Before The Gnomes Took Over The Honey Maker

We used to go to the seaside by train. It was odd, now that I come to think of it, as in the early nineties, most families had a car. Still, we went to the seaside by train. Maybe it was a remnant of the first paid leaves for which the working class had gone on strike in the sixties when having a private vehicle was just not possible for everyone yet. It’s funny how we just mimic the previous generation’s ways without much questioning.

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How Not to Be an Arsehole at the Museum

The difficult bit of human existence is that everyone else is also participating in it. There are some great people, some kind of mid-range people, and then you have the massive arseholes who always seem to congregate precisely where they shouldn't be with the sole objective of making the rest of us miserable. And sometimes, they go to the museum.

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The Ghost Island

The ship approaches Spinalonga at a leisurely pace. The island looks like a yellow scar on the face of the tranquil Mediterranean azure. The sun is slowly reaching its zenith, and the heat weighs heavily on the passengers despite the marine breeze. More often than not, tour operators sell the excursion as a nice outing for the whole family. Yet, I see very few children on board, as if the idyllic pictures on the brochures couldn’t make up for the tragic atmosphere that surrounds the islet.

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Schadenfreude, hygge and other (un)translatable beasts

“Oh, you’re researching the untranslatable? Like hygge?” was the most common reaction. The second most cited example was “schadenfreude”. Those untranslatable tokens also were very popular with what looked like an infinite series of listicles invariably titled “Ten Untranslatable Words You Should Know” whose argument always seemed to be “Wow, foreigners are weird lol.”

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