City Safari

Entries from July 2008

Dried fish snacks at midnight

July 18, 2008 · Leave a Comment

The midnight sun makes you feel like you’re on drugs. 

How else could the sky look as clear and blue as noon, while the light is yellow like a sunset?  This phenomenon happens in the arctic latitudes around June/July when the sun never dips below the horizon.  There’s 24-hours of daylight…spectacular, inexplicably magical, really-beautiful-but-I-wish-this-stupid-hostel-had-curtains-so-I-could-sleep daylight. 

I’m not sure how it feels for other people, but I believe our midnight sun euphoria was heightened by the Amazing Race challenges we had to surpass to get to our arctic sun-watching destination:

- Tempermental arctic weather forecast:  We obsessively stalked the forecast for two weeks on three websites before booking our flight the day before departure. As our plane departed, the forecast was for cloudless skies.  By the time we arrived several hours later, massive arctic cloud banks were gathering exactly where the sun would be dipping that night. 

- Location, location, location:  Immediately upon arrival in the Lofoten Islands, we realized that we couldn’t see the midnight sun from the southeastern side of the mountainous island where we booked our stay.  The sun dips in the northwest.  Yes, we were in precisely the right place notto see the sun.  And there was no rental car agency in the town of A i Lofoten, population 11, where our ferry docked. 

These are the mountains I'm talking about.

- Youth hostel, old people:  We booked our 2-night stay in a youth hostel, the only room available in high season.  Fab and I are both 37 years old.  A youth hostel is alsoprecisely the wrong place to be.  The hostel had bunk beds and handkerchiefs for curtains.  I repeat, handkerchiefs for curtains.  In the land of 24 hour sun.

As fake Amazing Race contestants, we were ready to kick some ass to see the midnight sun.  We were going to see the damn sun.  No matter what.

First off, we needed to get to the midnight sun watching spot.  Then we would deal with the clouds.   Our options: 

a) spontaneously hike 7 hours over a mountain pass to a spot on the uninhabited, north-facing other side of the island, hike back to hostel at 1am

b) bike 34 kilometers each way over above-pictured mountainous arctic terrain to northern beach, or

c) take a bus (which stopped running at 9pm) to a town 64 km away to pay exorbitant fee for the last rental car within a 3 island radius.  Car only available for 18.5 hours. 

We selected Option C.  And as we drove up at 11pm to our midnight sun watching spot, the clouds parted.  I swear. 

Okay, we’re not meteorologists and we were being a little paranoid.  I told you, the midnight sun is like drugs.  The cloud banks were never actually where the sun was dipping.  We were looking in the wrong spot.  But still.
The light is inexplicably beautiful and makes you do strange, cheesy things.  I was moved to take a picture of a white horse in a midnight sunny meadow, munching grass in the golden sun.  I’ll post it later, so you believe me. 
A little before midnight, a retired Norwegian fisherman and veteran of the north sea oil rigs stopped by our watching spot for a chat.  He was a tough salty sea dog.  Like all Norwegians, he spoke nearly perfect English and was extremely kind.  He offered us some of the dried cod he was carrying around in a plastic bag, a popular local snack, eaten right off the skin of the fish.  He left a little before midnight, giving us the rest of the fish, bag, skin and all, to snack on til til the sun started rising again. 
30am Lofoten

12:30am Lofoten

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Serves me right for sleeping in

July 9, 2008 · 2 Comments

Let me preface this adventure from my recent trip to England with the fact that I absolutely adore Kayte and her family and they are welcome in Oslo, New York, whereever, anywhere, anytime. 

 

- Kayte, forgive me for using your freaking adorable kiddies as fodder for my blog and more so, for the really hideous vocabulary lesson. 

- To all others, Kayte’s kiddies are under normal circumstances phenomenally well-raised, well-behaved and well-mannered British children who respond with statements like “Yes please, Daddy” when asked if they would like some milk.  

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I woke up to the sound of muffled children’s voices.  My ears were stuffed with foam earplugs.  More murmuring and giggles.  Behind the my thick, dark eye mask, I pretended to still be asleep in the guest bed at the far end of Jaego’s room. 

 

The 3-year old was usually up early and it sounded like Jess, Jaeg’s 2-year old sister, had waddled in to wake up her brother and play.  The kids whispered more in quiet voices, then scampered out of the room.      

 

I could still hear them talking softly and laughing in the hallway outside the bedroom.  I figured their mom, my friend Kayte, was still sleeping, so I pulled out my earplugs to keep an ear on them, thinking, it’s great that they can play together so nicely.

 

 Jess is a bit difficult for me to understand if she’s talking right to my face, much less in the other room, but I thought I heard her say, “Those yinn’s socks?  Those yinn’s socks.”  She pronounces my name with a silent “L”.  Why was she asking about my socks out there?  I thought I’d left them by the bed.  Oh well, maybe the kids had taken my socks out of the room and were playing with them.  No biggie. 

 

 Foreshadowing:  It is worth noting that Jess is into all things girly, shiny and pink.   My socks were none of these things.

 

I dozed in and out of sleep for the next 30 minutes or so, then decided to get up for good, carefully tip-toeing through the jungle of Jaeg’s plastic knights, wooden castles, and shoes toward the door.  My ugly green socks were still next to the bed.

 

Through the doorway, Jaeg’s round grinning mug in is the first thing I see.  His chubby round head is covered with the usual tousled mop of sandy blond curls and of course, he’s wearing his red and blue Spiderman pajamas, but there’s a new, thick coating of black paste covering his ruddy cheeks, nose, and forehead.  His bright blue eyes and grin smiling broadly behind the black muck. 

 

I am moderately confused.  “What’s that on your face?” I laugh, squatting down to touch some of the black crust on his cheek and hear a giggle to my right, coming from the bathroom. 

 

There’s Jess, her face marked with the same black crud in a slightly more sophisticated pattern kind of like a cat.  A big black Cheshire grin, black nose and long streaks of black goo in her strawberry blonde hair.  She’s wearing her pink flower nightgown, which also has the black mystery substance on both sleeves, and is holding a roll of toilet paper.

 

My eyes travel underneath the white pedestal sink to my paisley toiletry bag.  It’s overturned and is barfing all the airline regulation sized bottles out onto the white tile floor.  Half of them are open and oozing onto the tiles.  It kind of looks like each tiny bottle was set with a mini explosive device to detonate at the same time. 

 

 “Jesus Christ!” I curse in a whisper, trying not to wake Kayte.  The first bottle I see is the waterproof mascara tube, lying open on the orange bath mat, which is now covered with a waterproof pattern of black smudges.

 

“Shit!”  With each new discovery, there’s a new expletive, none of them fit for the kids’ ears.  My toothbrush is laying on the white floor tile, the bristles coated in mascara like thick eyelashes. 

 

 “What the fuck.”  There’s my lychee-scented body cream, antioxidant nighttime facial lotion, and SPF 45 sunscreen moisturizing the white porcelain of the sink and wood-patterned toilet seat. 

 

 “Why??”  My tiny bottle of prescription eye drops is also open, it’s pink lid off and mascara caked around the eye dropper.

 

Still squatting, I spin on my heels to face them.  I’m not a parent, but I guessed that I needed to make it clear that this was not okay… before I took photos of the hysteria for posterity.  “You knew this bag was mine.  You know you shouldn’t have touched something that wasn’t yours.  I think you owe me an apology.”  Jaeg’s lip trembled and a meek “sorry” emerged from the blackness of his face.  Jess just stared with big eyes, blinking through her cat mask. 

 

I reached into the bag for the unopened eye-makeup remover.  “So you know this stuff is permanent unless you use a special cleaner.  It will stay on you all day, all night, even in the swimming pool, forever…  Do you want to me to use the special cleaner to take it off?”  Big vigorous nods and wide blue eyes from both of them in response.

 

I started the scrubbing process with Jess, too young to know how to apologize, but old enough to know how to find and open everything with a pretty, girly pink lid within reach the bathroom. 

 

 

  Jess, suspected instigator and pink predator

 

  Jaegs, accomplice with alleged weapon of destruction

 

Categories: Uncategorized