Or so it seems. I think I may be the only one in this first class carriage. Definitely worth the extra £5! On the train from Birmingham back to London, typing on the phone again. Today was a rather different ride from yesterday. For one, it wasn't pissing down great buckets of rain, which made a nice change. Still grey and cold, but that doesn't bother me as long as I don't have to dump out my shoes! I started off in Hereford, after my obligatory full English (minus the tomatoes and mushrooms, of course).
I spent about an hour walking around Hereford, which is actually a really nice town. Think I want to go back there. Today's cycling, 61 miles, was through rolling farmland. Corn, wheat, rapeseed and hops mostly. Nearly all of it was on little pissant country roads. I love those roads. I have to say, the USA really lost something by insisting on sensible roads. They do emphasise though how terrific it is to have a GPS on one's bike, bc omg I would have been hopelessly lost otherwise! This country must have been truly impossible to navigate during the war, when they took all the signs down! Anyway, I ended up in Birmingham, which, even more than London, seems to have really shitty areas right up next to posh ones. Unlike London, however, when the city was obliterated during and after the war, it was redesigned for the car, which means enormous roads, one way systems and roundabouts, not to mention dreary brutalist architecture and no real defined centre. Fortunately, they are doing a lot to gentrify and rebuild the centre and, of course, the gays are moving in! I hung out with Matt for a bit in his new flat with a fantastic view of the city and all the new builds. So, a pretty good way to spend two days. I saw a new part of Tue country, I've gotten to eat huge amounts of carbs, and now I get to sit in my very own first class carriage being a stinky slob and not caring!
Monday, 4 June 2012
In a class of my own
Sunday, 3 June 2012
Jubilee Bike Ride
Well, ok, so it wasn't exactly a traditional Jubilee activity. Part of me kind of wishes I'd been on the river today to watch all the ships go by. I'm not much of a royalist, but you gotta give Her Maj some credit for sticking with her job for 60 years! Anyway, I took the opportunity to do a 2 day bike ride, my first in over a year, from Cardiff to Birmingham. I'm typing this on my phone, which is extremely slow and tedious. My shoulder aches and is annoying, but I seemed to have made it through the first day ok, about 68 miles. The weather, initially, was ok until I headed north, away from the coastal plain. Not surprisingly, just a little bit of lift was all it took for mile after mile of rain, the last 15 or so torrential. I had purchased these waterproof shoe covers. They were great until those last 15 miles, when the water just ran down my legs (I was wearing shorts) and pooled up in my waterproof shoes. I don't mind riding in the rain as long as I stay dry, but the last 15 miles were just terrible. The scenery was beautiful, but all I could think of was a nice shower. Finally made it to this very nice little hotel in Hereford, absolutely full of Titanic photos. I'm not sure the woman who runs the place was very impressed by this drowned rat that showed up at her door! So I showered, had a yummy pub dinner, and decided I couldn't he bothered to walk around Hereford in the wet and the cold. Maybe tomorrow morning. Ah, I forgot, I was actually rather surprised how many Union Flags were flying in Wales. Maybe not as many as in England, but still a pretty good show for a bunch of grumpy nationalists who speak a silly language! Ok, tired of thumb typing. More tomorrow, as my thumbs allow.
Sunday, 22 April 2012
Sunday evening stitch and bitch
Well, I suppose not much stitch - mostly bitch, and not really much of that. OK, I just needed a title.
David and I had a nice day today - we spent the day walking from here to Dulwich for Sunday lunch. The weather held out right until the end, at which point it settled into a fairly heavy piddle (not quite pouring rain). We spent much of the time peering into different people's front gardens - hmm, how do they do their plants - how do they utilise their space? Ooh, isn't that a nice Japanese maple, and look at that fuchsia! God, I'm becoming middle aged and middle class. The walk was capped off by a trip to the garden centre (of course), where we picked up a new doormat and 8kg of pelletised chicken shit. It's good stuff, that chicken shit - both for fertilising the plants (and not requiring us to use our now outlawed hose to spread Miracle Grow), and for getting vans unstuck from ice. Also, nothing says romantic walk like 8kg of chicken shit. ;-)
Leonel popped by this evening - finally managed to get the stupid bike tyre back on my old bike - I certainly couldn't do it. Yeah, that was good for my manhood - can't even change a tyre. Sigh.
Anyway, time to get my lunch ready for tomorrow - another fun Monday morning. Yippydoo!
David and I had a nice day today - we spent the day walking from here to Dulwich for Sunday lunch. The weather held out right until the end, at which point it settled into a fairly heavy piddle (not quite pouring rain). We spent much of the time peering into different people's front gardens - hmm, how do they do their plants - how do they utilise their space? Ooh, isn't that a nice Japanese maple, and look at that fuchsia! God, I'm becoming middle aged and middle class. The walk was capped off by a trip to the garden centre (of course), where we picked up a new doormat and 8kg of pelletised chicken shit. It's good stuff, that chicken shit - both for fertilising the plants (and not requiring us to use our now outlawed hose to spread Miracle Grow), and for getting vans unstuck from ice. Also, nothing says romantic walk like 8kg of chicken shit. ;-)
Leonel popped by this evening - finally managed to get the stupid bike tyre back on my old bike - I certainly couldn't do it. Yeah, that was good for my manhood - can't even change a tyre. Sigh.
Anyway, time to get my lunch ready for tomorrow - another fun Monday morning. Yippydoo!
Saturday, 21 April 2012
Thirteen Years and a Bottle of Pop
So, in the fairly laid back participatory democracy that is our relationship, we decided a number of years ago that 23 April would be our official anniversary. Why is this? Well, mostly because Captain Organisation (David) once looked up on his credit card statement and found that was the day we went to River, a very nice (and, unfortunately, now defunct) Vietnamese restaurant on the Upper West Side. We'd met some time previously (can't remember the date) at the Y (not just any Y, THE Y, of song). We had dinner after that at Burritoville (where Barbarella was on endless repeat), but, somehow, that didn't count. River did, probably in part b/c I was hauled before the examination board after that (his friends) to see if I measured up. Anyway, as my unnaturally young co-worker pointed out to me last week, he would have been ten when David and I met. Nice.
I think we're going to go for a nice walk tomorrow - take David to Dulwich Park, where he's never been, and then we'll go for Sunday Roast (yum!) in Dulwich Village.
Not a bad way to spend part of the day - especially if it doesn't piss it down with rain. We're having a drought, you see. A bad one. The worst in 100 years. At the moment, there are giant buckets of water pouring out of the sky. Ooh, now it's hailing. Anyway, it has actually been very dry for the past two years, so one shouldn't complain about all the rain over the past week or so (still, this being England and it being an opportunity to moan and bitch, people are taking full advantage!).
My shoulder is getting better. It's moved from triple decker ice cream suck down to just occasionally sucky. I still have trouble sleeping in my favourite position at night (on my front, sort of spreadeagle, like I was just dropped from a very high height) and my gym workout is pretty weenielicious. Still doing physiotherapy as well - will do that until the private insurance runs out! But - today was the first day back on my bike (I can't even begin to expound on how happy that made me), so there may actually be some hope, though I still need to be very careful. Having an MRI on Tuesday to have a good old nose around to see if I actually did any permanent damage (hopefully not!).
I still need to get the pics up from when Mom was here. That really was fun - I can't believe that she left over a week ago, or that she was here for nearly two weeks! Being a visit that involved me, there was very little time to sit around here and navel gaze. Last time she was here (2006!) we did the London touristy stuff, so this time we ventured further afield. Of course, we had to do some oldy-worldy stuff (Hampton Court Palace, for example), but we went down to Brighton for the afternoon, spent a few days in Scotland, as well as a few in Brussels.
David came with us up to Edinburgh. We took the train - first class - which was actually pretty swank, and not bad, save for getting stuck for 3 1/2 hours and finally shunted onto another train. Apparently, the massive weight of the half inch or so of snow that fell (the temperature dropped from about 75 to freezing about the time Mom god here - nice). Anyway, the massive weight of the nearly non-existent snow in the north of England knocked down the power lines onto the train ahead of us (still stuck in place, with people on it, when we passed, hours later). Well, Mom wanted a real British travel experience... Anyway, we stayed at a really nice B&B in Edinburgh, just at the food of Arthur's Seat, not far from where I lived when I was a student there. I have to admit, I still have a soft spot for Edinburgh and still think I could very happily live there - crappy weather and all... And the weather was awful. Rain and snow and hail and blowing wind. It did improve, towards the end... Didn't stop us from wandering all over the centre of the city, nor going on the (wet and windy!) castle tour. I even, much to my great surprise, got Mom to walk nearly all the way up to the top of Arthur's Seat (old volcanic plug - 823 feet tall), from where you can see the entire city.
We hired a car and drove up into the Highlands on one of the days - about a 200 mile loop. I'd not driven in the UK for 6 years (since the last time she was here), so it was a little awkward shifting with my left hand at first - only tried to open the door once and only killed the engine on a hill once though - not bad. (I also accidentally blurted out the F-word with Mom in the car when I killed the engine - I mean FUDGE!). Oh well.
Our other trip was on the Eurostar to Brussels. Fortunately, there were no train troubles this time, well, not with our train anyway. It being Brussels, the entire transport system was on strike for the entire week, which made getting around town slightly difficult. The weather was also just about as nice as it was in Edinburgh. Fortunately, Mom had a waterproof coat and was a good sport about it. We stayed right in the middle of town, at the Marriott (very swank) and walked and walked and walked. Ooh, I tried horse in Brussels - very yummy - sort of like a cross between bison and kangaroo (buffaloo?). Also tried haggis and black pudding in Scotland - not so yummy. Anyway, yeah, we walked around the centre of Brussels a lot. Went one day down to Waterloo to see the Napoleon monument. We walked several miles in the pouring rain there - Mom was pretty sure the locals were laughing at us.
Funny moment - I had completely forgotten that La Demence (big gay dance club) was happening that weekend in Brussels, nor did I have any idea where the hotel was where most of the guys were staying. So, of course, when we're walking down this street, I start noticing a very large number of gay men hanging around - most of them dressed to go out (ie., not for the weather). Even Mom noticed - that's how many there were. We walk by this hotel - the Royal Windsor Hotel - and it dawns on me - OMG, only I would manage to walk right by the absolute epicentre of trashy gay-ness with Mom in tow. Nothing says sexy like showing up in sensible and comfortable clothing, along with one's mother. Oh well. Anyway, I think both of us really enjoyed the time, and it was really difficult to send her off on the train to Heathrow. Need to start work now to ensure that it's not another six years.
Speaking of work - they have agreed that I should take a DBA course, which will end up being a very good CV builder - esp if I can move us onto PostGIS from Oracle! I have this recurring dream of trying to get to some far away, absurd place via public transportation, usually in the snow and usually barefoot. Over the several years I've had this dream, I've decided it has to do with me feeling stuck at work - feeling unprepared to get to whatever far away destination I had in mind. Will have to see if that dream changes (it's different every time, yet always the same). Right, I'm starting to blather, and it's time to get more junk food. I keep getting distracted by Star Trek, which David has on the televator. I really am like a deer in headlights. Moo.
Not a bad way to spend part of the day - especially if it doesn't piss it down with rain. We're having a drought, you see. A bad one. The worst in 100 years. At the moment, there are giant buckets of water pouring out of the sky. Ooh, now it's hailing. Anyway, it has actually been very dry for the past two years, so one shouldn't complain about all the rain over the past week or so (still, this being England and it being an opportunity to moan and bitch, people are taking full advantage!).
My shoulder is getting better. It's moved from triple decker ice cream suck down to just occasionally sucky. I still have trouble sleeping in my favourite position at night (on my front, sort of spreadeagle, like I was just dropped from a very high height) and my gym workout is pretty weenielicious. Still doing physiotherapy as well - will do that until the private insurance runs out! But - today was the first day back on my bike (I can't even begin to expound on how happy that made me), so there may actually be some hope, though I still need to be very careful. Having an MRI on Tuesday to have a good old nose around to see if I actually did any permanent damage (hopefully not!).
I still need to get the pics up from when Mom was here. That really was fun - I can't believe that she left over a week ago, or that she was here for nearly two weeks! Being a visit that involved me, there was very little time to sit around here and navel gaze. Last time she was here (2006!) we did the London touristy stuff, so this time we ventured further afield. Of course, we had to do some oldy-worldy stuff (Hampton Court Palace, for example), but we went down to Brighton for the afternoon, spent a few days in Scotland, as well as a few in Brussels.
David came with us up to Edinburgh. We took the train - first class - which was actually pretty swank, and not bad, save for getting stuck for 3 1/2 hours and finally shunted onto another train. Apparently, the massive weight of the half inch or so of snow that fell (the temperature dropped from about 75 to freezing about the time Mom god here - nice). Anyway, the massive weight of the nearly non-existent snow in the north of England knocked down the power lines onto the train ahead of us (still stuck in place, with people on it, when we passed, hours later). Well, Mom wanted a real British travel experience... Anyway, we stayed at a really nice B&B in Edinburgh, just at the food of Arthur's Seat, not far from where I lived when I was a student there. I have to admit, I still have a soft spot for Edinburgh and still think I could very happily live there - crappy weather and all... And the weather was awful. Rain and snow and hail and blowing wind. It did improve, towards the end... Didn't stop us from wandering all over the centre of the city, nor going on the (wet and windy!) castle tour. I even, much to my great surprise, got Mom to walk nearly all the way up to the top of Arthur's Seat (old volcanic plug - 823 feet tall), from where you can see the entire city.
We hired a car and drove up into the Highlands on one of the days - about a 200 mile loop. I'd not driven in the UK for 6 years (since the last time she was here), so it was a little awkward shifting with my left hand at first - only tried to open the door once and only killed the engine on a hill once though - not bad. (I also accidentally blurted out the F-word with Mom in the car when I killed the engine - I mean FUDGE!). Oh well.
Our other trip was on the Eurostar to Brussels. Fortunately, there were no train troubles this time, well, not with our train anyway. It being Brussels, the entire transport system was on strike for the entire week, which made getting around town slightly difficult. The weather was also just about as nice as it was in Edinburgh. Fortunately, Mom had a waterproof coat and was a good sport about it. We stayed right in the middle of town, at the Marriott (very swank) and walked and walked and walked. Ooh, I tried horse in Brussels - very yummy - sort of like a cross between bison and kangaroo (buffaloo?). Also tried haggis and black pudding in Scotland - not so yummy. Anyway, yeah, we walked around the centre of Brussels a lot. Went one day down to Waterloo to see the Napoleon monument. We walked several miles in the pouring rain there - Mom was pretty sure the locals were laughing at us.
Funny moment - I had completely forgotten that La Demence (big gay dance club) was happening that weekend in Brussels, nor did I have any idea where the hotel was where most of the guys were staying. So, of course, when we're walking down this street, I start noticing a very large number of gay men hanging around - most of them dressed to go out (ie., not for the weather). Even Mom noticed - that's how many there were. We walk by this hotel - the Royal Windsor Hotel - and it dawns on me - OMG, only I would manage to walk right by the absolute epicentre of trashy gay-ness with Mom in tow. Nothing says sexy like showing up in sensible and comfortable clothing, along with one's mother. Oh well. Anyway, I think both of us really enjoyed the time, and it was really difficult to send her off on the train to Heathrow. Need to start work now to ensure that it's not another six years.
Speaking of work - they have agreed that I should take a DBA course, which will end up being a very good CV builder - esp if I can move us onto PostGIS from Oracle! I have this recurring dream of trying to get to some far away, absurd place via public transportation, usually in the snow and usually barefoot. Over the several years I've had this dream, I've decided it has to do with me feeling stuck at work - feeling unprepared to get to whatever far away destination I had in mind. Will have to see if that dream changes (it's different every time, yet always the same). Right, I'm starting to blather, and it's time to get more junk food. I keep getting distracted by Star Trek, which David has on the televator. I really am like a deer in headlights. Moo.
Wednesday, 28 March 2012
Minor Grumbling...
Blah.
So, my shoulder is actually recovering quite quickly - I can very nearly get my arm over my head again (not quite) and I'm doing lots of weenie weights at the gym with cables. I start physiotherapy (hopefully not many session) on Monday, and I'm taking full advantage of David's private medical insurance, as the NHS said it would take weeks or months. I'm going to attempt to run tomorrow morning - hopefully that won't be a disaster. God knows I've read a lot of horror stories about dislocated shoulder on the internet, but thus far (touch wood) mine hasn't been too bad. Still though, my arms seem to have shrunk already down to little Barbie arms - dougasaurus rex, and if I have to do another minute on the indoor stairmaster I think I'm going to cry. Still, it could be worse... I do still sleep with the sling on, propped up slightly, on my back or side, in the extra bedroom - I don't want to have the arm go over my head and fall off or something in the middle of the night - I imagine that being an icky way to wake up - even worse than turning over and ramming one's nose into the wall (yes, I've done that).
Funny, even with trial and tribulation, I look back on my time in Tromso, and, for that matter, Tromso itself, and think - wow, what a cool place.
Life's funny...
Yesterday was my low point, I think - I was really in a terrible, awful mood. Cycling, I've come to realise, is my big stress reliever, and my way of being out and about in the world. I'm actually not that much of a big city person, not really, not truly, I've come to accept. Cycling has allowed me to ignore that fact, and when I'm not doing it, when I'm mashed up against some smelly, awful person on the Tube, that's when I really feel, what am I doing here? Still - it's been about 14 years now in NYC and London, which isn't too bad. I'm not sure either David nor I see ourselves living in London for the rest of our lives - it's just too big and annoying, though I do very much like it. Where would we go? Who knows. I always do this little mental exercise when I go to a new city - could I live here? There have been a few yesses in that list - mostly, it seems, in Germanic countries. I don't want to go back to the USA though - we've gone through too much to get here, I like living in Europe, and I don't ever want to go back to American work culture (2 weeks off??? Awful!). I'm very happy with my six weeks, thank you very much! Anyway though, plenty of time to think - nothing is going to happen in the immediate near future...
So, my shoulder is actually recovering quite quickly - I can very nearly get my arm over my head again (not quite) and I'm doing lots of weenie weights at the gym with cables. I start physiotherapy (hopefully not many session) on Monday, and I'm taking full advantage of David's private medical insurance, as the NHS said it would take weeks or months. I'm going to attempt to run tomorrow morning - hopefully that won't be a disaster. God knows I've read a lot of horror stories about dislocated shoulder on the internet, but thus far (touch wood) mine hasn't been too bad. Still though, my arms seem to have shrunk already down to little Barbie arms - dougasaurus rex, and if I have to do another minute on the indoor stairmaster I think I'm going to cry. Still, it could be worse... I do still sleep with the sling on, propped up slightly, on my back or side, in the extra bedroom - I don't want to have the arm go over my head and fall off or something in the middle of the night - I imagine that being an icky way to wake up - even worse than turning over and ramming one's nose into the wall (yes, I've done that).
Funny, even with trial and tribulation, I look back on my time in Tromso, and, for that matter, Tromso itself, and think - wow, what a cool place.
Life's funny...
Yesterday was my low point, I think - I was really in a terrible, awful mood. Cycling, I've come to realise, is my big stress reliever, and my way of being out and about in the world. I'm actually not that much of a big city person, not really, not truly, I've come to accept. Cycling has allowed me to ignore that fact, and when I'm not doing it, when I'm mashed up against some smelly, awful person on the Tube, that's when I really feel, what am I doing here? Still - it's been about 14 years now in NYC and London, which isn't too bad. I'm not sure either David nor I see ourselves living in London for the rest of our lives - it's just too big and annoying, though I do very much like it. Where would we go? Who knows. I always do this little mental exercise when I go to a new city - could I live here? There have been a few yesses in that list - mostly, it seems, in Germanic countries. I don't want to go back to the USA though - we've gone through too much to get here, I like living in Europe, and I don't ever want to go back to American work culture (2 weeks off??? Awful!). I'm very happy with my six weeks, thank you very much! Anyway though, plenty of time to think - nothing is going to happen in the immediate near future...
Thursday, 22 March 2012
Tromso, and Thump-Ow Strikes Again
Yes, those two do go together.
David and I just got back from Tromso yesterday afternoon. Where the hell is Tromso, you ask? (Actually, there should be a little do-dah thing going diagonally across that last o, but I don't know how to do it and I'm too lazy to find out). Anyway, Tromso is right up at the tippy-top of Norway where it curves back towards Russia. It's on a small island surrounded by truly breathtaking mountains - imagine the sort of setting of Vancouver and put the treeline at about 500 feet. I'd wanted to go to Tromso since I was about 10 and read about it in a magazine (Geo, maybe?), and, I have to say, it did not disappoint. The home of such astounding things as the world's northernmost cathedral, university and Burger King (at nearly 70 degrees north - about that of Barrow), Tromso is actually a super-cool, laid-back, outdoorsy and very classy little city - not frontier at all.
We flew up there last Thursday via Oslo, nearly missing our connecting flight. Oslo is another place I want to go, btw. David, Avi and I went up there, and were met, a day later, by a friend of Avi's (also David), who lives in southern Norway, in Stavanger. The flight up to Tromso was rather bumpy, so Avi spent a good deal of time grabbing onto either the seat, David or me for dear life. Suppose the combination of mountains and high winds would make for a bumpy flight. We landed at the micro-dink Tromso airport, collected our bags and went to the rental car counter.
No, sorry, we don't have any record of your rental. Nope, none.
Fortunately, that was solved quickly through another (more expensive) rental car company, but we then spent the next hour on the phone with the rental car company (Alamo - they suck) and the bank trying to remove the charges from my credit card for the non-existent car. They are still there and I'm going to have the bank start an investigation. So, we got the rental car from Sixt. Sixt is one of the more bargain type car rental places, so we ended up with a small Hyundai with a huge sign across it advertising the local name of the rental car company - I'm talking covering the entire side of the car. Now that's high class. It was the first time in 6 years I'd driven a stick shift and the first time in 14 years I'd driven a stick shift with my right hand, so things were a little tricky at the beginning, though, amazingly, I actually didn't kill the engine. The car had studded tires, thankfully, as most of the roads were sheets of ice (that connects to the thump-ow bit).
We spent the first evening there just wandering around the town, and made the first of several trips to the small local supermarket to stock up on food (as we had rented a holiday apartment). Norway is so stupdendously expensive it just boggles the mind - most food items are at least twice what I would normally expect to pay. Apparently, wages are higher as well, but my God, how can these people afford to live?
Our sleep the first night was interrupted by what sounded like a herd of elephants running around on the floor above us. It turned out to be two Aussie women, who had returned from seeing the aurora at 345am. We couldn't quite figure out how they could possibly make so much noise, but every night it was the same routine - and it sounded like they were running back and forth from room to room - constantly.
The next day I drove back to the airport, with Avi, to pick up his friend. They have just installed a new gate system at the airport - to get into any parking lot, including the area in front of the terminal, where you pick people up, you have to put your credit card in. You then have to put the credit card in again when you leave, when it determines how much to charge you. Of course, none of this is written in English (how thoughtless!), so we spent some time at the entrance to the airport, trying to figure out how the hell to get past the gate. Fortunately, Norwegians seem to be patient folks.
We spent that day wandering all over Tromso, which, being quite small, is a very wanderable city. I ran across the bridge (huge views) and up into the hills as well. That night, we all went to dinner down by the waterfront, and spent an astronomical amount of money on a very nice dinner. I ate Rudolph. He was yummy. (My choice was down to Rudolph or Shamu, and I felt a bit guilty about Shamu).
Saturday, I ran in the morning on the ice-covered and hilly streets, and then we rented snowshoes and took the gondola up to the top of the mountain across the fjord. From there, we snowshoed off towards a nearby peak. It was pretty cold (maybe 20 or so) and very windy, and on the way down from the top we ended up in a whiteout. I've never been in a whiteout before - it's actually rather scary, as you totally and completely lose your sense of direction. Thankfully, we had a GPS, so we didn't die in the Arctic wilderness or anything silly like that - but it did illustrate how people can get in trouble very rapidly in such situations.
That night we drove about 100 miles inland (or, rather, I drove) - all of it on snow and ice-covered roads, and a good deal of it in blowing snow. The roads in that part of Norway are just barely wide enough for two cars. They seem to huge the water at the base of hugely steep mountains, and they are very windy (for example here and here). The Norwegians, used to driving on them, drive at a pretty good clip. Very scary in the winter, at night, in heavy snow (on top of packed ice). All I can say is thank God for studded tires! Our little Hyundai was a virtual snow-tank! Anyway, we drove way the hell and gone to the absolute and total middle of nowhere, just across the border into Finland, where it was clear and much drier. We had our first aurora sighting back inside Norway, when Avi looked out the window and wondered about this wispy cloud, which, in fact, turned out to be the Northern Lights. We stopped by the side of the road - cameras out, tripods up, and watched the river of white-green light flowing across the top of the valley until it faded away. We didn't actually go very far into Finland - less than a mile, b/c we didn't feel like dealing with the border station. I parked the car in an open area along the road and we sat around and waited, engine on, heat on, eating sandwiches. Amusingly, David and I bought these mats to lay on to look at aurora, but it was just too damn cold for that. So now we have some nice mats that we lugged back and forth to Norway.
The place we stopped, being exposed, had huge amounts of wind blowing across it, as well as whipped up snow, so the actual experience of standing outside and watching was a little on the nippy side (that and it was about 19F). The aurora was white-green again - nearly white to the naked eye, but green to the camera, and, being so far north, it covered most of the sky. We stood out there, in the elements, for quite a long time, just watching the slow waves of light wandering across the sky - the occasional arrow straight stabs of light, the fluttering curtains. I'd seen the aurora before, in Minnesota, but there was just something about standing out there, surrounded by miles and miles of nothing (and a car only about every 15 minutes) that was pretty damn amazing. Eventually, the lights faded away, and we pointed the car back towards Norway.
Someone, I'm not sure who, got the idea of trying the radio. We had three music choices. In Finland we had the Finnish language sort of oompa loompa music station, and back across the border in Norway we had either opera or Norwegian country. There is something very odd about driving across darkened, snow-covered Arctic landscape listening to country music sung in bork-bork.
Sunday, we slept in (as we got back around 130am) and then just did stuff in town again. I went for a long run up in the hills (surrounded by cross country skiers). Avi made a curry that night.
Monday, David, Avi and I set off for the Arctic Ocean. I told David that he could no longer say we'd not had a beach trip this year. Of course, we sat, huddled up, eating our sandwiches on a snow covered spit of land, just past some fisher's cottages, with snow covered mountains in the background. It might not have been beach weather, but it was, most definitely, a beach. From there, we drove out to, literally, the end of the road, where there was a cute little town, reached by a very narrow bridge. We were slightly delayed on the way back by a very large moving truck blocking the the entire highway. Apparently, it did not occur to them to put chains on before trying to drive up the steep, ice-covered driveway, so everyone had to sit around and wait for what seemed like an inordinate number of men to run around and finally fit oversized chains to the truck to get it out of the road. We sat for maybe 15 minutes - not sure, during which time no one honked. Not once.
And then, the thump ow bit. That evening, it being a beautiful, cold evening, I decided to run up the hill again. The sunset lasts for several hours at that latitude and the light is just amazing. They do, by the way, sell running shoes with spikes (I'm going to buy some, for future winters), but I just had normal shoes (but a lot of experience running on ice). Anyway, all was fine until I was on my way back down the hill. I turned a corner just as I hit a patch of glaze ice and my feet just went out from under me. I went flat over on my left side, right onto my shoulder. I did manage to pick myself up out of the road, but became aware of a growing amount of pain from my shoulder, and that I couldn't move my arm properly. That was the shoulder I broke, so, of course, that was my first fear, but it didn't feel broken. I sat down on the snowbank, then tried to walk. I couldn't walk, because of the pain. I did call David though, as I was starting to panic and didn't know what to do. I tried to explain where I was, but, having no idea the name of the street, I succeeded mostly in blubbering on the phone. To my immense relief, a slightly older couple walked by and asked if I was OK. No, I don't think I am. The guy said he would go get his car and drive me to the hospital. I waited a little while, during which time several other people stopped, and he finally showed up with his car. By this point I couldn't move my arm at all, nor could I sit still, because of the pain. I felt my shoulder, and could feel the top of it sticking out - great - I dislocated it. The guy stopped by the apartment to pick up David, and then drove us to the hospital. We thanked him profusely.
Perhaps it's because it was not in a big place, but the signage in the hospital was awful, so we did have some trouble figuring out where to go. David and I waited first in this sort of ante-room, for maybe half an hour, where we were registered. From there, we were told to take an elevator up to another floor (to do this we had to walk out through an unheated area, which was a little odd). At this point I had my first set of x-rays done. This was excruciating and I had a terrible time standing in front of the machine (though the women there were very nice). From there it was on to another waiting area, which a very random collection of people hanging about, mostly young, speaking English and Norwegian. David tried to leave this area to use the toilet, but, apparently, once you're in, you can't leave - the security guard shooed him back in. After another half hour or 45 minutes (which seemed like about 10 years - I was really having trouble keeping it together). I was asked to go into a private room, where I was seen by a doctor and a nurse (both female). I was stuck with what seemed like quite a few needles (my hand is now bruised, as is my elbow) and given a good whack of morphine, after which the doctor did some unspeakably horrible thing with my shoulder and popped it back into place. Fortunately, I was mostly in la la land at that point or I'm pretty sure I would have pooped myself. I sort of vaguely remember leaving in a taxi with David, but, honestly, the rest of that night is a bit blurry.
Poor David - he is so supportive, and I have to admit that it was a goddamn stupid thing to go running that night, when it suddenly got cold, and was so icy. I think the whole thing stressed him out more than it did me - I think I owe him one.
I slept that night, propped up with pillows, on my back, and have had my arm in a sling. We ended up having to stay one extra day, which cost a fortune (most of it we will get back through travel insurance, but still). We got the 645am flight out yesterday - just barely made it to the airport in time. It was very cold out again and the car (diesel) didn't want to start. I drove, which wasn't quite as bad as I had feared, as I had only just given David his first lesson in driving a stick shift.
Today - well, today I went to the doctor and got a referral to an orthopedic surgeon, who I will see tomorrow, after which I will start physiotherapy. Again. My shoulder seems incrementally better already, and I was told I probably didn't tear any ligaments or tendons, but I can't bike, I can't gym, I can't run, and I can't even sleep normally. I'm annoyed and pissed off and feel like an idiot - I debated not running that night - thought it wasn't a good idea, but thought, oh it will be fine. And it wasn't. But, there isn't much to do about that now except get better, and never go running on ice again without proper shoes. I think about living in Minnesota - that was defintely done without the proper equipment, but it was generally fine (well, fine until I wrecked my car on ice and buggered up my knee). I didn't know at that point that you could get spiked shoes, or spikes to put on your shoes (which I got for my hiking boots - they are great). I suppose you learn these things. Unfortunately, I have always opted for the learning by breaking route, and, often, the thing that gets broken is me.
I would still go back to Tromso though - I intend to go back to Tromso - with my bike. That's the funny thing about the place and this trip - I come back seriously damaged but still think - hey - that was a really good trip - I'm not sure I've ever felt this particular conflicting set of emotions. The next month or so is going to suck - a lot. But, I'm still really happy I went. Tromso did not disappoint. It's nice to have a childhood dream sometimes that actually comes true.
David and I just got back from Tromso yesterday afternoon. Where the hell is Tromso, you ask? (Actually, there should be a little do-dah thing going diagonally across that last o, but I don't know how to do it and I'm too lazy to find out). Anyway, Tromso is right up at the tippy-top of Norway where it curves back towards Russia. It's on a small island surrounded by truly breathtaking mountains - imagine the sort of setting of Vancouver and put the treeline at about 500 feet. I'd wanted to go to Tromso since I was about 10 and read about it in a magazine (Geo, maybe?), and, I have to say, it did not disappoint. The home of such astounding things as the world's northernmost cathedral, university and Burger King (at nearly 70 degrees north - about that of Barrow), Tromso is actually a super-cool, laid-back, outdoorsy and very classy little city - not frontier at all.
We flew up there last Thursday via Oslo, nearly missing our connecting flight. Oslo is another place I want to go, btw. David, Avi and I went up there, and were met, a day later, by a friend of Avi's (also David), who lives in southern Norway, in Stavanger. The flight up to Tromso was rather bumpy, so Avi spent a good deal of time grabbing onto either the seat, David or me for dear life. Suppose the combination of mountains and high winds would make for a bumpy flight. We landed at the micro-dink Tromso airport, collected our bags and went to the rental car counter.
No, sorry, we don't have any record of your rental. Nope, none.
Fortunately, that was solved quickly through another (more expensive) rental car company, but we then spent the next hour on the phone with the rental car company (Alamo - they suck) and the bank trying to remove the charges from my credit card for the non-existent car. They are still there and I'm going to have the bank start an investigation. So, we got the rental car from Sixt. Sixt is one of the more bargain type car rental places, so we ended up with a small Hyundai with a huge sign across it advertising the local name of the rental car company - I'm talking covering the entire side of the car. Now that's high class. It was the first time in 6 years I'd driven a stick shift and the first time in 14 years I'd driven a stick shift with my right hand, so things were a little tricky at the beginning, though, amazingly, I actually didn't kill the engine. The car had studded tires, thankfully, as most of the roads were sheets of ice (that connects to the thump-ow bit).
We spent the first evening there just wandering around the town, and made the first of several trips to the small local supermarket to stock up on food (as we had rented a holiday apartment). Norway is so stupdendously expensive it just boggles the mind - most food items are at least twice what I would normally expect to pay. Apparently, wages are higher as well, but my God, how can these people afford to live?
Our sleep the first night was interrupted by what sounded like a herd of elephants running around on the floor above us. It turned out to be two Aussie women, who had returned from seeing the aurora at 345am. We couldn't quite figure out how they could possibly make so much noise, but every night it was the same routine - and it sounded like they were running back and forth from room to room - constantly.
The next day I drove back to the airport, with Avi, to pick up his friend. They have just installed a new gate system at the airport - to get into any parking lot, including the area in front of the terminal, where you pick people up, you have to put your credit card in. You then have to put the credit card in again when you leave, when it determines how much to charge you. Of course, none of this is written in English (how thoughtless!), so we spent some time at the entrance to the airport, trying to figure out how the hell to get past the gate. Fortunately, Norwegians seem to be patient folks.
We spent that day wandering all over Tromso, which, being quite small, is a very wanderable city. I ran across the bridge (huge views) and up into the hills as well. That night, we all went to dinner down by the waterfront, and spent an astronomical amount of money on a very nice dinner. I ate Rudolph. He was yummy. (My choice was down to Rudolph or Shamu, and I felt a bit guilty about Shamu).
Saturday, I ran in the morning on the ice-covered and hilly streets, and then we rented snowshoes and took the gondola up to the top of the mountain across the fjord. From there, we snowshoed off towards a nearby peak. It was pretty cold (maybe 20 or so) and very windy, and on the way down from the top we ended up in a whiteout. I've never been in a whiteout before - it's actually rather scary, as you totally and completely lose your sense of direction. Thankfully, we had a GPS, so we didn't die in the Arctic wilderness or anything silly like that - but it did illustrate how people can get in trouble very rapidly in such situations.
That night we drove about 100 miles inland (or, rather, I drove) - all of it on snow and ice-covered roads, and a good deal of it in blowing snow. The roads in that part of Norway are just barely wide enough for two cars. They seem to huge the water at the base of hugely steep mountains, and they are very windy (for example here and here). The Norwegians, used to driving on them, drive at a pretty good clip. Very scary in the winter, at night, in heavy snow (on top of packed ice). All I can say is thank God for studded tires! Our little Hyundai was a virtual snow-tank! Anyway, we drove way the hell and gone to the absolute and total middle of nowhere, just across the border into Finland, where it was clear and much drier. We had our first aurora sighting back inside Norway, when Avi looked out the window and wondered about this wispy cloud, which, in fact, turned out to be the Northern Lights. We stopped by the side of the road - cameras out, tripods up, and watched the river of white-green light flowing across the top of the valley until it faded away. We didn't actually go very far into Finland - less than a mile, b/c we didn't feel like dealing with the border station. I parked the car in an open area along the road and we sat around and waited, engine on, heat on, eating sandwiches. Amusingly, David and I bought these mats to lay on to look at aurora, but it was just too damn cold for that. So now we have some nice mats that we lugged back and forth to Norway.
The place we stopped, being exposed, had huge amounts of wind blowing across it, as well as whipped up snow, so the actual experience of standing outside and watching was a little on the nippy side (that and it was about 19F). The aurora was white-green again - nearly white to the naked eye, but green to the camera, and, being so far north, it covered most of the sky. We stood out there, in the elements, for quite a long time, just watching the slow waves of light wandering across the sky - the occasional arrow straight stabs of light, the fluttering curtains. I'd seen the aurora before, in Minnesota, but there was just something about standing out there, surrounded by miles and miles of nothing (and a car only about every 15 minutes) that was pretty damn amazing. Eventually, the lights faded away, and we pointed the car back towards Norway.
Someone, I'm not sure who, got the idea of trying the radio. We had three music choices. In Finland we had the Finnish language sort of oompa loompa music station, and back across the border in Norway we had either opera or Norwegian country. There is something very odd about driving across darkened, snow-covered Arctic landscape listening to country music sung in bork-bork.
Sunday, we slept in (as we got back around 130am) and then just did stuff in town again. I went for a long run up in the hills (surrounded by cross country skiers). Avi made a curry that night.
Monday, David, Avi and I set off for the Arctic Ocean. I told David that he could no longer say we'd not had a beach trip this year. Of course, we sat, huddled up, eating our sandwiches on a snow covered spit of land, just past some fisher's cottages, with snow covered mountains in the background. It might not have been beach weather, but it was, most definitely, a beach. From there, we drove out to, literally, the end of the road, where there was a cute little town, reached by a very narrow bridge. We were slightly delayed on the way back by a very large moving truck blocking the the entire highway. Apparently, it did not occur to them to put chains on before trying to drive up the steep, ice-covered driveway, so everyone had to sit around and wait for what seemed like an inordinate number of men to run around and finally fit oversized chains to the truck to get it out of the road. We sat for maybe 15 minutes - not sure, during which time no one honked. Not once.
And then, the thump ow bit. That evening, it being a beautiful, cold evening, I decided to run up the hill again. The sunset lasts for several hours at that latitude and the light is just amazing. They do, by the way, sell running shoes with spikes (I'm going to buy some, for future winters), but I just had normal shoes (but a lot of experience running on ice). Anyway, all was fine until I was on my way back down the hill. I turned a corner just as I hit a patch of glaze ice and my feet just went out from under me. I went flat over on my left side, right onto my shoulder. I did manage to pick myself up out of the road, but became aware of a growing amount of pain from my shoulder, and that I couldn't move my arm properly. That was the shoulder I broke, so, of course, that was my first fear, but it didn't feel broken. I sat down on the snowbank, then tried to walk. I couldn't walk, because of the pain. I did call David though, as I was starting to panic and didn't know what to do. I tried to explain where I was, but, having no idea the name of the street, I succeeded mostly in blubbering on the phone. To my immense relief, a slightly older couple walked by and asked if I was OK. No, I don't think I am. The guy said he would go get his car and drive me to the hospital. I waited a little while, during which time several other people stopped, and he finally showed up with his car. By this point I couldn't move my arm at all, nor could I sit still, because of the pain. I felt my shoulder, and could feel the top of it sticking out - great - I dislocated it. The guy stopped by the apartment to pick up David, and then drove us to the hospital. We thanked him profusely.
Perhaps it's because it was not in a big place, but the signage in the hospital was awful, so we did have some trouble figuring out where to go. David and I waited first in this sort of ante-room, for maybe half an hour, where we were registered. From there, we were told to take an elevator up to another floor (to do this we had to walk out through an unheated area, which was a little odd). At this point I had my first set of x-rays done. This was excruciating and I had a terrible time standing in front of the machine (though the women there were very nice). From there it was on to another waiting area, which a very random collection of people hanging about, mostly young, speaking English and Norwegian. David tried to leave this area to use the toilet, but, apparently, once you're in, you can't leave - the security guard shooed him back in. After another half hour or 45 minutes (which seemed like about 10 years - I was really having trouble keeping it together). I was asked to go into a private room, where I was seen by a doctor and a nurse (both female). I was stuck with what seemed like quite a few needles (my hand is now bruised, as is my elbow) and given a good whack of morphine, after which the doctor did some unspeakably horrible thing with my shoulder and popped it back into place. Fortunately, I was mostly in la la land at that point or I'm pretty sure I would have pooped myself. I sort of vaguely remember leaving in a taxi with David, but, honestly, the rest of that night is a bit blurry.
Poor David - he is so supportive, and I have to admit that it was a goddamn stupid thing to go running that night, when it suddenly got cold, and was so icy. I think the whole thing stressed him out more than it did me - I think I owe him one.
I slept that night, propped up with pillows, on my back, and have had my arm in a sling. We ended up having to stay one extra day, which cost a fortune (most of it we will get back through travel insurance, but still). We got the 645am flight out yesterday - just barely made it to the airport in time. It was very cold out again and the car (diesel) didn't want to start. I drove, which wasn't quite as bad as I had feared, as I had only just given David his first lesson in driving a stick shift.
Today - well, today I went to the doctor and got a referral to an orthopedic surgeon, who I will see tomorrow, after which I will start physiotherapy. Again. My shoulder seems incrementally better already, and I was told I probably didn't tear any ligaments or tendons, but I can't bike, I can't gym, I can't run, and I can't even sleep normally. I'm annoyed and pissed off and feel like an idiot - I debated not running that night - thought it wasn't a good idea, but thought, oh it will be fine. And it wasn't. But, there isn't much to do about that now except get better, and never go running on ice again without proper shoes. I think about living in Minnesota - that was defintely done without the proper equipment, but it was generally fine (well, fine until I wrecked my car on ice and buggered up my knee). I didn't know at that point that you could get spiked shoes, or spikes to put on your shoes (which I got for my hiking boots - they are great). I suppose you learn these things. Unfortunately, I have always opted for the learning by breaking route, and, often, the thing that gets broken is me.
I would still go back to Tromso though - I intend to go back to Tromso - with my bike. That's the funny thing about the place and this trip - I come back seriously damaged but still think - hey - that was a really good trip - I'm not sure I've ever felt this particular conflicting set of emotions. The next month or so is going to suck - a lot. But, I'm still really happy I went. Tromso did not disappoint. It's nice to have a childhood dream sometimes that actually comes true.
Sunday, 11 March 2012
And what happened, exactly, to winter?
I think it occurred about 345pm on a Thursday. There was a little cold, some snow and a lot of whining. And now it's spring - things are blooming, my allergies are being a huge pain in the ass and we seem to be having a serious lack of rain. But then, that has been true in at least half the springs since I've been here. There is much talk of doom and drought. Things turn and icky brown and then it starts to piss it down all summer. That would be find with me, as they are threatening to ban hoses for the summer, which will make gardening a little difficult.
I went for a 66 mile bike ride today with a friend (a friend with a proper racing bike). Wow, that pretty much kicked my behind - definitely time to shed a few unnecessary pounds, bikewise. Still though - it was a lovely ride and the weather was perfect.
We're off to Tromso on Thursday, hopefully to actually see some northern lights. I've been wanting to go there since I read about the place when I was about 10, so I really can't wait!
I just ordered a bunch of flower seeds for the back yard. Without giving it a whole lot of thought, I ordered two ounces of mixed dry-weather flower seeds. Two ounces is a lot. We will have a lot of flowers - hopefully without a lot of water! After today's ride, I spent the last hour before dark pruning things, cleaning up debris, etc. The life of a gardener, eh?
Oh, we had a funny minor disaster the other evening that would probably only happen in a gay household. I walked up the stairs and noticed this funny chemical smell - vaguelly sweet, definitely familiar. What is it? Where is it coming from? I traced the smell into Robin's room and finally into a corner where WHOAH there seems to be an exploded bottle of poppers and guess which dumbo just gave himself a massive dose of it? It was a funny experience - I was really torn between trying to open the room and ventilate the room and being, briefly, high as a kite. I suppose if one was going to have a mishap, there are worse possibilities. We aired the house out for a day, but it took several days before the house didn't stink. Ah, the hazards of a gay house.
I went for a 66 mile bike ride today with a friend (a friend with a proper racing bike). Wow, that pretty much kicked my behind - definitely time to shed a few unnecessary pounds, bikewise. Still though - it was a lovely ride and the weather was perfect.
We're off to Tromso on Thursday, hopefully to actually see some northern lights. I've been wanting to go there since I read about the place when I was about 10, so I really can't wait!
I just ordered a bunch of flower seeds for the back yard. Without giving it a whole lot of thought, I ordered two ounces of mixed dry-weather flower seeds. Two ounces is a lot. We will have a lot of flowers - hopefully without a lot of water! After today's ride, I spent the last hour before dark pruning things, cleaning up debris, etc. The life of a gardener, eh?
Oh, we had a funny minor disaster the other evening that would probably only happen in a gay household. I walked up the stairs and noticed this funny chemical smell - vaguelly sweet, definitely familiar. What is it? Where is it coming from? I traced the smell into Robin's room and finally into a corner where WHOAH there seems to be an exploded bottle of poppers and guess which dumbo just gave himself a massive dose of it? It was a funny experience - I was really torn between trying to open the room and ventilate the room and being, briefly, high as a kite. I suppose if one was going to have a mishap, there are worse possibilities. We aired the house out for a day, but it took several days before the house didn't stink. Ah, the hazards of a gay house.
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