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Archive for the ‘Travel’ Category

Hay.

Another blogg. Because i’m at my exam locale, and it starts in an hour. Thats what i get for being early like a succah.

So I’m chilling in the cafeteria of this sports hall where exams are being held. I’m sitting by a window f
Down to the designated area of sport, and what do i see?

I am doing this from my phone so I have no idea if the picture will be attatched/where it will end up, but I am looking down at poor souls having their silly exams. My new game: spot the person grabbing his/her hair in desperation.

Fun!!

I bet you’ve all been wondering to yourselves “Gee, I wonder why Frida hasn’t bothered us with more stupid anecdotes and feminist propaganda lately????”

I bring to you: The answer to your unasked question!

I’ve been drowning in schoolwork. And political work. And just being too cool to hang around on brbcoffee.com. (Just kidding! You can’t be too cool for brbcoffee.com, only not cool enough!)

But like I was saying: I’ve been busy having a life. Also, I kind of broke my computer a bit whilst falling (with perfect form, might I add) on the devilish ice, and now it’s a pain to use for writing longer texts. These days, I basically only use it for Criminal Minds, Special Victims Unit and West Wing (my latest obsession, thanks to my “man-friend” [wink-wink, nudge-nudge]).

So why did I choose today to write this blog? To rub your noses in how my terrible day turned into a great day!

So first I deliver to you the story of my last couple of weeks.
I fell on ice and broke both my computer and my dignity. All wounds heal, I have some laught about it, and then it happens again. Only this time there wasn’t a computer there to break my fall.
I pretended to be a doctor and did my diagnosis based on receiving it a couple of times before (last time: Also due to falling on ice. Go figure…) I came to the conclussion that I had a mild concussion. No need to fuss, just some dizziness, constant fatigue and the possibility of throwing up. Also: I shouldn’t really try to read, work out or drink alcohol in a week. Only one problem: I go to university. I have to read! (This week: Truman Capote-In Cold Blood)

Then, after a couple of days mostly spent in bed and sitting down and stuff, I go to work my first shift in this student-bar. And I did hit my head mildly, again, so I didn’t manage to go into work today because standing up made me sick. And I had this meeting, and it was a massive failure, and a lot of things just plain sucked. I drop by my man-friends place to pick up some stuff (he’s in Oslo again, so I’ll have to go to the Wombats-concert alone. And I still can’t drink. Yay!) and I go home. (Doesn’t really sound like this day is getting better, does it?)

Back home I check my mail.

CA-CHING!!!!!!!! (For those of you who can’t read the pixeled [is that a word?] tickets: Me and 4 friends are going to see Foo Fighters! On our way to Roskilde. Yeah, that’s a big festival. In Denmark.)

(Also: I was going to use paper-clips or staples to keep the two sheets of tickets together, but couldn’t find any, so enjoy my sparkling blue hair-clips.)

Oh, and by the way: My hair is red now.

Zooming in and out of focus,
This was Frida.

Heyooo

I just realized that it is not always easy being a Norwegian in an English mans world. For instance, one of the great vices of Norwegian people with half a grasp of our beautiful language is the dividation of words. Oh the hilarity which arises when people split a word that wasn’t meant to be split.

Why am I rambling about this? Well, brussels sprouts is the correct way to write it, as confirmed by THE ALMIGHTY WIKIPEDIA, HAIL! Alas, my silly Norwegian head twitches and wants it to be written brusselsprouts.

Now, I bet you’re thinking, why is this guy talking about brussels sprouts? Well, in about 10 hours, my plane leaves for Brussels. Oh glorious EU-capital and home of countless bureaocrats.  I am leaving, ooon a jetplaaane tralala. Well, my brotha lives there, so I’ma go visit him yo.

These aint no brussels sprouts.

That’s it for this time.

As I was updating my personal “About”-page to fit more recent events in the location-like department (i.e. bragging about finally leaving Bodø to go live in Tromsø, which is way cooler!) I came to think of a political cause that I care greatly about, that doesn’t get enough focus in todays society, that the politicians deprioritize time and time again, but that is also really important…

Based on the title and this introduction there are two important political causes I could be writing about. Before we continue, would you like to venture a guess as to which one I am going to write about?

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To avoid cheating i will fill some space with a big, old and edited picture of me with crazy hair, so that you can’t see the upcoming text. Do not cheat, capiche?

So… All the reasons why I love trains:

• Trains are old-fashioned, and thus romantic.
• There is no stressing when it comes to train-travel. No security check-points, no boarding and take-off and landing and what not. You get on, you hang out, you get to where you wanna be.
• People are nicer on trains. (Probably because of the romance and lack of stress thing.)
• I always meet the nicest, funniest or most interesting people on trains.
• Trains are better for the environment.
• You’re never as rested after a nap as you are after a nap on a train. (At least I ain’t…)
• Trains are means to traveling that aren’t airplanes. Airplanes suck. Logically: Trains must be amazing.
• Last but not least: How can you NOT love this:

There is only one problem when it comes to my current living situation and my love for trains… Tromsø doesn’t have a railway.

Bodø is the last stop on the norwegian railway. Everything north of Bodø and Fauske  is train-less. (Except for the stretch between the norwegian town Narvik and the swedish town Kiruna, originally used to transport ore, or something…)

Why is the north of Norway without trains? Because the only one ever to actually bother building railway in the north of Norway lost all power before he finished. I am of course talking about Hitler, so it isn’t a bad thing that he lost all his power, but it would have been nice if the norwegian government had continued his work in this general area. Like they promised to do. Time and time again. But never did.

There is a railway-station in Tromsø, actually. And 4 metres or something of actual tracks. They were promised a railway by the government, you see, and celebrated this by building a station. And aquiring 4 metres of track to pass this station. The train never arrived, and the station is now one of the pubs in Tromsø with probably the highest age-average. (Oh, and I’ve been there and will be there again, because I loved it a bit…) As for the 4 metres of train-tracks, they are leant up against some wall. 4 metres of train-tracks aiming for the sky. A true railway to heaven.

Anyways, I’m clearly trailing of, and I’ve lost all track of time, so I think this will be it for today….

Forever yours,
Frida.

(Ps.: None of the facts in this entry have been checked against accurate sources. So it may be 8 metres of railway and not 4… Please don’t choo me! And I don’t think there’s any big mistakes, I’m just covering my tracks…)

I’m on the move, people!

I started cleaning out my apartment, but it’s taking forever. Mostly because I’m trying to get rid of as much stuff as possible, which means I have to go through everything, and that takes time.

But the moving feels good. Real good! Today I got rid of my living-room table (I gave it to a friend who wanted it…), in two days the charity-shop will hopefully come pick up my fridge, television, 4 chairs, some kitchen-stuff, and whatever else I’m throwing up. I’ve sorted through all my clothes (I have A LOT of clothes) and I’m sending about one fourth of it to the local refuge-asylum. And my plan for the night: Sorting through all my shoes. And actually giving some of them away. And it hurts!

Another thing that hurts is my body after working out today, so I decided to reward myself with a glass of whiskey while cleaning out my apartment. Result: I’m sitting in front of the computer with a glass of whiskey NOT cleaning out my apartment… And I got paper in my mouth! Apparently there was paper in the glass. It tasted dry, in spite of the liquor being wet. (Duh, I know!)

I will now continue my cleaning, and you can enjoy this picture of Blonde-Frida in a near-empty apartment:

I know, I look awkward and uncomfortable. The floor was cold, and I dislike posing for a webcam rather than a real person with a camera.

-Frida

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