Easter Sunday, in fragments

- We wandered into the cathedral to do some touristy looking around just as the Easter service was finishing. People had already started to rise from their seats and head out, slowly and casually, while still singing the last psalm, "Deg være ære, herre over dødens makt". We are not as a people enthusiastic and skilful psalm-singers, but everyone was pretty much on board with this one.

- I drained my hot chocolate, then scooped up the remnants of melted chocolate curls with a spoon.

- On the way back from Korsvika, I insisted on stopping every few minutes to photograph interesting graffiti, cats, and heaps of scrap metal floating in the harbour. The urban-exploration aesthetic is so completely ingrained in me by now that I no longer think of it as controversial; I'm surprised when other people don't immediately share it.

- Maren said, "Some places, they have variable prices for outdoor beer according to how cold it is out. You can drink incredibly cheaply if you're willing to do it outside in early March."

- I shook myself awake from a brief nap and headed back to the café to get some work done on the essay. Nothing is open during the Easter days but cafés, so that's where everyone who's still in town is, even in the twilight time between five and seven. Cheerful-looking emo kids with coffee cups, two people having what appeared to be a serious discussion while sharing a bottle of wine, people playing chess, babies with accompanying families. I wrote six hundred words and called it a night.

- Diana's and my combined efforts were insufficient to get the DVD player to work. We watched "Atonement" on my laptop while eating blackberries.

- As I type, the first mosquito I've seen this year has just settled on the duvet in front of me. It looks dopey and slow, but I don't feel I can kill it. I do fully anticipate waking up with the first mosquito bites of the year.