From Confucius to me

A few days ago I heard a Confucius quote on a TV show. Submerged in my own ignorance, I started wondering whether he really existed or not, if there was any evidence of his historicity. As I wikied him I learned that there is absolutely no doubts that he actually did exist, but that his genealogy is the largest and best documented of any person in the world. He's genealogy includes about two million people after 83 generations and spanning more than 2500 years!

I thought, how cool it would be to know my own genealogy back 25 centuries or more: where would this take me? Back to the deep jungles of the Caribbean Andes, or to an ancient Iberian? Maybe somewhere else in the world far and remote, I mean, a lot can happen in 2500 years.

You could say that the first clue of my ancestry could be found in my last names, Cardona and Londoño. The Cardonas were a noble and old family from the times of Charlemagne. In the 8th century Raimundo Folch went to Cataluña to fight the Moors, and he did so well that Charlemagne made him Viscount and great Lord of the city of Girona, in the region of Cardona. The first Cardona in Colombia was José Solís y Folch de Cardona, who was a Spanish colonial administrator and viceroy of New Granada in mid 18th century, or that's what some people say on the internet. The Londoño last name is Basque and apparently it was some kind of small village. The first Londoños to arrive to Colombia during the late 17th century were the brothers Agustín and Juan de Londoño y Trasmiera. I think it's very unlike that I could trace my lineage directly to Raimundo, there are probably millions of Cardonas in Latin America alone. On the other hand, it's a bit more likely that on my mother side they could trace their genealogy to the first Londoño in Colombia; since they come from the same region were the originals settled down, a region called Antioquia. However, when I see myself in the mirror, I understand that very little or nothing can be told from my last names alone. I am a mix of races, part of me is Native American, part of me is from Spain, part of me might be African as well. Who were my Native American relatives? Which tribes in particular did they come from and which language did they speak? How long ago did it happen?

So I decided to look for genetic studies on Colombian populations to see if the level of mixture had been estimated before. I found a recent study in PLOS genetics published in 2008: Geographic Patterns of Genome Admixture in Latin American Mestizos, a paper lead by Colombian professor Andrés Ruiz Linares at University College London. They found that in a region of Colombia (coincidentally close to where my family comes from), people were roughly about 60% European, 30% Native American, and about 10% African. I should not be very different from that, I dare to say. The study also said that the majority of the mixture happened from Spanish men mating with Native American and African women. In another study I read that in the population of people from Antioquia the male Y chromosome is about 94% from Southern Spain, 5% African, and 1% Native American. On the other hand, the mithocondrial DNA, that is inherited only by mothers is in about 90% of the people Native American, identical to the Embera people.

My dad told me once, I'm not sure I remember correctly, that one of his grandmothers was nicknamed “la india”, because she might have been all Native American... if this is true, probably I have a higher percentage of Native American in me. My plan is to later on purchase the National Geographic service to find out my ancestry on both my mother's and father's side.

 This is my dad dressed as a Native American in one of his anthropological expeditions to the jungle

Why I didn't like Christmas

I must confess Christmas holidays was a time I literally hated. I never enjoyed it, as a matter of fact, during most of my childhood I was scared of Christmas and New Year's celebrations, and later when I became a teenager it became a time of very uncomfortable decisions.

The main reason why I was scared of Christmas was the fireworks. There were two kind of them that I was particularly scared of, the first one is known in Colombia as carpeta (meaning literally: a folder). This was a small amount of gunpowder wrapped in paper in the shape of a triangle. Once ignited it exploded with an incredibly loud BANG! The second one of these scary things was called volador (meaning: flier). This was a rocket that exploded in the air with multiple BANGS! There was absolutely nothing pretty about them, no colorful lights to awe the spectators, just one loud horrifying bang. Well, my gentle soul was terrified of such type of fireworks and during Christmas there were more carpetas and voladores that could be exploded in one single night. Every single Christmas my drunk uncle came home with bags full of those, and there they went happily to blow these things up at the balcony for hours until sunrise. I had not choice but to find the most distant and dark corner of my house to hide terrified of the incessant explosions. Until this day the smell of gunpowder still sends shivers through my back and set me on alert, ready to take flight.

As I grew older and became a teenager I might have been able to tolerate the fireworks better, but with it came an equally displeasing discomfort. My parents separated when I was still a baby, and during most of my childhood I spent the holidays with my mother and her family. When I became a teenager my father returned to my hometown, at least during holidays, so I was put in the awkward situation of having to chose with whom I wanted to spend the holidays: with my dad's family or my mom's family. This was terribly uncomfortable for me because even though I had a choice, I knew that my mom didn't want me to go with my dad's family. She never said it but I could clearly feel it. On the other hand, I didn't get to see my dad so often so he expected me to spend the holidays with him. It was extremely uncomfortable having to decide whether I was going to be on Christmas Eve with one family or the other one, without hurting anyone's feelings. It was never easy, and that completely ruined my holidays every time. Nowadays that I have been living in Europe, I have had the chance to spend very peaceful Christmas. And even though I wish I could spend it with both my mom and dad, and even though I miss them so much... I'm kind of glad I don't have to make that choice or relive those uncomfortable situations any longer.

 Merry Christmas to all and a Prosperous 2013!!

Six months in London and two poems on the Underground

Ice Rink at the Natural History Museum

It's exactly six months since I arrived to London. To commemorate I'll leave you with two poems I saw on the Tube some of those days.


A Song for England

An' a so de rain a-fall
An' a so de snow a-rain

An' a so de fog a-fall
An' a so de sun a-fail

An' a so de seasons mix
An' a so de bag-o'-tricks

But a so me understan'
De misery o' de Englishman

By Andrew Salkey


Two Fragments
 
Love holds me captive again
and I tremble with bittersweet longing

As a gale on the mountainside bends the oak tree
I am rocked by my love

Sappho translated by Cicely Herbert

Tax avoidance in the UK?

The other day I was happy on the second floor of the double decker bus, on my way to work, when I saw on a bus stop the following poster:

It reads in small letter: if you have declared all your income tax you have nothing to fear. What is that supposed to mean?

Just to find out a few days later that companies like Starbucks using the loop-holes in the tax system, have paid no taxes on their entire revenues EVER in the UK!

And they try to put fear in the hearts of the populace? What hypocrisy.

Way to go Britain... way to go!

Golden Thistle

I am fire
I am an ardent sun in the winter
A cool breeze in the summer
A golden thistle in the spring
A scarlet oak leaf in the fall
I am the sound of brass, flutes, and clarinets
A dancer in the night of storms
A creator underneath the sun

Colombian samurai – Chapter 1: man and sword

Slash! Slash! Swish! Slash!

The ancient blade was blood thirsty, hungry for muscle, vein, bone. One thousand years of slumber. Awaken Kyōkimon, kill. Cut evil. Cursed blade of madness. Bath in the warm blood of your enemies like you once did.

A man of unlikely origins at an unlikely place with an unlikely destiny. A no one, a shadow in the wall, a wingless mosquito, once barely a man. This man was born in a small city of Colombia. This man became a samurai and it is the hero of this epic tale, this tragic tale, this sad tale of insanity. For being a hero is the most unfortunate of fates. An unfortunate tale that must be told indeed.

It was the 1st of July of 2012 when our hero, Tito Córdoba, and the one thousand years-old sword, Kyōkimon, met for the first time. Tito was at the British Museum strolling around a Sunday afternoon, fascinated with the sight of the Rosetta Stone and the Mosaic Mask of Quetzalcoatl. A day like no other. It was 17.00 when Tito entered the Japanese gallery.

You see, when men or women have been trained in the art of war since childhood their mind, body, and senses are finely tuned with the intent of people. Tito felt an aggressive intent, a killing intent. Was it a subtle smell, a fingerprint molecule expelled by an evil creature? An infinitesimal anomalous disturbance in the room's temperature caused by this creature excitation? Who knows, but Tito felt the presence of a murderous being, hidden, lurking.

Too late. A head rolled on the floor to rest at Tito's feet. A child's head still with a smile on its little pink chubby face. ROAR! ROAR! SMASH! Shattering glass, screams, shrieks. The alarm went off. People ran but some could not scape death.

At the end of the room a human-like creature stood with what might have been a stomach and some intestines from a person in its mouth. It was twice the size of a man, thrice the speed, ten times the strength, a hundred times the savagery. Dripped ruby blood. Where it came from? What was it doing at the British Museum? It will all make sense later, I promise. The beast, swallowed the guts and found them delicious.

In a glass case, Kyōkimon. Black scabbard, night of ends. Sleeping within, the purest steel, silvery, tears of the moon. And madness, raw and undistilled madness made metal.

Behind the glass case and at the other side of the room, Tito stood, a samurai without sword, without master.

In between him and it, a mother knelt clutching the headless body of her child. True terror was the only expression on her face.

The creature was known to science as Homoabiectus terribilis. A monster that might have diverged from Homo erectus five hundred thousand years ago, or might have not. A monster nonetheless. Like an avalanche, it sprinted toward the woman, propelled by irrational anger and an appetite for death. Sharp blackened teeth, open jaws seeking flesh.

Slash! Slash! Swish! Slash!

“Three steps to madness.”

Blood gushed out a chest, a neck, an arm dropped to the ground. Homoabiectus found eternal peace.

Tito did not know, but Kyōkimon had brought the ultimate punishment to five thousand and one enemies. Tito did not know the blade's name nor its history, yet he could feel its voracious thirst. Tito did not know but the more Kyōkimon cut, the sharper its edge became, the greater the horror that would befall the bearer. A samurai without a sword any longer, a samurai without a master.

My political compass

With all the noise about the presidential elections in the USA, and after talking a bit about politics with my girlfriend inspired by the recent municipal elections in Finland... I ended up wondering what were truly my political tendencies. I don't think about politics that much, as in parties or '-isms', so I didn't really know, or wasn't really sure, how my sets of believes and ideas about society would align with certain political views. I had a slight suspicion at best.

I found an online test called the Political Compass, and after answering a bunch of questions I think the results are not too far off. I have added a chart... I'm close to Gandhi in political views, a bit more extreme though.

That's my placement in the chart

This is how I compare with some leaders

 This is how I compare with the USA 2012 presidential candidates

So, according to this it wouldn't make much of a difference whether Obama or Romney won the elections; they are pretty much the same. I'm the complete opposite.

These are the UK parties as of 2010. I'm closer to the Green Party

The great composers, I'm closer to Bartòk

You learn new things about yourself every day. 

How do you score?

Celebrating 100 blog posts!

Dear readers,

With this one, a hundred blog posts have been written. That deserves celebration! I started my blog almost two years ago on a whim, inspired by a couple of friends who also have blogs: Las Vainas de Juan Pablo (in Spanish) and Ego Sum Daniel, a science blog. My own soon became my canvas, a place to create and share. So far, I do not have any intentions to stop writing and I hope to keep it until I die, unless an apocalyptic catastrophe destroys the internet in the decades to come. In this canvas I will paint my happiness and my sorrow, my victories and defeats, my tales, my poems...

Would you like to see my very first blog post? It is very short, click here.

I do not really like to think much about the why of this blog. I know that this blog is in great part very personal—not exclusively though. So why do I choose to share such private aspects of my life for all the world to see? Besides friends and family, who cares what the hell happened or did not happen in my life? Who the hell cares what I did or did not do, what I felt or did not feel, what I thought or did not think? Well, in part, my brain is hardwired to give of myself and share, that is how my personality is... by blogging and retelling my life and sharing my writings, the reward centers of my brain are activated. In consequence, I feel great pleasure every time I hit the publish button. I may also want the attention, I must confess, I do not doubt there is in my personality a lot of attention seeking behaviors, maybe a dash of narcissism. But I do not really mind that, as long as no one is getting hurt and it has some positive source: my loving heart! I am all in for a good time, even if it is just the reading of a blog post, I do not mean harm or shame to anyone. Now on the other hand, I think people may identify themselves with something I write, someone, perhaps you may see yourself in a part of my life. I think I may inspire you in a moment of doubt, I think my life could teach you something, it does not matter whether I fail or I succeed. I think I am able to, at least, give some good advice based solely on my own experience. I think every body has something to teach; how you overcame a difficulty, how you succeeded at a project, how somebody hurt you and you got over it, how you made a mistake and you want no one else to repeat that... there is great knowledge in everyone's life, just if people choose to share rather than hide their own life experiences. Nevertheless, I do not mean either to be very serious about this blog, I also want to entertain with my purely literary attempts at a masterpiece and with my funny anecdotes, because for some reason funny stuff happens to me almost at a daily basis. Could that be also related to the nature of my personality?

I thank immensely all my loyal visitors, those who come back to read: friends, family, secret admirers, and subscribers. I know that at least 25% of the visitors are people returning to read the blog: to you the people who care, I truly thank you from the bottom of my heart. If you were here I would hug you and kiss you, but just on the cheek. I can also tell you that every day more and more people are finding the blog, there have been already more than 13000 views. In this last month, I have had more than 1500 visits from all over the world. It is a record compared to any month since I started it. It is not much compared to popular blogs, but to me it is more precious than gold.

Now a new chapter begins. Next Sunday I fly to London after much wait and great uncertainty, I will join the Department of Biosciences at Imperial College London where I will keep saving the world with science. I will live in a new city and inevitably I will meet new people and make new friends. London seems the right environment to facilitate the experiencing of adventures, I will also change London into a better place with the advent of the Pelvic Strike to the UK.

Everything is a source of inspiration for this great painting called life. Expect.

And thanks again for reading.

I wish you all the very best,

Tanai

99 reasons why my life is beautiful

This is blog no. 99, and to celebrate I have decided to list 99 reasons why my life is beautiful. I hope, like me, you can find every excuse to give meaning and beauty to your own life. They are roughly in chronological order... what are your reasons?

99. I was born 29 years ago, healthy, complete, and with a good set of genes.

Baby Tanai

98. I had a loving mother and a loving father, although they do not love each other anymore, their love for me knows no limits.

97. I was named Tanai.

96. I speak Spanish.

95. When I was just a little boy I got this red and yellow bike for Christmas, so beautiful my first bike was.

94. I owned this amazing jaguar custom that I wore for almost a month, never a kid looked so awesome.

Best Halloween custom ever!

93. I had two pet turtles.

92. I had this cool transformer toy of Starscream.

91. I had no siblings but plenty of cousins to distract me.

90. I had a close group of friend when I was 9 or 10 years old. We were four boys then, one of them is still one of my best friends.

89. I learnt to play chess until I could defeat my dad.

88. I used to play wrestling with my mom.

87. I was never a bad student at school; except for swimming lessons, never got it quite right.

86. In high school I asked a friend to find the phone number of some girl I liked from another course, I called her and talked to her even thought we have never met before. My very first approach to love.

85. I was in love with this little blond girl, and I wrote her poems and tales, which I sent to her anonymously.

84. I made a wonderful group of friends, we were 9. The happy band we were called.

The happy band

83. I learnt to speak English.

82. I learnt to love classical music and the great composers since I was a teenager.

81. I tried to teach myself how to play the piano, I did not succeed at it, but I learnt a lot about music.

80. I went to the best university in Colombia to study Biology, the year 2000.

79. I fell in love with writing. I started writing a lot, poetry and fiction.

78. I wrote two sonnets, I have lost all copies of those though.

77. I composed two minutes of a concert for piano.

76. I took a biology course called "Invertebrates" when I was in second semester, I understood evolution. Life would never be the same.

75. I took and advanced course called "Origin of Life and Early Evolution", there I discovered my love for enzymes that contains metals.

74. I learnt about Photosystem II, the water oxidizing enzyme. My career path was defined then...

73. There were two professors that gave me great support and well-timed advice.

72. I got my first girlfriend when I was 21... my first kiss!

71. I graduated as a biologist, September 2004.

70. I was accepted to a PhD program at Uppsala University.

69. I arrived to Sweden, the 2nd of November of 2004.

Uppsala's Spring

68. I experienced the beauty of snow and winter.

67. I started my training as a scientist.

My lovely Notoc punctifurme PCC 73102

66. I experienced below zero temperatures, saw icicles hanging down from three branches, and frozen rivers and lakes.

65. I kissed an 18 years old Italian girl (second girl I kissed ever, a memorable moment indeed). Not the last Italian girl I was going to kiss.

64. I got dreadlocks! And had them for 5 years.

63. I crossed to the North side of the polar circle, and saw the Aurora Borealis, it was kind of faint that day, but whatever.

62. I experienced -40°C and the water on my eyes freezing over my eyelashes.

The North Pole

61. I got a Swedish girlfriend with dreadlocks.

60. Then I experienced spring time for the very first time, and summer, and fall... (and sex).

59. I learnt to dance and to party.

58. I saw tulips for the very first time.

57. I played bowling for the very first time, in Latvia!

56. Beers, wine, tequila shots!

55. I visited the Dalí Museum in Spain.

54. I travelled to Finland to learn advanced biochemical techniques.

53. I went to Milan for 10 days to visit my good friend.

52. I got showered in Champagne many times during Valborg.

51. I published my first scientific article in 2007. Since then I have published seven more...

50. I fell in love a few times, some times I was loved in return, sometimes I was not.

49. I trained myself on the arts of seduction to amazing results.

48. I did snowboarding.

47. And skinny-dipped in the sea of Gotland, Sweden.

In Gotland, Sweden

46. And I went to Montreal to a conference. I almost missed my flight back to Sweden because I partied way too much the last day.

45. I visited Glasgow for the International Photosynthesis congress... and they gave me too little food and too much wine to terrible consequences.

44. I visited America two times, the last time I went to New York with my good friend to celebrate Christmas and New Year's.

43. I made the most wonderful loving friends in Sweden.

42. I owned four bikes in Uppsala, one of them was stolen, two of them I got for free.

41. I belonged to Norlands and Stockholms nation.

40. I ate sushi for the first time ever in Sweden.

39. I went four times to Uppsala Reggae Festival where I saw the greatest legends of Reggae!

38. I created the Pelvic Strike and changed the world into a better place by doing so.

Do the Pelvic Strike to warm the coldest nights!

37. I obtained a PhD in Chemistry with emphasis in molecular biomimetics, at the end of 2009.

My PhD thesis

36. My mom and aunt visited Sweden for my graduation, we traveled to Rome for holidays.

 The Saint Peter's Basilica behind me in Rome

35. My dissertation party was the best party in history.

Defending my thesis

34. I got a job at the CEA, the Commission for Atomic and Alternative Energies in France.

33. Traveled to Paris in February 2010.

Under the Eiffel Tower

32. I had a pretty awesome little apartment in the center of Paris.

31. I went to the Louvre Museum two times with great friends, I saw the Monalisa and some other famous masterpieces.

30. I went to the top of the Eiffel Tower with a hot Russian girl.

29. I was sexually harassed by a not very good looking Polish woman, and a French one too. Traumatizing, but you learn from mistakes.

28. I lived with one of my best friends for several months in Paris, which resulted in great adventures.

27. I ate ramen for the very first time in Paris, and Japanese curry too.

26. I sailed the Seine (and the Fyris river too).

25. I did not learnt to speak French (nor Swedish, as a matter of fact).

24. I started a blog the 10th of August 2010. Tanai's Amazing Blog.

23. I went to China to the International Photosynthesis Congress, and I had the chance to present my science to an international audience.

22. I saw the Forbidden City and climbed the Great Wall of China.

Climbing up the Wall

21. I had Pekin duck and feasted several times on authentic Chinese food.

20. The French duck was even greater, cooked in all of its forms.

19. I bought Tin Tin comics in Belgium and had super strong and delicious Belgium beers in Brussels (while I attended a Metals in Biological Chemistry course).

18. I visited Hungary, had frog legs for dinner, too much palinka, and flirted with this cute French girl (while I attended a course in Photosynthesis)

17. I met Elina, a summer night in Paris.

16. I met Elina in Helsinki for an special romantic adventure.

15. She visited me in Paris to celebrate Chirstmas and New Year's and we went to ballet at the Palais Garnier.

14. I fell in love with Elina.

13. The first time I went to England was for a job interview.

12. I visited Tenerife with my good friend and stood up at 3500 meters above the sea level on a volcano summit.

Highest point in Spain

11. And I lived with Elina in Lima Perú for almost a month.

Tanai and Elina in Lima

10. I had Pisco Sour for the very first time and climbed to the top of a pre-inca pyramid... with Elina.

9. I feasted on Peruvian choufa and sea food, so fucking good.

8. I came back to Colombia, and I had the chance to spend a good time with my relatives.

With my mom in Bogotá

7. I have taken pictures of more than 130 different flowers, just in Bogotá alone.

I don't know the name of this flower

6. I got a job at Imperial College London (one of the top 10 universities in the world).

5. I have never broken a bone or being hospitalized.

4. I am still young and the world is full of possibilities.

3. I have written 99 blog posts.

2. I look forward to my future.

1. I am alive.

Flogsta memories

When I entered the lobby of the building I found lying on the floor a girl that had tried to commit suicide. She shuddered in fear... death was coming! She was crying black tears. Her friend was there too, a little girlish boy in panic. He was sobbing like it was the end of his very own life, absurdly out of control and disoriented. He was holding her left wrist up, where she had cut herself, tightly with his hands to stop the blood flow. A third person was there, a man on his mid thirties, who was in control of the situation and, thanks god, did know what to do. Once I stepped in the lobby he said with a commanding voice, “take your jacket off and put it on her,” then he called the ambulance. It was about 4.00 in the morning of a Saturday or Sunday, I do not remember. A few minutes later, the ambulance came, the paramedics asked the boy to release her arm, and at that moment I saw the cut, remembering it gives me the creeps. She had lost a lot of blood, but by the look on the paramedics' faces it seemed there was not a risk of her dying.

Welcome to Flogsta baby!

I lived in Flogsta during all my stay in Sweden, about five years, from the 1st of December of 2004 until the beginning of February of 2010. It was my first time living alone and I was 21 when I moved in. Living there was pretty crazy, crazy people and crazy parties, that's what Flogsta is all about. Also known as the student ghetto, it is a neighborhood of Uppsala about fifteen minutes by bike from the city center. The entire neighborhood could be divided in two, the 'high houses' (at Sernanders väg) and the 'lower houses' (at Flogstavägen). The former are sixteen tall buildings where the majority of the students lives, the lower houses are for those students that are looking for a quieter social experience. From the sixteen buildings, houses 1 to 10 have 'corridors', that means a long corridor with twelve rooms, each room with its own toilet, but kitchen and living room are common spaces. Each floor has two corridors connected by a small balcony and the room where the freezers are. Houses 11 and 12 are for students too, but each room has its own little kitchenette, with no common spaces. Houses 13 to 16 are private accommodation, mostly inhabited by immigrants. They are called houses because each building is called in Swedish hus, which is translated as house. I lived two years in house 9 and the rest in building 11.

A picture of house 10 from my room in house 9

The crowd at my corridor was very picturesque. There was the semi-hippie bearded Italian womanizer, the forty years old “student” that had been there for twenty years, the hot Swedish smuggler girl of Russian parents and with personality disorders, the Belgium nineteen years old girl exchange student tasting freedom for the first time, the socially awkward computer geek, the lonely philosopher metal guy, among other less remarkable people. All of them very nice in their own way and all of them mad in their own way. Then, the Colombian Rastafarian scientist arrived to add some spice to the mix.

 Sharing in the kitchen with my corridor mates, how many memories!

When I first went in the corridor I was hit directly by the stench of garbage. Since in Sweden recycling is very important we had two supermarket carts, one for tetrapacks and cardboard (mostly from milk boxes) and the other for newspapers and paper advertisements. We also had common baskets for metallic cans, colored glass, and non-colored glass, one type of plastic and another type of plastic, and some other categories that I can not remember anymore... all of them lying on the corridor contributing to the reeks. In theory someone had to take the trash once a week, but in reality we emptied the carts when they were overflowing with trash and the bottles were starting to hinder the free passage through the corridor. Eventually, I stop feeling the stench, so I guess it was OK.

Perhaps one of the coolest things of living in Flogsta are the infamous corridor parties. Every weekend, a corridor would organize an open party where anyone is welcomed: anyone is everybody in town. In my time, before facebook got so popular we pasted posters in the elevators of each building advertising the event; I wouldn't be surprised if posters are nowadays replaced by facebook events. The only rule was BYOB (bring your own booze). The hosting corridor moved apart the furniture and set up the music, then opened the doors and let the party begin! You arrived alone or with friends and you just had to be social, most of the people did not know each other in any case, so it was a great way to make friends. The corridor filled up until there was no space left to squeeze another student. Awesome fun and great mischief.

Yeah, that was my party in association with a corridor mate. Killer combination.

Another peculiar thing about living in Flogsta was the “Flogsta Scream”. At exactly ten o'clock in the night, you were allowed to scream to the top of your lungs. Every single day you heard someone screaming, another one answered in the neighbor building, then another and another. During final exams days the screams rose the loudest! There were many legends explaining how this tradition began, probably none was true. I thought first, someone must have been murdered, yet eventually I screamed my fair amount of times. There was always a reason to scream your lungs out.

My experience in Flogsta marked five years of my life. There I met amazing people from all over the world, there I learnt to speak English, there I learnt to flirt and to love, to dance, to be open minded... There I lived unbelievable adventures, and there I had the greatest of times as a student in Uppsala.

I will never forget those days.