During the last couple of days, we’ve started playing a game called the foot game in the evenings. It was Christoffer who introduced it, and it is very simple. The person who starts touches her foot to one of the feet of the person standing next to her in the circle. This person then has to move that touched foot and touch it to one of the feet of the next person in the circle. And on it goes. Pretty soon, the circle has disappeared and people are just standing in a huge, human knot of feet and hands holding on to each other to keep their balance. When you fall, you’re out.
It is a great game to break the ice in a group of people that don’t really know each other. You can’t really be stiff and shy while hanging on to someone’s shoulder to keep your balance at the same time as helping someone else not to fall by holding on to their wrist. You have to talk, ask for help and, above all, laugh.
In this case, though, I don’t think the ice breaking was really necessary. We’ve been here for more than a week, spending almost every waking hour together as a group, sharing meals and sauna and sore feet. Still, we end up playing it almost every night. I think people have started to miss the physical contact they might have access to at home. Boyfriends and girlfriends that you can’t even call here, because there’s no cellphone reception and the wi-fi only works if the weather is feeling lenient.
Under the disguise of a game, we can get our need of closeness to another human being satisfied without it becoming ackward. The lengths we go to to be close.
I don’t have a significant other to miss back home. I’ve realised, though, how dependent I’ve become of Lina. Having someone at home who is just around, someone to tell all the small things to, who doesn’t think you’re petty or bitter or annoying, because she knows there are other sides to you as well. Someone to just give a spontaneous hug.
It’s good to be away. You realise what you’ve got at home.
Katja Malmborg 