retrospective Edinburgh

This is sort of a retro post from when I was on the train back to London from Edinburgh and while I was on the crags, which is why the tense doesn't work for my being in a place where I could actually post anything on the internet. And also why it happened about a week ago.
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So I went out looking for a cafe to continue working on my peacebuilding paper in, but instead I ended up climbing Calton Hill, walking past the Holyroodhouse Palace, and now I'm climbing some moor or something. And I don't have water and a matpakke. I don't have my camera. I have my computer. Ridiculous.

I also don't have my coat along, and it's pretty chilly just sitting here. Ooo.

And I think someone just took a picture of me using my computer to take pictures.



Update:
I was climbing a crag. Salisbury Crags to be specific. I did it again today with Ashley, and we took lots of pictures of each other.* We had the super tourist day, taking pictures with stuff and things and locations. I finally bought some patches for my pop's backpack. Still need to get him the Norwegian patch, and maybe something for Denmark and Finland, seeing as I was there and interacted with the cities at least a little bit.** It was a good day and all, but climbing the crags, going up Royal Mile and ending up at the Castle for a bit more upness was a tiring day. Also, I don't recommend the castle unless one is really obsessed with war museums and crowns. It's an £9 or £11 entrance fee, so something about $20 to walk round an old military installation and look down on the city. And if you really want to climb something and look down on the city, I would recommend the comparatively cheap – because they are free – crags. As a side note/trip, there is a "museum" of weaving right by the entrance/exit to the castle which is one part informative to 4 parts "buy something Scottish!" Not that I disapprove of buying something Scottish. I bought scarves somewhere else, because it was a bit chilly and they were nice. But I rebelled from the absolutely touristy by buying a dreadful pink (looks nice, but it's rather vibrant) and a more neutrally toned number that is also not a "traditional" Scottish plaid.

Now I'm on the train back home, with three Scottish boys drinking Miller that one of them opened with his teeth. As an observation, I finally managed to open a bottle with a lighter the other day, but it was a pain in the ass. I am intrigued by the Scottish boys, because they are all wearing kilts right now, and some 'I'm so proud to be a Scotsman' t-shirts. Kilts and accents can make even slightly homely boys with unfortunate bottle-opening habits something like attractive. Of course, they are too young, but still. They have kilts on. Ah, bottle man seems to open everything with his teeth. Now he's opening their bag of sandwiches with his teeth.

*Ashley is a random hostel friend. Edinburgh was really good to me for random hostel friends, and while I would really like to go back to Edinburgh and see how they are doing there, they having been settling into the city for a few months of wage earning, I don't know if it will happen. Sadly, because I was very charmed by the city.
**My blue backpack is a loaner, because I haven't had a rucksack in years and while I knew I would need one to travel with, I didn't want to buy one when I prefer destroying my shoulder with a messenger bag for daily use. Patches was his request for letting me use it.

mountain goats

A fellow Capricorn friend of mine likes to claim, when we go hiking together, that we climb like mountain goats. I can't say anything against her, but you would be hard pressed to find anything in the mountains less sure-footed than me. Unless it was a mountain goat with a broken leg and a stress disorder after having been attacked by a cougar I suppose. Not that I suffer these ailments. I have no excuse for my unstableness. I generally fall over at least once per trip. Not that I let this stop me. Nay, say I, I shall not be oppressed by this lack of coordination! So I'm going to blame my muscle stiffness this evening on having fallen down about 7 times while trudging through the snow, rather than admit it is probably because I haven't gone hiking in the month than I've been back in Norway until this morning.

I might also have benefited from a bit more planning. Like keeping my matpakke in my pocket instead of in my backpack. Not that a half frozen sandwich was all that bad, and my coffee was still hot, so I wasn't freezing my belly. But it would have been smart to either wear my waterproof socks or my gaiters. Bit of snow melted into my shoes, but I'd already walked enough by that point that my feet were not in danger of freezing. In fact, I took my down vest off shortly after reaching the woods and was just wearing my Taku rain jacket. Insulation? Who needs it when she has an incline and crusty snow that variously holds her weight or doesn't? Really, I wouldn't have had a problem with snow getting into the boots if I didn't also have my steps go down six inches further at unpredictable times. And I was pretty warm until I started walking back down the mountain.

I also should have brought my camera so that it could be made known that snowy mountains in Norway look like snowy pine-covered mountains anywhere. And that the lakes look something less impressive when they appear to be little more than flat, treeless planes of snow.

"du tjente det"

Last night was an 80s party at Kroa. I new there was something I didn't like about the 80s, and now I know precisely what it is. It's not the coke habits or the bad music.* No, I hate the clean-up from the 80s. They had a cover band called the Poodles and pyrotechnics. And confetti. It friggin' sucks to try to get smooth bits of mylar off of a slightly damp stage. Also, the band didn't come take care of their instruments immediately. No, they went off to drink first. I don't think they even got their drums taken down last night. We had to move the drum kit to take down the risers underneath it.

Even more exciting, while there should have been four teknisk crew plus the two teknisk leaders, I was the only crew member who actually worked. It really wasn't that bad. It took a while to get things taken down and all, but okay really. It just sucked that I didn't have anyone to drive me home afterward. I've gotten a little spoiled by working with guys with cars most of the times that I've worked. Knowing that Kroa was going to get fairly hot from the large crowd, I had on Converse instead of my boots. I'm just glad I brought along some woolen socks for the walking part. I got home at 0530, and then got up again at 0930. I had suggested brunch to the Americans, and wanted to get a tasty cinnamon kringle made at something resembling morning. Scrambled eggs, cinnamon breakfast bread, and a discussion of our potential group trip to London in February was very pleasant. We also got to share the gossip of the night before. Of course, I'm already booked to go to London for a week by myself three weeks later, but it would be nice to travel with a group for once.

On another happy note, I got a tip from someone last night. He was coming in and out of the security fencing in front of the stage several times and the last time he came in with a beer he gave me the change in a handshake as a tip. When I started laughing he told me "You earned it."


*There are only two especially 80s songs that I really like. While the DJ did play "Take On Me" while we were cleaning up, I resent that they didn't play "Tainted Love".

heldig med mono

Part 2 of Oslo in October:
Oslo is not the kind of capital city that one falls in love with quickly. It's charm might reveal itself over a period of living there, and it might make a difference that I visited at a time other than the peak of tourist season. But I don't like being surrounded by tourists. I like to pretend that I am not a tourist when I visit a city. My excuse this time was that I was there to do some 'research' at the museums, and to go to a concert. Because a concert is always a legitimate reason for going somewhere, without making me feel like a 'tourist'.
It was entirely possible that I would not be able to go to the concert. Camera Obscura isn't a completely unknown band. You pop-chart-listeners sit down and be quiet. I know they are on the indie charts, but the indie audience isn't that small. After the OC indie is trendy, remember? And indie kids are so the hipsters of today. Okay, I also think that indie is music for aspergers kids. Here you have a group of kids being hipper-than-thou by knowing a vast network of information, and using it for social standing in a select group. No one outside this group has any idea what these hipsters are on about, and by knowing music that someone else doesn't know, the hipster is thus hipper than the other. This is hyperbole of course. The really hip hipsters are much more open than this. This is why they are actually hip, instead of obnoxious. The hip-hipsters are really into the content of what they listen to, either for the politics of it, the sound, or some other ephemeral aspect, and they want to be connected to others that feel the same as them, and tell the interested periphery (that would be me) about it. I knew some really cool indie kids (though I don't think they would define themselves as such) back in Madison. It sort of spoiled me. Now I'm shocked when the people I talk to don't know the major indie record labels. Or the major pop labels. But really, after Nirvana, I don't think anyone who grew up during grunge has an excuse not to know who SubPop is.
After this very long tangent, back to Oslo. Without having a very clear idea in my head of where I was staying for the night, where the club that I wanted to go to Tuesday night was, or how to get to Bygdøya, I managed really well. I spent more money than I would have liked, and only brought home a coat. I found the hostel where I had reserved a bed a few blocks away from the central train station, without very much difficulty. I found the club I wanted to find almost by accident, and they had 11 tickets left to the show that I wanted to go to when I stopped in that afternoon. Café Mono reminds me of the King Club, slightly smaller and a little dolled up. I had a beer at the show, marvelled at how early it started,* and spoke to some random Norwegian guy after the show who told me that Michigan is cool, Wisconsin is boring, and everyone from North Carolina is a snob, but he patted me on the head and said I was a good girl. And of course, as far as museums go, I found those easily enough. So I was really lucky with Oslo. I didn't even get rained on, despite it being overcast with occasional rain the whole time. So perhaps I'm being unfair to the city. And I think if I was going to school there I would like it well enough. But I still think I would be fine with leaving it at the end of the year. The one place in which I was not especially lucky was with shopping. I wanted to get a zippered hoodie and a pair of sneakers. I didn't think any of the hoodies I found were worth 200 kroner. That might be because I can't do math, and didn't realize that 200 kroner is only about $30. That's not bad for Norway, really. But if I am going to put down $30 for a hoodie, it should be cool. Like with some band I like screen printed on the back. Or some neat design that not everyone and their cousin has, and doesn't mean a damn thing anyway. Instead, I found the second hand store, Uff, and got one of those flatteringly cut wool coats in tacky 70s colors. It is dirty-white, navy, terracotta, and olive. It clashes with my newly bright blue hair, my knit hat, most of my shirts, and my everyday bag. But I love it anyway, because it some how reminds me of my Nata, who is so far away.
*10! And on time! Shocking in Norway or America. And the audience wasn't tanked. I guess that is the difference between smalltown and city Norway.
**WI is my university, NC is where I grew up.

I am the ocean and this is erosion, or...

Sisyphus and the wall. In repayment for partially funding and outfitting my expedition, I get to scrape my parents' dining room walls down to the bare plaster. No wonder they have been complaining of sprained shoulders and sore hands. The work became tolerable when I fished my own bladeholder out of my toolbag, and I wonder why they have been scraping paint without a handle on their razorblades. But it is always fun rearranging coastlines of paint and destroying things.

New gear includes:

• external hard drive for storing laptop image
• awesome hiking boots for drenching in bog water
• a 70s hiking pack which rode around on my pop's motorcycle
• vintage REI down sleepsack from my mum's college days
• steel coffee press mug

Flaks!!!