Our shared flat in Prenzlauer Berg dissolved and I've moved a bit further uptown to Pankow for some time now. The flat is from 1920s, so it dates back to the Weimar Republic, instead that Imperial Germany's final year 1918 of the previous address.

It's nice to have new surroundings to explore. So far I've run into a women's prison, a Jugendstil church, a small-time mall, blockhouses as usual, and a wasteland which I think is an out-of-order Red Army cemetery. All in all it seems I'm in brackish waters where new, old, urban and suburban intertwine.

The best thing of course is, that the flat is curiously located on the exact same latitude as Mega.

Mega is a location near Hönow village east of Berlin. It only exists on Falk maps' 2003 edition and in the minds of the people who've heard about it.

I recommend watching mkk's great four-minute road movie Mysterious Mega on Vimeo.

I had some brews with Karstein in east Helsinki's local joint Pikkulintu (en. "perching bird")

It is located in the ugliest imaginable concrete shopping mall, but instead of fighting and karaoke they've got 250 sorts of whiskies and a well-thought selection of small Nordic beers. The pub was appropriately selected The Beer Bar of the Year at the Helsinki Beer Festival.

Curiously enough, in addition to the bird motive, by using Helsinki's main railway track as a line of reference, Pikkulintu's location is antipodal to the Gallows Bird in Espoo.

A story in Helsingin Sanomat (€) about a deserted lighthouse on a small reef caught my attention last Sunday.

Located about 20 kilometres off and between the shores of Åland and Sweden, Märket reef surfaced in 1700s as a result of post-glacial rebound, ie. the rising of land. Waters here became increasingly dangerous to ships sailing between Gulf of Bothnia and Baltic Proper and a lighthouse needed to be built.

In 1809 however, Russian Empire invaded Finland and for some reason this rock became split with Sweden in the process of drawing the border between the new Grand Duchy of Finland and the Kingdom of Sweden. Eventually the Swedes persuaded the Russians to build a lighthouse on Märket, which was completed in 1885. It was soon discovered, that it was actually built on the Swedish half.

The reef has since risen one metre more from the sea and gained more land area. The lighthouse was automated and left unmanned in 1976. Five years later it was agreed to move the border so, that the lighthouse became a part of Finland and Sweden was accordingly compensated 0,4 hectares of unbuilt reef. For this micromanagement to be complete, the border had to be given the above illustrated S-shape. The area of each country's possessions had to remain unchanged and the coastline too – rearrangement would have unnecessarily interfered with each country's fishing rights.

As if this wasn't technical enough, the new border had to be acknowledged by eight other European countries. Namely those who had signed the Treaty of Åland in 1921, which established the autonomous and demilitarised status of the Åland Islands. That deal came too late for Märket's sister lighthouse on Bogskär, which was fired down in the first world war.

Radio amateurs have always had special interest in the 350 x 150 m reef. It is the world's smallest sea island with an international border, quite inaccessible and treated, apparently incorrectly, as an exclave of Finnish territory. Temporary radio stations set up by yearly expeditions have a callsign of their own and an exlusive QSL card to be sent to those radio amateurs, who've been in contact with the reef.

The Finnish Lighthouse Assosciation is raising funds for the renovation of the lighthouse. It is too rugged to attract more tourists than storm chasers or marine biologists, but it could additionally act as an outpost for climate change research, because of its precarious affair with sea levels and geology.

Strange Harvest reports on extraordinary proceedings in the Arctic mining town of Kiruna:

"We have to cut it into six pieces. And then we find somewhere to put it for another 100 years," said Karl Wikstrom, a spokesman for the state-owned LKAB iron ore company, in a manner that suggested City Hall dissection was an everyday matter.

Kiruna was established hundred years ago atop a rich iron ore deposit, which developed into the world's largest underground mine. As illustrated above, the town is now in danger of sliding into the cracks created by the very reason for its own existence.

The decision to move parts of the town was made in 2004 and recently the plan how to do it was introduced. In the next 30 years, about 1000 apartments need to be lifted on special trailers and carried onto new grounds.

Wilhelmson Arkitekter were trusted with the relocation plan. They will present the project New Kiruna at the Swedish Museum of Architecture next month. If someone happens to be in Stockholm on 13th February, of course.

Update 29/01/07:
Virgin Galactic and Spaceport Sweden have started a joint venture in Kiruna. It's a part of Richard Branson's effort to open space for tourism. Sub-orbital flights are planned at the moment, with the unique opportunity to fly through the northern lights. -- Via ursa.fi

The most weirdly funny piece of news lately has been the story of euro banknotes that tear themselves apart into the thin air. Money comes out of the cash machine all right, but after a while, starts to decompose. Berlin police have been CSIing these problem banknotes and come to the conclusion that they were predisposed to sulphuric acid.

Whether this has been deliberate or result of a spilling battery inside certain cash dispensers, is not yet clear. The prospect of an artistically motivated intervention is captivating, at least to my imagination. So far around 1500 contaminated banknotes have been reported - typically of 50 euro denomination. Consumers need not worry, as long as more than 50% of the note remains, it can be exchanged in a bank.

If this is intentional, I have to commend the saboteurs for creative approach. Then again, one must keep in mind that 75000 euro is petty cash compared to what the members of former techno band KLF accomplished in 1994. After paying their taxes they packed their money into a suitcase and flew off to the Scottish whisky island of Jura. There they casually burned one million pounds sterling and filmed it on 16mm.

Related links:
Experten rätseln über Brösel-Euros
Brittle euro notes baffle Germans
The K Foundation burn a million quid
KLF - The Documentary

Update:
BBC Video: Mystery of crumbling banknotes

Update 23.11.2006:

Just got a comment from a friend, whose message had been stuck in instant messaging limbo for nine days. Independent has the news that decomposing originates from banknotes that were "used to portion out and snort designer drug known as crystal meth". 20 and 50 euro notes are said to be perfectly proportioned for this. In contact with sweat, methamphetamine becomes corrosive. Towards the end of the article, a German professor also shares his findings about drugs and banknotes across Euro currency zone.