Ok. Maybe not. But Norwegian fjords… You know, there’s been a lot of talk about them, and I know Slartibartfast won an award, but as you can see:
They are actually worth shouting about. And the mind-blowing thing is that, pretty as that picture is, it doesn’t even start to describe the real thing. I’d hardly seen the west coast at all until last August when I joined the rest of the family for a drive from Stryn to Bergen, and I was something akin to shell-shocked.
At least it’s ok to start feeling tired now, it’s bed-time. Well, not for me, not today, but had it been a normal Saturday I’d have been considering it for the last hour (but probably not gotten round to it for at least another two).
Need more coffee.
Vigelandsparken is a park in Oslo where Gustav Vigeland, a Norwegian sculptor, basically got to draw the layout and fill it with his own sculptures. The park is filled with sculptures of people – naked people, actually – and the nice thing about them is they are ‘real’ people. Some are thin, some are chubby, some are old some are young. A favourite passtime for kids is standing in front of the sculptures doing the same pose (at least it used to be). There are all sorts of poses, kids running, grown men fighting, a mother holding her child, a small boy stamping his foot and screaming (this is the most widely known scupture, called ‘Sinnataggen’). The focal point of the park is the monolith, which also depicts people – it’s that tall thing in this picture (which could have been taken today, weatherwise, but is actually from May last year).
And something more like a close-up:
My name, apparently, is Mad Morgan Kidd. My pirate name, that is.
Every pirate is a little bit crazy. You, though, are more than just a little bit. Even though you’re not always the traditional swaggering gallant, your steadiness and planning make you a fine, reliable pirate. Arr!
I like: “We are the paragon of humanity. You may worship us. From afar.”
*grin*
I’m not being nationalistic, really, I’m not, but Norwegian milk chocolate is better than any other chocolate, ever. While I was living in England I had to have people bring piles of it every time they visited. It’s the only thing I force people to try and look menacingly at them until they admit (or pretend to admit) that I’m right. I’m not even half that pushy over my favourite books, somehow I can accept that there can be two opinions about an author, but there cannot be any second opinion on Freias Melkesjokolade. It’s just not possible. Funnily enough there’s an long article in Aftenposten about it today (in Norwegian, though, unfortunately), which is a coincidence.
I’ve just been eulogising about Skittles in Norwegian, and found the Skittles webpage where you can create a virtual you – which I did… (Is posting about the same thing on both blogs cheating? Oh, who cares…)
Growing up in the seventies in Norway meant watching the one tv-channel for the children’s programmes every day. And at some point NRK must have hired some pretty odd people to do the scheduling. The shows I can remember the best include The Clangers (with a narrator speaking new norwegian), and that was the most normal show. Which tells you something. There was also Baltazar, which I’ve never heard of since, which was a cartoon about this mad scientist or wizard or whatever he was. Very Yellow Submarine-ish. Then there was Pernille and Mr Nelson, a puppet show. Mr Nelson spoke Norwegian with a very pronounced American accent and was a mean man. He was always being nasty to Pernille and then all of a sudden something would happen to scare him (“Jeg er redd, jeg, Pernille.”) and he’d look to her to sort it out. Very strange show. And then the perennial favourite: Pompel og Pilt. Also a puppet show it features two odd little characters who keep getting into trouble with the Janitor. The Janitor was very scary. If you sneak up to a 30ish Norwegian and whisper “Reparere, preparere, sabotere” in his/her ear you can watch them go pale. No, really.
Pizza definitely good. Coffee also good. Boyfriend making pizza and coffee very good.
Feeling eloquent.
Norwegian towns are nicely sized. Oslo, it must be admitted, is a little on the large side. I’m not terribly fond of big cities, and Oslo – though ‘big city’ is hardly correct in world-wide terms – with its population of roughly 1 million, is definitely too big to cycle across (unless you’re mad, obviously). I survive by living close enough to the centre that I can walk (though I prefer the tram). I would have liked to be able to cycle to work, but I can deal with the bus because one can read on the bus.
Trondheim is probably where I ought to be living. It’s such a nice comfortable size. It’s currently the fourth largest town in Norway (the order being Oslo, Bergen, Stavanger and Trondheim), but even Bergen and Stavanger are pretty comfortably sized. Still, Trondheim’s better. My parents living there helps, obviously. For webcam action from Trondheim and the surrounding area, go to Adresseavisa.