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This has been a pretty packed week. A presentation on Monday, meeting a grammar school on Tuesday morning and work at the University in the afternoon, plan and demo a lesson Wednesday and read a book by this (Thursday) morning. So now I’m dead-tired, waiting for my partners in a little research project. We have to hand in a report on our project and are meeting in a few minutes to coordinate the work.

While I’m looking forward to the weekend, I also dread the endless tasks that will pile on for next week. There is no peace until we’re dead, right?

But through the dread and weariness that grind one’s soul as much one’s limbs there are these bright spots that make it worth while. The demo lesson yesterday went great, the students I was overseeing Tuesday afternoon were super motivated and enjoyed chatting about the experiments and on the way to class on Monday I got a high-five.

I’d gotten up a little late, leaped out of the apartment, onto my bike and was flying over the pavement when suddenly up ahead I see two figures on the path. A large one completely immersed in a phone conversation and a smaller one skipping along, holding her hand. As I sped towards them the little figure streached out toward my side and reached out her hand.

There is no better way to start the day!

Woke up, checked the bus times, got dressed, packed the laptop, hauled ass and missed the bus by … maybe, twenty-five seconds. And before you start getting any ideas, the bus was early — I was on time.

Now sitting in a heated, wireless-connected bus stop, waiting for the next bus which should arrive in six minutes (except that one will probably be late…)

Just came across this documentary by the Canadian CBC’s The Passionate Eye. It tells of a teacher from Kanazawa and some of his teaching methods that he tries to use to create a bond between the students based on empathy and thoughfulness.

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Went on a shopping spree today. Bought myself shoes and pants for a total of 14 thousand yen … both from the Mizuno company. Ever since buying my first two pairs of Mizuno shoes (street running shoes and spiked sprinters) I’ve been in love with the company.

Until then, I had religiously bought Nike Airs and wasn’t too sure about the foam-soled Mizunos, but bought them because my running coach (Freyr, my gymnasium sports teacher who got me to train with the Ármann sports team) recommended them and they were pretty cheap. They turned out to be the by far best running shoes I’ve ever had.

Even after they lost their shape did I continue to use them and only stopped once the soles fell off. But my love affair with Mizuno ended there. The only outlet in Iceland had gone bankrupt and there were no Mizunos to be had in the country.

I tried finding myself Mizunos in Vancover, but they weren’t easy to track down and since I already had running shoes (Nike Airs again) I didn’t want to waste the money unless I found just the right pair. Which unfortunately never happened.

So, now I find myself in Japan. Guess where Mizuno is from. BINGO! And it’s difficult not to notice since pretty much every sports team here dresses in the brand. Japanese kids are kept extremely busy with extracurricular activities and on weekends when western kids are sleeping in and playing video games, every Japanese train station is teeming with their Japanese counterparts on their way to or from some sports practice.

And thus the affair continues. I’m so looking forward to going out running again. Perhaps I’ll even catch a sunrise…

OK, it’s time to finally start this thing…

Emma is arriving tomorrow morning with Ívar and the kids so I’m preparing my old room upstairs for Benedikt and me while clearing the downstairs apartment for the rest of them. A tedious affair, largely because I’m trying to use this opportunity to organise some of my old boxed stuff into more efficient storage.

Much of that will eventually end up in the attic which I ventured up into to assess the available storage space. Amidst all the dust and disorder I happened to come across a box of treasures. I didn’t realise this right away, but suddenly I remembered buying them the last Christmas I spent in Iceland — now two years ago. The box contained three bottles of wine; a Ruffino Chianti Classico, a Tomasi Valpolicella and a Coto de Imazi Rioja.

Now, I am hardly so desperate a drinker that the simple discovery of wine would bring me the great joy that it did, all on its own. Rather (apart from being excellent wines and some of my favorites) what makes this find, amongst holiday stresses and the less than favorite task of cleaning, all the more delightful is that I still remember my regret when leaving the island again without having had the chance to enjoy them — choosing them a place for later …