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.
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.
posted by jeffrey ottem at 7:13 PM
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