Friday, February 24, 2012

Break out the SPF


The past week in Oslo has seen temperatures threatening to push the mercury into the teens (celsius)/50s (farenheit).  Needless to say after months of mind numbing cold and treacherous ice (I'm not going to jinx my non-falling uprightness streak by mentioning it here), this is quite the development.  Maybe I've assimilated (at least in weather-related matters), because I'm almost as excited as the Norwegians (i dag vil jeg sole meg!)... I say "almost" because I wouldn't consider jumping in to the water in the picture above unlike many of my new countrymen.


This doesn't mean that I'm joining all the Ole's and Maja's in sipping coffee, enjoying outside seating, at the local kaffebrenneriet (that cold breeze off the North Sea ain't nothin' to play wit'!).  Nor does it mean I'm joining all the Mathias' and Linnia's (yes, I'm using this as an excuse to bust out crazy, Norwegian names) in hitting the trails for the last, good cross-country skiing of the season ("Matty, seriously, stop asking!  For the last time, jeg liker ikke langrenn!).  


Though, I will be enjoying the outdoors a little more than usual with some outings to Oslo's places to see and be seen.  There's something about the late winter days here that is hard to describe.  The sky, perhaps unfettered by the abundance of smog and suburban sprawl seemingly omnipresent on the east coast, seems almost to be... bluer.  Its like two shades deeper blue than the sky my eyes have grown accustomed to seeing over the years (then again, maybe that I'm just so unaccustomed to seeing the sky at all here that it just seems more blue).  Anyway, there is something here that I need to see.  And I will...

Pictures forthcoming.

Wednesday, February 22, 2012

Birkelunden Bemusing


The searing, blue sky in the middle of the afternoon is one of the simplest pleasures one can get out of life.  Especially after an endless parade of overcast mornings drifting into disheartening, starless nights.  The first clear day, in some time, can catch you off guard, as it explodes from the dawn.  Nothing is quite as beautiful as the warmth of the first sunrays, as they lick your face.  Those drops of cancer-causing agents invoke an effervescent buzz in our souls that resonates regardless of how tight the crotchety, dry grip of old man winter. 

I am happy today.

Much as the reminder from the sun can remind you that three other seasons can exist, so, too, can a letter from an old friend. 

He seemed well.

The children are getting out of school now.  I can hear their delirious screams echoing down the narrow streets and corridors.  It’s as if they want to see if their voices can reach over the entrapping buildings that line the streets.  Their day is now and, by letting all of creation know, it can be shared and maintained.  The tram rattles along its metallic path; creaking and screeching at each turn and stop.  I can feel it nearing the station without seeing it from my window here; its heavy pressing crushes everything that can feel.  As if on cue, I can hear the trees shaking and swaying in the oncoming rush.  

I close my eyes and lean into the sun’s dalliance into the room, courtesy the parted blinds. 

I feel light on my face, but not warmth, the window sees to it that what is outside is kept out.  Yet, I hear the ratcheting of the tram doors and then the clanging crash of their closing. 

There are still many hours before my love will return home.  I don’t know if I should count their fickle, wanton minutes or lay my mind to other tasks to drown out the late afternoon.  Though, the sun is so bright today, I have to squint to even look toward the window.  Some days cannot be ignored or attended with mindless duty.  They must be lived and filled with purpose and balance.

I am outside now.

The wind still has a touch of winter and I need to pull my jacket tightly around me.  The stealthy, ever-present ice has begun to relinquish its domain upon the sidewalks; its crackling retreat feels my ears as I make way toward the bridge.  Beneath the cement expanse, the river has not yet heeded the call of the walkways above as it lays frozen and unmoving.  The ducks clatter upon its stately cold surface, bumping into each other, stamping their webbed feet in futile protest.  The buildings, nestled along its width, splinter, ever so slightly, from the relentless pressure.  No matter the season, the river exerts its’ force upon the edifices foolishly constructed upon nature’s runway in garish and avarice want. 

I head back inside.

The lush, brilliant blue chosen for this day for this world that hangs above our world is slowly being put away.  The fiery, cataclysm of dusk has commenced as if the world were awaiting it.  We were all caught off-guard and not quite ready to be without.  Though, time and fate have plans we know not of.  Birds flew overhead, a great distance away, their calls lost to the heavens.  Cars, buses, trains, and trams all began their sojourn from the city to the great many suburbs that surrounded this town so that its numbers almost out counted the town from which it derived.  They pulsed and pushed away, far beyond that which I could see from my window.  For I could only sense their treks from known routine, the sounds and sights were already being swallowed by the approaching night.

Friday, February 17, 2012

Quirky Bands and Fresh Air


The above is a promotion for a homegrown band here in Oslo.  Yes, their name really is "Turbonegro", and yes, when I first became aware of them I was slightly offended and confused (more confused, namely because that awareness came in the way of a block long ad, in all black, that just read "TURBONEGRO!" which lead to a frantic google search when I got home).  However, after doing more research (their music isn't bad for punk-death metal... which isn't nearly as backhanded as I meant it to be.  "All my Friends are Dead" is probably my favorite track).  They seem to be seemingly self-aware and not very racist (though, I mean, I didn't actually call any of them and most PR material is shaped to be accessible... I like giving the benefit of the doubt), and I respect them for sticking to their guns and not changing their name even though it would've (probably) led to more distribution in... well, everywhere that isn't the latin world (Luis Suarez is reading this and nodding glumly... sorry, that's my English Premier League joke for this entry).

Anyway, Turbonegro is the perfect embodiment of the, seemingly prevalent here, unintentionally funny comedy (Fine, I will give you an example,  "Founding member Thomas Seltzer once said, "A turbonegro is a large, well-equipped, armed black male in a fast car, out for vengeance. We are his prophets."")






The above is a common occurrence here in Oslo throughout the winter... Yes, people will leave their UNATTENDED strollers (barnevogn, for my my Norsk speaking friends) outside of houses/restaurants/IKEAs/Hos Bakeri/etc.  If you think that's crazy, its not uncommon for these UNATTENDED monstrosities on wheels (seriously, they're much larger than their American counterparts)  to be left WITH THE BABY STILL INSIDE!!  Now, to get an idea of just how cold winters in Oslo can get, a mother here told me that she doesn't leave her baby out once the temperature hits -5 Celsius [23 Farenheit], because that's too cold!  


Why do they do this?  


Well, this city is very trusting and crime isn't really that big of a deal (mainly because of the generous social services and microscopic unemployment rate... I was walking down the street today and two shop employees were standing befuddled in the street and were discussing a man who had just ran out of their shop with hundreds of dollars in unpaid merchandise.  Bystanders were pointing in which direction the guy went, but, when they found out the guy was "running", the employees decided it wasn't worth pursuit.  Yes, I'm serious) and Norwegians believe the fresh air is good for the child's lungs/breathing (the air quality is a touch better than most of the US).


But still... 


oh, today was the warmest day since I've been here, a balmy +3 degrees celsius (that's 42 Farenheit if you're scoring at home).  Norwegians decided to celebrate by taking up outdoor seating at all the cafes around town... Spring is on the way!


Rap lyric I'd incorporate into a song if I were a rapper:
Tryin' me a bad idea, indeed/Like callin' a Norwegian a Swede 

Tuesday, February 14, 2012

endless waiting and human mario kart

Two things of note:

1)  Oslo is constantly under construction (much in the same way as Baltimore and Washington D.C., yet those two places at least have signs explaining why and when things are "projected" to get better.  In fact, some Maryland signs are a little too forthright).

I bring this up about Oslo because my daily tram ride has been altered due to this being turned into this, yet, strangely, they're leaving this.  Ok, so it doesn't look entirely like they're searching for buried treasure, but  a good two blocks of tram tracks and road have been reduced to rubble.  I'm all about proper, urban maintenance after having lived in the aforementioned Baltimore and Washington D.C. (both having recently had, uhmm, problems with infrastructure in recent years).

Oh well, such is the cost of progress... Not to mention that they're building some really cool things.


2) The best benefit of Oslo's incessant winter has been an opportunity for me to engage in more winter sports. So far, I have been Cross country skiing and walking to the grocery store, uphill, on sidewalks covered entirely with ice.  However, this past weekend, I went toe-to-toe with Korketrekkeren.  Its 2.5 kilometers of downhill terrain covered in snow, ice, and fury that can only be traversed on a metal sled (toboggan, if you will).  Honestly, the only thing that I can compare it to is "a human version of mario kart".  It feels like you're going so fast (clearly, even more so than that video as you won't be holding a camera while doing so).  The whole setting is awesome, too.  Korketrekkeren is on the same mountain they use for ski jump (same as the 1992 Winter Games... in fact, the course wraps around the actual jump).  The metro drops you off right at the starting point and the bottom of the run is at another metro stop so you can just ride back up to the top.  Additionally, there's sled and helmet rental (yes, helmet rental... strongly advised, but not mandatory).  If that doesn't convince you how awesome this thing is, here's my favorite video related to it (which Norwegians insist on calling "sledging").

I'm going back again Saturday!

Rap lyric I'd incorporate into a song if I were a rapper:
You lame and lack, your game for the birds/ You rarely get Ws like Norsk words

Tuesday, February 7, 2012

the early morning hustle

So... I thought I'd write about once a week, sharing all the witty things in my head analyzing the world I now live in.

Though, the one thing I've come to realize is that, like life anywhere, once you get in a routine, its hard to recognize what is noteworthy from just happenstance.  Plus, how interesting would it be to read about me waking up, eating breakfast, and trying to get to class through all the snow?

That being said, I was just going to write about not watching the Super Bowl.  Until a girl passed out on my morning tram ride.

While I don't know what happened to her (she seriously just fell) and would never make light of the situation (while she seemed to be ok when the EMTs took her away, people have died from less), it was interesting to note the radical differences in "reactions" from the passer-bys.

(You would not believe how easy it is to get distracted, I was trying to find a picture of people responding crazy to someone falling down and I ended up here... good song *NSFW*, but weird way to find it)

When the girl first fell/fainted/lost consciousness, there was a visible response of at least a few people issuing "hey, she's not moving and she should be moving and not standing and that would be a very advisable thing to do at this juncture of time and place" concern, followed by a quick response of kneeling to help the person in distress.

This is in complete contrast, generally speaking, to how it would've been perceived back home (we have more of a "laugh and point and film" approach to people in distress... no, seriously *NSFW*).  I probably shouldn't judge because I laugh at silly things.

Though, it was nice to see that the Norwegian spirit of helping their fellow man isn't just reserved to paying a lot in taxes, but actually doing something on a personal level... (I know, right?!?).  Though, on the flip side, two several stops from the fainting location, was a scheduled stop at a hospital (like, the hospital was about 70 40 meters, 225 135 feet, from the tram doors).  It doesn't take a master detective to figure out what might've been a better solution to the situation.  Sure, that may not have been a viable solution (who would stabilize the prone person for the herky jerky ride?  who would prevent passengers from accidentally stepping on the person? etc.), but all I know is that my morning was delayed for forty twenty minutes (did I mention the close proximity of the hospital?  It was roughly a mile, 1.3 km, away... slightly more reassuring than this) due to the whole incident.

Just saying, Oslo... let's try to be problem solvers here...

Rap lyric I'd incorporate into a song if I were a rapper:
Never tested, competition softer than Jergen/We in the clubs makin' it rain like Stavanger or Bergen

Wednesday, February 1, 2012

A man walks in to a barbershop...

So... in an attempt to be more active (I really hope people are clicking on the hyperlinks), I'm going to try and write more often.  As, with most things, my day-to-day life, while enjoyable, doesn't often provide the best commentary.

Thus, I will regale you all with tales of (mis)adventures that have befallen me throughout my time here (in between all the soul crushing rejection from potential employers).

So... About two saturdays ago, it dawned on me that I needed a haircut.  Now, prior to coming to Norway, I had always gone the efficient (see: cheap) route, I let a family member do it. While that never resulted in a sweet mohawk, it usually worked for me.  As the closest family member is now quite a ways away. I had to resort to commercial means.

Though, it probably goes without mentioning, but haircuts in Oslo are a dicey proposal.  As such, I went over to the other side of town where there were barbers (frisør for my Norwegian speaking friends) who were similar to back home.

After a looooong bus ride, I arrived near Grønland, a heavily immigrant populated neighborhood.  I walked around for some time unable to find a place.  Oh, there were places that cut hair, but they were full of Persian looking men laughing and joking, who suddenly stopped when I poked my head in.

To make matters worse, I had a random interaction with a gentleman who seemingly had recently emigrated from Africa.

Rough transcript of the dialog:

* African Immigrant asks a question in a language I've never heard *
Me: Sorry, I don't know know what you just said?  English?
African Immigrant: You too good for your mother's language?
Me: No.  I'm speaking it now
African Immigrant:  Where you from?  You from America?

At this point, after remembering all the horror stories of identity's being stolen, I decided to exit stage right. To which, he remarked something about money team (shout out to Floyd and Fifty).

I was about ready to call it a disaster and take my chances with the hair studio down the street from our flat.

When I found a nice spot where a friendly, Somalian guy gave me a tight fade and shave!  It was good times.

Not even the -10 celsius weather can impede that.  Well, not entirely...

Rap lyric I'd incorporate into a song if I were a rapper:
Nights out, new friends, I can't remember names/ I stay in Norway, like the 94 winter games