Tag Archives: oslo

To the right of the flack jacket, just past the roman helms, and next to the live tarantula…

24 Monday May 2010

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The adventure in Norway continues.

I played video games in a graveyard, had a near hallucinatory experience with the Fraggle Rocks, saw the monolith on the big screen, and found fossils in the woods.

But enough cryptic foreplay…let’s get to it!

Goblin Markets, Fraggle Rocks, Strange Days
Several Saturdays ago, I rolled out of bed, at noon, stumbled into some clothes, and made the walk to grab a coffee at the corner shop. I found the main road closed and full of people in a sort of Norwegian sidewalk market fest. I decided to explore it for a few hours.

Sometimes getting a coffee can be an adventure.

Lots of little shops. Some cool paintings sold on the sidewalk. Various yummy smells. Various fishy smells. A large area of sidewalk was taken over by a radio station doing a promotion. They had this big ramp, covered in snow, with various kids doing ski and snowboard tricks, on the warm, sunny day. I didn’t understand what was said, but it looked fun. The boarders/skiers ranged in age, up to late teens, but the one who rocked the best tricks, and with the most confidence, was the youngest looking, a little girl. She was like the snowboarding version of Hit Girl.

That night, I went into the Funcom office (I go to work to play my video games) to play Conan with some folks from the US. With the time difference, I didn’t get out of there until 3 a.m. And what do my bleary peepers spy when I get to the street?

A bus. Not a normal bus. This bus is rocking. And there are weird lights and mist coming out of it. And loud, ribcage-rattling dance music is pulsing forth from it. In fact, it looks like there is a night club in a pocket dimension, within the bus, full of people dancing. And, as my eyes adjust, I see what it is painted along the whole outer body…scenes depicting the Fraggle Rocks.

Before I could pinch myself, the bus drove off into the Norwegian night.

And where is the magical Fraggle bus now? ‘tis a mystery…***

Womb Breach Day
The end of April saw me turn 31. This means I am just old enough to play a high school kid in Hollywood.

To celebrate, I took my new PSP and went and did what I could never do with past game systems—I played Castlevania, at night, in cemetery by a medieval church built by a viking king. It’s the little things.

The Monolith and the Trilobites
So this one time, a great-uncle of mine found this bone, and smashed this other dude in the head for messing around at his waterhole…and the rest is prehistory…

Through some cats at work, I found the movie theatre that film geeks go to here in Oslo. I have since watched 2001: A Space Odyssey and Lawrence of Arabia, and Chinatown, on the big screen, in 70mm. Loud sound too. I could feel my hair flying back at the height of the 2001 theme.

All in all, I think I could have beaten HAL. Back in the early-mid 90s, I had a face-off with an artificial intelligence by the name of Dr. Sbaitso. Let’s just say…I’m the one still standing.

A few Sundays ago, I went with Oliver, another workmate from Funcom, out fossil hunting. Based on the memory of a hand drawn map that he saw on a WEBSITE, we took a train and hour+ out of the city, then walked for about four miles, looking for some rocks that didn’t look much different than the surrounding miles of rocks, but contained fossils. My hopes weren’t too high, but it was nice scenery. And yet…WE FOUND ‘EM!

We didn’t just find a fossil, but lots and lots of fossils, mostly trilobites (which are arthropods, not a rejected Clive Barker movie monster). One of the fossils now sits on my desk.

Also, a raven (not a city crow…but a real raven) circled above us and croaked a few times.

I am all that is paleontologist!!!

We also saw this:

That’s right! It’s the Aass Brewery. When you taste that distinct, robust, full-bodied flavor…you know you’re in Aass country.

It’s All About Getting the ExP
Do you think anyone will notice that, on my LinkedIn resume, I list one of my past jobs as Infamous International Jewel Thief?

Age of Conan: Rise of the Godslayer
The MMO computer game expansion I’ve been writing on for the last 10 months came out about two weeks ago.

There was a party–my first game launch party. There was much libation. I ended up at various places, and then a long walk home in the early AM (with detailed instructions on where not to walk).

Oslo, May 17th
May 17th is the big national holiday here in Oslo, and I went out and experienced just how many people can fill these city streets. Yikes. Many people were in traditional garb and it was rather interesting. I would have preferred viking helmets and mead-filled skulls, but then, who wouldn’t?

The Pentagon
Saturday I tried to make a trip out to the Comic Book Library here in Oslo…but it was closed for the holiday weekend. Looking about and finding myself in a foreign city (this happens every few hours, think Momento, only I don’t have any nifty tattoos for help) I decided to explore. I eventually stepped into a shop with army surplus, roman helms, tommy gun air rifles, a rubber alien set up in an alien autopsy scene, swords n’ knives, and yes, a live tarantula.

This was convenient as it was exactly the store I was looking for.


Some Tweeted Thoughts and Meditations Over the Last Few Weeks
*No, that is not a tear in my wrinkled shirt; it’s my ragged scarecrow chic.

*When life hands me lemons, I make poorly executed metaphors.

*Hate ironing. If you don’t have any wrinkles, rumples, or patches, how do you even know you’ve lived?

*Found out I’ll be a bridesmaid. Strange days. Never know what I’ll be doing or on what continent anymore. Does this make me a bridesman?

*I’m sometimes tempted to write under the name Jack Fatuus…or Haph Hazard…or Penethorne Scrivensworth…or Icky Knock (short for Ichabod).

Howzabout a Moment of Zen?
Watch this. You really should. I wouldn’t lie. Not to you.

 

[***Note: I have since learned the reason for the Fraggle bus, but don’t want to spoil the mystery for you, just yet.]

…TO BE CONTINUED…

07 Wednesday Oct 2009

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Where were we?

Ketchup. Catching up.

I let another week slide by between my half-time break in the recap of all that happened during the radio silence—which means more stuff transpired—so let’s quicken pace to get back to the near present, lest we forever mire ourselves two skips n’ a jump behind the Now…

OK…I’m not even going to organize this with conventional chronology. I mean, eventually our molecules are going to separate and information is going to break down and dissolve—it’s individual moments that are important—so screw organization, I’ll just sloppily jot this down as randomly and quickly as it comes to my brain and fingers.

But to give it a structure, let’s lean on the visual and you can participate in a metaphor with me. Picture a funky deck of cards. Each card is an individual moment-memory-thingy, a Tarot of my recent events in Oslo. See the deck? Solid in your mind? I’m shuffling it…I try and impress you with a nifty feat of shuffling prestidigitation…and bungle the whole thing at an adorably crucial moment and—SNAP—cards everywhere. 52 Pick-up!

What do I grab first?

…ah…it’s…

*The Ace of Plastic Bags*
Walking home from the subway, one night, with the Japanese lyrics of a song about a giant robot from a Godzilla movie stuck in my head…I noticed it…yes…the plastic bag was following me.

Through an odd confluence of wind, the plastic bag was more or less hovering, darting a few feet this way and that, at the level of my head, neither falling nor blowing away, in a kind of American Beauty sort of moment. It followed me for several paces like this…

…so I punched it in the face.

Don’t look at me like that. You have to be stern. Otherwise you’re the soft-knuckled fool in the city that all the plastic bags follow and swarm.

…oh my…the next card is ominous…an archetypal representation of minor pestilence…it’s…


*The Nine of Swine*
Had a bug. May or may not have been the Swine Flu. They take that seriously in these parts. I’ve never had a job demand I stay home sick for a week. I wasn’t that sick. I was ready to beg them to let me back. I was in my old, temporary apartment–four white walls in a cramped room and no internet. Got a little reading done. Went a little mad. Had to go to the doctors to get a note so I could get sick leave. They made me wear a mask and took me to the infectious room where other sad sops in masks sat. Boredom was the worst part.

Give a flu a name and people go nuts.

…and the next card is…oh…that is encouraging…it’s…

*The Two of Positive Press*
Sometimes, late at night, I Google myself.

Hey, don’t look at me that way! It’s just an adult game of Peek-a-boo—a bit of reality affirmation—if I type my name (“Marco!”) and something answers back (“Polo!”), I still exist.

I stumbled upon a VERY NICE REVIEW of my podcasted story, “Blood, Snow, and Sparrows”. [Hmmm…that link does not appear to be working…but trust me, it was sweet review. –THE MANAGEMENT]

Also received a comment on a stranger’s blog regarding that same story.

I got another bit of nice press via Twitter. Yes, Twitter. I know. Yes, I hopped on that. Look, as near as I can tell, the Cult of the Trendy and the Cult of the Anti-Trendy pretty much worship in the same way: they let the actions and opinions of others dictate their actions and opinions. I don’t have time for pretensions (or anti-pretensions), only enthusiasms (the difference between pretensions and enthusiasm is the same difference between the nervousness of a high-stakes investor driving his new sports car, wondering if it’s sending the right image to the world—and the pure joy of a kid riding her sparkling new bike in the mud).

Anyway—TANGENT ALERT—people are still figuring out what to do with these new communications technologies. We’re making it up as we go. And some people are using Twitter to challenge themselves to write ultra-ultra short bits of micro-fiction (whole stories in 140 characters or less). Inspired by my fellows, I wrote up a dozen or so over the last week (fiction stories I make up are marked by a #TCTC hash and not to be confused with the bits of my real life that I make up).

I’ve been linking them to a London Times Tweet-Story contest that is still ongoing. At the bottom of the article, it explains how to enter if you’re interested. And I got noticed. I was mentioned as a favorite in another London Times Article posted Saturday.
…and the next card…oh…it’s one of the Major Arcana…it’s…


*The New Apartment*
I am now situated in my new apartment. I like it. It’s cheaper than I thought I’d have to spend. I get along well with my flatmate and his two Italian greyhounds (a mother and her puppy). It’s in an old, charming apartment building and not an ugly new one…and so has high ceilings (which I appreciate after my last cramped room), good space, and my bedroom has a wonderfully large window. My new bed is a year old and apparently belonged to a diplomat prior. I asked my new bed if it would write me references and it agreed. There is a tree outside my window, and I’m at branch level, and it’s close enough to hear the wind-through-the-leaves sound that trees make if I open said window. There’s also a spooky basement that you have to duck down to walk through to get to the laundry machine—there’s groaning stories down there.
…next card…another Major Arcana…


*The Viking Church*
In my quest to see all the locations in my little Oslo Guide, I visited a little cemetery and church, built by a Viking King in 1080—just a walking distance from my apartment. It’s the oldest standing building in the city, surrounded by an old cemetery on a hill.

Better still…they don’t lock the gate at night.

I had the place to myself. Lit bright in the front, near the church, but dark-dark in the back and full of…atmosphere. Now, I am an atmosphere fiend. Some people have chocolate. I have atmosphere. And atmosphere is not a spectator sport. You get what you give and I can create quite a bit with quite a little…at least for myself (First rule of Josh: ENTERTAIN JOSH…if others get entertained too, so much the better). I did not have to put forth much…this was a smorgasbord of lush, creamy, creepy-bittersweet moods.

I went back, a few night’s later for a more extended stay. I wandered about and when my eyes adjusted and I got brave enough, I visited the dark back of the cemetery by the angel statue and a leaky well. Then the place just seemed charming and inviting and I listened to the last hour of the audio reading of Neil Gaiman’s, The Graveyard Book, smoked rum-dipped cigarillos, and explored every inch of the place (or tried to…I’m sure there are more hidden inches to find).

It was a good…moment…very in the moment…no future or past practicalities to muddle the mind. And the end to one of my favorite recently read novels was all the more poignant.

I bottle particularly good vintages of atmosphere and save it for later.

…next card…oh…it’s a good one…it conveys wandering souls and a fool’s prerogative…it is…

*The Ferry Fatuous*
I’m all about the cheap entertainment and the ferry to the various islands in the fjord of Oslo is free (or at least…I already have a monthly travel pass and it’s covered on that). So I decided to X a few more spots in my guide book. I like the ocean and I like boats and it’s nice to know I can take a boat ride whenever I like.

My target was Hovedoya, the first island, but I stayed on the boat for the round trip (past Bleikoya, Gressholmen, and Lindoya) and hit Hovedoya on the way back.

The island is mostly forest preserve with a few boating places and snack shops on some of the shore. I was in search of the ruins of a 12 century monastary that I read were there—wasn’t sure exactly where—but I found it pretty quickly.

Another spot I definitely liked. Very peaceful. Just a small trickle of visitors coming through here and there. Sat on an old well, covered by boards with a slight crack through them—and I wondered what they were keeping down there…

Mostly, the ruins are just free standing walls that from a sort of ceiling-less maze. But one of the turrets was still standing and (since there wasn’t any sign telling me not to) I went up the stone steps…which led to a little space on the second floor about the size of a really good tree fort. A little window allowed me to look outside. I sat there for the better part of an hour, undisturbed.

I’ll have to remember the spot when the weather gets warmer again…I think it’ll serve as a good reading nook.

…next…card…is…uh oh…it’s Death’s younger, less terminal cousin…

*The Phantom of Indefinite Enforced-Leave*
Funcom had a great purge of employees this last Tuesday. Very sudden. It was announced to everyone at Tuesday’s morning meeting. Then, one by one, we were called down to individual meetings to see if we still had a job.

I survived. I was told my place there is pretty secure.

The plan is now for more streamlined teams and—if things get richer and fatter again—to hire back those on enforced leave.

Friday I moved up to the 4th floor. Where once I was in a dark, barren corner (by myself) I’m now around friendly faces (and slowly learning the finer points of socializing again) have a window view, and even a plant. Granted, I distract easily, but I plan on trying really hard to…hmmmm….what?

Well…there’s probably more cards on the floor, but what say we cal ourselves caught up and start a new hand, yeah?

Cheers.

D’em Coffins What Float On d’e Ocean

14 Monday Sep 2009

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“Oslo is a city without a city culture. Nobody here comes from a city. Everyone comes from somewhere small.”

This was told to me while we were ordering drinks at the bar at Dr. Jekyll’s Pub. I found the idea intriguing, but also, I really had to pee.

Eventually, we got our drinks and made it back to the table with the others. When I finally got to the bathroom, I was greeted by wide-mouthed gargoyle-headed urinals, and I thought, “I’m home—jiggity-jig.”

These are the palpitating jubilations one feels before paying a bar tab in Oslo, not after.

*Absence Makes the Grinch’s Heart Grow Three Sizes Fonder*
So I haven’t updated the exploits in a while. The excuses shall be presented in alphabetical order:

-”A” is for apathy.
-I was sick with what may or may not have been the swine flu.
-Funcom quarantined me in my old apartment for a week.
-My old apartment lost it’s internet connection.
-Was then busy moving into new apartment.
-Zebras ate my homework.

We’ll get back to all those points…but I wasn’t really suffering from apathy. But then I only said that “A” is for apathy, so the statement remains correct.

*The All-Father Has a Bus Pass*
When I met the god, Odin, I was waiting for the bus and in between tracks on my iPod.

He was the only other person at the bus stop. He was dressed in a ragged, colorless coat of oily textures. Maybe homeless looking…maybe not. Greasy, tendrils of gray-white hair hung off his head and a beard to match.

One eye was alright.

One eye—the left eye—was dead.

Something awful happened to that eye. Either that, or he lost his original eye and H.R. Giger is on the Norwegian health plan for fabricating prosthetics.

I say dead eye, but not dead like a shark’s—this eye could still focus, or more accurately, point. I was looking him over because he looked like an interesting character (and you have to keep a hidden Rolodex for things like that) and he looked up with his good eye and pointed the dead eye at me.

Eyes are a favorite descriptive point for storytellers, used and overused (kind of the “Stairway to Heaven” of character description), so I hate to use a cliche involving eyes piercing me…but dammit that dead eye was very stabby—like rusty-coffin-nails-jabbing-your-skull sort of stabby.

He stared at me and I tried, but I couldn’t maintain the gaze and had to look away. Something was inexplicably disturbing about him, beyond a messed up eye. And he kept staring at me, more and more rusty coffin nails puncturing my periphery.

Then I got on the bus.

There were ravens cawing. I don’t know if they were his. Or maybe they were crows—I’ll have to look that up—corvids anyway. Here they have black heads, tails, and wings, but bodies the color of ash.

*Viking Ships Down the River Styx*
Funcom has stacks and stacks of a handy little pocket book to hand out: Oslo – A Poor Man’s Connoisseur Guide to Happy Living in One of the Most Expensive Cities in the World. The book is only slightly shorter than the title. There are a lot of nifty locations listed. I’m kind of making it a mission to visit all of them.

A few weeks back, I visited the peninsula of Bygdøy which juts into the water south of where I work. There are beaches there and other attractions. First stop…a viking ship museum!

There are three ships there, all wood, all well over a thousand years old each, all incredibly well made, and all more or less preserved because when a ship was retired, a some person of importance was buried inside of it, beneath protective layers of clay. And so the ships become interesting to both history buffs and sepulchral enthusiasts. To prepare a soul for the Afterlife journey, they are buried in a fine ship, with treasure, weapons, food, supplies, and even dogs. That’s going to the Underworld in STYLE. Some cultures only give you two coins in the eyes for the public metro.

I saw various interesting artifacts including a pieces of wood with nordic ruins meaning “unwise person” and a glass cup that was already an antique when it was buried over a thousand years ago.

*No Tan Lines?*
After the viking ships, I took the bus to the end of the line to explore some of the beaches of Bygdøy. Rolling topography and trees make it so that you really can’t see the beaches or ocean from where the bus drops you off so I just picked a random path and walked. Trees gave way, salt filled the air, and I walked right out onto…a nude beach!

What happened to puritans?

The vikings ate them, you say?

*TO BE CONTINUED…*
Stay tuned for the rest of my misadventures during my blogging hiatus—they involve swine flu, drama, boat trips, islands, a 12th century monastery, cemeteries by night, and an attack by a plastic bag…honest.