. A few months ago Ben and I became addicted to Monocle Magazine, a publication started this February by Wallpaper magazine creator Tyler Brule. It is the most global publication I have ever read, combining interesting editorial work with good art and luxury design from Tokyo to Dubai. The $150 price tag for 10 issues is tough to swallow, but it would be time and money well spent. What would childhood be without the clever German-made Playmobi l toys, and what would Christmas be without a nativity? My sister first spotted this set at a cousin's house in the Faroes, and I cannot get over it. From Urban Outfitters. -a

switch

2007-12-09T12:21:00.001Z

For several weeks Ben and I have been brainstorming about ways to take this blog from content focused on, "This is what we did today," to "This is what we are thinking about today." In addition to keeping our readers current on our major (physical) movements, we want to make our entries reflect our intellectual and professional lives. In the coming weeks we are going to try a variety of new entry formats, including a "Daily Design" feature, a column about Christianity and Materialism in the Faroe Islands, and a Do-It-Yourself Faroese Christmas Guide. Let us know your impressions as the new entries start appearing. With the "Comments" button at the bottom of each blog you can leave us a message, and we covet(!) messages. -a

day at the hatchery

2007-12-04T15:35:00.000Z

Last week I got an unexpected call from Ben's uncle inviting the four of us to visit his salmon farm. He thought it would be interesting for us to see the yearly hatching, and he was right. Inside the factory millions of fish live in deceptively small containers until they are large enough to be put into the ocean. We also got to see some of the northernmost part of the Faroes. The scenery never disappoints.

A room of 15" x 15" boxes contained 2 million salmon eggs. Attached to each of the little pink sacks was a tiny fish that will live off of the egg for another month. Hannah in her last days with us. We took her to the Faroese airport early yesterday, and I have been moping ever since. There is no end in sight. Grímur, Ben's uncle, was a fisherman, ship's engineer and captain for the first half of his career. He has now been operating the farm for over 20 years. The view outside of the hatchery's office. The church in Viðareiði, hometown of one of our friends who attends John Brown University.

-a

brave in a new world

2007-12-01T13:50:00.000Z

Although my life is an 8.5 on a scale of 10 in terms of overall satisfaction and good fortune, there are challenges inherent in moving to a new culture. It is frustrating to never know what people are saying in church, and at the same time be dogged by a lack of discipline that makes my language progress slow. It is stressful to be mostly-broke, and an adventure to try and figure out what ingredients my Faroese cookbook recommends to prepare whale meat. (In the end I went with paprika, an onion, and some salt and pepper.) My present trials, light as they may be, give me a deep appreciation for my mother-in-law Cathy. She came to the Faroe Islands in 1979 as the young American wife of Jógvan Júst Rasmussen, and the culture she met was a different world from what I am now experiencing. There was no Skype to wish a sibling a quick happy birthday, no Internet to make cheap Christmas shopping easy, and no television to enjoy a familiar old movie. She didn't have a sister who was able to take advantage of globalized transportation and come visit for a month, or the luxury of taking a trip to Italy like the one Ben and I are planning at New Years. I am also reaping the benefits of Cathy's effort at learning to communicate with her new family. When she came very few Faroese spoke English, so she would sit with her new sisters-in-law and exchange vocabulary from a dictionary. Now there is hardly a person in the family (or the country) who is not able to communicate with me in my native tongue, making me feel immediately welcome and empowered. Cathy also came at a time when Faroese culture still had more of its traditional trappings. People could come into her home any time of day (or night) unannounced and sit down for a cuppa' tea. Although it is one of the most precious parts of Faroese culture, it can feel intrusive to Americans who are used to a high degree of privacy in the home. Ben and I enjoy a lively amount of company, but people have added enough modern demands to their lives that visiting around every night is no longer possible. She was brave to come here and persistent in her efforts to make this place home. Her reward has been the ability to communicate in Faroese, the creation of a common history, and high regard from our family and the community. If only I can do as well.

\ˈgest\

2007-11-26T19:43:00.000Z

This week our quiet apartment is experiencing a jolt of life with two guests -- my sister Hannah, who has been here for several weeks, and her friend Elliott, who is taking a break from the research project he is heading in southern India. Ben and I were happy recipients of a box of Darjeeling tea and several packets of spices when he came. We used the chili powder today, and it is a potent mix. One of the best parts of the week for Ben, Hannah and me is that Elliott is a vet student, and he has animal factoids for every occasion. We spent 40-minutes last night browsing cat breeds on the Internet, much to Hannah's delight, we have learned about the oldest captive manatee in the world, and we now know that an orphaned monkey cannot survive on only chocolate milk and bananas. For the past two nights we have also engaged in heated games of Settlers of Catan. Ben and I had never played this strategy-based civilization game, but we are ramping up. So far the score is: Elliott-1, Hannah-1, Ben-0, Abby-0. There has been a little less to say over the past weeks. For so long we have been moving physically that I have gotten into the habit of defining growth and excitement by the changing scenery. It is a new mindset to use relationships, conversations, language progress, photography work and best-loaf-of-bread to measure the days. Ben shot these portraits of us on our way to watch the Faroese National Women's Handball team play Iceland. The final score was 24-24 after a last-minute goal by the Faroese. It is a surprisingly rough game where you can push, grab and bear-hug your opponent. -a

chicken day

2007-11-23T12:52:00.000Z

Thanksgiving Menu

Sage Butter Roast Chicken with Maple Gravy Mashed Potatoes Mushroom Stuffing Hannah's Famous Brown Bread Apple Crisp with Whipped Cream

Yesterday Hannah, Ben and I put our heads together to create a little touch of Americana in the North Atlantic. Our Thanksgiving dinner was replete with fresh fruit place settings, a Martha Stewart-like touch I stole off the Internet, roast chicken in place of the traditional turkey meal, and lots of leftovers. The highlight, though, was being able to create the feeling of celebration and camaraderie by inviting three of Ben's cousins over for the evening. The meal went over well, and we sat drinking coffee and visiting for several hours. We exchanged stories about Thanksgiving traditions for explanations of Faroese celebrations. Although we did our darnedest to replicate the best things about the holiday in our own little home, several times Hannah and I caught the other's eye and sighed: There was nothing on our table that could compare to Aunt Dianne's pecan rolls that we knew would be featured in Wyoming a few hours later. It will be some time before Ben and I in our own environment will seem "normal" for the holidays. -a

swim, swam, swum

2007-11-20T02:31:00.000Z

It has been a while since our last post and Abby is working on cool ideas that she will share soon, so I figured I would fill up the in-between time with recent work. I spent Saturday at the swimming hall in Klaksvík shooting images for their new Web site and advertisements. It was a nice change of pace and a great excuse to use my summer splurge item, the Ewa-Marine U-AX underwater camera housing. -b

hip hip hooray II

2007-11-12T19:55:00.000Z

Let's hear it for Tracie Faust, the talented photographer who fought through the busyness of her final semester of college to sort and edit all of our wedding photos! Hopefully you enjoy them as much as we do. The gorgeous (and humorous and poignant) photos remind us vividly of our wonderful wedding day, and makes us miss our family and friends so much!

abby & ben's wedding photos

-a

an ode

2007-11-12T09:39:00.000Z

After graduation from university this spring I got to take a mini-road trip to visit family in N. & S. Dakota. Since that time I have often thought of the few days spent with my cousin Anduin and her husband Ryan in Grand Forks as a beautiful example of hospitality. When I arrived they verbalized that they were happy to have me in their home, and that I was to make myself comfortable with them. And they meant it. And they offered amenities that made me want to cozy up and settle in: crisp sheets that had not yet become covered with the lint-balls of old age, a big clean towel, good coffee in the morning and interesting types of cheese. Aside from the time I spent enjoying their house, they also asked me to enter life with them. I went to a work lunch and conference get-together with Anduin, exercised with her at the local YMCA, grocery shopped, watched her perform in a local production of "Five Women Wearing the Same Dress", and was even allowed to make two of my gastronomic specialties (omelettes and portabello mushroom sandwiches) for them. Where this hospitality experience started to excel was with the fine balance my cousins took in engaging me but also giving me space. I was allowed to sleep late in the morning, take long bike rides around town, and stay up late whapping away at my typewriter in their living room. I was engaged, I was learning about their lives, but I was also able to rest. Most important to this visit, though, was how much my presence felt appreciated. I was not treated as a formality who got in the door by virtue of our family tree, but as an old friend. We sat at the table for hours after dinner talking, and my cousins asked interesting questions about my life and my opinions. The day I left Anduin took the morning off of work to stay and sit with Ryan and I in the living room, spending the morning on conversation instead of on her demanding work duties. Hopefully when I left they felt a portion of the encouragement from me that I had received from them. As I picked up my sister from Vagar airport last week I bounced in the driver's seat of my van from excitement, because finally I get the chance to work out hospitality under my own roof. I have stayed with friends, family and strangers alike all over the globe, and I have seen it done very well and very badly. Now I get to start paying forward the debts I have accumulated, one couch at a time, from all of the people who have opened up their homes to me A prior relationship and a little extra time and cash smooth the hospitality process, but the crux is being genuinely interested in the people staying under your roof. And the good cheese is disproportionately important. -a

i'm getting married in the morning

2007-11-11T13:51:00.001Z

I shot my first Faroese wedding yesterday. Elisabeth and Hans Albert had gotten engaged during a trip to Paris and were tying the knot in a brand new Lutheran Church. Wedding ceremony's here are similar to those in the States, but the reception is an entirely different creature. It started at 7 p.m. and when I left at 2:30 a.m. the dancing was just getting going and the cake had yet to be cut. Now that is a party.

hip hip hooray

2007-11-10T15:46:00.000Z

This week the winners of the 62nd College Photographer of the Year competition were announced. Judges spend six days sorting through 10,645 still images and 122 multimedia projects entered by 461 student photographers from 88 colleges and universities in 10 different countries. In a list dominated by students from powerhouse photography schools such as Brooks Institute of Photography, Ohio University and the University of Missouri, a single John Brown University alum stands out. Ben Rasmussen received an Award of Excellence for his portrait of a dairy farmer from Colcord, OK. Click here to see his photo, along with the other winning images. This competition is a springboard for talented young photographers. For Ben it is the first substantial outside affirmation of his career that he has the raw skills to compete at the top of his profession. -a

'wascals and 'wabbits

2007-11-06T21:46:00.000Z

I spent last week working on portraits of the kids at one of the local kindergartens, which was awesome. Kids are so much fun. There was a point in life when I thought that I wanted to be an kindergarten teacher, but then I realized that I was probably better suited to just be a kindergarten student. I spent all Saturday channeling my inner Elmer Fudd and working on a story about hare hunting. It was a ten hour day. We hiked about seven miles and I found my new favorite thing about Faroes : streams of cold fresh water that you can drink. It is nature's water fountain. Next week will be full with a wedding to shoot, a bunch of family portraits, several commercial projects and a story that I am working on about urban gymnastics, so more to follow. -b

a day in the life

2007-11-01T09:53:00.000Z

The question so many of you are asking yourselves is, "What do two, mostly unemployed but glamorous, young people living in the Faroes do with the 24 hours in their day?" I am so glad you asked. *ideal +reality 8.00 to 9.00 *Wake up to the buzzing of our two cell phones, go on a walk/jog together and eat a light breakfast featuring muesli, tea with honey and toast. Between 9.00 and 10.00 +Actually wake up after hitting the snooze button for an hour. I will go on a walk/jog perhaps one of three mornings, Ben even less than that. I do my downward-facing dogs faithfully most mornings. The breakfast part is the same. 9.00 to 12.00 *Ben will go out on a photo assignment or work on editing at home. * I keep myself busy with a variety of activities: Writing, correspondence, little shopping trips for groceries or things for the house, Bible study and Faroese study. + Really, I have yet to institute enough of the study, both Bible and Faroese. When my sister comes to visit next week and bring my LSAT books there will be another thing to add to the list. 12.00 to 13.00 *+Lunch together. There is only one place in town to eat out, not counting Fransk hotdogs at the gas station, and so people virtually never eat outside of the home. We do a lot of omelettes, potatoes in all of their forms, more toast and more tea. 13.00 to 17.00 * Continued assignments and editing for Ben. + So far there has not been 40-hours a week of photo work for Ben, so he will spend time on my schedule in the afternoons. * I would like to work editing English publications for Faroese companies, but I do not yet have a work permit from Denmark. *+Visit family members for tea, watch an episode of CSI: Las Vegas, look for job opportunities online such as this position in Kosovo with the Mennonite Central Committee that is perfect for us, shop online for interesting things that I cannot afford at places like The McSweeney's Store. 17.00 to 18.30 *Make dinner, mostly using recipes from the fabulous Moosewood Cookbook. I am also becoming a maniac about baking my own bread. It is nice to have the time to put into our meals and a receptive audience in Ben. About two nights a week we have people over for dinner. + Since we have been here we have only had one person over for dinner. *+ We often get invited to eat at someone's house, either family or friend. The Faroese use fish at almost every meal, prefer mild flavors, are good cooks, and linger over dessert and strong coffee. 18:30 to 22.00 *+Almost every night we will spend time in the evening with someone in the family. Occasionally they will come to our home, but usually we go out. 22.00 to 24.00 *+ Knitting, browsing the Internet, another episode of CSI: Las Vegas on Ben's laptop, then to bed. -a

the kids aren't all right

2007-10-30T11:50:00.000Z

I have spent Monday and Tuesday at a daycare in Klaksvik doing portraits of the kids. It has been great because they speak Faroese on the same level that I can. -b

it's raining. it's pouring

2007-10-27T11:37:00.000+01:00

Even as an elements-hardened Wyoming woman, I am struck by the way that weather controls peoples’ lives in the Faroe Islands. I grew up in a place with a lot of wind, but I have never experienced the kind of force that I saw today. Anything in Klaksvik that was not nailed, cemented, anchored or tied down is now on its way to Greenland. One of Ben’s cousins is an engineer heading up a shipbuilding project in a nearby town. The vessel is attached to the pier as the workers put on the finishing touches. Even anchored in a harbor, the seas were so rough today that one of his fellow workers had to go home early from seasickness. Whenever Ben and I meet someone new, the weather is the first thing that we get asked about. This is a common topic worldwide, but the Faroese nurture it with zest. People comment on the fog, the rain, the wind, the cold, but most especially the dark of winter. The dark seems to be the most dreaded because of how firmly it controls peoples’ lives. In deep winter Faroese will go for weeks at a time barely seeing the sun. They go to work when it is dark, and by the time they get home it is dark again. I have been told the shortest day of the year is 21 December, and for much of that month there is only five hours of sunlight a day. It keeps people in their homes, it causes people to buy energy lights for their indoor exercise rooms, it drives people to tanning beds, and for some people it can contribute to mental illness. As if to make up for the months of darkness the summer is a glut of sunlight. Children play outside until 11 p.m. and neighbors linger to vist with each other. I have not been here long enough to experience the season, but people talk about it as a sort of Eden. The interiors of every house are filled with light-colored furniture, white walls and pale wooden floors. It is a trademark of Scandinavia, prompted by the lack of sunlight and the desire to capture a sense of summer, even as outside the sun disappears as children are released from school. Thus far, the weather has been a pleasant challenge for me and contributed to the mystique of the Faroes. As a child I saw fog so rarely that when it did appear, my siblings and I would run outside and play “inside the clouds”. Right now I am fascinated to see the fast moving clouds roll over the low mountains above the village. The gray weather makes colors look vibrant and home feel like a refuge. The biggest problem I have so far is sleeping in very late in the mornings. When the light outside still looks like it is 7 a.m., how is my body to know that it is actually almost noon? Ben says I am just making excuses for us, and he may be right. Speaking of Ben, he just came in the front door, and the wind almost blew it off its hinges.

retraction

2007-10-24T14:17:00.001+01:00

Some of you may have read the post I had up briefly yesterday, which listed things in the Faroe Islands that have surprised me in my first weeks of living here. It is the cause of my first Blog Retraction. It was meant to be humorous, but it was not well-researched and was easily misunderstood. I have revised the list.

Slugs
Higher taxes than I am used to (which are under no circumstances paid to the Danish government)
Shifty winds that blow my skirt up when I am walking

a site is born

2007-10-21T18:58:00.001+01:00

After a week spent with my eyes glued to my computer screen, I have finally finished my new Web site. www.BenjaminRasmussen.com This is my "Open for Business" sign as I have decided that I am going full-time here with photography work, both photojournalism and portrait/weddings. Pass the word to friends and family, brides-to-be, editors-in-need and everyone else.

-b

whiskers on kittens

2007-10-19T16:06:00.000+01:00

When I last had this much time dedicated to thinking I was missing both of my front teeth. Tea with friends, church, cooking at Zarepta; all occasions in which I do not have a lot to say, and where I only understand the bits of the conversation referring to numbers, days of the week, and the phrase, “How much?” Thus I spend my time making mental lists. “The Best Moments of my Life,” (broken down by type) and “How to get into University of Virginia Law,” may never make the blog. But I am pleased to share, “My Favorite Things About the Faroe Islands,” an ever-shifting and expanding list.

It is very common as a houseguest to be served coffee in Stelton vacuum jugs. The Faroese have a delicate grasp on the balance of style + quality + usefulness + simplicity.
“Overhead lighting” is a dirty word, and I rejoice to see that dim pendant lamps, track lighting and candlelight illuminate homes here. Fluorescents be damned.
Most electric cables and phone lines are buried, freeing the gorgeous landscape from their spindly web.
There are no satellite dishes on houses. All of the television programming is broadcast through Tórshavn to computer chips inside a small machine in each home. It turns out that there are places in the world that have decided technology does not have to be ugly.
The Faroese national elections are expected to take place within the next two months, but no campaigning has begun yet. A cousin told me the slow pace is partially because political positions are not highly desired here. Lose the huge budgets, unrealistic expectations and desire for personal power plaguing America, and you are left with politics functioning at their best.
Adult women wear flat shoes, well-cut slacks, lots of layers of clothing, tall boots, scarves, and have really great short hairstyles. I have come home.
Everyone here is an artist, but formal training is rare. My aunt said, “We grow up but forget to quit drawing.” As a result homes are full of original art (watercolor, oil, pencil, multimedia, etc). They are not always beautiful, but they have immeasurably more depth than a poster of Van Gogh’s “The Starry Night” in a Hobby Lobby frame.
The cost of car insurance is based on the weight of the vehicle. This encourages people to own light and efficient cars.
Music is the soul of the Faroes. People whistle while they work, play instruments beautifully with no training, and the church congregation sings in four-part harmony.
Any time you visit someone’s home, they drop what they are doing, produce cheese, biscuits, cake and tea and sit down to visit with you. This is sometimes done two or three times a day. This can be a little hard for me because I am not used to this flow of company in my home, but I believe it is a function of a healthy community. Relationships form the basis of entertainment and diversion.
The towns are dotted with houses painted black, red, green, yellow, grey, white, blue and brown. Quick! someone tell the subdivision developers in Northern Colorado that houses can be painted more colors than just white, off-white, and light gray.

-a

a type writer

2007-10-18T23:28:00.000+01:00

For those of us with a literary inclination, there has been a chilling lack of written content in the last few blogs. To the persistent souls who actually read our little anecdotes (e.g. Grandma Pat & Co.), be stout of heart! I have been isolated in a kitchen for the past five days eating too much cake. It was bad for my waistline, but it has given me a bevy of writing ideas, and soon I will put fingers to keyboard and get them published. Until then, happy viewing. -a

campers and 'copters

2007-10-18T22:01:00.000+01:00

Abby and I just finished four days at Zarepta. I was a counselor with a room of eight 15 to17-year-olds, whose respect was fought for and won on the ping-pong table. Abby worked in the kitchen for over 10 hours each day. There were only a few people there who spoke English, so it was a bit exhausting. Overall, though, it was an important time of connecting with people as we begin our time here.

On Wednesday I got the chance to assist Sunva Lassen, a Faroese photographer who just got back from studying at Brooks Institute, on an assignment for Atlantic Review, an in-flight magazine. We took a helicopter to Koltur, a small island inhabited only by a couple who raise Scottish Highland Cattle.

a hard day's night

2007-10-12T12:50:00.000+01:00

I [Ben] just did my first couple of freelance gigs for a local newspaper here, the Sosialurin. The plan is to try and get enough freelance work coming in that I can do that full time instead of killing fish, but we will see. We leave today for Zarepta, the Brethren church camp of the Faroes, and will get back on Wednesday.

amily-fay

2007-10-11T00:25:00.000+01:00

For the first time a guest photographer is appearing on the blog. Durid Faero, a lovely cousin on the Rasmussen side, has been faithfully documenting our first days in the Faroes.

Being greeted during the first moments of our welcome party. We were surprised.

The intrepid walkers brave the stinging rain.

A new family is a wonderful thing!

The aunts and uncle, minus Jogvan Just and Asla.

Why, yes, we are hiking. And I do have my pants tucked into my socks, thank you for noticing.

The view over Klaksvik, or as we like to call it, "home".

(no subject)

2007-10-09T21:02:00.001+01:00

I [Ben] got a hold of the blog tonight, so it will be just pictures. Ha ha ha. Our new town The view from our new home And the new addition to our family; our garlic press.

as good as it gets

2007-10-08T13:13:00.000+01:00

Three days ago Ben and I arrived in the Faroe Islands, a semi-autonomous nation of 18 islands, pop. 48,317. It is located 193 miles north of Scotland in the Atlantic Ocean, and kept from being a frozen mass by virtue of the warming Gulf Stream. I had high expectations of the natural beauty here, and I have not been disappointed. Grass-covered mountains leap out of the ocean, their surfaces textured by dark volcanic rock and waterfalls that shine in the sun. The weather changes quickly, and it is often misty. Think Lord of the Rings + Ireland + ruggedness = weight of myth, natural beauty and history. From my kitchen window I can see hardy brown sheep grazing on the hills, and from the dining room table I can see puffins perched on the ocean rocks. I cannot decide which I like best. We are here for at least a year to learn the language and decide what is next, but especially to spend time with Ben’s extended family. His cousin and uncle met us at the airport and took us to a surprise welcome party thrown by the entire clan. I did not know what was happening until a group of unknown children, who later turned out to be second-cousins, started handing me Gerbera daisies. It was a beautiful evening. If I had handpicked a family, I couldn’t have found a group of people more diverse, faithful, interesting and anxious to make us comfortable. Ben had talked with me very little about his Faroese relatives, and I was surprised at how much they reminded me of my own family. The first event of the night was a dinner where numerous Faroese specialties were presented for me to try: fried fish balls, air-dried mutton, and smoked salmon with dill sauce (one of Ben’s all-time favorite dishes). After dinner everyone bundled up and took Ben and me on a walk around the village, braving the cold rain and wind. As the guests of honor we were loaned the best coats in the group. The highlights of the walk for me were the little ones in wellies running across the green grass, and cousin Johnny keeping his daughter’s marmalade kitten warm inside his coat. The night finished with singing in both English and Faroese, dessert, coffee and warm welcomes. By the end of the celebration I was getting pretty savvy with the names of the aunts, uncles and cousins, but the young second-cousins’ names will have to come later. For the rest of the month Ben and I are staying in the lovely summer home of a distant relative, but by the first of November we will be settled in the basement apartment across the bay. Right now my head is spinning from expectations I have put on myself to learn the language, get my immigration papers processed, make friends, find useful employment and create a welcoming home on a shoestring budget. This is as good as it gets.

vanity

2007-10-07T17:33:00.000+01:00

The opportune timing for blogging about our visit to Copenhagen has passed, but Ben was insistent that we at least post pictures of some exciting clothes purchases.

Ben in his new neon-monster shirt. (You have to look closely.)

I am wearing my new favorite thing in the world--my orange wool coat. Fastir Asla (my aunt) told me it looks like one she had when she was 16-years-old.

bread meat bread meat bread meat bread meat bread meat bread meat bread meat

2007-09-28T08:57:00.000+01:00

The blog title is a tribute to Kosovar cuisine as it mainly consists of....well, you get it. Leaves one feeling carnivorous and boated. Our last day in Prishtina dawned brightly, and Ben and I are enjoying quiet time at our hosts' apartment this afternoon before we catch an overnight bus to Tirane, the capital of Albania. Rediscovering that our flight for Copenhagen leaves on October 2nd, not the 3rd as we had been planning on for the past three weeks, all of our plans have been crunched toward the end of Honeymoon '07. Fortunately, we have had a generous 10 days in Kosova, and it has been an important time for Ben and myself. It has prompted serious conversations about our own passions and ideas about ministry/missions, child rearing (our hosts have a 2-year-old and a six-month-old), racial reconciliation, Islam and how we might use our skills as communicators to tell important stories. One of our initial conclusions is that we do not see ourselves coming back here in the immediate future. We had thought it might be an option, and it was one of the reasons we wanted to visit. If we did come back into the area it wouldn't be to work with the majority Albanian population, but more likely the Serbians (the former oppressive minority defeated in the Kosovo War), or Roma. We are also talking about a visit to Bosnia someday, as the war was much longer and unchecked there, and rebuilding has been much slower. However, China is still at the top of the list for Places We Will Probably Go Next. Without a doubt, the most interesting part of our stay here has been the conversations. Our hosts have been intentional and generous in arranging meetings for us, and it has enriched our time exponentially.

In Their Words

"A friend of mine got taken to Albania with an NGO program, and when he (Albanian) talked to his roommate, he realized the person he was staying with was Serbian. At first he thought about lying to the roommate because he was afraid the roommate might hate him [because of race], but since he was a Believer he couldn't lie. During one session my friend had a chance to talk with one old Serbian woman who said, 'We are very sorry for all the bad things that happened during the war. You are our brothers and sisters in Christ. That is much bigger than Serbian and Albanian.'" -A 20-year-old Christian man from Prishtina. Of the 2 million people in Kosova, only approximately 400 claim to be Christians.

"I never go outside unless it is dark, and even when I go to church I cannot walk; I have to drive my car. I am afraid for my safety. My neighbor disappeared recently, and I am afraid I will be next." -A 52-year-old Serbian man living in a village near Prishtina. Serbians used to make up 20% of the total population in Kosova. Now they are only 10%, which leaves many villages left with only a tiny minority of Serbians.

"Serbians greatly misused the cross [in fighting prior to and during the Kosovo War]. When they would kill someone they would cut the cross into their foreheads, and before battle the [Orthodox] priests would bless them with the sign of the cross. It is a symbol that is ruined for us. When people find out I am a Christian they tell me, 'So you have become a Serbian.'" -A 40-year-old Albanian Christian man, former smuggler for the KLA. He is the only Christian in his conservatively Muslim village.

A schoolgirl playing in the yard of her elementary school in Prishtina. Students go to school for four hours a day. Because there is not enough room in the buildings for all of the children they must come in two shifts, morning and afternoon.

Students at the hang-out coffee shop at their high school. This is the best high school in the country, but even with 1,800 students the only lab available is physics. There is no music facilities, so "People only play what they can carry," said one student.

Our guide at the Ethnographic Museum in Prishtina.

A student at play at one of the village schools.

"We don't like each other, but we like Bill Clinton," said one woman over coffee. This sign welcomes people to Bill Clinton Boulevard in downtown Prishtina.

bombs over baghdad

2007-09-24T16:00:00.000+01:00

http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/europe/7009814.stm While we were sleeping in our beds last night a bomb went off in downtown Prishtina, less than a mile away. People were wounded and killed. We drove by the wreckage of the shop today and thought there had been a fire. It made me think of my family and the loss of our house a year ago. At least everyone was OK in that disaster. We heard the news of the bombing from a cousin in the Faroes. This kind of violence doesn't seem to be a pattern in the conflict here, so it will be notable to see how events develop.

Kosova

2007-09-19T21:15:00.000+01:00

We arrived in Prishtina, the capital of Kosova, last night, and we are still trying to get our bearings in a city of contradiction. We are staying with Christian workers, but the population at large is almost completely Muslim. Parts of the city still show scars from less peaceful days (e.g. the burned out Greek Orthodox church from the 2004 riots standing like a skeleton down the street. There are no Serbians left here to rebuild it), but there is growth evident everywhere. A shining billboard of Bill Clinton greets visitors as they enter the city, but the trash pick-up services started by the Italian government through the U.N. spills refuse into the street. If you have ever lived in Naples, you know why that's humorous. We are with generous hosts and meeting some of the most interesting people of our lives: The aspiring hairdresser who fled to France for a year with his family during the war, a journalist who went into marketing to stop the death threats against his family while he was reporting on corruption, a young girl who broke her father's heart by becoming a Christian. And this is only the first day.

There was a "Rolling Stones" revolution and Abby did an exclusively-text blog.

2007-09-16T22:37:00.000+01:00

Here is a pigeon to make amends.

who knew? the Hellas edition*

2007-09-15T17:58:00.001+01:00

Americans, it seems, do not have the same type of European love affair with Greece as they do with Britain or Italy. As a result, there aren't the type of Greek cultural anecdotes floating around our society that would color a visit here, (e.g. "Parisians are mean," "British food is bad.") The advantage of this absence is that we didn't come here pretending we knew more than we did. Unfortunately this also means that a big chunk of the world's money-holders, mostly Americans, don't know how great of a place this is to visit. Which has led me to create "who knew?", an ongoing blog series where I get to share interesting facts and anecdotes that are telling to me about a particular place/subject. The Kosovo installment will be of particular note, but for now, enjoy knowing what you did not know before.

If you are up and about before 9 a.m. here, you are a chump. Lunch is taken around 3 p.m., and dinner is anywhere from 9-11 p.m. In the meantime, you can find most people in the afternoon at the local cafe drinking frappes, a strong instant coffee drink made with milk and sugar.
Greeks are the largest consumers of cheese in Europe. Baked or fried feta is a legitimate part of a meal for normal weight, healthy adults, a food item that I can't imagine going over back home. We have had goat cheese, lamb cheese, the more traditional cow cheese, feta, edam, hard cheese, soft cheese, cheese you can spread, cheese shaped like a wheel, cheddar cheese, and the list could go on.
The Greek national basketball team, the defending champions of the Eurobasket tournament, was defeated last night by Spain 82:77. We tried to get dinner at 9:30 p.m., but the restaurants were deserted as crowds were glued to cafe TVs to watch the game.
Greece's national elections take place today. Voting is mandatory, and because local elections are also taking place, everyone must return to their home village. In Thessaloníki the streets are desolate and most of the shops are closed because so many people are gone.
Greece is formally the Hellenic Republic, and the Greek word for the country is pronounced "Hellas". These differences are known as exonyms and endonyms.
One of the most offensive hand gestures you can make is thrusting an open palm with fingers spread towards someone. It means approximately, "You are nothing."
It's not "Macedonia," it's "The Former Yogoslavian Republic of Macedonia," pronounced as the acronym FYROM, (fee-roam). Greeks consider the small country to the north to have stolen what is historically a Greek heritage by taking the name of the ancient region of Macedonia, that while included some of FYROM, was based mostly in Greece. It's the most heated subject we have come across in discussion here.

*facts sort of verified

sammy, sunny, samos

2007-09-13T07:05:00.001+01:00

Part of my morning yesterday was spent trying to rouse Ben from his night's slumber. With little success I continued with my own routine, and to my suprise upon coming out of the shower I saw Ben cuddled up with the one creature in the house who could get him out of bed: Sammy. Sammy is an Ethiopian guinea pig and the pet of our host in Samos. He is a great favorite of Ben's, and is currently eating lettuce on said sleepyhead's lap. For the past three days we have been on Samos, one of the easternmost Greek isles. It is an island defined by high mountains, lush vegetation and a rich winemaking tradition. While here we have enjoyed laying by the beach, scootering around to take in the terrain, and getting our first real glimpse into Greek culture through our host Maria and her welcoming friends. We met Maria through Couchsurfing and she has been a hostess extrordinaire. On our first night here she took us to a friend's birthday party held at an out-of-the way taverna. We enjoyed local cheeses, wine and kababs with a fun-loving group who welcomed us into their midst. It was the kind of community event Ben and I dream about being able to create with our own friends. We went home early (11 p.m.), but were told that if we would have stayed an hour longer the dancing would have started, and the party would probably go until the morning. On our second night in Samos we went to a cliff-top chapel to watch the sun set over the ocean with Maria and her friend Banos. Ben caught this shot of Banos from inside the chapel.

to whom it may concern

2007-09-09T17:59:00.000+01:00

We have specific messages to deliver this post to a few of our faithful readers (who also happen to be our favorite people in the world). Look for your name below, and be assured that even if you don't find it, we probably like you, too. To Mother: You love a good landscape and warm places. The Greek Isles are made for you if only you can get Danny acclimatized to trans-Atlantic flights. Ben took this on one of our famous scooter excursions today on Paros. To Mom & Dad Rasmussen: He's a good man. To Dad: They go with us everywhere. To Hannah: Check out what I'm reading! It cost us e14, but it fascinates us. (As you can tell by my fierce expression.) This issue is about nation branding and it is fabulous. To No One in Particular: A few more of the places we are enjoying so much. Tomorrow we head to Samos, one of the islands close to Turkey that is famous for its wine.

vroom

2007-09-06T23:46:00.000+01:00

For the past two days we have enjoyed zipping around the island on the scooter Ben has affectionately dubbed "Syd". It gets 80 km/gallon, has a hard time on steep inclines and sports flame decals. My first time at the controls I almost ran into a parked car as I spun-out, a function of mashing down on both the brake and the throttle at the same time. Since then it has been smooth sailing, and we both are convinced that our next vehicle purchase will be a saucy two-wheeled number.

A TRUE STORY Abby (driving the scooter): This makes me think of the song "Highway to the Danger Zone." Ben (passenger): Funny. It makes me think of "Knocking on Heaven's Door."

Beach Bums '07

2007-09-04T17:44:00.000+01:00

Abby and I spent the day at the beach here in Antiparos. We got some sun, saw a lot of nude swimmers, and got some awesome new towels for 6 euros a piece. All in all, a pretty good day.

on being ben's muse

2007-09-04T08:46:00.000+01:00

I am lucky that only about two percent of the pictures that Ben takes of me go public. My sister Hannah has suggested that if so many of the pictures are awkward/goofy, then that might be how I really look. I prefer to think that anyone photographed 30 times a day would often get caught off guard. Certainly we make a curious pair on the street. Passersby must wonder what we are about: "I don't recognize her from T.V., and she's not good looking enough to be a supermodel, but she has her own personal photographer. I'll have to Google it." (Translated from the Greek.) At any rate we have a good time, and Ben is capturing our beautiful honeymoon beautifully. In the upper right corner of this photo you can see the top of the Parthenon. We got there late and didn't want to pay the expensive entry fee, so I gave us an impromptu history from our guide book. We think the Brits should give the Elgin Marbles back. A rare shot of the photographer himself, caught off-duty in front of the Acropolis by his Siren. A shot from the port of Paros, the second largest island in the Cyclades, where we arrived yesterday morning by ferry. We are staying at the nearby island of Antiparos. Our guest house is a beautiful place that is run by Magda and her husband. We have a suite that opens on to the gardens, located only five minutes from the village center and five minutes from the beach. As we made our way into town the first day, we accidentally ran into a church procession. This was shot as we walked up the main shopping street. The town of Antiparos has a permanent population of 1,000 people, which swells to 10,000 in the summer. Yours truly. $15 of phone calls to London. $30 worth of bus fare to the Athens airport. Hours of our time. Both of our bags finally in our possession? Priceless. Hip hip hooray!

2007-09-01T23:45:00.000+01:00

We have made it safely to Athens, and are now feeling significantly perkier after two days of relaxing. Our luggage, however, is not feeling very perky. Abby thinks that it might have been nervous about traveling over seas, and so it decided to stay in NYC. We spent a good part of today on the phone with the airline trying to track the bags down. They are supposed to be at the airport here tomorrow morning, but we are not holding out breath. It is kind of nice to be traveling so light, but deodorant, clean clothes and Abby's asthma medicine are quite a bit nicer. Exploring Athens has been awesome. Today was Saturday, and the sidewalks and cafe's were packed with Athenians and tourists alike. All of the streets here have so much history and depth to them that we spent all day just wondering through them and soaking everything up. The best part about today, however, was our supper. We found a small deli and bought local pears, sheep cheese from the Island of Crete, and white wine from Samos, an island in the east Aegean Sea. I could definitely get used to this...

good night, and good luck

2007-08-30T07:17:00.000+01:00

That's it; we are finally leaving. You may have assumed that after our wedding we made a dramatic exit to an exotic location, but actually we have hung around for 10 days, milking the celebration as long as possible and dragging out our goodbyes. Tomorrow that all ends. At 7 a.m. we begin our journey to Greece for our month-long honeymoon/adventure. We will brave civil unrest, national elections and fires for the sake of olive oil, beautiful beaches and kabobs. (Really, though, Ben is excited that our otherwise "normal" honeymoon has gotten a jolt of excitement.) This means that shortly our cell phones and mailing addresses won't mean a lot. After our time in Greece, Macedonia and Albania we are moving directly to the Faroe Island to live as long as the Danish government will let us stay. (Ben's a citizen, I'm not, and the paperwork is tricky.) E-mail and this blog are going to be the best way to keep up with our movements. For the near future we can't count on Internet access, so here are some pictures to tide you over.

Me with Rustler, my dad's 23-year-old horse. Ben did great on him for it only being his second time of riding.

We hit up the Denver Aquarium on our pre-honeymoon. I love sharks.

Ben had me sitting in pigeon poop to get a few post-wedding bridal portraits. Here is a link to see some more of Ben's handiwork: Bridal Portraits.

We joked with Grandma Pat that we wouldn't be writing thank-you notes for our wedding gifts. She didn't think it was funny at all.

Noah, the beloved nephew. We are going to miss our families so much.

mazal tov!

2007-08-27T00:41:00.000+01:00

The deed is done, the "I wills" have been said and my voice mail greeting now trumpets "You have reached the phone of Abby Kirkbride...Rasmussen!" Our wedding was last Sunday, and what an event it was. Community friends and college buddies were at the wedding site at 8 a.m. helping to string lights and Chinese lanterns, set out the forks and spoons and line bamboo platters with banana leaves. Everyone was an enormous help, and by 3 p.m. the airy but vanilla room was transformed into an elegant and warm dining area. The wedding was set to start at 5 p.m., but during wedding party pictures on the miniature golf course the rain began to fall, and by 4:30 p.m. it looked like the ceremony would be driven inside by the weather. I held up pretty well under the stress until the mariachi band struck up for another set next door (not joking), as the conclusion of the Mexican Fiesta was also delayed by the rain. Fortunately, the rain stopped just in time, and a troupe of type-A personality men and women from the wedding party compromised with the Parks and Recreation staff to turn the music down 25-decibels. It was a fearsome sight to see, a dozen women in cocktail dresses and high heels striding with vengeance towards the sound booth. The rest of the night turned out well as we dined on Filipino cuisine and dessert specialties from the women in my family and church. Ben and I were even lucky enough to get to spend some time after the reception with our best friends who had come from all over the country for the event, drinking champagne and processing the day. We were walked to our room in style, with much cheering, singing and even some guitar playing. We are now back at home for a few days until leaving for our honeymoon in Greece. It's odd to be in Chugwater, living quietly with my family, feeling all the world that hardly anything has changed. *photos by Tracie Faust

en mi familia

2007-08-14T19:45:00.000+01:00

In the midst of the hundreds of little details to get ready for the wedding (of which the most ridiculous is planting bamboo poles in terra cotta pots filled with Plaster of Paris), it is tempting to forget that for one precious moment in life everyone we love is gathered in a wonderful celebration focused on us. Over the past week the festivities have started in earnest. Last Friday we had a Kirkbride shower featuring wine, cheese, toasts and generous gifts. It's so seldom that everyone is able to get together, especially without all of the little children that our clan is currently sporting. One set of cousins I hadn't seen for over two years. Ben and I both agreed that there isn't a way we could have celebrated that we would have enjoyed more. Wine+cheese+thoughtful conversation+wonderful meal beforehand prepared by my cousin Michelle+laughter=Perfection. Hannah striking a glamorous, "I've been abroad for the year and have learned so much about the world and its ways," pose. Just kidding. There was great light on her at our Kirkbride Wine and Cheese wedding shower and so Ben and I took two dozen pictures of her. She is lovely. Here is Grandpa Ken, the patriarch of the ever-growing Kirkbride clan. He is 86-years-old and still wears his cowboy boots everywhere but in his bed. He toasted Ben and me, "Health, happiness, and may all your troubles be little." Ben's nephew Noah; a great favorite with his uncle, and everyone else. He is five-years-old and fills the house with the ABC's Song in his high little boy voice, along with talk of Thomas the Train. At this moment he is keeping our big black dog, Sully, company under the kitchen table.

at home with the palms

2007-08-08T06:45:00.000+01:00

This week Ben, his parents and I have been able to spend a few days with Grandma Pat and Bankaw on their farm. The older I get, the stronger my sense of homecoming is when I visit this place. As we jostle down the dirt road to the farm yard, I see the familiar sign that reads "Founded in 1896." I know that I'll hear grandpa's story about how he has only moved 100 feet in his whole life (from his childhood home to the one he and my grandma built next door), and I look forward to sleeping in the room in the basement that was once my mom's.

It has also been a joy to be here in the heart of summer. We have feasted on ripe watermelon, corn and peaches, picked vegetables in the garden and eaten dinner in the yard as the sunset colors the sky gold and pink. We also got to play with the latest batch of kittens, enjoy a round of Wyoming Rummy (which Bankaw won) and eat as much of Grandma's syrup as we can stand at breakfast.

It's good to be with people who know you, in a place that you know.

sheep in a jeep, beep, beep

2007-08-03T20:42:00.000+01:00

This week the annual Platte County Fair has been going on, and it's been a pleasure to share it with Ben and his family. It's fun for my family to get to see the event with fresh eyes. After so many years of bringing livestock, photography projects, woodworking and vegetables to the fair, we forget that trimming, washing and proudly showing off pigs looks funny to some people. Charlie has done a great job this year, finishing fourth in his showmanship class. In addition, of his two pigs, one finished third in its market class to the grand champion overall, and the other finished third to the grand and reserve champions in its division. He has also been helping two young neighbor kids with their pigs and has shown a lot of maturity. (Dad, the ever-faithful fair adviser, is proud.) Ben has particularly enjoyed the softest and cutest animals. This little white lamb was quickly named a favorite. I'm proud to finally add my photographic contributions to the blog. The wedding marches closer with every day, but we still haven't figured out how to answer the question, "Are you ready?" Yes? Maybe? What is it we are doing again? Really, though, we are excited to see all of the people we love and begin a new phase of life.

worth a thousand words

2007-07-31T06:16:00.000+01:00

We don't really buy into marriage as the "end of our lives", "R.I.P.", or any other bad wedding joke, but when we saw these coffins together in the middle of the Cheyenne Frontier Days grounds, we couldn't resist a shot. Ben's mother, Cathy, did the honors. At the wedding reception Ben will set up a photo booth to take the place of our guest book, so we were testing out the flash on his camera for the shots. Come to the wedding with a message and memorable expression prepared.

back in the ussr

2007-07-28T05:49:00.000+01:00

After a long blogging sabbatical following our first-ever post, we are back online with promises to long-distance friends and grandmothers that we will be more faithful updaters in the future. Check in for new news and also to look at wedding pictures. Our dear friend and wedding photographer Tracie Faust will be with us the entire week leading up to the ceremony, so the proceedings are going to be well (and beautifully) recorded.

Abby's Update

I got picked up at the airport yesterday (7/26) after my six week adventure in India with Hannah. We saw the third-highest peak in the world from Sikkim, rode all-night trains like mad women, trekked to 16,000 feet altitude and ate curry until we popped. It was wonderful to be there, but it's also great to be back. Ben's parents, who are missionaries in the Philippines, have already joined my family at our ranch in Chugwater, and it is a great time for our families to get to know each other before the wedding.

Ben's Update

I spent the summer in Siloam Springs, Arkansas, the town where we both graduated from university. I worked at a downtown cafe while living with friends in an early 1920's apartment. I got the opportunity to shoot two weddings, one in Little Rock and one in Florida, and also spent a lot of time meeting small-town people in Arkansas and Oklahoma and documenting their lives. It was a great time to spend with friends and relax before the craziness of the wedding begins.

Details for The Big Event Sunday, August 19th, 2007

Maps Rehearsal and Rehearsal Dinner Wedding and Reception Gift Registries TheHoneymoon.com Williams-Sonoma Target

Spring Break in NYC

2007-04-06T20:14:00.000+01:00

Over Spring Break we spent a week couchsurfing with a doctor in the Upper East Side of NYC. It was a wonderful trip and it really gave Ben and me a sense of the city. It's hard to explain how a place that large can feel homey, but it did to us. Our latest plan is to move there after law school. (Realizing that something could change in the next six years before we get to that point.) Here we are in the MTA, map in hand. (It was a familiar pose for us.) Tracie, our great friend who was on the trip with us, took the photo. Highlights of the trip for me were the Museum of Modern Art and a different non-chain restaurant every meal. Ben got to see a photo exhibit from his hero James Nachtwey and visit the International Center for Photography. We also got to see my cousin, Alan Netherton who is a puppeteer living in Brooklyn, and my old family friend David Garber. It's always more fun to see a city through the eyes of someone who lives there.