Time truly flies. In just 105 days, it’s time for another edition of Island Games, the sports event for the island nations. Or “nations”, depending on your view on autonomous parts of independent countries. It seems like yesterday that Greenland’s Kim Godtfredsen stopped the clock at 33.27.60 to win the men’s 10 000 meter race.
Anyway, the games are held every two years and this year, the venue is Åland, the itsy bitsy teeny weeny tiny little group of islands between Finland and Sweden, declared Finnish by the League of Nations in September 1921 after a Swedish protest was turned down.
There’s a countdown clock in downtown Mariehamn, ticking away towards the Island Games, where the best of the best of the 25 islanders will compete in 12-14 sports.
Now, I think that there’s something about living on an island that makes people a little special. Being stuck must leave an impression on a person.
Living on an island means that you’re surrounded by the sea, and frankly, you just don’t mess with that. The ocean is huge and powerful. Man can’t beat the ocean. So, if you live on an island, you stay at home and adapt. Or just stay at home.
You develop some quirks of your own, a dialect maybe, a unique way of dressing, very own genetic diseases, a habit of driving on the left side of the road, an illusion of being the centre of the universe, and your very own weird hard rock tribute bands.
"Man developed quirks of his own – a dialect, a unique way of dressing, an illusion of being the centre of the universe – put a hard rock name on it."
(http://www.ristopakarinen.c…)
Life on an island does have its ups and downs. One of my favorite spots on Terceira, Azores was the at the top of a hill. There was a sign that pointed to the the city of Angra. You could reach it by going right, left, or straight ahead. You may get lost—but not for long. :-)