Scandinavialog (pics added)

[StoneMtn]

Actually, me too.

Todd, did you find the thieves? You're a hero!

[Velvet]

I dunno - I saw it today and it was the only piece in the gallery that was under glass.

It sure looked like it, though it was a bit banged up.

Passed through the town of Steinberg yesterday.

Saw Morrissey last night! Jaga Jazzist is playing tonight and Yoko Ono and Beck are tomorrow!

$11 beers and $12 burgers though.

[StoneMtn]

You "passed through" the town of Steinberg and didn't stop to buy me a t-shirt?

Turn that damn bike around. Go get me a souvenir, you bum!

[Velvet]

Scandinavialog, Stardate 080706

Now, where was I at 5:43 and twenty-one seconds on this seventh day of the eighth month six years into the new millenium? I'd like to say I was just arriving at pretty much the top of Denmark where I will be getting the ferry over to Norway. I'd like to say that, but it would be cheating. Sure I pulled into Hirtshals at 5:43.21pm, but they don't use am and pm here, so I actually got here a little before eighteen o'clock. Quarter to six this morning I was still asleep.

What a great day today was (is)! I rode to the library about a kilometre from my campsite and internetted, rode back and got my gear. Went to the post office to mail myself some souveniers which was right next to the town's church. Every town in Denmark has a central core that is cobblestone and off limits to cars. The church/cathedral and train station are always in the area and there's blocks of pedestrian streets. There's another idea Canada should cop. So it was all nice and I found a bike shop and bought myself a spare tube (it has been the weekend since my blowout and I hadn't found an open shop) and a spare tire too. While I was there I pumped a few extra pounds of pressure into my tires. I know I needed it, and it made the ride sooooo much easier, but I had been afraid to put more air in until I had grabbed the spare tube.

Aalborg is the home of an old Viking (it's so cute how they say "Wiking" here) cemetary. Atop the highest hill was a field of rocks, some formed in circles or squares, but mostly spread randomly, and this is the home to 800 of my people (stick your jaw out all the way, clench your teeth and in the lowest voice you can manage, mutter "my people". That's how I mean it.). Last summer I went up to L'Anse Aux Meadows in Newfoundland (also on my bike) and saw where (real low now) my people lived when they moved to Canada, then called Vinland. Now here was part of their home. This is what they thought of when they were homesick. It's nice to come full circle. There is of course Wiking stuff everywhere in Denmark but this is the first thing I've seen, and I'm glad. I have always liked graveyards for some reason, and this was a nice one. It's neat that right around the time the Wikings came to Vinland is when this graveyard was no longer in use. You never know, it coulda been the exact same people.

Today's ride was the most pleasant so far. I did hit my stride yesterday, and couple that with leaner tires and a wind that was beside me, and even occasionally a degree or two behind me, and it was so little work. I was easily reminded why the hell I'm doing this.

When I finished grade 1 I came home with my report card to find my mom in the living room putting together two new bicycles, one for me (a blue one with a banana seat) and one for my brother. They were presents for passing school, and I remember wondering how my mom knew that we had passed without seeing our report cards. That bike was my world. Every morning that summer I would have my toast and cereal and BAM I'd be out the door calling over my shoulder, "I'm going biking!" It was my freedom. I'd spend all day on that blue bike, exploring every street and lane and park within my known boundries. My folks had rules on how far I could go and I never broke them, but I would stare listless into the great unknown at the edge of my neighborhood. That neighborhood is a long way behind me now, but I can still taste that sense of freedom that comes from pedalling through my world, however large or small it is.

Todayæs stats:

Time: 3:31.23

Average speed: 20.0

Distance: 70.05

Maximum speed: 36.5

Total distance: 450.59

Hirtshals is where I am now, and it's a wonder I got here at all as I find the town's name completely unpronouncable. They say something like "Heyetssals" and no matter how many times I tried to say "Heyetssals" I would get blank stares, produce my map and point, and get, "Oh, Heyetssals". Anyway, I'm here, and it's a pretty little seaside town, and it's a popular spot because the ferries to almost everywhere land and leave from here. I'll be taking the 11:00 ferry to Stavanger, Norway.

I did Denmark entirely on the money I found in the airport in Newark.

Edited September 10, 2006 by Guest

[Velvet]

Scandinavialog, Stardate 080806

I watched a wonderful sunset last night; there's nothing quite like watching the sun sink into the sea. Windy as hell, but there was a nice sandy beach adjacent to my campground from which to watch, and 'twas a lovely painting in motion for a good hour.

Awoke and packed and went into town for breakfast - a hamburger. Manoman they eat a lot of hamburgers and hot dogs here, especially hot dogs. Now, some of you might think I'm in heaven over it and though the burgers are made excusively from frozen pre-press substandard it still ain't too shabby. I bought my ferry ticket and rode on.

This is definitely the biggest boat I've been on. Maybe that one at Pearl Harbour with all the guns is heavier, but this ferry to Norway is huge. Like cruise ship big. The cars got stacked on elevatable platforms and the boat had a million bars, a casino (boy do children love to play slots), movie theatres, live shows going on, it's a big boat. I bought a beer ($8) and later a burger and fries ($10) for lunch. When the casino opened I was disappointed to see that they no longer have roulette (I had visions of doing Norway on someone else's money) and I skipped the movies ($16) and just enjoyed the eleven hour ride. For over half of it we went along the Norwegian coastline so there was always something to look at. Had some fries and a burger for dinner, watched a couple of live shows (the variety show included a midget called Bubbleman who attempted to make huge bubbles with his huge bubblemaker and they all burst before he did what he meant to do, and he bowed every time), and eventually we arrived at Stavanger, Norway.

I had a hard time finding my bike but when I did I found an older couple getting on their bikes. They were local so I asked where the campground was and the guy said, "Follow us, it's easier to point than to talk." So I followed them off the boat. We were coming up behind the cars and a dock guy called us over, looked at our tickets and pointed us out a different gate to the street. As the three of us started cycling away from the dock the man turned to me and said, "You have nothing to declare, yes?" Um, well, I'm not gonna declare this chunk of hash in my crotch and even if I did we skipped customs anywho. Gotta love these European borders.

"Yeah, that's right. Nothing to declare."

So here I am in Norway. I gotta go check out the fjords tomorrow. I've been thinking and I've decided my Norwegian plans are gonna deviate from my initial intentions.

For the better of course.

Every night when I blow up my inflatable pillow I feel like I'm taking a breathalizer test.

Edited September 10, 2006 by Guest

[Velvet]

Scandinavialog, Stardate 080906

It was everything I could do to drag my ass outta the sleeping bag at eight this morning. Despite the rain I wanted to take a day trip. I sped down to the docks after getting lost a few times and missed my 9am ferry by almost ten minutes. I would now have to wait until 12:25. I drove the three or four kilometers back to my tent at the Stavanger Campground, passing (again) their cathedral on the way. The Stavanger Cathedral is considered the "best preserved midieval church in Scandinavia" and it's pretty nice too. Building commenced in 1125, and the cathedral is playing host this week to the Stavanger Chamber Music Festival. Must be a hell of a room to play.

So I got back to the campground, paid for another night, and headed out to see 'Old Stavanger'. This area is near downtown and it has been around since the 1500's, though with many fires the oldest houses are from the early 1800's. It's a whole neighborhood of streets about nine feet wide with almost 200 of the most unbelievable fairy-tale houses and buildings you could imagine, the pamphlets say this is the nicest neighborhood of old wooden houses in northern Europe. I was swooning. Of course people live in these houses still, and I just can't imagine how cool it would be to live in such a 'hood. Awesome.

Bought a couple of small pizza slices for $11 ($12 if you wanted to eat in) 'cuz I had skipped breakfast, and I got to the ferry terminal, on time this time.

(Did I mention the first thing I purchased in Norway was a 500ml Coke, for $4!)

My plan was to see Pulpit Rock (Preikestolen), which required a forty-five minute ferry ride and a forty-five minute bus ride (both of which were fairly spectacular in their own right) and a remarkable two-hour hike up to the top of the fjord. By the way, just before I reached Pulpit Rock I sat on a stone and smoked a joint. Glancing at my timepiece I noticed that back in Ottawa it was 9am, and I thought of all my friends sitting down to work while I sat there watching the mist snake down the fjord. I'm such a bastard.

So then I'm at Pulpit Rock. For those that don't know, I'm a bit weirded out when I'm somewhere high up that you can jump off of. Airplanes, CN Tower, space shuttles = okay, tall apartment balconies, ferris wheels, big rocks with a sheer drop of 603 metres = weird. So Preikestolen is a huge chunk of rock spanning down into a fjord. It's a sheer drop of 603 metres straight down, and there's no railings or nothing, it's just like the ice age meant it to be. You can walk right up to the edge. And look down. And get all weird feeling in the stomach. And lie down on your tummy and stick your head over the edge. I just reshuddered remembering it. I didn't have the guts to dangle my feet off the edge like some do. The view was a miracle in every direction. In my travels the beauty of this hike and vista is seldom equaled and only bettered maybe by Macchu Picchu.

My friend Corey is a rock climber and he once told me that when he looks at things he often can't help but to instantly ask himself, "Could I climb that?" I'm sorry buddy, but I think you couldn't climb this. I'm sure it has some level of infamy amongst rock climbers (and no doubt base jumpers too).

I took my time hiking back down and still had to wait over two hours to start the bus/ferry/bicycle rides back to my tent.

Here's the stats for booting around town here and back in Hirtshals:

Time: 2:12.08

Average speed: 12.6 (I was walking my bike a lot while sightseeing)

Distance: 27.90

Maximum speed: 38.0

Total distance: 478.49

Something crafty happened to me today. Because it's cheaper to eat pizza outside than in the pizza place, and because stuff is way expensive here already, I was eating my pizza outside a cd store and noticed a sign.

I think this sign is gonna change up my plans a little!

Edited September 10, 2006 by Guest

[Velvet]

Scandinavialog, Stardate 081006

I spent months at home making vaguely meticulous plans for this trip and I've been slowly realising that I had made an error in my plans. I had based my plans on time versus kilometrage, just as I had for my bicycle trip across Newfoundland. So, I figured out how far it was from point A to point B and divided in a rough daily distance and planned my route thusly. That worked great for Newfoundland because frankly there's not much to see or do on The Rock other than trees and ocean and camping. Scandinavia is a whole other story, there's stuff to do and see here in spades. Sticking to my original plan wouldn't have afforded me the time to see either Ekeskov Castle or Pulpit Rock, which are obvious highlights.

The plans I made at my kitchen table last February called for me to have been in Haugasund (about 75kms north of Stavanger) yesterday to check out a bit of the Sildajazz Festival ("silda" is Norwegian for "herring", and Haugasund is the herring capitol of the world), and then do four long hard biking days to Oslo in time for their jazz festival (which I pre-bought tickets to). I had already decided that I was going to alter the plans slightly, stay an extra day or two in fjordland and take the bus most of the way to Oslo on Saturday or Sunday.

Then I saw the poster in the window of that music store in Stavanger, and now I'm on the train to Oslo. The poster was advertising something called Oya, a three day rock festival on an island in Oslo starting tonight; three stages going from noon 'til midnight each day. Problem is it's sold out. I asked the very helpful guy at my campground in Stavanger and he said, "Just buy a ticket at the gate, people will be selling extras guaranteed." "But are you sure, 'cuz I'll have to go all the way..." "Guaranteed," he interrupted, with enough confidence that I believed him. So I spent the evening humming and hawing about what to do, though the fact that a train was available from Stavanger while only bus service went to Oslo from Haugasund was tipping the scales a bit. When I woke up to a rainy day with just enough time to make the 11am train I made my decision.

And wow is this train ride spectacular. It's an eight hour journey along the coast to Oslo, through the fjords, past gorgous mountain lakes, tunnel after bridge after bridge after tunnel. It's so engaging that I'm primarily only typing while we're in tunnels, which can be quite surprisingly long. The longer the tunnel the more my ears pop, just like ascending in an airplane. Honestly I think this train ride would be worth the money even if I wasn't going anywhere! It looks like the Canadian Shield on high alert out there, and curiously it seems each town we pass alternates between sunny and pissing rain. Plus the train is basically empty - there are three of us in my whole car.

Later now:

After Kristiansand, which is at the southern tip of Norway, the geography changed as the fjords are mainly on the western side of the country. The last few hours to Oslo looked a lot like taking a train through Algonquin Park, thought there were still lotsa tunnels. I know we went through over 100 tunnels today. About 45 minutes before Oslo we stopped in the Willage of Steinerg, Stone Mountain.

Just as I was taking my bicycle off the train in Oslo it started to piss down raining. I waited it out a bit, asked for some directions and got my bearings and I headed out towards the campground I wanted. On the way what should I pass? The Oya Festival site! I stopped and grabbed a weekend pass off a guy selling his extra out front (face was 1250kr, I got it for 1200kr which is about $240). Then up I went.

Oslo is a city on the water and surrounded by mountains on three sides. My campground is atop one of the mountains, and it's pricey (though I think it's the cheapest place to stay in the area), at over $30 a night for one dude and a tent, no car. Showers of course cost extra. So I pitched my tent in the rain and almost considered passing on the festival and just sitting here drying out instead.

Fuck that, lazybones. Donned my quick-dry biking clothes (I wear shorts over the spandex shorty-things) and decided to walk down to the fest. And it stopped raining as soon as I left! Despite the fact that the festival is essentially just below the campground, the way the streets work to traverse the steep incline makes for a significantly bigger journey. No matter, I saw some of the city and made it to the festival grounds.

The Oya Festival takes place on an island, officially, though you'd never know it; a ten metre footbridge will get you there. I arrived at the mainstage which was setting up for the headliner and went to the concession area to get a beer. The beer lineups were remarkably long, I'm sure due in part to how thorough the entrance inspection is. I mean they're looking in your boots, and two different check-ins where they physically tug on every wristband to make sure they're real and on tight.

Grabbed an eleven dollar beer after a twelve minute wait and made it back to the mainstage just in time for Morrissey to come on, looking fine in a sharp black tuxedo. I know this is wrong (especially now), but I don't think I've ever heard Morrissey before, and I know nothing about him (didn't he used to be in another band?), but I'm an instant fan. What a voice! And amazing poetry, it's like Tom Waits and Frank Sinatra together fronting the world's cleverest punk band. He had such command and confidence, I ate up every minute of it. Let's see if I can remember any songs - he introduced one as "You Could Have Me Killed", is there one called "Stop Me If You've Heard This One Before"? "Picture Someone You Physically Admire And Kiss Me", and..geez I dunno, there were lots of tunes and my heart was overwhelmed with joy at each one.

The crowd was really into it and obviously knew a lot of the songs. There was almost a fight next to me at one point but other than that everything seemed pretty chill, though the Norwegians are not ones to excuse-me their way to the front. The best you'll get is a hand on your shoulder pushing you aside as they pass, but usually it's just a barge-through - no need to look for a opening. I was immediately annoyed but then I immediately switched over to 'different culture, different rules' mode.

Looking around I figure the fest was about the size of Evolve or a bit bigger but when it ended I realised I was mistaken. There were easily about 15-18,000 there, and I saw that one of the other stages is about the same size and stature as the mainstage while the third is obviously lesser. I didn't get to see much of the grounds but I'm sure I will before it's all done. One funny thing I noticed: in the middle of the porta-potties was dozens of side-by-side urinals facing each other. They looked like grey plastic voting booths, and right there in the open! The weirdest part seems to me to be that instead of facing a wall two inches from you're face, you're facing another dude! I didn't try them out but like I say, I still got two more days!

Anyway, I grabbed a shawarma and caught the city bus (fare: $6) back to my tent for the night. I'm pretty sure there's a late night element to this festival taking place at city bars, but I'll sit it out this one night.

Lazybones!

[backbacon]

Just great, Velvet!

[StoneMtn]

Velvet, Morrissey used to be the lead-singer of the Smiths.

You will recall a young lady who I dated throughout most of the time I was in Ottawa, and she was pretty obsessed with him. Whenever I would piss her off (regularly) she would put on Morrissey and sit there all quiet and sombre. It was so annoying.

I think I'll always be biased against that musician, through no fault of his own.

PS One day, you and I will climb that rock; you'll see.

[mattm]

Hey velvet, thanks for the log, it's been my work entertainment and is great, keep it coming and keep it just as long and full of detail.

[Velvet]

Dear lord have mercy on my soul. I just saw two of the most unbelievable acts I´ve ever seen, no exaggeration, back to back. I am reeling after what I just saw.

Try googling Hurra Torpedo, I´m told you can find their video for Total Eclipse Of The Heart.

I gotta go sit down, really.

[bradm]

Try googling Hurra Torpedo, I´m told you can find their video for Total Eclipse Of The Heart.

Found it.

Aloha,

Brad

[Velvet]

That´s exactly what it was like, same outfits, same asses hanging out, same appliances (well, not the same appliances, they get totally destroyed by the end of the set). Amazingly. this video is like 15 years old, and they are still touring (just got back from a US tour apparently).

I really couldn´t believe what I was seeing, and after an hour and a half it didn´t get old!

Beck is up next to close out the fest. Take care all, more loggies soon.

[Ms.Huxtable]

Thanks again for the logs Velvet. I am SO jealous. I was the biggest Smiths and Morrisey fan in highschool. I still have a couple photos of him in an album somewhere. Lucky bastard. Good to hear he still has it. And good to hear that you're throwing caution to the wind and going schedule-be-damned. Giddy up!

[Velvet]

Scandinavialog, Stardate 081106

Once again I woke to the rain. I'm starting to think that Norway's regular weather pattern is intermittent rain. I sincerely hope I get proven wrong. Had a shower and went to the store. I bought two rolls, 500ml of chocolate milk, a banana, and some rolling papers, and it was twelve bucks. I know I gotta get over the price thing and just accept how expensive things are here, but at the same time I can't afford to just go to a restaurant and drop $50 on a meal either. I'm gonna be in this city for four or five more days and I'm gonna have to keep an eye on spending, which means I should try to stay sober. I mean that two ways - booze is ridiculously expensive in this country (and I only have a bit of whiskey left, though I still have all the tequila), and when I'm drunky I tend to spend money on things like food and taxis and booze. No more festival beer! Unless it's all sunny and hot.

Right now I'm sitting alone in the only chair in the middle of an amazing gazebo in front of Oslo's National Theatre. I've just walked the length of Karl Johannsgate, a beautiful Sparks Street sorta thing. Actually that's an embarrassing comparison. Fountains, statues, museums, the church, the university, all along this strip (and of course Burger Kings and McDonaldses - still haven't eaten it but I popped in to see the prices. About $13 for a Big Mac; I think it was for the meal deal). At the end of the street is the Palace, and I'm on my way there now. On the way back I'll stop in the National Gallery.

Wow, wow, wow. The gallery was really quite incredible (and free too!). It's not that big but I was still there for well over two hours. There is, of course, the Munch room which includes The Scream* and The Kiss, and, well, about thirty of his pieces. There was one of a dance and I swear the dude from The Scream is in it dancing with a girl. I thought his Self Portrait With Cigarette was cool. Amongst the sculpture collection at the museum was The Thinker, and I really can't think of a piece of art I've known for longer (except maybe Dogs Playing Poker). There was a good cubist collection too, including two of the three paintings I wrote a huge 4th year paper on called Erik Satie And His Relationship To The Cubist Movement. The pieces they had were Cezanne's still life of oranges and Picasso's Guitar And Glass. They were right next to each other, and the next painting over was a Braque, though not the specific Braque that was in my paper. Very neat. Suffice to say if you're ever in Oslo the gallery is a must-see. Behind the gallery is another of modern installations, which was a great place to wait out a rainstorm on an otherwise sunny day.

Meandering back down the main drag I stopped at the Hard Rock Cafe, which was quite impressive. They had the kit Alex Van Halen recorder the first Van Halen album on, a really interesting and funny letter that John Lennon wrote to Derek Taylor, one of Prince's fancy-pants custom guitars, and lots of great stuff. I got shut out of internet where I could dump these logs, but I did find a grocery store and bought enough food to last me the next couple or three days for $45. Bought a couple of beers at the grocery store too, and I'm enjoying one now before heading down to the festival.

Later:

I got to the festival and made a point of checking out the entire site, and every booth. I gotta say it's set up really well, except that whatever used to be on the island (dozens or maybe hundreds of years ago) is now reduced to stone outlines and remains of buildings, making it very difficult to safely navigate when it gets dark or, I assume, when one is drunk. There's quite a selection of food stalls, and the burger one unfairly is so big it can be smelled from anywhere onsite. There's a few clothing booths and t-shirt stalls and a couple of cd tents, but the cool booths are the ones not selling anything. The way it seems to work is a big company puts up a...something...and tries to make it so cool you'll appreciate it and hopefully patronise the companies products. For example Ikea had a tent that was stylish and had lots of places to sit and tables laden with hors d'eouvres and fresh fruit. Lee Jeans had a tent offering one-on-one live djing. You sit in a booth with a dj and tell him what you like. He gives you headphones and spins tunes solely for you for as long as you like. At one of the stages what looked like a VIP area was just a set of covered bleachers near the stage, sponsored by some Norwegian company. In fact, there's no VIP sections at all, no lawnchairs, and a huge umbrella-check at the gate. One booth offered free internet while another was full of big screen tvs and Playstations. These booths had very little advertising inside, just a sign outside telling you who is bringing this to you.

Oh, there was music too. I started with the last few songs of Bonk, a Norwegian straight-ahead rock band, which I thought was okay. Next up I wanted to check out another local band called The Cheaters, solely because of their t-shirts. Their shirt had the official Beatles logo on it, nice and big in the middle, and it looked like it was crossed out with marker while underneath in the same marker was scrawled "The Cheaters". I came so close to buying one. They were pretty good, a Brit-punk sounding trio that looked like AC/DC, and yet I curse them. I curse them for every moment they took away from my viewing of Black Debbath on the mainstage.

I'm not sure what I saw, but I will describe it as best I can. When I got to the mainstage there were four or five people onstage in elaborate, Gwaresque costumes, and they were screaming out Spinal Tappish heavy metal with remarkable conviction and extensive pyrotechnics. We're talking feet on the monitors, guitar headstocks shoved into walls of sparks, tongues all the way out and wagging, wind machines on Randy Rhodes hairstyles, and all sung in Norwegian; it was impossible to discern if it was parody or not. I was ecstatic. I only caught the last twenty-five minutes or so, but at one point the lead singer pulled down his fly and whipped out a fake dick which he used to piss on the grave of Henrik Ibsen, a well done mockup of which was inexplicable set up on the stage. After a few minutes of pissing, up rose a man dressed as Ibsenæs corpse! The band raged on (I think the song was called King Of Norway) while the undead stalked around the stage and ultimately ended up wearing a...

...sousaphone! The band abrubtly stops. Ibsen ogles the crowd, takes a deep breath, and kicks out a heavy, heavy bassline. Whammo, the band kicks in and we're on a prog-rock journey right back to 1983. My gawd it was so awesome, I felt childhood glee in my heart the whole time.

The Cramps were on next. I stayed for a couple of tunes but they weren't my thing so I went to the Sjosiden Stage to check out another US band, The Twilight Singers. Again, meh, but they were better than The Cramps. I broke down and decided to buy a beer. Drank almost half of it and dropped my cup on the ground. I must have looked like a sick puppy because some guy almost immediately gave me the rest of his beer.

Finally Jaga Jazzist. For any of you that caught them at the Ottawa Bluesfest last summer, you'll know why I was excited. They're an Oslo-based ten-piece instrumental experimental modern rock band. Most players are multi-instrumentalists so there's an unbelievable amount of gear on stage. They are obviously very popular here, and had a really big crowd of cheering fans. I was in a state of continuos joy during their set.

There was a Canadian band called Black Mountain on the Vika stage afterwards so I checked out a song or two before going to the mainstage (Enga) to see a very popular Norwegian band with the unfortunate name of The Dumdum Boys. They are obviously a big draw 'round here and I was reminded a bit of The Hip both with the musical style and the audience response. They were fun but the name just bugged me.

Turns out there is a late night element to the festival, two bars with two djs each and two halls with two bands each. The festival pass entitles you to buy a ticket for $30 to go to one of these so I gave it a pass.

Long day, and were my dogs tired. I went back to the campsite and made a sammich, finished off my whiskey (and Iæm gonna wait until Sweden to buy any more) and went to bed.

*Munch painted three versions of The Scream. This was the first, the second was stolen a few years ago, while the third is in a private collection. I suspect the second version is currently in a private collection as well.

[Velvet]

Scandinavialog, Stardate 081206

I was happily surprised to find it not raining when I woke up this morning. Yesterday I had bought a twenty-four hour bus pass (for the price of two fares) and hadn't used it until noon so I still had time to use it to go downtown this morning and empty my digital camera onto a disc and use an internet cafe. Boy have things changed since I first started travelling. Fourteen years ago I would have written (and not typed) that I spent the morning finding a cheap place to drop off my film, which I would have had to pick up later, and went to the GPO to mail some letters and check to see if I'd recieved any mail via Poste Restante. Roll with the changes.

Got back and made a nice lunch and perused the concert schedule (which has a remarkable amount of info in it, but all in Norwegian). I had considered not going down until later until I noticed that a band playing at 3pm called KILLL included a member of Jaga Jazzist. I'm sooooo glad I went early.

KILLL is two guitars, a bass, and the drummer (and main dude) from Jaga Jazzist, and each guy seems to have a significant amount of electronics going on as well. They play composed and freeform black metal with vengeance, and they were playing it just for themselves. I say that because they were playing behind a backdrop, that's right, behind a backdrop so the audience couldn't see them. The backdrop was full of those diamond-shaped patterns that bug out your eyes and look like they're moving. Unfortunately (I thought) there were cameramen behind the backdrop as well shooting them for the big screen, though they were being very obscure about the camera shots, and the stage was drenched in dry ice the whole time. Finally after 40 minutes (!) right on a huge break (these guys were really tight) the backdrop fell and the band roared into the crowds faces, and the audience went ballistic. These guys sounding like...hmmm...take Holy Fuck and kill their moms and cut out their tongues so they're really mad and screaming in pain. Then get them to play furious prog-metal with their E strings tuned down to low X. And the audience, young and old, loved it, as did I. After KILLL's set I sat on the grass in a slight state of shock, and I was zoned out enough to not notice that the roadies were loading appliances onto the stage for the next act.

I've been wondering if it was a mistake to come to this fest instead of seeing more rural Norway. Don't get me wrong, I've been having a great time, but I didn't intend to spend five or six days in one city, and such an expensive one at that, plus the fest ticket and the train cost a lot of money. Blahblahblah; the next act took any question from my mind. Hurra Torpedo was one of the most joyous musical experiences I've ever had. Easily in the top five, likely top three.

As they began the introduction for Hurra Torpedo, I stood up and surveyed the stage. In the centre where the drums should be was three or four kitchen stoves and a deep freezer. Jerry-side was another stove and a big pot of some sort, and a big speaker cab. Phil-zone had yet another stove and a double-stack. Three men came onstage to huge response, each wearing identical blue Adidas track suits (I believe they predate the Beastie Boys, and they always dress this way) with their asses half to three quarters hanging out. The um, let's call him 'drummer', who incidentally is also a tv star and was voted last years Sexiest Man In Norway, took his place behind all the appliances and picked up a big steel rod, while a guitarist on either side stood on their (mic+ed) stoves. Then they played really good rock music, the two guitarists stomping on their stoves while the drummer opened and closed the deep freezer for the bass drum, and beat the shit out of the stoves for the snare and cymbal parts. Sure this was novelty, but it wasn't just novelty, it fucking rocked. For the second tune one guitarist and the drummer each held a four-foot long serated metal bar in a phallic fashion, and while the other guitarist sang and played they had simulated sex with stoves creating a cool and consistent percussion part by rubbing their metal dongs on the ovens. One of the fuckers was also smacking has hanging-out ass (also mic+ed) as part of the rhythm, so while one guy was going, fucka-fucka-fuck-fuck-fucka-fucka-fuck-fuck, the other guy was going, fuuuuck-fuuuuck-slap-fuuuuck-fuuuuck-slap, and it was good music! They did a lot of talking between songs and people were laughing their heads off. I asked a guy what was going on and he said they are Norwegian but part of their shtick is they pretend to be from Sweden and they speak in really poor Swedish, and they were joking about how they went to America (which they just toured) and signed a big recording contract or something.

Then they played a cover of Britney Spears' 'Toxic' and they really jammed it out, like twenty minutes or so, and had the whole audience singing along in "my people"-type voices.

The guy I was talking to seemed to know a lot about the band so I asked him what he knew about Black Debbath, who had blown my away the previous day. "It's the same guys." My jaw hit the floor. "Really?!?" "Yeah, these guys are thirteen different bands, one time they even played a music festival and the whole festival was their thirteen bands." I think that might just be the coolest thing I've ever heard about a band. I mean Hurra Torpedo is so good, and so is Black Debbath, would I love all these bands? Probably!

They did a bunch more originals, and it never got old. Each tune had something unique, plus the compositional quality was high. I called it from the first half-bar; "Omigod, they're playing When Doves Cry by Prince," and sure enough they did, start to finish, only they changed a lyric or two to make it When Stoves Cry ("Maybe I'm just like that freezer, too cold"). Then they went right into Total Eclipse Of The Heart, which apparently they are quite famous for. For one song the drummer grinded a hand-held blender into a stove making the coolest sound; they were so damn creative. By the end of the set the appliances were absolutely destroyed, and the last sound was the drummer miraculously lifting a train wheel over his head and smashing it down onto his whole setup, eliminating any possibility of an encore. I mean that wheel looked like it must have weighed 150lbs. Asses hanging out, a little bit bloodied and a lot sweaty, Hurra Torpedo left the stage and I could only stare blankly in their wake.

I had to buy a six dollar Pepsi so I could get a cup for the free water and then I hit the small stage for Kieran Hebden (a British electronic dude), and Steve Reid (an old-school jazz drummer). It was just the two of them onstage and the whole set was improvised, and again it was truly excellent. And again a big crowd. It is so encouraging to see a fifteen year old kid (not to mention hundreds of them) grooving to completely experimental freeform jazz/electronica without a dance beat. It is also inspiring to see how much Steve Reid was enjoying playing this new music. This old black dude has played with lots of legends along the way and he was eyes-rolled-back into it the whole time. It was awesome.

I hopped offsite for some reasonably priced food and made it back for the beginning of Yoko Ono's set. When I first saw this festival advertised I wondered what kind of audience might Yelping Yoko run up against (by the way, I am a fan of Yoko's music), but after hearing so much experimental stuff in the last few days I thought this audience would be right up her alley. Well, it turns out they know their shit from their shinola around here. Yoko seemed nervous and unsure of herself, and in between reading lyrics from a booklet she held in her hand she let out her very disjointed and seemingly out-of-place howls, and the audience for the most part didn't seem to be buying it. At one point she went to her props table and put on a black hood and held her arms out. Then she took that off and carried a doll swathed up to look like a baby around the stage. Finally she put on her white leather jacket smeared in blood, and then she was done with the props table. Her last song (after only 40 minutes) was Give Peace A Chance, and she milked it for all she could, though she often led the crowd singing in the wrong spot leaving the musicians to make up time (I thought I recognised the guitar player). When she was done she left and came back to tell us, "When we say give peace a chance itæs not just words, it can be real. So just say 'Peace' and it will be."

Okay Yoko.

Beck came on next and played a standard rock show which was a bit of a letdown after the weekend of crazy new music I'd been hearing. It was still a fun show, and a neat thing was he had four puppeteers operating marionettes of all the band members and they had the marionettes lip-syncing all the parts for the whole show live onstage, and the puppets were the only thing on the big screen. The puppets even had a little big screen behind them, and little cutouts of puppeteers operating puppets for their little show, if you see what I mean.

In short, Oya is an unbelievably kickass festival. I'd like to come back.

[Velvet]

Scandinavialog, Stardate 081306

Another lovely, albeit fairly cloudy day. Okay, it doesn't always rain here, that's good.

This isn't the greatest campground to be sure, but it has a heck of a view of the city. I paid for a couple more nights here and packed up my stuff. Now why would I pay for more nights and then pack my stuff? Because my stuff was so unbelievabley scattered in my tent the only way I could find anything was by rolling over on top of it, and I managed to drop the heater from my joint and had a hard time finding it too. Also I had pitched my tent under a tree full of stink bugs so I wanted to move. What a benevalant method of self-defence those stink bugs have. You squish them, they stink. The individual goes down for the group. Anyway moved to a different spot and unpacked everything nice and tidy like.

I didn't have anything I really wanted to do so I hopped on my bike and spent the afternoon roaming the city. I took in the Culture Museum, 'cuz itæs free, and was interested to see they had a permanent exhibit on slavery. Of Europeans. I didn't know this but over a million Europeans were enslaved in northern Africa (Morocco, Tunisia, that area) at the same time the Africans were being bought and sold in America. Though the European slaves seemed to have an easier time of it, and were ransomable/rescuable, it was nice to find that slave ships bound for America were often captured and while their cargo was released the traders themselves were made slaves. Gotta love sick twisted justice.

Oslo is a beautiful city to ride around, there are sculptures everywhere, and some of the architecture is quite stunning. Sometimes an apartment building is not just an apartment building. How cool would it be to live in art? I rode over to the 'island' where all the museums that cost money are. I was on a free day so I gave 'em a miss, outside of biking around them and pressing my face up against the windows.

Just outside of the Wiking Museum I saw a fanny pack slung over the back of a park bench. Uh-oh, here we go again. I stopped and decided to just sit there until the person who lost it came back. I decided if they didn't come for fifteen minutes I'd look inside the fanny pack, and hopefully there'd be a passport inside so I could take it to the appropriate embassy. My left side is pretty much all healed and the scarring on my right side is no longer disgusting, so I didn't want no more found-money negative karma! So after fifteen minutes nobody comes and I look inside and it's empty, except a pen. I'm glad the person didn't come back and think I had cleaned him out! Lesson learned, I guess.

I'm getting used to riding up this hill to the campground. It's a hell of a climb but when I pace myself right I don't even get short of breath. Came home and made dinner (haven't had a burger or hot dog in days) and puttered around the park talking to folks.

Just another boring night in Oslo. Of course, there's still that tequila.

Edited September 10, 2006 by Guest

[AD]

That festival / band of 13 bands sounds amazing.

you should get published dude. your logs are fantastic. hehe.

[Velvet]

Doesn't this count as being published? I thought I was a famous travel writer!

Yeah, they were amazing, I recommend you check out the link Bradm supplied. I bought a cd by Black Debbath. They have three: one is political, one is all Henrik Ibsen, and the third (that I bought) is in English and it's called Welcome To Norway. It's meant to be an audio/visual guide to Oslo. The extensive liner notes are hilarious, but I've sent it home so I've no idea what it sounds like.

Thanks for your nice words AD (and everyone). It's very encouraging knowing that some of you folks are getting a kick out of reading this stuff.

[guigsy]

For the second tune one guitarist and the drummer each held a four-foot long serated metal bar in a phallic fashion, and while the other guitarist sang and played they had simulated sex with stoves creating a cool and consistent percussion part by rubbing their metal dongs on the ovens. One of the fuckers was also smacking has hanging-out ass (also mic+ed) as part of the rhythm, so while one guy was going, fucka-fucka-fuÇk-fuÇk-fucka-fucka-fuÇk-fuÇk, the other guy was going, fuuuuck-fuuuuck-slap-fuuuuck-fuuuuck-slap, and it was good music!

syyyyyyyyy borg

gimme dat, gimme dat

syyyyyyyyy borg...

did you notice anything that looked like a telefunken u-47?

[bradm]

I found and posted a Black Debbath video:

http://www.jambands.ca/sanctuary/showtopic.php?tid/233411/

Aloha,

Brad

[Booche]

Outstanding!

You just made my Monday morning far more tolerable than I could ever have dreamed.

Thanks for that Toddles.

[LJFH]

F@@@ck F@@@@ck Slap.

Priceless.

[fluffhead77]

Grabbed an eleven dollar beer after a twelve minute wait and made it back to the mainstage just in time for Morrissey to come on, looking fine in a sharp black tuxedo. I know this is wrong (especially now), but I don't think I've ever heard Morrissey before, and I know nothing about him (didn't he used to be in another band?), but I'm an instant fan. What a voice! And amazing poetry, it's like Tom Waits and Frank Sinatra together fronting the world's cleverest punk band. He had such command and confidence, I ate up every minute of it. Let's see if I can remember any songs - he introduced one as "You Could Have Me Killed", is there one called "Stop Me If You've Heard This One Before"? "Picture Someone You Physically Admire And Kiss Me", and..geez I dunno, there were lots of tunes and my heart was overwhelmed with joy at each one.

he was in the smiths...and I'm glad you enjoyed him...he really is one of the most enigmatic performers ever and those that love him/the smith REALLY love him (myself included)

That song you spoke of, "Stop me if you think that you've heard this one before" is a wicked Smiths song and might just have one of the greatest lyrics ever in it, and funnily enough appropriate to your cycling journey....

"...I crashed down on the crossbar and the pain was enough to make a shy, bald buddhist reflect and plan a mass murder."

great stuff Todd, keep the logs loggin'

Edited August 14, 2006 by Guest

[gentlemonkey]

Great reading, Todd!! Thanks for these.