vacation

So, since last, I have been out on grand adventures. Not only on my snow scooter, (which at the moment is parked outside the hut awaiting my return), but i have actually left the island, flown half way across the world and spent three weeks prior to christmas in the wonderful land of Costa Rica.
To go into detail about all the crazy stuff that happened would probably take just as long as the trip itself, so i will therefore tell it in short. Very short. Notes more or less. I leave it to you to fill in the blanks, enjoy.

5 months of planning, 4 hours of packing, 15 new, never-met contacts, 3 phone numbers and 20 hours of continuous travel. One sick girl, full of fever the night before departure. 2 hours of sleep. One worried mother, one questioning father.
Up, down, seats back, belt buckles off, cramped toilets with water everywhere (where does it all come from?), numb feet, snoring all around, crash-learning spanish in-between fever dreams. Hola.
25 degrees, humid and dark. All alone, excited, scared and very sceptic. One phone call, 3 unknown friends, one kayak, one long drive. Up and around a volcano, fog, un-wanted sleep and a empty house. My house. Sleep.
Pinto (rice and beans), full to the brim, banned from english, just spanish. como estas?

Kayaking, warm water, jungle, beautiful bliss. meditation. happiness. Crash, no paddle, running on snake-paths, swimming. woops... pinapple, freshly picked bananas. "misplaced" money. Costa rica adventure.
First spanish conversation, 1 beer, 2 dollars, laughter. no entiende..
Kayaking, pure joy. paddle back. smooth smooth smooth. Fresh mango, hot sun. happy happy happy.
Broke. que?

Unexpected surprise, good times with the family, up, down, all around. Ice cream, rain, rain, rain, flood. time to go. money exchanging hands, cheated again.
Excited, new place, more paddling, good friends, known friends.
Bus ride, warm tears on hotter cheeks, everything gone... que pecao!

paddling capital, no stuff, broke, still sick and the non stop rain.
Rafting, promises that never get fulfilled, hot thermal pools, jungle trips, crazy birds, colorful fruits.
Amazing sushi.
Canyoning, waterfalls and scared tourists. Engulfed in books and strange people. They are everywhere, detectives, lottery salesmen, waiters, locals and lonley tourists.
Endless conversations, life stories, emails promised that will never be written, endless amount of spanish, hand gestures. smiles. si, si, si

3 weeks, 5 new friends, 1 new language, 1 new culture, 0 dollars. 3 flights, 20 hours, freckles and a small tan-line only visible in the strongest light, 3 "random" security checks, one last home grown coffee. One flight almost missed, one very angry border-lady picking a fight, one very hungry girl, one very relieved mother.
home.
feliz navidad.

the joys of motorized vehicles

I know in these times of eco-friendliness, where we are all trying to save the planet more or less, buying a machine that spews out gas like there is no tomorrow might not be a very value-based decision. But it for some reason doesnt seem to cross my mind as the sound of the engine drowns out my thoughts and i fly over fields of bumps and jumps.
I have gone over to the dark side, forgotten all my friluftsliv values and been reincarnated as evil itself. A pure manifestation.

I have bought myself a snow scooter. And its purple.

Yes, you are allowed to loathe me. I mean, first of all i live on Svalbard, the most environmentally unfriendly place you could live in the world, and i now zoom back and forth on this precious island on a man-made motorized spewer of gas that leads back to the oil companies who so cruelly suck it out and is the root of evil and corruptness in this world. You can send me thoughts of utter disappointment of my lack of responsibility, morals and judgement if that needs be. I will give it some serious thought... for a minute. These thoughts can be sent while picturing me with the wind whipping my face, teeth sticking out everywhere from the hopeless grin spread across it, eyes concentrating under goggles, snow spreading out like waves on the sides and powder flying in the air. If you want.
I have become a wild post-modern cowgirl, in this crazy texas i now live in and there is nothing that is going to keep me from discovering all of this glacier covered island on my purple stallion.

Did i mention the ducktape on the seat covering up the tracks of a nosy polar bear? Thats what i call a trophy! This babay has had an interesting previous life, which im sure is just going to get even better in the upcoming months.

Snow scooter season has just started here last week, and the normally quiet place in which i live is now, right in the middle of the track. I am not the only one going buck wild and so day and night goes by to the sound of zooming scooters. Just another reminder that winter is upon us and the time for fun and games has started. The scooter course for kids is starting up next week, only requirements are personal equipment and the child has to be older than 5. This is Svalbard.

If the sensation to try this wonderful beast becomes to great, the even more horrible flying machine touches down in longyearbyen every afternoon and i will happily be waiting outside on the stallion. The back seat even has handwarmers.
But caution should be advised; the enjoyment can lead to a lack of morals and eco friendly judgement. Zoom Zoom

Captain Friluftsliv comes to svalbard

Friluftsliv is a very special norwegian word. Its something etched into every norwegians heart and is so personal and serious that there is a whole philosophy, or one could say, ideology around the subject. Friluftsliv is a word that is un-translatable to any other language, it is a feeling, a state of mind and a way of life.

It all started with the noble savages of the mountains, the people living off and for the nature. Apparantly Norwegians are the last noble savages still living in Europe, and we will always be as well, because of Filuftsliv. Friluftsiv is the joy of being outside, the feeling of wonder that can be found and the learning processes that arrive from spending un-planned time without rules in free nature (nature that has no human interference). Friluftsliv is the anarchy of outdoor-life, and is not definable.

A lot of people all over the world love nature, love being in it and love the mystification that nature is, but none like the noble savage. The Danish love nature, but they dont care that theyre boat isnt made out of wood, and the beer they might bring is a sure sign that theyre only a poser, a fake. This is not friluftsliv. The noble savage knows this. He knows that Friluftsliv is a seriuos buisiness, not something you enjoy a cold beer while doing and that to become a true noble savage, the equipment used is of the biggest importance. (Of course, the subject is supposed to be un-defined, but every rule has a loop-hole and by defining what it isnt, one can get a picture of this un-defined-defined thing.)

The equipment is like i said, of the greater importance, because as a true norwegian and noble savage, only the purest and most natural equipment is allowed or approved. This means fibre clothing, cotton, wool and natural products like wooden skis. plastic skis will never come close to natural wooden skis and gore tex made from the dreaded oil that the same noble savages were the inventors of, is a NO-NO, windproof or not.
This is a part of the norwegian identity, the norwegian culture and heritage. No other place in the world are people born with skis on their feet, a love for brown cheese and friluftsliv in their heart. nine out of ten say so, its a fact. This is tree-huggers universe, Norway.

Of course there are ways of learning Friluftsliv, but like any education, one has to learn from a proper master. This being a CONWAYER, not a convayer, there is a huge difference. Con being the latin or spanish word for "with" and way, just meaning that exactly, "way". Put together you have a with-wayer, which is supposed to mean, "somenone to show you the way", in Norwegian its called a "Vegleder". Of course translating this is also very hard. At least an attempt has been made. The norwegian mind being as complicated as it is, its hard to express certain things in languages that just aren't as adequate. But back to the CONWAYER; his job is to pass on the knowledge, the philosophy, the life of this tradition to en extent that the "conwayed" becomes a noble savage, or as close to one as possible. It is a spreading movement started at the heart of this very long but un-populated country, however it is also a dying movement, as the amount of "free nature" is decreasing rapidly all over the world. We might, yet again, be stuck with being the country that invented the cheese slicer and oil.

The problem lies in all the unspoken rules attached to Friluftsliv; that man should be alone in nature, planning is ruining the moment, and the exclusion of a lot of activities. For example, once you have planned going from point A to B, it is no longer Friluftsliv, because of the time pressure.
Climbing is the holy grail of noble savages, it is the one true sport, no matter that today climbing is an equipment eldorado, and nothing near as pure as it once was. In comparison sports like surfing and downhill skiing are not Friluftsliv because of the wetsuit and skis used. Snowscooters should not even be used as a means of transport to get places because the noise may ruin another skiers experience as you zoom past. Experiences are ruined because of little uncontrollable things like a boat passing in the far distance, because the complete solitude is a must.

These rules dictate what in theory is a rule-free place. A sanctuary from the rules and conformities we experience in every day life. Most norwegians, be they noble savages or not, have a special kinship to nature, as most people on the planet. We are not special in that sense, all humans are drawn towards the natural, the ancestry notions of our past. Being outside, whether it is snowboarding whilst wearing gore tex, eating candy instead of an orange, surfing in a wet suit or climbing with heaps of gear, the factors are still the same. Human enjoyment in the outdoors. Of course it is important to stop and think over once in a while what our values are; why we are doing what we are doing, why we choose to wear what we wear and what words we choose to use. Surrounded by choices, money and time we have the opportunity to do almost whatever we please, whenever we please. the traditional Friluftsliv values might have something going for them, as long as one can put them in a context that fits in with the values one holds. Being "Conwayed" into thinking that this is the only way of experiencing nature, without using ones brain to mull it over, might be just as dangerous as being the ignorant equipment freak who cant experience nature without it.

Darkness

The sun has left Longyearbyen a few weeks ago now, and darkness is pulling its thick dark blanket over us a little more for each day that goes by. Winter is slowly creeping in through the crack in the front door, and the face numbing chill arrives ever more often, with more fervor than before. Soon there will be no destinction between day and night, it will all be as one, complete dark, and only the steady tick of the clock will let us know if we are supposed to be moving somewhere. Candles are burnt more often, sleep comes more frequent at uncertain times of the day and creative productivity rises with the notion that time is standing still in this constant state of dark. There is no need to hurry anywhere, time is no longer going, its coming. Music played loudly becomes the sign that a new day has arrived, getting softer through out the day. Headtorches become the new accessory along with reflective clothing. We are all a mix of reflections and light, bobbling along, huddled together, trying to minimize the effects of the constant wind that makes the cold seem even colder and cuts in to the bone. The paleness of the skin becomes ever more evident for each day passing, and the pictures taken portrays us like ghosts. No function on the camera can take away natural paleness. Soon we will be as white as the mighty polar bear itself, and blend into the harsh white environment with only the darkness of our pupils giving a sign of life.
But the blanket of darkness is not all black. Stars fill the skies, the moon reflecting in the ocean and the snow seems to absorb the darkness ever so much. Northern lights play across the sky most nights. Light is in a different phase, it portrays itself in more diffuse and softer tones than the sun can muster and plays along with the darkness rather than cutting it short.
I will be under this thick blanket for the next four months, untouched by natural sunlight, enveloped in shades of white, gray, black and blue. The number of inhabitants is decreasing rapidly, the tourists gone, and while the thought of complete darkness is still a romantic one, time will tell if these thoughts are seen in the same light, come March. Will creativity persevere or will I be overwhelmed in darkness of both mind and soul?

multi day hiking

Time came round quite fast for our second bigger trip this semester, the grand ol multiday hike. Five days walking in the area known as Nordenskiold state park, bringing a grand total of about 70 km to be put behind us. My group had spent the last weeks planning and looking forward to this trip, counting down the days, but also having in the back of our minds that this could go very wrong. Maybe the group wouldn’t be able to work well together, maybe all the planning wouldn’t be enough and what if, god forbid, we got rabies or even worse, tapeworms?!

First of all I would like to point out how much planning is behind a trip like this.. We were split into four groups of four, told the outline of the trip and from that we had to plan the entire trip down to the last detail. This takes time, there are so many factors to have in mind and so much to research, and even so everything can change once the trip starts. The only thing one has to rely on whilst on the trip is the preparations and planning one has done before leaving. Hopefully this was done thoroughly and will prove to be enough.

Anyway, the goals for this trip were first, that each student in each group would guide their respective co-students for a full day, and some (like me) would get to guide two days, and second, to become experts in navigation. I don’t think I have stared so much at a map as I have done the last week. My eyeballs have been sore every night from trying to extract crucial information from a map that hasn’t been updated since 1995 and is in the measurements 1:100 000. This means that one cm on the map is one km in reality, which also means that even the smallest shadow on the map is potentially a very steep area. Not to mention that Svalbard is constantly in movement and changing with each year and so a lot is missing from the map one could say. Being surrounded by fog a lot of the time makes one especially prone to being able to read a map very well.

The Norwegian way of walking, with a huge backpack that leans on ones hips so that its impossible to walk upright and one is constantly leaning forward is perfect for navigating. As ones head is already faced downwards towards the ground and not at the scenery around, holding a map up to your face isn’t obstructing the view so much. It also is a very good excuse for not having to look anyone in the eye, which is what we Norwegians like anyway and we can therefore walk in silence, not having to be disturbed by other humans or the view and instead the comforting ground can put our nerves to rest and we yet again feel like we are a part of our descendants, honoring the nature like only true Norwegians can. Digressing.. yes I know, back to the trip shall we?

We had boots that were made for walking, and that’s pretty much all that we did. Ten hours a day we walked. We walked in sunshine, in rain, in frost, in snow, in fog, through dry moss, wet moss, small rocks, big sliding rocks, up mountains, down mountains, next to mountains, on glaciers, next to glaciers, in rivers.. I think you get the picture. Short story short, we walked while navigating and navigated while walking. Maybe this doesn’t sound like a lot of fun, but to tell you the truth; we had a lot of fun. Our backpacks molded into our bodies and we became one, trustworthy backpack and Homo sapiens, in the great outdoors. The rocks that always seemed to pop up from under the tent just as one was going to bed, placed of course in the most uncomfortable spots, became something like bookshelves for ones body, holding oneself in a desired position decided by the rocks. The way too thin sleeping bag I had brought with me to decrease the weight on my back made me joyful in the mornings, knowing I had made it through yet another night, curled up like a ball between rocks sticking through my mat, trying to keep as much warmth from escaping. Our shoes, even though soaking or frozen solid, always seemed to fit our feet better than the day before, and so it is that I can say that we, the guides of tomorrow, were defiantly made for walking!

Svalbard in autumn is a beautiful time of year, the northern lights come out as soon as it’s a clear night, and most nights so far, the lights have been there. All though the weather is very unpredictable and there also is a lot of fog surrounding the lower parts of the mountains, the sun still shines, the nights are dark and the air is so crisp and fresh. The days get shorter by 20 min every third day and snow is covering the mountains and flying in the air. The top layer of the perm-frosted ground is re-freezing, and walking becomes a breeze in the mossier places, but way more slippery and difficult in the rockier areas. Every day is different from the last and predicting what’s going to happen next is close to nil. It’s exciting to say the least and often enough provides a challenge. For example, when we were doing a day hike up “Håbergnuten”. The weather forecast was; sunny, clear skies and below zero temperatures. Instead, we woke up to thick fog and rain, which turned into thick fog and frost the higher up we got, which at a certain altitude disappeared and we found ourselves up above the fog in clear skies and sunshine with not a cloud in sight, only to turn back into thicker fog and snow on the way down again.

The last days of the trip was spent walking through a thin layer of snow and at the end of the trip, even though we were still pumped up to walk some more, the showers, sauna and a warm bed called out to us ever so lightly and didn’t take much convincing to say good day and go home. We had made it through, the group worked as well as we had hoped, the planning was more than enough and no tapeworm or rabies has been discovered so far. 70 km was put under the soles of our shoes and perfectly content and happy, Friday evening rolled around.

about cleaning the ocean and becoming a pirate

On being a hippy:
Last weekend i was so lucky to be able to be apart of World Wildlife Funds, in cooperation with the norwegian state, course in how to clean up after oil spills. I had my doubts about how fun this weekend could actually be, after looking at the program, but decided to do it anyway. I mean, we got free lunch and two free dinners at quite a nice restaurant, so i wasn't going to miss out! It turned out to be better than expected. The two main speakers where from Fiskebøl, in Lofoten, which says it all. Their company, consisting of 70 people, is twice the size of the towns population.. They were of course very norwegian- fisherman like, which for those of you who doesn't know what that is, ill try to explain.

this is VERY generalized! Norwegian fisherman, especially from Lofoten, have a very thick "L" for one thing, they have their own sense of humor which usually consists of stories that are remembered by a wink and/or a nod and a small sentence that makes sure NO ONE else has a clue as to what they are laughing about. They drink their coffee strong and black with maybe a sugar on the side, milk is for pussys, slurping as they sip from the cup (some might even pour it on to their saucer and slurp it from there) and think that they are the only ones who know anything about REAL manly man fishing, because the weather doesnt ever get as bad as it does in Lofoten. And no matter how harsh times you have had, they have ALWAYS had it worse. (they usually have as well). Their english; so-so.. they don't need it, why would they leave Lofoten, and who do these americans think they are?!

Anyway, now that we know that, these two guys, very concerned about the ocean and environment were very keen and passionate which made the course a fair bit more interesting, as power-point, by power-point went by. They managed of course to say a lot about how terrible americans are at cleaning up oil, and if THEY, the true men of the north had had a real chance of cleaning up the oil in the gulf last year, the world would pretty much be a much better place. It seems as if we might have had world peace if these guys had lead the way, no task is too small, apparently.
Knowing this, we tried our best to please these people and to make them proud as we sat around a 2 by 2 meter pool full of oil and tried to clean it all out. Its amazing how slow this work actually is, we were 5 people on this little area and spent 45 min cleaning the oil out! But its effective and it works.
My german greenpeace friend doesn't understand why all the people on the oil-cleaning pictures are so happy, i tried explaining to her that its either from all the free stuff one gets for being a "volunteer" that makes everyone so happy or the fumes one is constantly sniffing, but that didn't go down very well. Maybe its just from their great love of cleaning up oil instead, who knows. I was quite happy though, and so was my stomach after the weekend, sound mind, sound body...
SO when the next oil spill happens, i will be down in the muck and the mile and enjoying the free stuff, looking happy on pictures, sniffing the oil and doing the dirty work. I am a qualified oil-spill-cleaner, yes i am.

On becoming a pirate:
Its important when becoming a UNIS student that one knows how to drive a small boat, a.k.a Zodiacs. Don't ask me why this is important seeing as we are not allowed to borrow the zodiacs UNIS has, and we have no trips involving a zodiac, but hey im not complaining, i got to play around in a boat.
Day one of the course started out well, we learned how to put the boat together and how the engine works and so on. For a small boat, it sure has a big engine, i guess it needs to have to be able to go through these waters. However, the course took a quick turn in a completely new direction when the OTHER group, not mine, managed to blow up the floor of one of the boats.. well done.. so the rest of the day was spent inhaling glue on the floor, repairing what we had broken. I quite like fixing rafts, and this is practically the same, so two stars in the book later, the boat was good as new, maybe even better i would say as the cocky norwegian that i am.
Day two was even more exciting as we got to drive our own boat on the ocean. I don't know who's idea it was to put students like us, by ourselves, in our own boat, in the arctic ocean and just say: go, play... whose ever idea this was, THANK YOU. We were all looking quite stupid in our survival suits (see picture below), with a rifle and a flair gun bumping around in the boat, but thats whats needed up here.A word of precaution, dont wear a signal gun around your waist when jumping around in a boat, as landing on it will give bruising.
We were three happy monkeys in my boat and zooming around, jumping on waves, trying to surf and seeing how fast the boat could possibly go was quite an adventure. I dont think i can explain our face as we drove off, but it looked on some as if their jaw wasn't able to handle the hugeness of their smile.
It was quite windy actually and so we had great waves to jump along and really got to know what its like driving in rougher water. (nothing near rough water in Lofoten, of course)

of course, after lunch, in true style, things took a different turn again.. ANOTHER group managed to break their boat. No one knows how they actually managed it, but the whole front of the boat deflated and they needed to be towed in to land. Coincidentally this was the same group that exploded the floor the previous day.. need i say more? nay.
6 hours later, one boat less and no survival suit, we three monkeys were quite happy with the days proceedings and felt that yes, we are quite good drivers of this fine machinery, maybe even exceptionally good. Maybe even good enough to start doing this for a living, all we are missing is an arctic parrot, some rum and for my sake a beard.
YARR..

pics