Stone

the houses

Yesterday was great. I went on a long walk and found 9 houses by three different architects from the 30s and 40s, plus a bunch of other interesting domestic arrangements. The architects I was looking for were Ove Bang, Arne Korsmo and Knut Knutson. The Korsmo stuff was the best stuff I saw yesterday. One of his houses is on exhibit on Sundays so I went in and had a look around. Here are some photos of the place.







It was exceptional. Korsmo also designed a set of silverware. I asked about it and was told that they are reissuing it. I hope to get a set before I leave. I am a fan of Arne’s. He was Fehn’s teacher, just to put that in perspective. Here is a photo of the cutlery he designed with his wife, Grete.



The walk I took led me up into the trails North of the city. It was a good walk. I started out at 10am and made it downtown at 4. Here are some photos from the trail.

The trail.



The Devil’s Football Pitch.



I also found this snail. I haven’t seen any snails here all summer. But it was raining so I figured this must have brought them out. I saw a couple more on the walk.



And this slate growing this plant.



I didn’t take any pictures of this, although I thought about it. I ended up downtown waiting for a bus and there was this crazy who couldn’t control himself, jigging and sort of convulsing in the park. He seemed drugged, but I couldn’t tell if he was just a really bad drunk or some other demon had a hold of him. Anyway, he kept bouncing off the atoms in the air, throwing his arms around, wagging his feet and head, taking his shirt off, putting it back on, taking it off again. I was standing around waiting for this bus, reading my book and sort of watching him out of the corner of my eye. I was also watching the people who walked by. They would be peacefully walking down the street and then suddenly look up and catch a glimpse of this guy doing some unnatural bend to pick up some god forsaken item off the ground and they would stop short, a look of horror and confusion on their face. “That is not normal,” they seemed to say with their exhalations and gasps. And then they would continue. Couples would grab onto each, pull their kids closer ease by with cautious eyes. This was sort of interesting to me. I’ve been building a theory about Norway that I won’t get into here fully, but I’ll say that there is an incredible expectation of public normalcy in this country, and those things that step out of the norm are truly offensive to the citizens. This fact, this offense at public abnormality, is why I was surprised to witness a Norwegian cross the street from a restaurant and begin engaging the spirited young man. And the thing was the guy who entered the situation was trying to engage the frailer by dancing with the man who obviously couldn’t control himself. The new man would shuck and jive and try to get the crazy to enter some rhythm, take on some cohesive set of repeatable steps. But the crazy was having nothing to do with the order of a dance, he continued to flail and such and the other kept slapping him on the back and helping him pick up his dropped items. Eventually the crazy settled and they were sitting on the sidewalk and I could tell the new man was imploring the crazy with some tale of greatness or some infernal mystery because he kept raising his arms and pounding his chest and then offering his hands out to the man who didn’t take them, but who also seemed to be contemplating what the man was saying. After several minutes of this they both stood. The new man sort of bowed and turned and walked back across the street and sat down at his table in the restaurant. The crazy went on flailing. .And I left.

I worked up another video all last night. It actually took me a couple days to figure it out. It should be live soon and then I’ll post it. It’s called “bees butterflies and old sally goodin.”

Today it rained all morning. I spent the day trying to figure out how to put a map of Oslo up here that would show the different places I’ve walked and such. I haven’t quite figured it out yet. I might have to learn some javascripting for it to work. We’ll see.

Tomorrow I’m going up to Hamar. And lucky me it’ll be raining all day. Should be great

Videos are cool

So that worked out well. Let me know how it plays for you. It works good on my connection, but I got some fat Norwegian pipes bringing my data to my computer. I'm totally into it though. I'll make some more crappy little videos and post them so you guys can see stuff moving. I already got some ideas. If you have any requests, anything you really want to see, anything at all just let me know. All suggestions entertained, only the interesting ones implemented. That's my new motto.

waterfall on the Akersela

This is where I like to read sometimes. It’s quiet and pleasant. To the right of the frame is a small building that has a café and a gallery. They hang paintings outside on sunny days. There is a nice park here and a path both sides of the river.

Couple of Things Going On Today

I am trying to get some videos up on Google Video. I’ll let you all know when they go live and you can go check them out. I’ll try to shoot more. They are crappy quality with low production value but I’ll try to make them interesting. The fist was a practice and it’s of a waterfall where I go to read sometimes. I have another of Karl Johans Gata. That I’ll put up as my first two installments. They will be Quicktime format, if you don’t have a Quicktime player, you can get it here for free.

Also I’m having a great conversation with my friend Maureen on the other blog for this adventure, Tun. Click the comments at the bottom of the post to read what’s been said and participate.

Here is a couple random photos form the 1300 photos already in the bag:



It’s a window from Gamle Aker kirke.



It’s a Volvo.

Lastly, Good People, enjoy your time.

Stavanger by twilight

I took the night train to Stavanger. 9 hours across the twilight. It was a hot day before I left. I had gone on a walk, found a building (But forgot the battery to my camera.) so I didn’t get any pictures of it. I’ll have to go back. Ran some errands, packed and left. Thought about changing my shirt but didn’t. The shirt had spent the day soaking up my sweat, see, and I felt like maybe changing it would be best for the people sitting around me. But then things got rushed at the end of the night. My friend Liz Maly called (using Skype, which is a free program that allows people to talk with their computers. You can download it and talk to me as well if you want, for free. Just put it on your computer and search for my name. Easy) moments before I was walking out the door and things were hectic and so I didn’t change my shirt. I left at 9:15pm to catch a 10:15 train. At the subway station I found I missed the train to the train that I wanted to take and so had to wait for a half hour for the next one, which gave me exactly 5 minutes to get from the subway station to the train station once I made town. This made me a little uptight. I took this picture of my subway station.



There are many like it, but this one is mine. It’s a couple minutes north of my place in an area called Nydalen.
It turns out that the train was a half hour late in leaving and so I had plenty of time. I got on and sat down and pretty soon we left and the porter came by and stamped my ticket and said I could sit in a different seat that was not going to have anyone sitting next to it the entire trip. This was great. I looked out the window till in got too dark. I read for a little while. Then I pretended to sleep for three hours. Then we were in Stavanger. It was 7am.
Stavanger is on the west coast. South of Bergen. It’s pretty small. A town more than a city. When I got off the train I realized that I forgot the information about the hostel I was staying at, things like where it was at or the name of it were sitting home, safely tucked away on my computer. But I sort of remembered the direction that it was in from checking it out on the map in my Lonely Planet, so I headed that direction and figured I’d just find it. While walking along a road, toward what I thought would be the road on which I hoped the Hostel was on, a lady stopped my and asked in I was looking for the camping. I said yes, because the Hostel also had a campground. She told me right where it was and told me to walk along the lake because it was nicer. I thanked her and did just that. Here is the lake from that morning.




Shortly I arrived at the Hostel and was told that check in was at 4pm. It was 8:30am. This was fine with me. I left my backpack at the hostel and went to find the Iron Age farm, one of the reasons I was in town. It turned out to be pretty close to the hostel, a couple on kilometers away. I walked there. I had wanted to shower, but instead I was walking. In the same close I had walked in yesterday. And although it was a mist shrouded morning, it was muggy. And this would have really been fine. Really. Except for the flies. 10’s of them. Swarming around me as I walked through the pastureland on my way to the Iron Age farm.



These little stupid flies trailing me, orbiting me, dive-bombing my ears. Dive bombing my ears for Christ sake. Like little tranlucent winged kamikaze’s hitting my ear and buzzing a buzzing type fly laugh. And there’s me, 3 hours of pretend sleep, having his ears dive-bombed by flies, swiping at the air like an idiot, spinning around swatting the little bastards, cussing them and telling the to go the hell. I imagined thick tendrils of stink lines wafting off of me as I walked attracting flies from every direction. I almost didn’t go to the farm cause I couldn’t imagine what people would think. This stinking American with his swarm of pet flies. But then the flies went away and I went to the farm. It was great. Here are some pictures.





The kid in this picture was kicking a piece of sheep shit all over the pasture. He wouldn’t stop. He did it for a really long time. It made me laugh.



At 4 I checked in to the hostel and took a shower and walked back downtown. It was a couple kilometers away. A good walk. I had to figure out how to get to this town on the other side of the fjord the next morning. I was hoping to take a ferry. I figured out where the ferries were and went to check them out. It turned out that the regular ferry didn’t run on Saturdays. I didn’t really understand this. But I did find a sight seeing ferry that stopped in Forsand, and figured I try to take that. Forsand is next to Landa where the prehistoric village sits. Happy I went back to the hostel, read for a while and slept.

The next morning I caught the ferry no problem. It was a nice boat ride through the fjord to Forsand. I was on my way to see a prehistoric village. The ferry let me off and would be back 6 hours later. I walked to the village about 3 kilometers from the ferry. I was hoping it wasn’t closed, because that would have been stupid. A lot of things are closed here when they should be opened. It wasn’t closed and I got some great pictures of the buildings. One bronze age and two Iron Age structures in an amazing long house of a chief.








All the buildings I saw were reconstructions. I joined a tour with a German family that was being given in English by a Norwegian lady who thought she was funny but who wasn’t. Except to the Germans, which were her main audience so I guess it was all right. After this I walked back and waited for the ferry. I ate some lunch from a little store on the water. I read for a little while. The ferry came. Here is it coming to Forsand.




Easy. There were a lot of Russians on the ferry. I think they have replaces the ugly American and the Loud Australian as my least favorite touring foreigner. There were a lot of Russians in Stavanger and they were all loud and obnoxious and annoying. Anyway, they were all over the ferry letting their kids run around unchecked. Yelling at each other. Making nuisance. And then we were back in Stavanger and they all drove away in their BMW’s.
With that the two “work” things I had planned were taken care of. I got back to town and walked around for a little while before heading back to the hostel. The next day I spent in Stavanger. I went to the archeology museum. I saw the Old Town. Here are a few pictures.




I went to the Cathedral. It was built by English masterbuilders in 1200.





All and all it was a pleasant trip. I got a lot of stuff done. And now I’m back in Oslo. Today I’m going to look for some houses. Tomorrow I think I’ll go to Hamar and see a Sverre Fehn building. One I’ve been to before, Hedmark’s Museum. Fehn has done some additional buildings on the site since I’ve been there and I’m pretty excited to see them. Next week I might head up to Røros. And then after that another driving tour. I’m trying to see as much as I can now in the beauty of summer because I’m not sure how much travel I’ll be able to do in the winter. I am curious to see if, for instance, the trains still run. Or the busses. I know I won’t be driving those curving winding roads with the addition of snow and ice. So I’m trying to make sure I get enough information for my thesis now, while the weather holds.
I decided to try to move. Two things swayed me finely. Since I’ve been in town a month and a half ago I have been thinking about this. There is this housing in an old silo. It’s pretty cool. The rooms are round. I could have chosen to live there initially, but it was slightly more expensive. Well, it turns out to be right next to the architecture school, on the river. I’ve been going back and forth about this for a while. Should I move should I stay? I thought I had decided to just stay here. But then I would think about walking the half hour walk to the school in the cold dark winter. From here it would be half an hour. From there it would be half a minute. But this still wasn’t enough. I told myself I needed to be stronger then that. What the hell. A little cold? Come on Jeff. Then I was on a walk the other day, when I found the drug dealers, and I happened into the neighborhood where this other housing is. (I usually head out in a random direction following streets haphazardly with a general inclination to where I think I need to go. It leads to interesting experiences.) So there I was, walking down this lively street, with interesting shops and people and I felt like I really want to live in that neighborhood. But still…the final thing was I read how that area was the hip secret place in Oslo. Where the best coffee shops and nightlife and stuff were. How the local know about it, but the travelers steer clear. That was it. I decided I’d try to live there. Too many things were pulling me in the direction. So I put in the application and we’ll see. It’s up to fate now. I have to weight for an opening. Hopefully soon.

vice

Yesterday I found the prostitutes and today I found the drug dealers. I have noticed that this town is pretty easy. There seems to be little crime, little homelessness, little urban blight. There is no part of Oslo that I wouldn’t walk alone at night. In fact I have walked most of this city and never once felt threatened in any way by anything. However, there is a particular street populated with grubby drunk people. Skippergata, just south of the train station. So I pegged this for the skid-like row. And I secretly wondered how a drunk, how a full on 9 in the morning lush drinking all day long eschewing anything that resembled responsibility could afford such a life style. It made me wonder if, in an economy such as this, would these people, by necessity, have to be the welltodo? I can’t say for sure, but I’ve given up the drink, at least for the time being and it is directly related to price. But that’s neither here nor there, because on several street corners a few blocks away from Skippergata, are trollops done up for solicitation. I have seen them approaching cars for the lean in negotiation and I have seen them in uncomfortable cloths hanging out on the sidewalk and I have seen politi patrolling certain parks in the neighborhood with a frequency that is astounding considering you never see a politi ever anywhere. Conclusion, Oslo’s red light district. Drugs, on the other hand, are for sale along the lower reaches of the Akerselva river. I have walked this many times. Seen the groups of men sitting on the park benches and thought nothing of them. This day I was offered hash three times. It’s a simple procedure. As you walk by one of the men will “ssssspppsss” at you. When you look over they smile and say “Hash?” Either you want it or you don’t. Their business men. And so, the vices of the city are uncovered. I bought neither the prostitution nor the drugs.

I did buy a train ticket to Stavanger. I leave tomorrow night at 10pm. Three days. So there is that.

Graffiti

Today I bring you some graffiti. Just a couple of pieces. I’ve said before, and it’s true, Oslo has a dearth of worthwhile graffiti or sticker culture. This is pretty disappointing. Stockholm is full of amazing pieces of graffiti and stickers and I was looking forward to hunting some pieces here. But I’ve found little in the way of stickers, and most of the graffiti is lame tag stuff. I did see a really cool one in Bergen while driving around. I’ll have to get it when I go back. These are all from Oslo. Two are obviously the same person, MIR. I like them. And then the cute panda and the spooky girl.

Also, perhaps you noticed the AdSense at the top of the page. Seeing as it is so expensive here i thought I’d see if I could generate some more cash using this account. But I need every bodies help. Every time you come here all you have to do is click on one of those links when you leave. And if you could pass this around to as many people as possible, and get them all to click on the add an ad as well, if everyone did it in the whole world a couple of times I might be able to eat some chicken every once in a while and maybe enjoy a beer while I’m over here. Just a thought.

1600 kilometers in three days

Driving across Norway was pretty cool. And although it was filled with some hassle – mostly due to my idiocy – it was totally worth it. I got the car on Monday morning. They upgraded me from a Ka (the car so big it doesn’t need an ‘r’) to a Peugeot something or other. That was cool. I took the subway to the rental agency, which was right across the street from the station at Enjso. Easy. This create an inherent problem that arose as soon as I pulled out of the lot. Turning right, towards the city, I realized I didn’t have a map or a clue about where I was. What I did have was a general idea of where I lived, namely: right. So it took me an hour of driving through this small city to find my way home. Three dead ends and two circles lead me, eventually to something I recognized and then to home. I loaded up the car and headed out. But with the detour and the screwing around before hitting the road, I was late leaving. About an hour and half or so. I figured it would be fine, what are they going to do, lock me out? It was 6 hours to drive to Bergen, my first stop. I left at 12:30. So I’d only be a half hour or so late for my check in at 6pm. No problem. 6 hours was conservative anyway, for all those saps driving the speed limit. I am, if perhaps only in the arena, not a sap. I like driving fast. So I got on the Ring 3, this is the outer of three roads that, well, ring Oslo. The Ring 3 to the E18. The E18 to the E16 and then I’d be riding that all the way to Bergen. Pretty straight forward. The Ring 3 and the E18 are both four-lane highways. At least around Oslo. And the E16 is the major highway between Oslo and Bergen. This is like driving from Seattle to Spokane. The implication, even on the map, is highway. But as soon as I turned onto the E16 it presented itself as a two-lane road. And this only changed when the yellow centerline disappeared and it became, arguably, a single lane road. Now with the exception of the speed with which you can go on this highway (the posted speed limit is 80km/h. Through towns it’s 60km/h. That’s roughly 50 and 40 mph respectively) it was awesome. The road winds its way across the country, up into the mountains, down along fjords, through small bergs. Beautiful. Several times I wanted to stop and take pictures, but the other thing about the roads is there is no shoulder. There is road, white line, and pavement ends almost immediately and then earth and grass usually at some sharp incline either up or down. There were provided turnouts, but these were often at dull places along the journey and not where I wanted to take pictures. Ultimately, it did turn out to be a good thing that I could take pictures.
I drove and drove and drove. The other thing about these roads is that you can go pretty fast, I mean relatively. I could do 100-110km/h. Twisting and turning and having a good old time. But inevitably I would come upon some Norwegian doing the speed limit. Or worse, some Norwegian camper headed to some holiday campground that could only do a fraction of the speed limit. This was compounded by all the winding and twisting and turning. I have to wait behind these people for a clear straight away to pass. These were few and far between. All told, with the late exit from the city and the driving conditions I ended up rolling into Bergen at 8:45. Almost three hours past my check in. Keep in mind; Bergen is like 450klm away from Oslo. (Roughly 270 miles.) Like driving across one state right. When was the last time it took 8 hours to drive across Washington? Never. 5 hours from Seattle to Pullman At the outside. And that’s over 300 miles and half of that is also on a two lane road. I got a buddy who did it in 3 hours and 45minutes when I was an undergraduate. 8 hours? I felt like a sucker. But whatever.
As I pulled into Bergen I realized I forgot the directions to the place I was suppose to park. I had asked the Hostel and they gave me a reasonable place to leave the car for the night. Also, my map of Norway does not include a side map of Bergen. It has a side map of Oslo, which is fine. And then it has one of Stockholm and one of Malmo, two cities not in Norway and of little help. Any rate, I had the address for the Hostel and I had my Lonely Planet and with these I promptly got lost in Bergen. And then I swear to god I drove around in a circle five times trying to find the street. I mean I would think I was going somewhere different and I would end up back at the same intersection no where near the street I was looking for. A good 45 minutes of this finally found me where I needed to be, which was good cause I had to pee and I was starving. A quick check in and then food.
Quick was not in the cards. First off, I found the building, it had a huge sign on the side that said “Dorm.com” That’s where I was staying. I also lucked out and found parking on the street just up the block. Sweet. I got out and walked to the door I thought was the Hostel, which turned out to be a bar. And the address, Kong Oscars Gate 40 was not what was above the door. The address here was Kong Oscars Gate 44. “Oh, It must be across the street there in that…no that’s K.O.G 38. Well then maybe it’s over there…no.” So I went into the bar and asked. As I waiting for the bartended I checked the address again. Kong Oscars Gate 46! “Oh, it’s just the other side of this bar. Right, well that makes sense…” I told myself as I exited the bar and headed to the hostel. “I should have checked the address because here is 46…but it’s all papered over and locked and that doesn’t say anything about a hostel.” I went back to the bar and the Bartended was like “Oh, I don’t know, maybe it’s down the block and to the right, because we’re 44” Right, but down the block and to the right was across the street and no longer on Kong Oscars Gate. There was a hostel there, but not the one with my reservation or deposit. I went hunting. I walked up and down a couple of streets with no luck. And then I had to pee. I had to. And eat. At this point I gave it up and decided to sleep in the car. I walked down to the water. Figured I pee in some restaurant and then get some food. And I found a lot of restaurants but they were all so damn expensive (and you thought I wasn’t going to bring this up) that I couldn’t bring myself to eat at any of them. I eventually found a public wc and used the hell out of it. And then went to 7-11 and got some waters and figured I’d eat a sandwich form the food I’d packed. As I was walking back to the car I got a hunch that the hostel might be through a little gate behind the bar where I asked for direction. I walked in, there was the door to the bar from the patio and there, not ten feet away, the door to the Dorm Hostel. Awesome. I’m set. I wish she had said so before, the bartended, I mean I could actually see the door from where I stood and asked her for directions. If I’d only knew what I was looking for. And I reached out and turned the knob I found that it didn’t matter. It was locked. All the lights were actually off and there was no one behind the counter.
Back at the car I made a sandwich. I drank some water. I tried to figure out if I sleep in the car or get a hotel. I can afford a hotel, but I didn’t want to. I could go to that other hostel around the corner, but I could just as easily sleep in the car. Peugeot, as the guy said at the car rental, knows how to make comfort. Not quality, but comfort. As I finished my sandwich I decided I’d head up the road towards the Glacier Museum, the Fehn building I was planning on seeing on the trip. I would drive as far as I could and then find a place to sleep on the road. Then come back the next afternoon and sort out the bed. So this I did. I drove for another hour. Found a parking lot in a small berg and fell asleep. Here is a picture of the hostel I didn’t stay at:



And here is the Parking lot I did sleep in:



It wasn’t bad, but after a while it wasn’t comfortable anymore. I woke up at 6am, rested at any rate. And headed up the road. I figured the Museum was about 2 hours away. Turned out to be 4 and a half hours away. Still, beautiful country. Part of the time was spent on a ferry, which was nice. When I got to the museum it was awesome. I had seen pictures in books, read about it. I knew the building, but here it was. I pulled into the parking lot and got out of the car, pulled out the camera and went to work. It’s a great building. Here is a picture of the buildng and a view of one of the glaciers:




After an hour out side, walking around the building, taking photos and drawing, I headed inside. And it was while I was taking pictures inside that the next hassle presented itself. I am lining up a shot when the battery light starts flashing. It was running out of juice. I had charged it a couple days before and it was usually good for what I had planned, but here it was dying. I had brought my computer so I potentially had an infinite number of pictures I could have taken. (I only have one SD card at the moment.) But if the battery died I was done for. There would be no need to go anywhere else or do anything else. It would be wasted. I bought a hot dog at the museum café and sat down for a think. (I tried out my Norwegian on the girl behind the counter. I said “Polse med brød.” The girl looked at me like I was retarded. I said “Hotdog with bread.” She smiled and said “Oh, yeah.” As I ate I drew a couple of details of the building and thought about my options. I could go back to Bergen. But without a camera I could get little work down. I could draw, which is fine, but I needed to take pictures of specific buildings. I decided to head home. I figured I could stop at a couple of the stave churches on the way; I had planned on doing this anyhow, and take as many photos as I had juice left to take. At home I could charge the battery and then go see another building north of Oslo, the Aukrust Museum.

After 3 hours at the Glacier Museum I hit the road again. The first stave church I stopped at was a treasure. Not necessarily for the building, which was simple and pretty cool in it’s own right.

This is Kaupanfer Stavkirke:


But the guy taking money at the door came in while I was figuring out how the thing was put together and we started talking. He gave me some great information the best is that he turned me onto the preservation society. So I’ll go see them next week and get permission to take pictures on the inside of the stave churches, which is now prohibited unless you have a piece of paper saying it’s all right.
At the next church the battery died. I filled up most of the SD card, though. After this I was on the road headed home.

Borgund Stavkirke:


6 hours later I pulled into Oslo. This proved to be a good move given the situation. I charged the camera and got a good nights sleep.

The next morning I headed north with the intention of seeing the museum and then going to Røros, which is farther north. I’d spend a day and half at the old mining town, get some good photos, it would be great. The Aukrust Museum turned out to be fantastic. Even if it took 2 hours longer to get to then I estimated. The museum itself was such an elemental and simple building that it was totally worth it. I have about 150 photos on the camera and I ended up taking 130 of this building. Usually I run about 50 photos a building. Elevations, perspective, elements and details. That’s about all I need to get pretty good documentation. When I was leaving the house for the second time I had balked at taking the computer. It made me nervous to leave it in the car the previous leg of the tour and it’s heavy to lug around. I figured I’d have enough photos for the one building and a preliminary survey of Røros. But 20 pictures, it was not worth the additional 5 hours of driving (plus the 2 extra hours that it would actually take to get there). I decided to once again come back to Oslo.
Aukrust:




And that was the trip. All things considered I got some great images. I saw some excellent architecture. I really liked Bergen and I’ll go back on a separate trip. I also plan on visiting both these museums at least two more times. Now that I’ve driven it and know what it takes I can make better plans. I turned the car in a day early because it was rather expensive. Worth it, but there was nothing I could see in a day so it wasn’t worth keeping it.
The whole trip got me excited about being here. Being out in the countryside, seeing those buildings, it just made me feel good about what I’m doing. I will be putting together a more detailed report about the various buildings I’ve seen in the last month and what they mean to my thesis for Tun. This should be up next week if you want to check it out.
For now, I’m in Oslo. I’m going to start planning another trip. I was reading about a prehistoric village near Stravanger. That might be next on the list. In a couple weeks I’ll rent another car and go driving some more.

The car I drove in front of Aukrust Museum:

the same old

Nothing exciting to tell right now. Just visiting buildings, taking pictures, drawing. I spend about five hours a day most days walking around the city looking for buildings. A typical day is shaping up like this: Get up around 10am. Check to see if I have any love in the email. Shower. While I’m drying off I figure out what buildings I need to see that day, find them on a map, plot a strategy for getting there and head out around 11am. Depending on the day and where I’m headed I either catch a train into town or walk. Sometimes I take music, sometime I don’t. On the way to the buildings I look for interesting things. I think about people I know and love. I plot future adventures. I think of poems and stories. This happens all day. I don’t talk to too many people. The city is crawling with tourists, both foreign and native. In July the people of Scandinavia all take there summer holidays. This means that the city folks go camping and the country folks come to the city. The shopping street, Karl Johans Gate, is madness with people here on holiday. It makes me feel unclean to walk down that street and I always try to find a different route. I feel especially awkward pulling out my camera to take pictures because it marks me, also, as a tourist. And I’ve never really been a pictures type of tourist. I prefer experience, taking memories, living in a place rather than documenting it. Searching for a deeper understanding and not collecting trophies of the a place. I realize that this is not a widely held sentiment. There are people I know, people I consider close, who view photos and photo albums with pride. I do not take this away from them. In fact having looked through photo albums of friends and found it pleasurable, I know that my stance is perhaps not even the correct one. However I can't help pocketing my camera until the very last moment before I need to take a photo, because, after all, that is what I’m doing here: documenting. You should see the lengths I'll go to not have to pull out my map. The other day I had to check the map, there was no getting around it, so i walked down three blocks and up another from where I was to a secluded side street. Goofy. But so I pull out my camera in a crowd and stand there trying to pull the perfect shot out of the subject. Usually this means waiting until most if not all of the people and cars have moved out of the way, cause we can’t have those types of things mucking up our pretty buildings. I spend the better part of the afternoon doing this. Around 5pm I head home. Mostly because of hunger. I don’t eat before I leave. And I find it incredibly difficult to buy anything in the city. Sometimes I think, “Oh, maybe I should go to that restaurant. That hamburger sure does look good advertised there the way it is.” And then the quick math. 129 Norwegian kroner and 6.3 kroner to the dollar is 129/6.3=$20.47. And then I just tell myself I can wait until I get home. [I can see this economic business becoming a reoccurring theme of this trip]. Anyway, once I get home I check to see if I have any love in the email. But these excursions usually happen between 1am and 7am Pacific Standard Time which means that there is never any love in the email in the afternoon. So I settle in, put on some music, which I can only listen too within a 5-foot radius of the computer, as I don’t have working speakers so every sound is piped through my ipod ear buds, and work on the photos I’ve taken that day. Pull them out of the computer. Resize them. Mull them over. Put them in appropriate files so I can find them later. This takes maybe an hour. Which leaves me with a good five to seven hours of free time. Sometimes I work on the thesis. Sometimes I play chess against artificially intelligent opponents who kick my ass. Sometimes I write poems. Lately I’ve been creating a comic strip on MySpace. It’s called Just Guy. That’s a diversion. Sometimes I read. I make some food, rice or noodles and sandwiches and salad and peas. When I get tired I strip down, get into bed and read until sleepmonkeys overtake me. Then I dream bizarre dreams. For instance last night I dreamt I traveled back to 1954 and I had to find my grandfathers house, except everything was different then what I knew and so it was really hard. Right now it’s almost 10pm. it’s raining outside and pretty light out. This sometimes gets me. I’ll look out the window and think, “It’s 7.” A quick check of the old timepiece shows that’s it’s actually 9:30. It’s raining right now. It has been sunny and in the upper 70’s all week. Today was overcast and now it’s raining. I leave tomorrow for Bergen. I hope the weather comes back.
I tried to put more pictures here but stupid blogger wouldn't do it.

FotoNorge #1:Boats

the post that was not

Let me just say that you guys are lucky. I just spent a good half hour writing about how much I paid for a couple of pens and a sketchbook today ($43) and then I lost it cause I’m an idiot. So you are spared that flabbergasted lecture on the economics of Norway. Instead I will just write a quick note about this new idea I had. It’s called “FotoNorge” It’s where I post pictures that aren’t necessarily of architecture, but rather of things I see that describe the culture and people. Should be more interesting then a lump of images of all the cool buildings I’ve seen. I’ll throw those in for free. So look for that in the coming days.
I will retell this part of the awesome lost post: I’ve been visiting important modern buildings in Oslo the last week. I’ve seen some great things. It’s terrific fun. I’ve read about these buildings, I understand their place in the urban fabric, their function in the process of architectural development in Norway. And now I’m out hunting them down. Some I have seen before, such as the Artists House.



A gallery and café designed by Gudolf Blackstad and Herman Munthe-Kaas in 1928. Others I can find address for, which is nice because then I can check them out on a map and walk in the general direction of the place. This building designed by Erich Mendelson for instance was easy to find with the address.



Others, however, I only have a black and white photo to work from. The Workers Association by Ove Bang for instance. Thing is I’m pretty sure I walked by this building the first couple of days I was in town. But now I can’t remember where it is and I can’t find any address and so I am stuck wondering the city looking for the building. It’ll be a great find. I’ll take some pictures.
I’m going to Bergen in the next couple of days. Renting a car and driving. Going to visit a bunch of Stave Churches along the way and a Fehn building, the Glacier Museum. Adventure.