Here's my attempt at a panoramic photo from outside the central train station in Oslo. This was my first view of Norway (after the airport). Click to enlarge, but it's pretty big...
My name is Matt Rubens, and I'm a student in the Stanford University computer science department. I just graduated three days ago, but I'll be going back next year to finish up my Master's.
When I started the job search last December, I decided to look at options outside of the Bay Area. Don't get me wrong, there's nothing wrong with the Bay Area. But this might be my last chance to do something crazy for a summer. So I decided to apply for a internship abroad through IAESTE (which stands for something like International Association for the Exchange of Students with Technical Experience). Actually, that's not quite correct. I thought about applying to the program, but lost interest when I saw that there was a $25 application fee. However, my mom convinced me to go ahead and apply, but only to the "safe" countries. So I picked 9 or 10 "safe" countries that I'd be willing to work in, mailed off the application, and forgot about it.
A month or so later, I received an email saying that I'd been nominated for an internship in Research and Development with a company called FAST in Tromsø, Norway. (Note: it's too hard to type the 'ø' on my laptop keyboard, so this is the only time you'll see it. In case you're curious, the correct pronounciation is something like "trom-surr'.)
Probably the biggest thrill of all was that a company finally wanted me for a job that didn't involve software testing! After the excitement over that wore off, I decided to look at a map to find out where Norway was. It turns out that Tromso is in the far north of Norway, well within the Arctic Circle, and is home to a variety of "northernmost" things, including the world's northernmost university, brewery, and cathedral. Tromso has two nicknames: "Gateway to the Arctic" and "The Paris of the North," though the former seems much more fitting than the latter. Although I don't speak a single word of Norwegian, a quick Googling showed that most Norwegians are fluent in English. The decision to accept the job wasn't very difficult to make. It's a paid internship doing something I like in a beautiful country through a highly respected exchange program. I'm not sure if I'll ever have an opportunity to do something like this again.
But anyway, back to the questions. Why did I make this page, and why should you care? For a couple of reasons, I guess. Probably the biggest reason is so my friends and family can look at pictures from my trip and read about what I've been up to. To be honest, the main purpose is to reduce the amount of information that I need to repeat in every email. But a secondary reason is to raise student awareness of IAESTE, especially at Stanford. If you're a Stanford student interested in doing something like this next year, let me know. If you're a student somewhere else, still let me know, and check if your university has a IAESTE local committee.
And, please remember that I'm a computer scientist, not a writer. I'll try to make this journal entertaining, but you'll have to put up with the glitches in my writing style. For example, I use the double-hyphen quite liberally. It's the perfect punctuation mark for when you don't know whether to use a comma, semi-colon, or colon -- and I often don't!
I should mention that this webpage is a bad ripoff of Robert Burke's excellent online journal detailing his IAESTE internship in Tromso several years ago. For me, Robert's journal was the definitive resource about Tromso in particular and IAESTE traineeships in general. You should definitely check it out! The other inspiration for this website was Marisa Egerstrom's Thesis Pain, a hilarious day-by-day account of the highs and lows of writing a senior honors thesis. If you haven't seen it, don't worry about it -- but that's where the title "Norway Pain" comes from.
In the spirit of Robert Burke, I'm not going to edit my journal entries more than a day or two after I post them. Hopefully this will give you an accurate portrayal of the highs and lows of working in another country. If I could find my "culture shock" pamphlet I'd go back and try to match up my entries to the different stages of culture shock. Maybe I'll get around to it later...
Well, it's been one hell of a week. After finishing up finals last Wednesday, wrapping up my research project Thursday, packing Friday and Saturday, and graduating Sunday, I flew back home to Michigan Monday. I had one day at home to catch up with friends and visit relatives, and then was back at the airport Wednesday afternoon on my way to the Paris of the North (by way of Chicago, London, and Oslo).
The trip started off on the wrong foot when my first flight (from Detroit to Chicago) was cancelled. But, I ended up getting re-routed through Toronto, and my day got a hell of a lot better when I realized that I somehow got put in first class for the Toronto-London leg of the trip. Flying first class on an international flight is definitely one of those things that everyone should do before they die. I was just wearing my usual jeans and a t-shirt outfit, but the gentleman sitting next to me had more bling bling than the guy who works nights at the Stanford Jack-in-the-Box.
My seat had a personal TV, which is the most brilliant idea I've ever seen. I watched The Sopranos, Oz, and Phone Booth (horrible movie -- I don't care how hot you say the guy is). Nothing makes a plane trip go by faster than nudity, profanity, and violence.
My transfer in London was uneventful, and I finally arrived in Oslo Thursday afternoon. Amazingly, my luggage made it as well! However, I'd miscalculated a bit when making my hostel reservation for Thursday night -- the hostel I chose was 50km from the airport. (No, I'm not European enough to talk about kilometers yet -- it's just too painful to try to convert things.) I was planning on taking a taxi to the hostel, but it would have cost 600 kronors (almost $100)! So I somehow figured out how to take an express train to downtown Oslo, but still ended up walking 15 minutes to the hostel while dragging all of my luggage.
Here's my attempt at a panoramic photo from outside the central train station in Oslo. This was my first view of Norway (after the airport). Click to enlarge, but it's pretty big...
After finally arriving at the hostel and dropping of my luggage, I decided to try to find a bite to eat in downtown Oslo. I'd heard that food in Norway was ridiculously expensive, but I still wasn't prepared for how much it cost. Even Pizza Hut didn't sell anything for less than 93 Norwegian kronors (about $13). Finally I found a cheap place that served Mediterranean food, but no one there spoke English and I don't know a word of Norwegian. After a lot of gesturing and pointing, I ended up with a pretty decent chicken kebab pita. And I learned that chicken = kygilling (or something like that).
I can't remember what the name of the place was, but it must have translated to "Prostitutes Eat Here." There were six people eating in the restaurant -- me and five Norwegian prostitutes. At least they looked like prostitutes -- all had boots that went up past their knees, a miniskirt, a halter top, and a thong pulled up to mid-back. But maybe it's just a different style here or something -- even the ten year old girls dress like hookers, and men and women both wear ridiculous see-through white pants. Don't worry, I haven't changed my wardrobe yet. But check back in with me in September...
After getting back from dinner (which I think is called "middag"), I walked around Oslo for a while. It's actually not as nice of a place as you might expect. It's kind of run down, and doesn't have much character. I went back to the hostel and talked with one of my roommates: an Irish guy who is traveling around Europe photographing street people. He said that Oslo seemed to have more heroin addicts per capita than any of the other 40 countries he'd been to previously. I'll have to ask him if he has any data on prostitutes.
(Update: Prostitute data now available from the Aftenposten newspaper. --10/21/03)
I fell asleep early after the long day of travelling, and slept soundly for about 45 minutes until the drunk Dutch fellows who were also staying in my room stumbled in. After that I had trouble getting to sleep -- Oslo's not in the Arctic Circle, but it was still bright almost all night. I woke up at 5:45 to walk back to the train station, and I'm now sitting in the airport waiting for my flight to Tromso (the city where I'll be working for the summer). Once I settle down in Tromso I'll write again.
Yesterday was a long day, but I'm starting to feel more at home in Norway. I was met at the airport by Runa, IAESTE Tromso's Reception Officer. She helped me find my apartment and showed me around the city. Tromso isn't that big of a city, but it's pretty hard to get around since they don't seem to believe in street signs in Norway. Runa had to go to work, so I was left to fend for myself on the mean streets.
After a while I managed to orient myself enough to find an ATM, buy a bus pass, and find a supermarket. I can't really figure out what any of the food is, so I just ended up buying some things that looked familiar -- rice cakes, bread, goldfish, and some orange-flavored carbonated beverage called Solo.
After getting back from the supermarket, I curled up on the couch with my Solo to watch some Norwegian TV. It was surprisingly entertaining. But, I take back what I said in yesterday's entry about nudity, profanity, and violence. I ended up watching a show on MTV Europe called Dirty Sanchez. It's basically Jackass with a lot more nudity -- of the full frontal male variety. And so ended my 21 year streak of never seeing a man staple his testicles to a table or suck his penis into a vacuum cleaner, among various other atrocities that I won't list here.
Dirty Sanchez turned me off to TV for a while, and I don't have Internet access in my apartment, so I was left with nothing else to do but read my "Teach Yourself Norwegian" books. These were boring, but not soporific enough to overcome the midnight sun. I think I need to find an eye cover before I go insane...
The midnight sun.
After my fitful slumber, I was awakened by the melodic strains of Afroman blasting outside my window. I got up, sent some emails from the Internet cafe, and ate Burger King for lunch. Not that different from my usual Saturday morning routine, except that I'm halfway around the world. And I can't find a Quizno's here... Sorry about all of the boring updates, but I don't have much else to do since I don't know anyone yet. It's rumored that there are two American interns on the same program living in the same housing complex, but I can't find them yet. So, I think it's back to sleep for me...
Today I finally met up with the two other interns in Tromso: Ali from Atlanta and Ahmed from Boston. They're both really cool, and it was definitely nice to talk to people who are going through the same things I am. Their schools both got out much earlier than Stanford, so they've already been in Tromso for two weeks. They've been nice enough to share tips about where to find cheap food, how the buses work, how to call home, how to find Internet, etc. Ahmed and I will be working at the same company, so I'll be seeing a lot of him. The three of us, along with one of their Norwegian roommates, went to the University of Tromso (the northernmost university in the world) to play Quake tonight. There isn't Internet or telephone in my apartment, so it was nice to finally check in on my fantasy baseball teams. It's the little things that you miss the most...
All four of us got so caught up in the Internet that we almost missed the last bus back. Luckily, we managed to catch it, since my first day of work is tomorrow. I have to get up extra early since I have to stop by the police station to get a work permit. I'm not sure what I'll be working on yet. Hopefully they won't make me test the porn filter...
Today was my first day at work. Because my work permit application still hadn't been processed by the national center, Runa and I had to spend two hours at the police station trying to get a temporary work permit. It took a lot of arguing in Norwegian, but it finally worked out. (To clarify, I just sat there while Runa argued on my behalf. My vocabulary is growing, but unfortunately the discussion didn't involve chicken, hot dogs, or ice cream.) Now I'm allowed to work AND I'm allowed to get paid!
After running to the tax center to apply for a tax card, I finally made it to FAST just before lunchtime. The FAST office is located right in downtown Tromso. There are only 15 or so people in the office -- a bunch of engineers and one receptionist. I got to meet everyone over a (free!) Norwegian lunch. Everyone is very friendly, but I don't think I remember a single person's name. Not that I'd be able to pronounce the names even if I remembered them... (As a cultural side note, Norwegian lunch consists of bread and various cold toppings such as butter, bacon spread, cheese, cucumbers, tomatoes, etc. Nothing too fancy, but it's an improvement on bread and Solo!)
I think I'm really going to enjoy work. Besides the perks of free food and free restroom use (a rarity in Norway), this looks like it's going to be the rare internship where they actually expect something out of the interns. They got me started on an interesting project right away, and it seems like people really want to hear what I think about the product. And, I got to chat with one of the company founders after lunch for a few minutes! They're definitely treating me well at FAST. I'm not sure how much I can talk about the project I'm working on, but I think it's okay for me to say that I'm not testing the porn filter. Though they might change their mind if they ever learn how much experience I have on the topic...
After work Ahmed and I went to the supermarket and found some cheap food. I bought some frozen pizzas, bread, pastrami, and cheese. It cost 120NOK (about $15), and will feed me for four days. According to Lonely Planet, the frozen pizza I bought is the unoffical national dish of Norway. It looks pretty nasty, but I've never been one to balk at eating pizza.
Overall, today was a good day. First day at work, first day eating two meals -- things are looking up!
Well, it's been a few days since I updated this journal. As I told my mom in an email today, the frequency of journal updates is inversely proportional to how happy I am in Tromso. In summary, I'm running around having a grand old time while all of you anxiously await my next entry. Await no more...
Several people have sent me email commenting on how they like my "blog." This is not a blog! I am not a blog-writer! This is a journal! But that got me thinking about the difference between the two. I'm pretty sure that blogs don't have pictures in them. So here are some pictures:
Ali, Runa, Ahmed, and I with the remains of the mutton.
Outside FAST on the way to 15 kronor beer.
And here are some scenic photos of Tromso for good measure...
All right. Now that that's taken care of, I can get back to talking about myself. As you can see, I recently had the pleasure of indulging in a traditional Norwegian dinner. Runa invited Ali, Ahmed, and I over to her apartment and cooked us a traditional Norwegian meal of mutton, cabbage, and potatoes. Her boyfriend had warned her that the meal might be too Norwegian for us, but I thought it was great. It was the first real dinner I've had since I've been in Norway.
I hadn't realized this previously, but it's Runa's job to entertain us twice a week. This is really going to put a cramp in my routine of falling asleep after work from 7pm to midnight. We're either going to the Arctic Museum or taking a gondola to the top of a nearby mountain this Sunday, so stay tuned for more pictures.
After dinner we met up with the guys from FAST to go out on the town. It's pretty cool that everyone from the office hangs out together after work. I guess Wednesday night is always cheap beer night, so there were quite a few people roaming around downtown. We ended up at some place that served 15 kronor beer (about $2), which is supposedly the cheapest that it's ever been. Good times...
It's amazing how whenever you get a group of computer scientists together the topic of conversation turns to pornography within 20 minutes. In the heat of the moment, I let slip that I spent a summer testing the AltaVista porn filter. It looks like my Research & Development career may be coming to an end shortly -- FAST needs a good porn man, and I'm now the office expert on the subject.
After the festivities ended, we were confronted at the bus stop by a very intoxicated Norwegian gentleman with a large urine stain on the front of his pants. The conversation went like this:
Drunk man: [Unintelligible mumbling]
Ahmed: [Giving the man the benefit of the doubt.] Sorry, we don't speak Norwegian. Do you speak English?
Drunk man: Have you heard the news?
Us: Um, no.
Drunk man: The Parliament. Um. Someone in the Parliament said that crimes in Norway are committed by foreigners.
Me: Interesting. I never knew that.
Drunk man: Foreigners killed an 80 year old woman in Oslo last week. I hope that you are nice. I hope that you are friendly people.
Ahmed: Yeah man, we're just students.
Drunk man: Well, you know that foreigners commit crimes here. I hope that you are nice people. [Stumbles away.]
So I guess we strike fear in the hearts of Norwegians. Or maybe Ahmed and Ali do. I'm too short to scare anyone here. Everyone in Norway is a head taller than me. I practically have to stand on my tiptoes to use the urinal here. I swear I never had a complex before...
Anyway, enough rambling for today. I need to get my frozen pizza out of the oven. Until next time, ha det bra...
Despite the impression this journal may give, life in Tromso isn't all fun and games. In order to indulge in such delicacies as Pizza Grandiosa, I need to take the bus to the neighborhood Coop Prix grocery store. (Yeah, it's close enough to walk, but I tried that once and it wasn't worth it.)
With nothing else to do on a Lordag (Saturday) afternoon, I made the pilgrimage to the Prix to buy food for the upcoming week. I timed the return poorly, though, and was stuck waiting for the bus for over 30 minutes. Rather than attempting the 20 minute walk home, I decided to sit on the ground at the bus stop and take pictures of my groceries. And I faithfully bring these pictures to you, my loyal readers. Click on the Coop to explore 280 kronors ($40) of Norwegian goodness. (Yes, food is damn expensive here.)
Continuing the theme of Norwegian cultural activities, Ali, Ahmed, Runa, and I went on an excursion to a nearby mountain this afternoon. For the small price of 70 NOK, we rode a gondola up the mountain to an observation deck. I'd have to say that this was one of the few things in Norway that was actually worth the price. The view was unbelievable.
After taking lots of pictures and eating some ice cream, Ali, Ahmed, and I decided to walk around the area a little. (Runa wisely stayed behind to work on her tan.) Buoyed on by collectively poor depth perception, the three of us decided to try to climb to the top of the mountain. Famous last words: "It doesn't look that far." But, fueled by machismo and stubbornness, we managed to battle the elements and complete the trek to the top. All right, it wasn't that bad, but there was some snow, and it was steep at times. Here's a movie (3.7MB, WMV) commemorating the voyage. Remember that all I have to work with is my digital camera, Windows Movie Maker, and Microsoft Paint. Hopefully you get the idea...
I have more stories to tell about this weekend, but I'm exhausted. Stay tuned...
Here's a panoramic picture of Tromso from the observation deck. Pretty cool if I do say so myself. Click to enlarge.
Sorry that it's been a few days since my last update. Work is pretty much the same every day, so there's not much point updating this during the week. In general things are going well -- I still like my job, I'm still eating frozen pizza, etc. Don't worry -- no more pictures of my groceries.
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| The midnight sun (this time with the sun). |
And that concludes this week's episode of "Ask Norway Pain." Don't hesitate to email me if you have questions though -- it gives me something to write about.
Well, back to my weekend. We didn't get Friday off for the 4th of July, but I barbecued earlier in the week so I guess I can't complain. The guys at work were more excited about what they called "X-Box Liberation Day" anyway. (For those of you who don't read Slashdot, someone figured out how to load Linux onto the X-Box without opening the case. Hallelujah!)
Friday night we made the usual rounds of all the seedy bars in Tromso (and a few of the less seedy). We ended up at a so-called "Fourth of July Party" at the same renowned establishment that serves 15 kronor beer on Wednesdays. The party was actually suprisingly authentic -- there were lots of drunk Americans screaming profanities and generally making asses of themselves. Thankfully, they didn't have any fireworks. I'm not sure where all of the Americans are coming from, but they're out in full force lately. Rumor has it that a lot of them come from a nearby NATO naval base, and there are a lot of cruise ships in town.
One of the Americans we met was none other than DJ Tony T from Atlanta, who was got us onto the guest list for a club called Strøket (described in Lonely Planet as "Tromso's main meat market"). Predictably enough, we ended up at Strøket on Saturday night. And this is where Norway Pain takes a twist.
I was planning on writing about how I'm sick of going to these meat market clubs. I don't like talking to random people in elevators or on airplanes, I don't want to meet the kind of girl that would go to a place like Strøket, etc. You've probably heard me talk about this before. But that was before I met Helen. Actually, her name wasn't Helen, but she just told me to call her that since I couldn't pronounce her real name. But I'm getting ahead of myself here...
While Ahmed roamed the dance floor, Ali and I went looking for a place to sit. It turned out that the only open table was next to a group of three girls. We soon became fast friends. (It turns out that "Ya'll from around here?" is a great pickup line on Norwegian girls.) When Ali and two of the girls got up to dance (go Ali!), I was left behind with Helen, who I found out doesn't like dancing (or Strøket for that matter). I had achieved a feat that I had previously thought impossible -- meeting a girl at a club who doesn't dance and doesn't like the club. I guess it's true what they say -- going abroad can really shake your belief system to the core. I'm going to start talking to people in elevators.
If you must know the details, I was rewarded with a good night kiss. But it wasn't quite what you'd expect. When I was leaving the club, some drunk guy in front of me stumbled and started falling backwards down the stairs. I caught him, and he thanked me by rolling into my arms and kissing me on the lips. Yes, I know that guys kiss each other on the cheek in Europe. But if he was aiming for my cheek he must have been even more drunk than he looked. And I think I've just entered the next phase of culture shock...
All right. I've been in Norway for almost three weeks now, and I'm going practically insane trying to find someone who cares about the NBA. All they care about here is their "football." There's actually a basketball team in Tromso, but they're not in season right now. I'd encourage you to visit the Storm's website though. It's pretty entertaining (especially if you can read Norwegian). Don't forget to click on the "Arctic Girls" link! We actually ran into the star player of the Storm (Scott English, from Fairfield College) at a cafe last night, and Ahmed somehow ended up shooting around with the Storm today. Rumor has it they're actually not bad...
Anyway, back to the main point. The title of this entry is my best attempt at translating "Do you want to talk about the NBA?" into Norwegian. If you're reading this journal and you want to discuss the latest happenings in the NBA (or any real sport for that matter), please email me. (My address is mrubens at stanford dot edu.) Here are some discussion topics to get you started:
Yeah, I'm definitely going through NBA withdrawal. Hjelp me out!
This past weekend started out pretty slowly. Ali, Ahmed, and I went to the strangely parabolic Fokus Kino for the Norwegian premiere of Hulken (which I guess is Norwegian for The Incredible Hulk). Not to ruin it for you, but in my humble opinion the movie pretty much sucked. (And if you want an expert's opinion, read The Filthy Critic.)
It's probably a waste of time to give me opinion on the movie anyway -- I doubt it's even showing in the US anymore. Movies come out a lot later here than they do at home, and there are only two small theaters in Tromso anyway. I can't wait for T3 to open though. I'm going to be first in line on August 8. Actually, I won't. One of the best things about going to the movies here is that you get a reserved seat. FAST is right down the street from Fokus, so I can just stop by before taking the bus home, reserve some good seats, and save myself a lot of waiting.
In any case, I called it an early night Friday after the movie. Ahmed and I had plans to go camping on Saturday with the guys from FAST, and I needed my rest after a long week.
Saturday afternoon, Jørgen (another intern at FAST) picked us up and drove us to the beach where we would be camping. None of us had ever been there before, so it took a few tries to find the beach. The beach was actually very secluded -- the easiest path to it involved climbing down a hill and over a fence. It was worth the trouble though -- the view from the beach was amazing.
Mind you, Norwegian camping doesn't involve any of those silly luxuries such as running water or bathrooms. But I've become pretty tough over the last few weeks. After making the adjustment to not having constant access to the Internet, camping for a day without a few other "necessities" was no problem at all. My boss (Krister) graciously let Ahmed and I borrow sleeping bags and a tent, so things definitely could have been worse.
We actually had a pretty decent-sized group. There were 10 or 12 of us, including various girlfriends/wives/dogs of the FAST guys. We started out with a game of beach volleyball (my team lost in three sets, but you're never supposed to beat your boss, right?). Then we set up camp and started cooking. We grilled hot dogs, bratwurst, and steaks. The meat was expensive, but it was worth it. The hot dogs definitely tasted a lot better than the ones I buy at the convenience stores. I finally wrapping my hot dogs in lompor (hard to describe, but something like pita bread made from potatoes). It was excellent -- I'll have to bring some lompor back to the US.
After dinner we grilled marshmallows and listened to Krister play the guitar. He was actually quite good, and knew a wide variety of songs. (Here's a short clip of Krister playing an old favorite (753K, WMV) while the rest of us sing along.) That video was taken at 1AM, and though it's still bright as day, it was actually pretty cold. Which is why Ahmed was wearing a stylish Norwegian Army sweater, complete with thumb-holes in the sleeves.
I've mentioned before how much I like my job and the people I'm working with, but I still find it unbelievable that a group of co-workers will just pack up and go on a trip together. A lot of the guys have known each other for a long time, but everyone is invited to come along. A guy from the FAST office in Munich is visiting Tromso for the week, so someone picked him up from the airport and brought him right to the beach. Best of all, they forgot to follow through on their threats of making me go swimming! But seriously, I'm lucky to work with such friendly people.
We stayed up until almost 4AM talking, eating, and listening to the guitar. And then reality set in. No matter how late I stay up, I've never been able to sleep while camping. Especially since my tent-mate, who will remain nameless, tends to snore a bit. I'm exhausted now, so this journal entry is over. I'll leave you with some Pictures from Camping...
Welcome back to Norway Pain. Sorry about the lack of updates. I'll make up for it with a big one this time, complete with lots of pictures.
I spent the last week touring the Lofoten islands in northern Norway with a group of 21 students, most of whom were affiliated with IAESTE in some way. Here are their names, home countries, and an unflattering picture for each.
Now that we've gotten the introductions out of the way, let me tell you about the trip. To make this easier to digest, I'll use a day-by-day breakdown.
On Friday, the first Arctic Week participants began to trickle into Tromso. We all met up for dinner at Runa's house before sampling the local nightlife. Someone had given the visitors the impression that beer was cheap in Tromso, so they were in for a bit of a shock. After a few 50 kronor beers everyone settled down a bit though.
Through dumb luck I was the assigned the "responsibilty" of hosting three girls in my apartment Friday night. I definitely gained a lot of respect from my apartment-mate after that night. A week later, he's still innocently asking me how the girls are doing, how they liked the trip, if they're coming to visit again soon, etc.
On Saturday the remaining Arctic Week participants arrived. We met up Saturday afternoon for a barbecue and a game of volleyball. In the evening, we went to the mountain that I wrote about in the June 29 entry. I took a rain check on climbing the mountain again, but I did go up far enough to make a snowman and have a snowball fight. We stayed until midnight to see the midnight sun, but it didn't look much different than the 10 o'clock sun to me. (But maybe I'm just bitter that the clock on my camera was 12 hours off -- my midnight sun picture actually has a timestamp of 12:00PM.)
After returning from the mountain (at about 1:30AM), we all went out to the Amtmandens Datter pub for drinks and games. After staying out much later than I meant to (foreshadowing the upcoming week), I went home and got the last full night's sleep that I'd see in a long time. We were leaving Tromso Sunday night. But there was plenty more excitement to come beforehand...
On Sunday, it started to rain. After a long, miserable walk in the rain with all of my luggage for the trip, I met up with the group at Polaria (the museum where you can see seals). I'd already seen the museum with Runa a few weeks earlier, so I slept in a little and got to Polaria after the seal show. I did get there in time to capture one of Chad's dress-up moments -- check out the pictures.
After Polaria, a group of seven hardy fools (including yours truly) braved the rain to watch Tromso's soccer team (TIL) face a team from Trondheim called Rosenborg. Rosenborg supposedly has the best team that Norway has seen in the last 10 years, so no one was expecting much. However, Tromso dominated the match and won 2-1. I think that soccer is like baseball in the sense that it's much more fun to watch in person. It was really a lot of fun, even though I was soaked. I think I need to brush up on my Norwegian profanity before the next home match though...
After the soccer match, we all went out for a hearty meal of whale beef. Despite some hesitation from the environmentally conscious, almost everyone thoroughly enjoyed the whale. It was reminiscient of beef in taste and consistency, but was a lot sweeter. Maybe it's just that I haven't eaten out at a restaurant in a long time, but I thought that the meal was one of the best I've ever had. I highly recommend whale to those of you who haven't tried it...
Following dinner, we went to Karl Johan's Pub to work off the whale with some karaoke. There were some memorable performances (10 of us singing/interpretive dancing to Bohemian Rhapsody, Camilla singing Boom boom boom, I want you in my room, Runa and Davide singing a duet from Grease), but none were more impressive than Hisashi singing John Denver (902KB, WMV) while holding his trusty fishing rod.
At about 1:30AM, we left Karl Johan's and boarded our ship, the Hurtigruten. The name Hurtigruten translates to "fast route." I couldn't pronounce the name, but my lame attempt (something like "Hurty-Gurty") quickly caught on. The ship was very nice, but since we were traveling on a budget all 21 of us slept head-to-toe in sleeping bags in the conference room. Some of the ship's workers woke me up at 10AM by running me over with some type of food cart, and I was again roused from my slumber a few minutes later when Jill stepped on my head. Suffice it to say, it was not the most comfortable sleep I ever had.
Despite the lack of sleep, I really enjoyed the boat ride. We saw lots of islands, mountains, and fjords. I took lots of what Katie calls "bad postcard pictures" on the voyage. Check them out...
We arrived in Svolvaer around noon on Monday and took a bus to our cabins. This was the polar opposite of the camping that I did last week -- the cabins were furnished with bathrooms, electricity, beds, a stove and refrigerator, etc. The cabins were right on the water, and the campsite rented out canoes. Actually, the campsite only rented out canoes to people who were stupid enough to pay for paddles. Kyle and I took out one of the canoes using old boards we found on the beach. I'm still picking splinters out of my hands, but otherwise the boards worked quite well!
We were split into three cabins of seven people each, which worked out quite nicely for cooking since we would be staying in Svolvaer for three nights. Monday night, of the other cabins cooked pasta and bruschetta (sp?) for everyone. The food was great, and it was nice to not have to cook for myself.
After dinner, we all gathered together in one of the cabins to develop global skills in tomorrow's leaders. Well, at least the first part of that sentence is true.
Up until Tuesday, the trip had been very relaxing. That was about to change in a hurry...
The agenda for Tuesday started out with a "mountain trip." Unsure of what to expect, all of us packed a Norwegian lunch and headed for the mountains. It turned out to be a rather challenging hike/climb, at least in my city-boy opinion, and that was before it started raining. We all made it to the top in one piece, but we could hardly see twenty feet in front of us because of the fog. It's too bad that the weather was so bad -- the view from the top must have been amazing.
The trip back down was even more difficult because of the rain, but we eventually got back (though we did get lost for a little while). Everyone was completely soaked, tired, and miserable, but cheered up quickly after my cabin prepared a delicious dinner of tacos and Turkish yogurt salad.
After dinner, we again convened to develop our global skills. After only four days, I had assimiliated a knowledge of card games and slang from a variety of cultures.
We were in for another adventure on Wednesday. After canoeing around the lake in the morning, we went deep sea fishing in the afternoon. The fishing started out well. I caught three sei within minutes of my first cast, and most others did similarly well. Ali hooked two huge fish -- not bad for his first time fishing.
Our luck quickly changed, though, when the motor failed on the fishing boat. Since bad weather was approaching, we had to radio for help. A Norwegian Sea Rescue boat soon arrived, and most of us were moved to its cabin. The boat was amazing -- it had radio, TV, Internet, laundry, showers, couches, etc.
It would have been a great boat ride -- if we weren't towing another boat through a storm. Since we had to move so slow, the ride was extremely turbulent. Suffice it to say, many people became ill on the voyage. When we finally made it back to our cabins, no one felt much like eating Ali's fish, so we ordered pizza instead and called it a relatively early night.
We left by bus Thursday morning to a town called Å (pronounced aw, and probably the strangest name for a town I've ever seen). On the way to Å we made several stops, including touring a fishing village (the one featured in the Norwegian "Fish from Lofoten" song) and visiting an aquarium. But the most exciting excursion was to the Viking Museum in Borg.
The Viking Museum was a "living museum", which meant that the men dressed like Vikings and the women dressed like serving wenches. We learned lots of interesting Viking trivia, including the fact that Vikings didn't actually have horns on their helmets, and were treated to a meal of traditional Viking soup and mead liquor. But the most entertaining part of the museum was when we got to try on the Viking helmet and hold the swords and axes. The only disappointment was that they didn't sell Viking helmets at the gift shop. Sorry, Tricia. I looked...
We made it to our cabin in Å at around dinnertime, and the third cabin from Svolvaer finally got to cook. They prepared Ali's fish, and it actually tasted pretty good. (You hear that, Rita?)
Friday morning, we went for another hike in the mountains. Again, I thought the hike was fairly difficult, but at least it wasn't raining. The paths weren't clearly marked though, so instead of making it to the peak we ended up back at the bottom of the mountain. There was a lake there though, so we took the opportunity to go swimming and eat lunch. After lunch, some people decided to go to the top of the mountain, some people decided to go back to the cabin and rent motorboats, and some people stopped to get water on the way back and stayed there for more than two hours. Um, it's not that I was tired, I was just enjoying the nature and the company.
After we finally made it back to the cabin, everyone went out to dinner at a nearby restaurant. It was fish again, which was very good, and crayfish, which was good if you ate the right parts of it. Unfortunately, my crayfish advisor had a bit of a nasty sense of humor.
At 1:00 Saturday morning, we took a ferry to a city called Bodø. We were actually far enough south that I got to see the sun rise. It's quite a surreal experience seeing the sun rise after not seeing it drop under the horizon for five weeks.
From Bodø, we went our separate ways. I took a plane back to Tromso, bought enough frozen pizza to get me through the weekend, and then slept for 20 hours. And like that, Arctic Week was over.
It's already taken me hours to put all this together, so I don't have much time to reflect on the trip. About the best I can say is that the past week was one of the best weeks of my life. I hope to keep in touch with all of the wonderful people that I met in the last week, and I'll never forget the time that we spent together.
Well, I'd better get back to work before I get too emotional. I'll write again soon. Ha det bra!
Hello everybody, and sorry again about the delayed update. I think I'm still mired in a post-Arctic Week slump. But I must.. keep.. on.. writing..
As Arctic Week wound down, several of the friends I'd made on the trip invited me to visit them in Trondheim, a city in the middle of Norway. Well, to be more accurate, they offered to show me around AND cook for me. After arriving back in Tromso and taking one look in my fridge, I knew that there was no decision to be made. Trondheim, here I come!
After a long day of work and travel on Friday, I finally arrived in Trondheim around 19:30 (my watch is set to 24 hour time now -- I can't afford to miss any more buses). I dropped off my bags on Rita's floor and went straight to my first good meal since Arctic Week. Jill kindly made dinner for Rita, Tolga, Ann Iren, Michelle (another trainee in Trondheim), and I. We were only together for a week and then apart for a week, but it was really great to see everyone again. It's funny how close you can get to people without realizing it.
Following the wonderful meal, we proceeded to the Samfundet (student union) where we met up with Ronan and others. Going out in Trondheim felt much different than going out in Tromso. Trondheim is a much more international city -- lots of people speak English, lots of signs are in English, etc. And the øl is a lot cheaper...
On Saturday morning, I completed my part of the cultural exchange and cooked American Scrambled Eggs for brunch. After waiting around for a few hours to see if anyone was going to get sick (don't worry, they didn't!), we left to explore downtown Trondheim. Unfortunately, it was raining on and off all day, but I still got to see most of the major sights. I think that the combination of Rita, Jill, and I has some effect on the weather. It had hardly rained in Tromso all summer except for the weekend they were staying in my place, and the weather was great in Trondheim before I arrived.
Saturday night we went out to a piano bar/nightclub called Frakken. It was very, um, interesting. You haven't lived until you've seen a middle-aged female piano bar-artist perform "Slim Shady". I saw Eminem live a few years ago, and she was the spitting image. In other Frakken news, it was a dead heat between Jill and I in the "attract a Norwegian man" contest.
It rained again on Sunday, so we didn't do too much. But, Rita did manage to find a shop that sold Viking helmets, complete with horns! My faith in the Norwegian tourist industry has been renewed. Ronan was leaving for Ireland early Monday morning, so we all got together on Sunday night to eat pizza and cry. I don't know what I'm going to do without Ronan -- at least half of my photographs have him in them.
At 4:55 Monday morning, I began my journey back to Tromso. After almost 5 hours of travel, I arrived safely at work (15 minutes early!). Needless to say, it was a tough day. Hence the delay in Norway Pain. But the travel and the fatigue was definitely worth it -- it was a great weekend, and I hope to see all of my Trondheim friends again soon.
Well, I'm still here in Norway. And I'm doing quite fine, thanks. Now that I'm getting more used to the place, Norwegian things that are probably strange and worth writing about seem ordinary to me. I can't believe that I used to be fascinated by such trivial things as the Diplom-IS Eskimonica and the Tromso Storm maskot.
One thing that I can't get used to is the price of a haircut. It's impossible to find a place that costs less than $40. Oh how I long for the $12 haircuts at Campus Barber. I'm coming back to the US with either a shaved head or a mullet.
The university starts up again next week, so things are getting a little livelier. And, we have increased in number (we being the IAESTE trainees). Aoife from Ireland has joined us, and it's great to have her here. (Especially since she has the address of this journal.) But seriously, it's fun to have a bigger group. We take turns cooking, and it costs less to take a taxi. And many more benefits that I can't think of right now.
Speaking of paying for a taxi, we brilliantly engineered our way around that problem this last Saturday night. I can't remember the exact moment, but in a flash of brilliance one of us realized that while the Saturday night bus costs 40 kronors, the Sunday morning bus was free. And so we stayed in town until 0800 and saved ourselves about $6. Yet another instance of developing global skills in tomorrow's leaders...
In other news, I've been watching a lot of football lately. Yes, real football. I suppose you Americans would call it soccer. Haha I'm not that big of a fan yet, but it is pretty fun to watch. I went to two matches last week, and I'm starting to at least know who some of the players are. Now if I could only get my Norwegian friend Håkon (herefore called Haakon) to translate the profanity for me...
But I guess I can't complain too much. Haakon taught me my favorite Norwegian word. It's spelled "sjarkhora" and pronounced like shark-hura. To answer the question you're all asking right now, it means "little fishing-boat whore." And yes, I inquired as to whether the whore was small or the fishing boat was small. It's the fishing boat.
Besides sharing the beauty of Norwegian language with me, Haakon has also introduced me to popular Norwegian cinema such as Ali G. and the Black Adder. And best of all, he has NBA Street Vol. 2. Haakon, my Norwegian cultural experience wouldn't have been the same without you. Tusen takk!
Well I'm looking back at my journal and noticing that there hasn't been a picture (or an interesting story) for weeks. If you're still with me, you're either a damn good friend or a damn good relative. I promise I'll do something interesting soon. Until then, here are some random pictures from Tromso...
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| Advertisement for Internet. You've gotta love the, um, vapor trail behind the guy. (Actually translates to "Full speed in summer.") | Local graffiti. "The jams... Tromso." Must sound more badass in Norwegian... |
I would just like to make it clear that my earlier comments regarding kebabs and prostitutes in no way constitute an attack on the kebab or the wonderful people who sell them.
From Aftenposten: Kebab slight ends in beating (with an umbrella).
Gunn Tove sez: "This is Trondheim entry #2!"
All right, I'm back. Sorry to keep you all waiting on the edge of your seats for so long.
To continue where I left off, I had a great time. I arrived in Trondheim Friday evening, got off the plane, took an airport bus, and walked right into a IAESTE party at Lise's apartment. I got to meet up with a lot of my old friends from Arctic Week, and there were a lot of newly arrived trainees there as well. After a lot of catching up on old times and a little table dancing, we headed out to SommerFest at the Studentersamfundet (translation: summer party at the student union). This party was huge -- all of the students had just gotten back, and it was the last weekend before school started.
We spent most of Saturday just wandering around Trondheim and recovering from the SommerFest. Since it rained last time I was in Trondheim, I didn't really get a chance to absord much of the local culture, which is actually quite fascinating. At first glance, Trondheim seems like a normal college town, not much unlike Ann Arbor, MI (where I grew up). But then you notice the harrys. Harry was probably the most difficult Norwegian word for me to understand the meaning of, but I'll try to explain it to you. Basically, it refers to the Tronders who drive around in restored classic American cars screaming and throwing beer bottles out of the window. As far as I could understand, Norwegians think that Harry is a typical name for a guy with a moustache and a mullet, and girls with leopard print skirts. Hmm the more I write the less sense this makes. You really have to experience harry culture to understand it.
And, I know you're probably curious if you looked at the pictures, but I have no idea why Paolo was carrying around an axe all day.
Saturday night we went to a party at one of the new intern's apartments. Most of us live in university student housing, but somehow Guillame ended up with an amazing apartment in the middle of downtown Trondheim. Next year I'm working for Statoil... Anyway, the party was progressing quite nicely until Hugh showed up with his thong. (Maybe it's an Irish tradition to get a thong for your birthday?) You're just lucky that I didn't take any pictures two beers later when he was dancing around wearing nothing but his birthday present and his birthday suit. We quickly moved on to the Luna Lounge nightclub, where we partied until closing time.
Thankfully, Sunday was a fairly relaxing day. We woke up late, visited various cafes during the day, and saw Bruce Almighty (my opinion: everything worth seeing was in the preview) at night. After saying goodbye to my friends, I crashed at Lise's place one more time before waking up bright and early to catch my flight back to Tromso.
The goodbye was for real this time: I'm not going to see most of these friends in the near future. I'm still having a hard time with it, but as a wise woman once told me, it's just part of travelling. You make great friends and leave them behind, but you'll always have the memories of the time you spent together.
Hmmm I guess this is one of the more sentimental Norway Pain entries. It's really strange to be nearing the end of my stay in Norway (only 10 days left!). Ali is leaving tomorrow, so we got everyone together last night for what the Norwegians call gravøl (funeral beer). It's sad to say so many goodbyes.
Well, I'll try to make the next entry a little happier. Until then...
Good Monday, loyal readers. This past weekend was notable in that Friday marked the occasion of the 22nd anniversary of my birth. Yep, I'm one year older, one year wiser, and one half-year more desperate. For those of you who aren't familiar with the equation, here goes: To find the age of the youngest person you can date, divide your age by two and add seven. (Javascript calculator below for the mathematically challenged.)
So, 17.5 year-olds are now off limits for me. I can feel my youth slipping away...
But besides the fact that my dating style is now severely cramped, I had a very good northernmost birthday. The guys at work bought me a cake on Friday, and I finally won the weekly wine lottery! (Never mind that I don't drink wine.)
After work, I went went over to Aoife's place for dinner (which Cedric was kind enough to take a picture of me eating), and then proceeded to Haakon's for some Ali G. Aiii. At around 11 or 12 we managed to tear ourselves away from Ali G. and went out on the town for a few hours. It was definitely good to get the whole gang together, especially since Ahmed and I are leaving next Monday.
And before I forget, I've been meaning to mention that Aoife is a very good friend regardless of whether she reads this journal. She was even so kind as to buy me some black socks for my birthday! (European girls don't seem to approve of white socks.) The 18-year-old Norwegian girls won't know what hit them...
One week left in Norway! Aaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhh! And on that note, back to work for me. Ha det...
Well, my bags are packed and I'm ready to go on my whirlwind tour of Europe. Norway Pain is ending early Monday morning, to be replaced by England Pain, Italy Pain, France Pain, Spain Pain (I'm such a poet), and finally Portugal Pain.
| Travel Plan | |
|---|---|
| 9/1-9/2 | London |
| 9/3-9/5 | Rome |
| 9/6-9/7 | Florence |
| 9/8-9/9 | Barcelona |
| 9/10 | Madrid |
| 9/11-9/13 | Lisbon |
| 9/14 | USA! |
If you're going to be in the same place at the same time, drop me an email! I'd love the company.
Anyway, I've got tons of things to take care of before I leave Norway, so this is going to be a short entry. I'll put the finishing touches (and Europe pictures) on Norway Pain when I get home. Vi snakkes...
Greetings, dear friends. I'm finally back home in the United States, and have recovered enough from the jet lag to finish summarizing my backpacking trip. About halfway through, I realized that the odds are fairly slim that anyone cares at all about where I went on my trip. But, feel free to read it if you so desire...
My trip started off on a bit of a sour note when I realized that the buses didn't run early enough to get me to the airport in time for my 6:55 flight to Oslo. So, after going out for a funeral beer with Aoife, I spent my last night in Norway sleeping on the couch at FAST. (It's closer to the airport, so the taxi ride was cheaper.) After arriving in Oslo, I took another quick hop to London. At around 1pm London time, my vacation officially began.
Foreshadowing the rest of my vacation, I spent my first hour in London completely lost. After finally getting my bearings, I dropped off my bags at the Astor Victoria Hostel and set off to see as much of London as I could in the remaining daylight. That consisted of watching the guards at Buckingham Palace, walking through St. James Park, and exploring Piccadilly Circus. Next on the agenda was something I'd never done before: eating dinner at a real restaurant alone. It honestly wasn't that bad, but I wish I would have at least had a cell phone with me so I could have pretended I was waiting for someone. After dinner I walked by Big Ben and the Parliament building, and then met up at a pub with some of the IAESTE trainees who were working in London for the summer. (IAESTE is a beautiful thing. I didn't know anyone of them previously, but just sent an email to their mailing list before I left Norway.) It was a good time, but pubs all close at 11 in London, so it was an early night for me. Which was probably a good thing, since I again got horribly lost trying to find my way home. This led me to commit my first ever crime in the United Kingdom: public urination. Hey, you gotta go, you gotta go.
My second day in London started out at the British Museum, the most amazing museum I've ever seen. Rosetta Stone, prehistoric artifacts, mummies, african art, asian art. Fish and chips. After lunch, I took care of something that I'd been putting off all summer. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I finally got a haircut. For the low price of 5 pounds, no less. Next, I pranced my freshly shorn self over to the Imperial War Museum. This was also pretty cool, and they had an excellent Holocaust exhibit. At this point I'd spent just about enough time in museums for one day, but I still made a quick stop at the Natural Science Museum to check out the dinosaurs and the Charles Darwin exhibit. I put the capstone on this highly cultural day by viewing the film American Wedding before calling it an early night. (Don't know if anyone actually cares about my film reviews, but this one was about as good/bad as the second American Pie.)
My day started bright and early as I had to wake up at 4am to drag all of my bags to the Victoria Coach Station, where I was to catch a 1.5 hour bus to the London Stansted airport. (Note to self: Next time, figure out how far the airport is from the city before booking a 7am flight.) I can't complain too much though -- it only cost 20 quid to fly EasyJet from London to Rome. For some reason, European airlines like EasyJet and Ryanair don't seem to care about making money and let you fly for almost free if you book your flight a few weeks in advance. (People tell me that Ryanair made a profit last year, but they must run some kind of drug trafficking operation on the side.)
I actually managed to find my hostel in Rome (the Hotel Des Artistes) without any trouble, but I made up for that by getting hopelessly lost looking for the Coliseum. After a while I gave up and just went back to my hostel to take a nap. I lucked out -- the only room left in the hostel was some kind of closet with a cot, a nightstand, and a lock on the door. I woke up from my nap to find out that I'd slept through a huge downpour. It was pretty good timing -- that was the only time it rained on my whole trip.
After my nap, I decided to search for an authentic Italian restaurant. To me, one necessary requirement of an authentic restaurant is that the menu doesn't contain any English. But, I don't speak a word of Italian, and Italians in the south don't really speak much English. So, I just ended up finding an authentic restaurant, sitting down at a table, and pantomiming eating motions until the waiter finally just brought me something. It was really good (some kind of tube pasta with a meat sauce), but I still don't have any idea what it was called.
Buoyed on by my good luck with lunch, I again went out looking for the Coliseum. I again didn't find it, but I did find a few random statues before getting lost in the part of Rome where people sleep in cardboard boxes. After that I decided to call it a day, and headed back to the hostel to watch Italian MTV, use the free Internet, and chat with Americans.
Based on my failure to find anything interesting on my own, I decided to sign up for a guided tour of Ancient Rome. This was one of the best decisions that I made on my trip. Besides the fact that I actually knew what I was taking pictures of, it was nice to meet other English-speaking travellers. The tour took us to the Coliseum, a building called "Mussolini's Typewriter", the Trevi Fountain, the Pantheon, the Roman Forum, and many other places that I can't remember the names of. The best part was that I made some friends and finally had some company for dinner. My new friends were also heading to Florence the next day, so solo travelling wasn't looking quite as bad anymore.
Again, I had to wake up early to travel since the only good hostel I could find in Florence wouldn't take reservations. I caught the 6:30 train, and arrived in Florence around 8. I'm actually getting pretty good at finding hostels -- it took me less than half an hour of walking to find the Hostel Archi Rossi. After the now customary aimless wandering around the city, I was ready to see the sights in the afternoon. I started by going to the Duomo (big cathedral), and went from there to the Uffizi Gallery, which is supposed to be one of the most amazing art collections on the planet. I actually wasn't that impressed with the gallery, but I feel the same way about art that I do about jazz, wine, and sushi. I like it good enough, but I can't tell the difference between good and great. I was pretty exhausted after walking around the Uffizi for hours, so I just checked out a few of the bridges before heading home for a siesta. After the siesta, I picked up some pizza from a nearby store and spent the night playing cards with some fellow travellers.
On my second day in Florence, I met up with Lacy and Gina, the friends that I'd made in Rome. We started the day by climbing up to the top of the Duomo, where the view of Florence was amazing. After that, we went to see Michelangelo's David at the Galleria dell'Accademia. I mentioned earlier that I didn't have much taste for art, but David was pretty impressive. (As was the Digital Michelangelo exhibit.) Continuing with the Michelangelo theme, we travelled next to the Michelangelo Plaza for another great view of the city. Finally, we met up with my friends from the previous night for dinner and craic.
Today was mostly a travel day. My parents spent a summer working in Bologna when they were about my age (yikes!), so I decided to stop by there for a few hours to check the place out. Unfortunately, I didn't have a map and all of the tourist information offices were closed since it was a Sunday. So, I just wandered around for a few hours snapping pictures of anything that looked interesting. The best part of stopping in Bologna was the pizza I had for dinner -- by far the best food I had on my whole trip (until I got to Portugal).
I then continued my journey by taking a train to Milan, and then getting on the night train to Barcelona. I'd managed to put off making a train reservation for long enough so that the only seats they had left were in the sleeper cars. I slept like a baby, but my wallet didn't. I had to pay 60 euro for the reservation, on top of the $400+ I paid for my rail pass! That's what I get for trying to take the train in a country where I can't speak the language.
I woke up in Barcelona. Finally, a country where I can speak the language! Or to be more precise, used to be able to speak the language. It's been five years since I studied Spanish, but I should be able to get by, right? Not so fast... Besides the fact that I have a hell of a time trying to understand the Castillian accent, most of the signs are in Catalan, which is a completely different language. It's probably about as similar to Spanish as Portugeuse is to Spanish. And, if I've learned one thing this summer, it's that Portugal and Spain are very different in every respect. (And that anything similar is because the Spanish copied from the Portuguese.) But, enough cultural digressions for now. More on the Portuguese later...
My first Barcelona experience was emerging from the subway station onto La Rambla, the main street in the tourist section of Barcelona. It was quite the sensory overload. La Rambla is mostly comprised of roadside pet stores, street entertainers, beggars, and cafes with menus in English. And, of course, throngs of tourists wandering every which way.
I stayed in the Kabul Youth Hostel, one of the top ten party hostels in the world. When I arrived at my hostel around noon and saw that about half of the 15 other people in my room were still sleeping, I decided to take a siesta in preparation for the long day (and night) ahead. After awakening from my slumber, I decided to go looking for the Picasso Museum. It took me hours to find it, but along the way I ran across the Gothic Quarter, some big arch, and the Zoology Museum. When I finally got to Picasso, it turned out that it wasn't even open on Mondays! I should have read the Lonely Planet a little more thoroughly. I did get quite a tour of the city though, so I can't complain too much. I finished out the day by visiting the Olympic Stadium, which definitely wasn't worth the walk. Sometimes a stadium is just a stadium. It didn't compare to the Big House in Ann Arbor.
For dinner, I ate at one of the tourist traps near my hostel. Despite the fact that the menu was in English, the paella wasn't that bad. After dinner, I went back to my hostel and joined the party. Needless to say, I also slept in a bit the next day.
On Tuesday, I finally completed my Quixotic journey to the Picasso Museum. Like I said before, I'm not much of an art buff, but the museum was well organized and was pretty interesting. I spent the rest of the day visiting various works of Antoni Gaudi, the famous modernist architect. Yeah, I'd never heard of him before, but I found his work fascinating. The things I visited were the Sagrada Familia (a huge cathedral that's been under construction for around 100 years), Passeig Gracia (Gaudi designed several buildings on this street), and Parc Guell (a surreal park). Make sure to check out the pictures.
After a long day of walking, I settled down for a siesta and a paella before the party started. I tried to get to bed early in preparation for the long travel to Lisbon, but the people on the bottom bunk kept me up most of the night. Needless to say, I wasn't that disappointed to be finished with hostels for this trip.
The train from Barcelona to Lisbon stops in Madrid, so I spent a few hours walking around the city. Like Rome, Madrid is much too big to cover in a day, but I did manage to take in a little by stumbling around the downtown. I didn't take any worthwhile pictures, but I did find a damn good kebab for only 3 euro. Dare I say that it was even better than the ones in Norway...
Next on the agenda was the night train to Lisbon. I'd prepared a little better this time, and only had to pay 6 euro. Of course, this meant that I had to sleep sitting up, but I don't think that a good night's sleep is worth 54 euro. (Though I wasn't so sure when I arrived at Lisbon in the morning.)
I arrived in Lisbon around 8am, and was greeted at the train station by Rita and her mother. It's hard to express how nice it was to see a familiar face after ten days of traveling by myself, closely followed by the feeling of eating a warm, home-cooked Portuguese breakfast.
And this is where my travel journal gets tricky. Heretofore, I could bend the truth or even outright lie about what I did in a city, what my pictures are of, etc. But now, I feel like I'm being tested on how well I remember what I saw in Lisbon. Where did I put my Lonely Planet: Europe on a Shoestring? Okay, I found it. So here goes...
We began the tour of Lisbon by taking a ferry to Belem, home of a large monument to the Portuguese explorers. We then toured a monastery with some interesting architecture and a great view of the city. This was also where Rita gave me an English lesson. How am I supposed to know what the word "cloisters" means? After the monastery, my memory gets a little fuzzy. We took a lot of buses, looked at some cathedrals and museums, and walked around the downtown area (visiting Rita's favorite tree in Portugal). I got to sample many different traditional Portuguese food, including a cherry liquor called "ginginha." It wasn't the manliest drink in the world, but as the saying goes, when in Lisbon, do as the Lisboners do. Finally, we watched the sun set from an ancient castle, before returning home to Rita's place for my fourth or fifth meal of the day.
I may have forgotten to mention this earlier, but it was hot as hell in Lisbon. It was 37 degrees Celsius (almost 100 degrees Fahrenheit) in the shade, which gets a bit annoying when you're walking around all day. I guess I can't complain too much though -- it's rained almost every previous time Rita and I have been in the same city. The weather gods must be on vacation...
Anyway, today's agenda began with a drive to the nearby town of Sintra. Keep in mind that I haven't driven in three months, and the following excerpt from my Lonely Planet guide:
Lisbon Lunatics: If you are insane enough to try driving in Portugal, at least make sure that you're marginally more mentally stable that the average highway warrior. Many Portuguese drivers navigate twisting, mountainous terrain with all but suicidal confidence. Blind curves are taken at high speeds and passing is performed cavalierly -- to all appearances, the Portuguese believe in the existence of an invisible 'middle lane' in which accidents cannot occur. But they can: Portugal sports Europe's highest road fatality rate. Be very, very careful.
Things got a little interesting at times (especially since the reverse on Rita's car is where first gear is on my car), but I really didn't feel that the Portuguese were any worse drivers than the idiots you see around Stanford's campus. But I digress...
In Sintra, we visited a bizarre "holiday castle" of the royal family (built by a German, not a Portuguese, of course). If I were the King of Portugal, I'd have the castle decorator executed. But, the view from the castle was amazing, and Sintra was a beautiful town. We spent a little time walking around a local park before continuing to our next destination: the westernmost point in Europe. I dare say that the westernmost point in Europe would have been more interesting if I hadn't already seen the northernmost Burger King in the world, but I guess it's another nice notch on my belt. Afterwards, we headed to the beach for an hour or so. The beaches in Portugal are amazing. (As Ronan says, Portugal is the nicest beach in Spain.) I'll have to come back to try out the windsurfing when I have more time.
We started off my last day in Portugal by visiting Europe's largest aquarium. It was quite entertaining, but I've always been a sucker for aquariums. The rest of the day was pretty relaxed -- we went to a park, walked on the beach, and ate one last home-cooked meal before I frantically packed my bags to catch the night train to Madrid. I came a little closer to missing my train than I would have liked, but I guess that's what traveling is all about. Europe on a shoestring indeed...
I arrived back in Madrid at 8:30 in the morning hardly having slept a wink (but I saved another 54 euro!). My next task was to take the subway to the airport. It was pretty easy to figure out, but we were packed in the train like sardines. It brought back memories of taking the "Nattugla" bus home on weekend nights in Tromso. But with a little less Norwegian profanity...
After almost four hours spent going through check-in, security, and customs, I finally arrived at my gate. After all of the travelling just to get to the airport, I wasn't that excited about the 7.5 hour flight to Philadelphia. But I was in for a surprise: for the first time in my life, I actually sat next to a normal, interesting person (Squid the Mighty) on the airplane! I didn't get any sleep, but the flight definitely went by quickly.
My flight from Philadelphia to Detroit was delayed for an hour or two, but I finally made it home late Sunday night Michigan time, after more than 30 hours of travel. My first thoughts upon returning home:
Well, that brings you up to date on my trip, loyal readers.
