I was on an airplane browsing through a recent Inculture report when a curious/friendly co passenger leaned over my shoulder and asked: “Do you work with ecological food?” The report-title included the term “ecological” so the question wasn’t too far-fetched. I found myself nodding, not in the mood to explain anthropology (hmm) whereupon he started to inform me about his eating habits. He precede by telling me that he gave his children Rosehip soup (nyponsoppa), something that caught my attention since I, just the other day, found a packet of dry powder rosehip soup mix in my kitchen (that expired in 2007) thinking: “Hmm, in all of my household studies I have never seen anyone mix a dry powder rosehip soup. I have to ask my coworkers about this.” So… I asked the man about his relationship to Rosehip soup where upon he asked me if I thought it was unhealthy to give this soup to children since I asked so many questions. I told him that I had no idea (and that I hope it’s good since my generation grew up on it) and that I am actually not a food expert of any kind. He sighed relieved explaining that the only reason he had gone on about his food habits was that he had gotten a bad “eating” conscious when he thought that this was my field of expertise. So my question is, has this moral food panic gone too far when people feel obliged to give an account for and justify their eating habits to strangers?

Overheard at the plane. Two Swedish engineers are talking.

- Now we’ll start to work in Russia, that will be…

- Oh, their business culture is totally different, strange morale at work… drink vodka to lunch…

- It will be much worse than England…

- Oh yes.

- Sometimes it’s fun with new markets but Russia, vodka for lunch… shit.

- Maybe they’re like the Englishmen but worse… I think they are as high-and-mighty as the Americans…

I went to London to plan a project. “Let’s meet at The Goring Hotel”, our English associate said, “it’s nice and cosy”. It was really nice and cosy. But at the table a little note was placed with a quotation on one side:

To be able to fill leisure intelligently is the last product of civilization, and at present very few people have reached this level (Bertrand Russell)

On the other side the guests were asked to do certain things to preserve the sense of tranquillity. The first feeling was “how can we work without our laptops” but then, the tranquillity and peaceful atmosphere put us in a specific mood and we worked really effective. I had almost forgot the blessing of a computer and phone free zone.

Of all the studies we have done I have never been so puzzled by the one that examined the question above. Food is a cultural and contextual matter and when you have the luxury of making choices on what to eat, “good food” is one of the most flexible, negotiable and unfixed phenomenon we ever came across.  Ecological food means so much more than caring for one’s personal health or the local/global environment but whith that said I would like to quote one of our younger informants. “Ecological food is good food, right? But, I forgot exactly what it was good for.”

Hellen spends 10 minutes to find the perfect mango.

It is the technical skill in using that generally differentiates the youth’s lives from the adults. Especially in “online life,” where daily use of communication activities are clearly differentiated between the younger and the older. Instant texting, chatting, blogging, communities, are something young people associate with youth. When one is adult one will hopefully have more important things to do. The fact is, they find it quite corny with adults who are doing this:
Now I’m online all day, but later I’ll be working or studying at the university. Then I won’t have time – or the inclination. I mean … I can maybe understand that people around your age (around 30) maybe blog and stuff. It’s new for you, but we … or I have grown up with this. I don’t think we’ll be as interested in it in the future. We’ll get tired of it. (Yana, 16)