I was entertained for well over an hour as this spider eviscerated a fly. The spider had quite an elaborate web that did not fare too well in the photo. He/she spent the better part of the afternoon on dinner. I don't mind these spiders so much when they are out in the garden where they belong.
Friday, August 17, 2007
Tuesday, August 14, 2007
Exercise in My Stupidity
Last time I built a wheel, it was very easy--- too easy. So easy that I didn't fully respect the scope of the project for my most recent wheel-- a rear Formula laced to a crazy purple Aerohead, courtesy of master wheelbuilder Lectron himself.
So I carefully measured everything and tossed it into some web-based spoke calculator. I jotted down the resultant spoke length required for the job. I went to Spinn and ordered 32 double-butted spokes. I questioned the shop guy's find after a lengthy wait as he hunted them down in the back room. He reassured me that they were double-butted. The resulting cost of 10NOK each was certainly expensive enough for top-end spokes--- that is over $50 for one wheel's spokes. Still, I was skeptical.
I started lacing them up that night. It wasn't until I started on the trailing spokes that I realized that I had made a grave miscalculation. I still had the web page up on the screen, and checked the dimensions. At this point I realized the java application had not refreshed itself with the current data. When I hit "enter" I was struck with a different spoke length. I unlaced the wheel as carefully as possible, but there is no way to unlace the trailing spokes without bending them. Actually, they were all slightly bent when I was done. There was no way the shop could resell these.
I didn't think too much of it until I swung by Lectrons's to purchase a wheelset that he kindly loaned me. I am quite sure it was a masterful marketing scheme to hook me on the wheels- but his offer was too good to pass up-- a set of tubulars, which I shall elaborate on at a later time. In addition to the agreed upon monetary remuneration, as a goodwill gesture I offered Lectron the pile of spokes, at which he commented, "I can't use those! Those are cheap, straight gauge. I will never use those." He had been sold double-butted spokes for less money-- top shelf. At the very least, I was ripped off. I vowed to attempt to return them.
The next day I stopped by Spinn after work with my sorry bag of bent spokes, a bunch of nipples in a greasy recycled bag, and a badly soiled receipt that was nearing 30 days in age. A hapless employee tried to help me as I explained my woeful tale. I showed him the receipt, the price paid per spoke, and told him that I had asked for double-butted spokes, but was sold straight gauge. He disappeared into the back of the shop, emerging with another straight gauge spoke, identical to mine. I re-explained my situation. He informed me that only bike frames were double-butted. I told him the same applies to bike spokes. He said they don't sell any spokes like that, and asked what brands are butted. I merely mentioned Wheelsmith, Sapim, and DT. He disappeared into the store, reappearing with a fist full of double-butted, black spokes. I showed him how they were thinner in the middle. He explained that straight gauge were better, because they were thicker. I made no attempt to educate him that butted spokes are actually stronger than straight gauge, despite being thinner, but rather asked for an in-store credit. After struggling with a poorly designed point-of-sale IT solution, he offered me the voucher for 320NOK- as I handed him the remainder of the bag, and explained that some of the spokes were bent. He said it was no problem. I think he was merely relieved that this transaction had reached its denouement. And I was out of there before he could change his mind. I could have had a cat in the bag for all he knew! Now I can afford that new pair of socks that I have had my eye on.
So I carefully measured everything and tossed it into some web-based spoke calculator. I jotted down the resultant spoke length required for the job. I went to Spinn and ordered 32 double-butted spokes. I questioned the shop guy's find after a lengthy wait as he hunted them down in the back room. He reassured me that they were double-butted. The resulting cost of 10NOK each was certainly expensive enough for top-end spokes--- that is over $50 for one wheel's spokes. Still, I was skeptical.
I started lacing them up that night. It wasn't until I started on the trailing spokes that I realized that I had made a grave miscalculation. I still had the web page up on the screen, and checked the dimensions. At this point I realized the java application had not refreshed itself with the current data. When I hit "enter" I was struck with a different spoke length. I unlaced the wheel as carefully as possible, but there is no way to unlace the trailing spokes without bending them. Actually, they were all slightly bent when I was done. There was no way the shop could resell these.
I didn't think too much of it until I swung by Lectrons's to purchase a wheelset that he kindly loaned me. I am quite sure it was a masterful marketing scheme to hook me on the wheels- but his offer was too good to pass up-- a set of tubulars, which I shall elaborate on at a later time. In addition to the agreed upon monetary remuneration, as a goodwill gesture I offered Lectron the pile of spokes, at which he commented, "I can't use those! Those are cheap, straight gauge. I will never use those." He had been sold double-butted spokes for less money-- top shelf. At the very least, I was ripped off. I vowed to attempt to return them.
The next day I stopped by Spinn after work with my sorry bag of bent spokes, a bunch of nipples in a greasy recycled bag, and a badly soiled receipt that was nearing 30 days in age. A hapless employee tried to help me as I explained my woeful tale. I showed him the receipt, the price paid per spoke, and told him that I had asked for double-butted spokes, but was sold straight gauge. He disappeared into the back of the shop, emerging with another straight gauge spoke, identical to mine. I re-explained my situation. He informed me that only bike frames were double-butted. I told him the same applies to bike spokes. He said they don't sell any spokes like that, and asked what brands are butted. I merely mentioned Wheelsmith, Sapim, and DT. He disappeared into the store, reappearing with a fist full of double-butted, black spokes. I showed him how they were thinner in the middle. He explained that straight gauge were better, because they were thicker. I made no attempt to educate him that butted spokes are actually stronger than straight gauge, despite being thinner, but rather asked for an in-store credit. After struggling with a poorly designed point-of-sale IT solution, he offered me the voucher for 320NOK- as I handed him the remainder of the bag, and explained that some of the spokes were bent. He said it was no problem. I think he was merely relieved that this transaction had reached its denouement. And I was out of there before he could change his mind. I could have had a cat in the bag for all he knew! Now I can afford that new pair of socks that I have had my eye on.
Saturday, August 11, 2007
Flor og Fjære
We had our annual family lunch at Flor og Fjære-- an island maybe a half hour by boat that is inexplicably set up like a tropical island-- right here in Norway. Apparently manipulating the wind has much to do with controlling the temperature. And to be fair, this place is only open half the year, and they use artificial means to keep some of the plants from being too cold in the winter. It truly is an amazing place-- if for no other reason than then challenges posed by having banana trees in Norway.
Friday, August 10, 2007
Week in Review
Today was my first proper week back at work since I don't know when. The first few days I had to drive, since I had meetings with a new partner. Wednesday evening I threw together the fixed gear and rode to work Thursday. I apparently installed the wheel "backwards" (it is fixed/fixed), and ran with the 15T cog. I didn't really notice until I had to ride home, which is mostly up hill. I was probably pushing about 75 gear inches, rather than my normal 70. Oddly, I grew accustomed to it, and left it unchanged for today's commute.
It looks like I am going to buy a set of tubulars from Sjur. I am somewhat apprehensive, since they are more of a hassle to cope with when they flat, but I rarely flat as it is, and there are options for fixing on the road. For the uninitiated, tubulars are tires that are literally glued to the rims, rather than having a bead that hooks on the rim. The "advantages" are rather arcane, especially for commuting. Then again, I am commuting on a fixed gear, so you might consider that I am not looking for the easiest or quickest way to accomplish my mission. But then again, I reach it in relative style.
It looks like I am going to buy a set of tubulars from Sjur. I am somewhat apprehensive, since they are more of a hassle to cope with when they flat, but I rarely flat as it is, and there are options for fixing on the road. For the uninitiated, tubulars are tires that are literally glued to the rims, rather than having a bead that hooks on the rim. The "advantages" are rather arcane, especially for commuting. Then again, I am commuting on a fixed gear, so you might consider that I am not looking for the easiest or quickest way to accomplish my mission. But then again, I reach it in relative style.
Saturday, August 04, 2007
Track Racing
Today I heard a heap of racket outside. At first it sounded like model airplanes in the backyard. Upon opening the back door, it sounded like a full-blown dogfight, with real planes-- but it seemed to originate in front of the house. I opened the front patio door-- and it was super loud. The repetitive doppler effect led me to believe it was from the horse track down the street. I looked up the schedule at the Forus Travbane, and it was some sort of Nordic motorcycle championship. I took Julian down to the overpass (where we would have a free sneak peek), and witnessed the craziest sport on two wheels. I had to do a double-take--- brakeless motorcycles on a dirt track: track racing. These were the rattiest looking motorcycles, and the dirtiest racers. The bikes literally spit rooster-tails of cinders from the track-- or whatever the loose track is made of (it really is not dirt). The exhaust was an unrecognizable odor-- until I read they burn ethanol. Races lasted only three or four laps. Julian was as intrigued as I was, and we stayed an hour and a half. We had a fun afternoon, despite the bad weather. I tried taking photos, but the motorcycles were nothing but a blur.
The local paper posted a video here.
Friday, August 03, 2007
2.5 Hours
This ship travels twice the speed as the big ferry. It also had asigned seating. I much prefer it to the monstrosity we were rebooked on last week.
The Silvia Ana
I tried to take photos of the car deck, but they didn't turn out so well. The car deck was entirely coated with what looked like aluminum foil and silver duct tape. I presume it was some fire retardant. It looked like a tacky high school drama set.
Old Hotel
Last night we stayed in an old hotel in Denmark. Unlike women, some hotels take pride in advertising their age. This one probably should not- although it did. Its bathroom was larger than our entire hotel room at the last place we stayed- probably to make room for the bidet. I have no idea how they work. On second thought, I probably am better off not knowing.
Thursday, August 02, 2007
Evening in Randers
We made it to Randers, a city I have never heard of in Denmark. We had smooth travels, flying through Germany under cloudy skies. The only hitch was a three car pileup in Denmark that slowed traffic to a crawl. Tomorrow we have a short trip to the ferry, a short EXPRESS ferry to Kristiansand, and three more hours home. Julian was a real trooper, as usual.
For some reason, I feel much more comfortable driving on the autobahn than on US freeways. Drivers generally are safer, and there are no worries about speeding tickets. The roads are generally extremely well maintained, and the rest stops are second to none.
For some reason, I feel much more comfortable driving on the autobahn than on US freeways. Drivers generally are safer, and there are no worries about speeding tickets. The roads are generally extremely well maintained, and the rest stops are second to none.
When Local News is International
It is surreal when the local news of Minneapolis becomes international. My mothers scooped everyone (as far as informing us) with an email. It turned out it was the lead story on VG- a major Norwegian newspaper. Now that we are settled in our hotel in Denmark, we saw it on Danish news. They probably spent 20 minutes on the story. And again and again and again. We called friends in the Twin Cities, and fortunately everyone we know is OK. What a crazy tragedy.
Wednesday, August 01, 2007
Monday, July 30, 2007
Day 3 (or is it 4?)
Backtracking, apparently we were not the only people who had issues with the Colorline.
Today we took a short drive from Bremen to our friend's house in the Netherlands. We took our time getting out of Bremen. Of course our brief sightseeing was interrupted by rain. Lise tells me I MUST bike daily, since I dragged that thing along. Of course I have no cold weather or rain gear. Who brings clothing to bike in nasty weather on vacation? I'd rather just drink cheap Heineken and eat cheese all day.
Today we took a short drive from Bremen to our friend's house in the Netherlands. We took our time getting out of Bremen. Of course our brief sightseeing was interrupted by rain. Lise tells me I MUST bike daily, since I dragged that thing along. Of course I have no cold weather or rain gear. Who brings clothing to bike in nasty weather on vacation? I'd rather just drink cheap Heineken and eat cheese all day.
Sunday, July 29, 2007
Back In Bremen
Our adventure continues. Today we drove from Aalborg, Denmark to Bremen, Germany, where I stayed a week for work a year and a half ago. Denmark has a fine freeway system, which led us into Germany. My hopes for redlining our car on the autobahn were dashed by a combination of rain and heavy traffic. It appears every camping trailer in Europe was heading home-- the last Sunday before August. We made great time before the weather turned, but mostly it was rain. The temporary speed limit signs were lit up. Or are they merely recommendations? It didn't matter. Traffic was jammed up in the middle of nowhere. Julian was a bit restless. If you consider that he he is basically restrained in his car seat, he is quite accommodating for even bothering to travel with us.
You can literally drive north to south through all of Denmark without even taking a potty break. I don't exactly have a truck driver's bladder, so you can do the math. Granted we had maybe an hour's headstart, but it was nothing to make it to the border at Flensburg- or rather Flensborg as the Danes would have it spelled. They have a garish last ditch Scandinavian stop there- the last outpost for buying excessive quantities of cheap beer, cheep candy, cases of Coke, all matter of liquor, and a bunch of items that scream "Dollar Store." Oddly, they had a very fine cafe that was literally giving away food and beverages. I expected much less from a tourist trap.
The rest of the trip was dictated by Julian's travel needs. We would have driven all the way to our friends in the Netherlands had our timing been more in synch with his. We were running late from the ferry fiasco, and with the heavy traffic-- and I am talking stop and go autobahn traffic- cruising at 130 kph, stopping, 130kph, stopping, over and over. It was not condusive to making the trip in the estimated seven hours. We needed more time. We would have arrive well after Julian's bedtime. After much discussion, we opted to stop in Bremen for the night. We stayed very near the hotel that I spent a week last time I was here.
A note about traveling in Germany: not everyone speaks English. We stopped at a rest area, and Lise wanted French fries. I asked for pommes frites, which should be the universal word for fries if you are not American. I ended up with a meal of sorts--- that included the fries. It was some sort of sausage smothered in a barbecue sauce. Hey- it was food. On the other end of the food spectrum, we stopped at La Dolce Vita in Bremen- the same restaurant I ate in almost nightly when I was staying here. The food was excellent. They were playing some recording that sounded like Leonard Cohen singing in Italian. Julian tolerated his parents with grace, as usual. We had an excellent meal, and I drank two large beers- for under 30 Euros. The beer alone would have cost that much back in Norway.
The beautiful thing about living in Norway is everything is so expensive, that is seems like petty cash to spend 88 Euros to fill a gas tank, or €109 for a hotel room. It makes travel seem dirt cheap.
You can literally drive north to south through all of Denmark without even taking a potty break. I don't exactly have a truck driver's bladder, so you can do the math. Granted we had maybe an hour's headstart, but it was nothing to make it to the border at Flensburg- or rather Flensborg as the Danes would have it spelled. They have a garish last ditch Scandinavian stop there- the last outpost for buying excessive quantities of cheap beer, cheep candy, cases of Coke, all matter of liquor, and a bunch of items that scream "Dollar Store." Oddly, they had a very fine cafe that was literally giving away food and beverages. I expected much less from a tourist trap.
The rest of the trip was dictated by Julian's travel needs. We would have driven all the way to our friends in the Netherlands had our timing been more in synch with his. We were running late from the ferry fiasco, and with the heavy traffic-- and I am talking stop and go autobahn traffic- cruising at 130 kph, stopping, 130kph, stopping, over and over. It was not condusive to making the trip in the estimated seven hours. We needed more time. We would have arrive well after Julian's bedtime. After much discussion, we opted to stop in Bremen for the night. We stayed very near the hotel that I spent a week last time I was here.
A note about traveling in Germany: not everyone speaks English. We stopped at a rest area, and Lise wanted French fries. I asked for pommes frites, which should be the universal word for fries if you are not American. I ended up with a meal of sorts--- that included the fries. It was some sort of sausage smothered in a barbecue sauce. Hey- it was food. On the other end of the food spectrum, we stopped at La Dolce Vita in Bremen- the same restaurant I ate in almost nightly when I was staying here. The food was excellent. They were playing some recording that sounded like Leonard Cohen singing in Italian. Julian tolerated his parents with grace, as usual. We had an excellent meal, and I drank two large beers- for under 30 Euros. The beer alone would have cost that much back in Norway.
The beautiful thing about living in Norway is everything is so expensive, that is seems like petty cash to spend 88 Euros to fill a gas tank, or €109 for a hotel room. It makes travel seem dirt cheap.
Saturday, July 28, 2007
It Only Gets Better
Last night Lise and I had sexy pillow talk discussing how ferries actually make up a lost five or six hours. She was doing the calculations, and had determined that our 8:15am ferry simply had to be late. It was mathematically impossible for it to be on time if the night ferry ran. I was convinced they simply canceled enough ferries until they actually were on time again--- but my mathematical impossibility was that if all ferries were sold out, how do passengers find room on future ferries to rebook? It made no sense no matter how it was sliced. There were no messages on the website. We set the alarm for 6:15 and planned to be at the ferry an hour in advance, exactly as directed.
We woke up tired. Lise checked the website-- there were no messages about late ferries. We loaded up Julian and hurried to the landing. A half mile from the loading area we encountered a massive traffic jam. It was like driving to the Renaissance Festival. Eventually we made it up to the ticketing booth. We were told the ferry was late- that it would be leaving at 1:30pm. We were given a food voucher for 75nok each-- including Julian, our son with one tooth. We were offered a breakfast voucher at McDonalds, but declined. It was around 7:30. We lined up our car and immediately were entirely boxed in. There was no hope for escape. We trekked to downtown Kristiansand and searched for an open cafe. I found a hotel in Denmark. I really wanted to have a reservation, especially with a baby, so we planned to drive to Aalborg and stay at a Radison. We had a light breakfast, wandered around, shopped, ate lunch, shopped, had coffee, and headed back to the landing at noon. We finally saw the ferry pull in. After an endless wait for unloading, we finally saw cars starting to enter. Eventually we filtered into the line.
Just before being swallowed whole by the ferry, the agent asked for our ticket. We had the wrong ticket. Lise had to sprint a 100m dash to the ticket booth. As she sprang from the car, some woman in the car next to us yelled her name. Lise made it back to the car in world record time, and we were on the ramp into the ferry. I have been on many ferries, but nothing like this. I have never seen so many cars packed into just this one section-- and there were several sections, kept watertight from each other.
We scrambled for seats, but it seemed there was nowhere to sit. Eventually we found a spot across from some elevators. As the ferry finally left, the captain apologized for being late, and said there were 4m waves. Lise said that was nothing- she had been out in 9m waves. I wandered around to look outside, and was greeted by the sight of a pool of vomit-- presumably from the return trip. We hadn't even left the fjord yet.
I wandered around the ferry with Julian. The ferry had at least nine levels-- with slot machines everywhere, tax free shopping, bars, restaurants, a movie theater--- and people everywhere. After maybe two hours, we were still in sight of land. I thought about the fact that we paid for the express ferry, and were on the slow boat--- at the same price. When I shared my thoughts with Lise, she mentioned the fact that there is nothing you can do about the weather. I told her the Chinese were planning to control the weather during the Olympics, but she wasn't interested in hearing much about it. She reminded me that we have always had smooth travels. We have never contended with canceled flights, or other travel misfortunes. She said we could have been reimbursed for our unexpected stay in Kristiansand. I reminded her that we would have stayed in Denmark, so it was no extra expense. All in all, nothing was lost--- other that a bit of time in a well-cushioned trip.
I took Julian for much of the trip. He magically acquired a tooth overnight. I find it amusing to joke that he needs to brush his tooth-- but I guess he really should. He has been an amazingly easy travel companion, considering his routine has been completely disrupted, and he is suddenly sprouting teeth where there had been none. The ferry ride itself was rather uneventful. Those 4m waves never really materialized as promised. We finally made it to Denmark after around five hours. There was a massive crush of people trying to make it to their cars. It is moments like that when I fear for what might happen if there were truly an emergency at sea. There would be hopeless bottlenecks, widespread panic, mass chaos. We practically experienced it in finding our car.
We summarily drove off the boat and were back on E39-- the same road we took from Stavanger. It quickly turned into a freeway, and I had no clue what the speed limit was. Europe has these cryptic signs that says what the speed limit is NOT-- in this case, I noted that it was not 110 kph. I then assumed it as 120. Most other driver appeared to agree. I settled in, content with finally letting our car open up- unbound by the slowish 90kph limits of Norway. I cannot wait to hit Germany- although, unfortunately, as of this writing, Lise has just finished reading the Harry Potter book. I am sure she will be attentive of my speed. Of course there is Julian to consider, as well as issues of self-preservation and sanity. Actually, I never liked being a passenger on the autobahn when we were cruising at 160+.
In no time we arrived in Aalborg, although Julian was rather discontent. We settled in. No more ferries this trip, until we return.
We woke up tired. Lise checked the website-- there were no messages about late ferries. We loaded up Julian and hurried to the landing. A half mile from the loading area we encountered a massive traffic jam. It was like driving to the Renaissance Festival. Eventually we made it up to the ticketing booth. We were told the ferry was late- that it would be leaving at 1:30pm. We were given a food voucher for 75nok each-- including Julian, our son with one tooth. We were offered a breakfast voucher at McDonalds, but declined. It was around 7:30. We lined up our car and immediately were entirely boxed in. There was no hope for escape. We trekked to downtown Kristiansand and searched for an open cafe. I found a hotel in Denmark. I really wanted to have a reservation, especially with a baby, so we planned to drive to Aalborg and stay at a Radison. We had a light breakfast, wandered around, shopped, ate lunch, shopped, had coffee, and headed back to the landing at noon. We finally saw the ferry pull in. After an endless wait for unloading, we finally saw cars starting to enter. Eventually we filtered into the line.
Just before being swallowed whole by the ferry, the agent asked for our ticket. We had the wrong ticket. Lise had to sprint a 100m dash to the ticket booth. As she sprang from the car, some woman in the car next to us yelled her name. Lise made it back to the car in world record time, and we were on the ramp into the ferry. I have been on many ferries, but nothing like this. I have never seen so many cars packed into just this one section-- and there were several sections, kept watertight from each other.
We scrambled for seats, but it seemed there was nowhere to sit. Eventually we found a spot across from some elevators. As the ferry finally left, the captain apologized for being late, and said there were 4m waves. Lise said that was nothing- she had been out in 9m waves. I wandered around to look outside, and was greeted by the sight of a pool of vomit-- presumably from the return trip. We hadn't even left the fjord yet.
I wandered around the ferry with Julian. The ferry had at least nine levels-- with slot machines everywhere, tax free shopping, bars, restaurants, a movie theater--- and people everywhere. After maybe two hours, we were still in sight of land. I thought about the fact that we paid for the express ferry, and were on the slow boat--- at the same price. When I shared my thoughts with Lise, she mentioned the fact that there is nothing you can do about the weather. I told her the Chinese were planning to control the weather during the Olympics, but she wasn't interested in hearing much about it. She reminded me that we have always had smooth travels. We have never contended with canceled flights, or other travel misfortunes. She said we could have been reimbursed for our unexpected stay in Kristiansand. I reminded her that we would have stayed in Denmark, so it was no extra expense. All in all, nothing was lost--- other that a bit of time in a well-cushioned trip.
I took Julian for much of the trip. He magically acquired a tooth overnight. I find it amusing to joke that he needs to brush his tooth-- but I guess he really should. He has been an amazingly easy travel companion, considering his routine has been completely disrupted, and he is suddenly sprouting teeth where there had been none. The ferry ride itself was rather uneventful. Those 4m waves never really materialized as promised. We finally made it to Denmark after around five hours. There was a massive crush of people trying to make it to their cars. It is moments like that when I fear for what might happen if there were truly an emergency at sea. There would be hopeless bottlenecks, widespread panic, mass chaos. We practically experienced it in finding our car.
We summarily drove off the boat and were back on E39-- the same road we took from Stavanger. It quickly turned into a freeway, and I had no clue what the speed limit was. Europe has these cryptic signs that says what the speed limit is NOT-- in this case, I noted that it was not 110 kph. I then assumed it as 120. Most other driver appeared to agree. I settled in, content with finally letting our car open up- unbound by the slowish 90kph limits of Norway. I cannot wait to hit Germany- although, unfortunately, as of this writing, Lise has just finished reading the Harry Potter book. I am sure she will be attentive of my speed. Of course there is Julian to consider, as well as issues of self-preservation and sanity. Actually, I never liked being a passenger on the autobahn when we were cruising at 160+.
In no time we arrived in Aalborg, although Julian was rather discontent. We settled in. No more ferries this trip, until we return.
Friday, July 27, 2007
European Vacation
Yesterday I picked our car up at the shop. It needed a new computer for the ABS system-- which costs much more than a home PC, by the way. It also needed a little other work, since a few days ago it started randomly stalling. I don't know if this has anything to do with BMW reliability issues, or whether we were spoiled back in our Toyota days. All I know is that I have purchased used cars for less than the price of these repairs. I was a little nervous about leaving on a road trip to the Netherlands the next day, but the speedometer seems to be working, and the car runs great.
Today we set out today about 40 minutes late, after loading the car in wind and rain. There was room for a bike that I had disassembled-- in the car. During the drive down I suggested we purchase a roof rack. That idea was rounded supported by my wife. I might actually buy it in the Netherlands. Our drive down was mostly rain-- except when we took tours of Norway's countless tunnels. Seriously, they are everywhere. I have no concept how many there are. We stopped and met some friends in Flekkefjord half way to Kristiansand-- where we were to meet our ferry to Denmark.
We arrived at the ferry landing an hour before departure, and were queued up, waiting for it to arrive. We were told that it was running late-- two hours late. There were cars everywhere waiting for ferries. A massive ferry was moored nearby. We were scheduled on an express boat--only 2.5 hours to Denmark. The plan was to spend the night in Denmark, head south through Germany, find a place to spend the night, then roll in to visit our friends in the northern Netherlands sometime on Sunday. It was the perfect plan.
Since the ferry was running late, I suggested we grab a bite downtown Kristiansand, an easy walk within sight of the ferry landing. We checked with the ferry staff, who suggested we return by 18:00- when it was scheduled to arrive (three hours late). We grabbed a bite at a decent restaurant. I was not feeling particularly relaxed, since we had to return to our car by 18:00. Lise was uneasy. She told me she had a bad feeling about the ferry, and wanted to reschedule. I was quite annoyed. I don't get seasick, but I don't do particularly well in big seas. I know that out in the open ocean, waves can easily be larger than houses. I have a system for dealing with it, but it is not something I look forward to. I had been anticipating nasty seas all afternoon, and was ready for them. Waiting until tomorrow was unacceptable. Lise's concerns were compounded by her father, who phoned to voice his worries. He could not have called at a worse time. My reasoning was based on the fact that ferries would not put passengers in danger-- that if it was too rough, the ferries would not be running. My larger concern was that it would be impossible to find a hotel tonight, in the height on tourist season, in southern Norway, on a Friday night. Lise's concerns were about Julian, that if the ferry was already late, it would arrive even later--- would definitely not be some express 2.5 hour trip, but could easily be twice that. That could put us in Denmark at midnight.
As we walked back toward the ferry landing, essentially arguing about what to do, Lise said she just wanted to drop in and ask about the delays. It turned out to be the best thing she could have done. We found out that our ferry was canceled. It had been decided for us. The next ferry was scheduled for 10pm- but there was no guarantee that would depart. She rebooked on a morning ferry. When we arrived at the landing, I realized that all the cars queued up for the other ferry line were still there--- they had canceled all ships. As we approached our car, we saw our Color Line ferry pull in. Everyone in our queue entered their cars, anticipating they would leave soon. We knew better. I managed to wiggle out of our parking spot. We were in one of the few spots where it was even possible to escape, since most lines allowed no such room. I managed to drive against a one-way street and leave the endless wait behind. No one was updating any of the drivers waiting to leave. We were free.
We pulled into a nearby parking lot, and Lise immediately started phoning hotels. There were no vacancies anywhere, except a few single bed rooms. After extinguishing our list, I offered to sleep on the floor-- as long as we had somewhere to spend the night. When Lise attempted to recall the hotels, she couldn't even get through. We expanded our quest for shelter to include cabin at campgrounds, and accommodations in neighboring towns. Nothing was available. Julian was upset. I was stressed. Lise phoned a number to a vacation apartment in a nearby town, and found no vacancy. The proprietor mentioned that he had an apartment in Kristiansand that was available. As a coincidence, we were in Kristiansand. We took it. We were given directions as we drove. It was a little strange, it it was our only real option.
We ended up with a very nice apartment-- at a price cheaper than a fancy hotel room. We leave tomorrow at 8:15am. I later found out that the wind around here was 18m/s-- which is very near storm velocities. We are rebooked on a regular massive ferry-- not one of the smaller, express ferries. It will take twice the time--- and I would imagine four times the time to load and unload all the vehicles. At least we have no real timelines. It does raise concerns for our return-- I have work meetings the Monday after we return to Norway. I wonder how all the other passengers have coped with the ferry "irregularities." I guess we ended up with good bad luck. Our landlord told us that he received about 20 calls right after we phoned.
Today we set out today about 40 minutes late, after loading the car in wind and rain. There was room for a bike that I had disassembled-- in the car. During the drive down I suggested we purchase a roof rack. That idea was rounded supported by my wife. I might actually buy it in the Netherlands. Our drive down was mostly rain-- except when we took tours of Norway's countless tunnels. Seriously, they are everywhere. I have no concept how many there are. We stopped and met some friends in Flekkefjord half way to Kristiansand-- where we were to meet our ferry to Denmark.
We arrived at the ferry landing an hour before departure, and were queued up, waiting for it to arrive. We were told that it was running late-- two hours late. There were cars everywhere waiting for ferries. A massive ferry was moored nearby. We were scheduled on an express boat--only 2.5 hours to Denmark. The plan was to spend the night in Denmark, head south through Germany, find a place to spend the night, then roll in to visit our friends in the northern Netherlands sometime on Sunday. It was the perfect plan.
Since the ferry was running late, I suggested we grab a bite downtown Kristiansand, an easy walk within sight of the ferry landing. We checked with the ferry staff, who suggested we return by 18:00- when it was scheduled to arrive (three hours late). We grabbed a bite at a decent restaurant. I was not feeling particularly relaxed, since we had to return to our car by 18:00. Lise was uneasy. She told me she had a bad feeling about the ferry, and wanted to reschedule. I was quite annoyed. I don't get seasick, but I don't do particularly well in big seas. I know that out in the open ocean, waves can easily be larger than houses. I have a system for dealing with it, but it is not something I look forward to. I had been anticipating nasty seas all afternoon, and was ready for them. Waiting until tomorrow was unacceptable. Lise's concerns were compounded by her father, who phoned to voice his worries. He could not have called at a worse time. My reasoning was based on the fact that ferries would not put passengers in danger-- that if it was too rough, the ferries would not be running. My larger concern was that it would be impossible to find a hotel tonight, in the height on tourist season, in southern Norway, on a Friday night. Lise's concerns were about Julian, that if the ferry was already late, it would arrive even later--- would definitely not be some express 2.5 hour trip, but could easily be twice that. That could put us in Denmark at midnight.
As we walked back toward the ferry landing, essentially arguing about what to do, Lise said she just wanted to drop in and ask about the delays. It turned out to be the best thing she could have done. We found out that our ferry was canceled. It had been decided for us. The next ferry was scheduled for 10pm- but there was no guarantee that would depart. She rebooked on a morning ferry. When we arrived at the landing, I realized that all the cars queued up for the other ferry line were still there--- they had canceled all ships. As we approached our car, we saw our Color Line ferry pull in. Everyone in our queue entered their cars, anticipating they would leave soon. We knew better. I managed to wiggle out of our parking spot. We were in one of the few spots where it was even possible to escape, since most lines allowed no such room. I managed to drive against a one-way street and leave the endless wait behind. No one was updating any of the drivers waiting to leave. We were free.
We pulled into a nearby parking lot, and Lise immediately started phoning hotels. There were no vacancies anywhere, except a few single bed rooms. After extinguishing our list, I offered to sleep on the floor-- as long as we had somewhere to spend the night. When Lise attempted to recall the hotels, she couldn't even get through. We expanded our quest for shelter to include cabin at campgrounds, and accommodations in neighboring towns. Nothing was available. Julian was upset. I was stressed. Lise phoned a number to a vacation apartment in a nearby town, and found no vacancy. The proprietor mentioned that he had an apartment in Kristiansand that was available. As a coincidence, we were in Kristiansand. We took it. We were given directions as we drove. It was a little strange, it it was our only real option.
We ended up with a very nice apartment-- at a price cheaper than a fancy hotel room. We leave tomorrow at 8:15am. I later found out that the wind around here was 18m/s-- which is very near storm velocities. We are rebooked on a regular massive ferry-- not one of the smaller, express ferries. It will take twice the time--- and I would imagine four times the time to load and unload all the vehicles. At least we have no real timelines. It does raise concerns for our return-- I have work meetings the Monday after we return to Norway. I wonder how all the other passengers have coped with the ferry "irregularities." I guess we ended up with good bad luck. Our landlord told us that he received about 20 calls right after we phoned.
Thursday, July 26, 2007
Gladmat
Yesterday we attended the "happy food festival." There were only about one billion people downtown. Miraculously we found a parking place. Julian was a real trooper. Unlike the US, there was no food available on a stick, unless it was meant to be (like on a skewer). Gladmat is a festival like Taste of Minnesota-- only it is actually done with good taste.
Straight Down
Some insane guy is sitting on the ledge. You can literally walk right off the rock if you want--- there are no railings. This is Norway--- your safety is dependent on your own sense of self-preservation.
Long Way Down
Pulpit Rock is just outside Stavanger. It is one of the biggest tourist attractions in Norway. I finally visited with some American friends last week.
The walk up was less strenous than I had anticipated, and took about 90 minutes. It was rather crowded, so there was no point in hurrying.
Pulpit Rock- The Top
It was a bit crowded at the top. It was the first day in almost a week without heavy rain.
Thursday, July 12, 2007
Most Millionaires Per Capita?
Norway boasts the most millionaires per capita. Somehow, that really doesn't make me feel any better.
Tuesday, July 10, 2007
Monday, July 09, 2007
Brain Donor
I purchased a 36 hole high flange track hub in Boston. Last night I disassembled a high flange Record/Fir rim, shined the used spokes and rim, and prepared to relace the wheel today. The flange and width were nearly identical, and I had a very nice set of double-butted DT spokes.
Tonight I started lacing up the wheel. I was through one side of the hub when I realized I had more spoke holes in the rim. I was sold a 32 hole hub. This would not work with a 36 hole rim!
I quickly disassembled a trashed old 105 hub laced to a nice Wobler rim. It was 32 holes- almost the same size as the Fir. I laced up a few rounds, and when I switched from lacing leading to trailing (or is that the other way around) some of the spokes magically were too short, while others were too long. I was completely baffled. I relaced it, in the event I started with the wrong key spoke. Same problem. I checked all the spokes to make sure they were the same length. They were. I tried other lacing options, but nothing worked. It was late. I was vexed.
As I was cleaning up the work area, it occurred to me. These are for a 36 hole hub/rim. There is no way they would work on a 32 hole rim. It was almost too obvious. Now I don't know what I will do. I if need to buy new spokes, I'd rather lace them to a better rim.
Tonight I started lacing up the wheel. I was through one side of the hub when I realized I had more spoke holes in the rim. I was sold a 32 hole hub. This would not work with a 36 hole rim!
I quickly disassembled a trashed old 105 hub laced to a nice Wobler rim. It was 32 holes- almost the same size as the Fir. I laced up a few rounds, and when I switched from lacing leading to trailing (or is that the other way around) some of the spokes magically were too short, while others were too long. I was completely baffled. I relaced it, in the event I started with the wrong key spoke. Same problem. I checked all the spokes to make sure they were the same length. They were. I tried other lacing options, but nothing worked. It was late. I was vexed.
As I was cleaning up the work area, it occurred to me. These are for a 36 hole hub/rim. There is no way they would work on a 32 hole rim. It was almost too obvious. Now I don't know what I will do. I if need to buy new spokes, I'd rather lace them to a better rim.
Saturday, July 07, 2007
Time Trial
We were headed to Kvitsøy today. I wanted to get a ride in, so I decided to ride out to the ferry landing. Lise would drive Julian. The ferry was scheduled to leave at 10:45am. I had a late start today-- my target departure by bike was 9:30. I really had no idea how long it would take to ride there. Last weekend it took 40 minutes to ride out to Randaberg, so I estimated it could take 75 minutes.
I ended up leaving a few minutes late. I was on my fixed gear, and I took the long way around the big hill we live on. It took ten minutes just to reach the football stadium. I was feeling rushed. As I was riding in Mariero, the rear tire felt strange. I pulled over and of course it was flat. I was just thinking how long it had been since I had last flatted. I phoned Lise to tell her that I might miss the ferry. The good news was that the next one left about an hour later. I quickly found the source of the flat- a hole in the tire so large that I could see light through it. I rummaged through a nearby garbage can and used a plastic ice cream bar wrapper to boot it, changed the tube, and was on my way. I was fortunate that I had the Continentals-- I could remove and reinstall the tire without needing any tools- fast and easy.
I was quickly on my way. I spotted a road biker ahead who offered me some motivation to step it up a notch. I chased him down like a rabbit. I quickly threaded my way out of downtown, unsure how far I had to go. It was 10:30- fifteen minutes from departure. It would suck to wait an hour at the ferry landing with nothing to do. If I would miss the ferry, it would be by mere minutes. With seven minutes to go, I noticed that I had 4.6 km to the ferry. If the ferry were late at all, I could make it. I grabbed for my cellphone to call Lise and have her ask if the ferry could wait a minute. People in cars do it all the time-- why not bikes? Then I realized my phone was in the bag- not on the strap. It hardly mattered. As I pulled onto the main road heading to the landing, I suddenly saw Lise in our car. At that point, I realized that I had an extra five minutes- that the ferry actually left at 10:50. She started off by motorpacing me, but on a fixed gear, I quickly spun out. She took off-- if she made it on time, at least she could ask them to wait a minute for me. As I pulled around the corner, the ferry was still visible. I had plenty of time.
I ended up with interesting heart rate data. I came within a few BPM of my maximum, something I am not normally able to do outside of a race. A little extra motivation helps. It only took 1:05- including the tube change. On the way home at 4:30, it was nothing but rain. The nice thing about riding home in the rain is that I would normally avoid riding in the wet, cold weather. However, when it is my only way to get home, I have to ride. Again-- motivation.
I ended up leaving a few minutes late. I was on my fixed gear, and I took the long way around the big hill we live on. It took ten minutes just to reach the football stadium. I was feeling rushed. As I was riding in Mariero, the rear tire felt strange. I pulled over and of course it was flat. I was just thinking how long it had been since I had last flatted. I phoned Lise to tell her that I might miss the ferry. The good news was that the next one left about an hour later. I quickly found the source of the flat- a hole in the tire so large that I could see light through it. I rummaged through a nearby garbage can and used a plastic ice cream bar wrapper to boot it, changed the tube, and was on my way. I was fortunate that I had the Continentals-- I could remove and reinstall the tire without needing any tools- fast and easy.
I was quickly on my way. I spotted a road biker ahead who offered me some motivation to step it up a notch. I chased him down like a rabbit. I quickly threaded my way out of downtown, unsure how far I had to go. It was 10:30- fifteen minutes from departure. It would suck to wait an hour at the ferry landing with nothing to do. If I would miss the ferry, it would be by mere minutes. With seven minutes to go, I noticed that I had 4.6 km to the ferry. If the ferry were late at all, I could make it. I grabbed for my cellphone to call Lise and have her ask if the ferry could wait a minute. People in cars do it all the time-- why not bikes? Then I realized my phone was in the bag- not on the strap. It hardly mattered. As I pulled onto the main road heading to the landing, I suddenly saw Lise in our car. At that point, I realized that I had an extra five minutes- that the ferry actually left at 10:50. She started off by motorpacing me, but on a fixed gear, I quickly spun out. She took off-- if she made it on time, at least she could ask them to wait a minute for me. As I pulled around the corner, the ferry was still visible. I had plenty of time.
I ended up with interesting heart rate data. I came within a few BPM of my maximum, something I am not normally able to do outside of a race. A little extra motivation helps. It only took 1:05- including the tube change. On the way home at 4:30, it was nothing but rain. The nice thing about riding home in the rain is that I would normally avoid riding in the wet, cold weather. However, when it is my only way to get home, I have to ride. Again-- motivation.
Friday, July 06, 2007
Totally Tubular
Our car was in the shop with a bad speed sensor in the antilock brakes. Normally this would not be a big deal, except the speedometer simply does not work. In true BMW fashion, it is an intermittent problem. I tossed Sjur's tubular tires on fixed gear number two and rode it to the auto shop for a test ride. Before leaving I thought I would top off the air. At first I thought the pump was not working, until I realized that Sjur had already pumped them up to some insane pressure-- likely beyond what my gauge could handle. The other night I replaced the bent chainring with a straight 42T. I ran a 17T cog in the rear. It was very easy to spin out, but riding up hills was noticeably easier. I don't know that this would be an everyday setup, but it is certainly more useful than my 14 that has seen no use since moving--- or even the 15.
I dropped the bike off at home-- it was raining again. I took Julian to the hardware store to return the torch, then stopped by the bike shop with my rough Campy/Fir wheel that I was rebuilding with a proper track hub-- as soon as I could have the cog removed. I explained to the shop what was going on with the wheel, and I am quite sure they had never seen a suicide setup before. They had a torch and heated it thoroughly to free the cog-- although it still required considerable effort. Once removed, I could see that some of the aluminum threads were coming out in the hub. The bearings need to be completely rebuilt anyway, and I don't like the idea of using the suicide setup. I will probably toss the freewheel back on, and it can do light duty on Lise's singlespeed. The shop guy didn't charge me a kroner for his effort. I felt a twinge of guilt, but it didn't last long.
During my errands, the car speedometer was not working-- again-- after spending over 2100nok for its repair. We are leaving town Sunday. I do not need any speeding tickets! At least I can estimate 90kph by RPMs and gearing. I regret paying the shop on site. They handed me an invoice, and I could have paid in online-- or rather NOT paid it until it was actually repaired. They shop guy said the replace the right rear sensor. Lets see--- that leaves the left rear now? I had explained the nature of the problem when I dropped it off-- that it sometimes works, sometimes doesn't.
What could cap off a perfect rainy day other than Pluto Nash being shown on TV? Seriously-- what were they thinking? What other movie has a rating of 6% at rottentomatos.com? OK, Battlefield Earth and Ecks vs. Sever fare even worse.
I dropped the bike off at home-- it was raining again. I took Julian to the hardware store to return the torch, then stopped by the bike shop with my rough Campy/Fir wheel that I was rebuilding with a proper track hub-- as soon as I could have the cog removed. I explained to the shop what was going on with the wheel, and I am quite sure they had never seen a suicide setup before. They had a torch and heated it thoroughly to free the cog-- although it still required considerable effort. Once removed, I could see that some of the aluminum threads were coming out in the hub. The bearings need to be completely rebuilt anyway, and I don't like the idea of using the suicide setup. I will probably toss the freewheel back on, and it can do light duty on Lise's singlespeed. The shop guy didn't charge me a kroner for his effort. I felt a twinge of guilt, but it didn't last long.
During my errands, the car speedometer was not working-- again-- after spending over 2100nok for its repair. We are leaving town Sunday. I do not need any speeding tickets! At least I can estimate 90kph by RPMs and gearing. I regret paying the shop on site. They handed me an invoice, and I could have paid in online-- or rather NOT paid it until it was actually repaired. They shop guy said the replace the right rear sensor. Lets see--- that leaves the left rear now? I had explained the nature of the problem when I dropped it off-- that it sometimes works, sometimes doesn't.
What could cap off a perfect rainy day other than Pluto Nash being shown on TV? Seriously-- what were they thinking? What other movie has a rating of 6% at rottentomatos.com? OK, Battlefield Earth and Ecks vs. Sever fare even worse.
Still No Go
OK, I ended up purchasing the creme brulee style torch-- but only because there were no alternatives. So I have the BUTANE torch, but there is no place to buy the butane. For some inexplicable reason, they ship them empty. I am ready to hit the bike shop and have them remove the cog--- and I will return this useless torch. It is a mere child's toy.
I discovered this blog- Bike Snob. Despite its name, it is quite excellent and very well written.
I discovered this blog- Bike Snob. Despite its name, it is quite excellent and very well written.
Tuesday, July 03, 2007
Too Much of a Good Thing
I am rebuilding an old fixed gear for a friend to use when he visits in a week or two. I removed the freewheel from an old high flange Record hub, and tossed a 16t cog on. I cannot find red Loctite anywhere in this town. Sjur came to the rescue by offering red DT Spoke Prep. He claimed it was essentially the same as red Loctite. I was skeptical, but tried it anyway.
I built up the rest of the bike and took it out for a ride a few weeks ago-- when there was a very loud "foam party" in the neighborhood. I discovered the rear hub's bearing were destroyed. In the US I picked up the Formula hub. The flange is similar enough to the Campy that I should be able to simply rebuild the wheel. The other night I began the project. I debated whether I should remove the rim tape, and started loosening one of the spokes. Then I remembered: it would be impossible to remove the cog if I removed the spokes first. I grabbed the chain whip and worked on the cog. It would not budge. For the record, red Spoke Prep is as good as welding it on. I will need to use heat--- either a propane torch (the manly man's method)-- or as a friend suggested, using a creme brulee torch.
I think I will hit the hardware store after work. Lise can use the propane torch for creme brulees--- if it ever comes down to that. Besides, she generally disapproves of kitchen gadgets being used as bicycle tools.
Thursday, June 28, 2007
Coming Home
I have been to Boston, San Francisco, back to Boston, and am currently in Halifax. I am so tired. Everything is done. I miss Lise and Julian. I have spent almost three weeks living in hotels. I did manage to pick up a new track hub in Boston-- a decent Formula that actually looks nicer than my current hub. I need to build a rear wheel for a friend who will be visiting in July. I should give Sjur a call--- he is turning into a wheel building guru.
This trip has been fantastic from a business perspective. I will work a week or two, then take a proper vacation. I wish I could snap my fingers and wind up in my bed.
This trip has been fantastic from a business perspective. I will work a week or two, then take a proper vacation. I wish I could snap my fingers and wind up in my bed.
Saturday, June 23, 2007
Back in San Francisco
I think tomorrow is gay pride day in SF. Then again, every day is sort of gay pride day in this city. Who can really tell?
Tuesday, June 19, 2007
Back in Boston
After a wonderful weekend home with Lise and Julian, I am back in the US. There was a medical emergency on the plane in the row in front of me, but other than that it was an uneventful flight. I am tired... must sleep.
Sunday, June 17, 2007
Prague Photos
The controversy between US Budweiser and Czech Budweiser rages on.
Freaky clock that drew all sorts of spectators each hour. Apparently something was supposed to happen--- but I could never figure out what.
Freaky castle-like building-- with some other buildings built into the lower levels. I half expected witches to fly out of the towers as the sun set.
We stayed a block away from here- in the height of the tourist zone.
Another view of the tower.
Wednesday, June 13, 2007
In Prague
I am seeing yet another beautiful European city from the inside of a hotel. Lise sent me a ridiculously cute video of her feeding Julian. It made me miss them even more.
Friday, June 08, 2007
Absurdity
Apologies dear reader, for my lack of posting as of late. My parents spent four weeks visiting. They made it the full term, including travel, with no visits to the emergency room-- which if you know my family, is no mean feat. Even if they are both healthy, as we discovered that a guest can start on fire, and my mother can receive burns extinguishing him during her heroics. But there were no fires this trip. OK, in all fairness, my father was in a walking cast with broken bones to his foot, and my mother used a cane to cope with a bad hip problem. You might say their medical problems were pre-emptive this time.
Monday I travel to Prague. Yesterday my nerves got the best of me, and I decided to call immigration. I am still waiting for my visa renewal. I called the Oslo office. The first person I spoke with said I could not leave the country with a pending application-- and that my application was still with the local police-- after maybe six weeks. Review my passport posts of yore. I called the local office, and was initially told the same thing. She then inquired of my citizenship. Upon hearing that I was American, she said it "shouldn't be a problem." Not exactly my vote of confidence. She then stated that if I submitted proof that I was traveling, they could issue one on the spot. I was on my way.
We dropped my parents off at the airport and headed down to the immigration office, which is really the basement of the police department. I punched the button to grab my queue number in a room full of people at approximately 11am. I pulled number 33. They were serving number 6. After grabbing my photo from the photo both, we decided that I would forego more beautiful weather. I drove Julian and Lise home, and returned to the police station--- on the far side of town. When I arrived, they were serving number 30. I quickly dispensed of formalities and was told to return after 3pm on Friday. I was elated.
Today we stopped by the police station to pick up the passport upstairs at the information desk. I had done this before, and it was in and out. Today there was a line. I drew number 81. They were in the upper 60s with one line open. I went out to the car to tell Lise this would not be a quick wait. It could take five to ten mintues. It was 3pm. There was one line open, and some thug on crutches devouring time. Eventually another line opened. Who were these people, spending their Friday afternoon at the police station? This was the info desk-- not a court room. I just needed to pick up my passport. A Japanese woman who I was seated next to saw my receipt. "Passport?" she asked. We struck up a nice conversation. She told my she lived in Norway for 35 years. I was apalled that she still needed to wait in a line for her visa renewal-- until she told me she had a permanent one and had renewed her passport.
As we spoke, some eastern European looking guy came in, very antsy. He cut in line to ask a question. By this point, Lise had been calling me several times, since we had a ferry to Kvitsøy to catch. I had already suggested that she buy the groceries, but we still had to pick something up at the pharmacy for her grandfather-- although I thought it was only for one of the sheep. This line cutter was really angering me, since it would be a disaster if we missed the ferry. We had to be there by 4:15, since it was the very busy, Friday after work ferry. People were likely already lined up waiting. It isn't a clown ferry that can hold a gazillion cars. I was really getting antsy myself. I contemplated cutting in line to ask if they were serving anyone pressed for time-- but the police officer soon sent this other guy on his way- after about 10 minutes had elapsed. The crutches thug was still hogging the other window.
I was getting stressed. I asked Lise to stop calling, and eventually I left the bench-- some Polish looking guy had entered the building and started pacing. I knew exactly what he was up to. He was going to become another line cutter. I stood up and stood in front of him, where I could see Lise in the parking lot. More importantly, I was blocking him. Eventually we were one number away, which was for the Japanese woman- who was numbered before me. The Polish-looking dude started making his move and approached the window, asking a question. I couldn't help myself- and I said to him, "Hey, I have a ferry to catch. You need to wait your turn. She is next, then me. We only need to pick up our passports." He responded in Norwegian that he only had one question. The Japanese woman who had been waiting over an hour gave me a smile as she hurried to the window. I knew she would be far too polite to confront him. The other guy apologized. The crutches thug was finished at the same moment-- after taking a full hour at the window. I was there and gone in under a minute, with a brand new visa.
We hurried to the ferry, plotting our next move. If we couldn't get our car on, we would drag all of our crap on by foot. Traffic was horrible. Lise had avoided having to stop at the pharmacy. We were much later than we had hoped. As we approached the lines, we saw more than enough room to Kvitsøy (the ferry serves two destinations). It was a miracle. We made it. We probably could have stopped at the pharmacy-- except they were closed. Sometimes things have a way of working out.
Monday I travel to Prague. Yesterday my nerves got the best of me, and I decided to call immigration. I am still waiting for my visa renewal. I called the Oslo office. The first person I spoke with said I could not leave the country with a pending application-- and that my application was still with the local police-- after maybe six weeks. Review my passport posts of yore. I called the local office, and was initially told the same thing. She then inquired of my citizenship. Upon hearing that I was American, she said it "shouldn't be a problem." Not exactly my vote of confidence. She then stated that if I submitted proof that I was traveling, they could issue one on the spot. I was on my way.
We dropped my parents off at the airport and headed down to the immigration office, which is really the basement of the police department. I punched the button to grab my queue number in a room full of people at approximately 11am. I pulled number 33. They were serving number 6. After grabbing my photo from the photo both, we decided that I would forego more beautiful weather. I drove Julian and Lise home, and returned to the police station--- on the far side of town. When I arrived, they were serving number 30. I quickly dispensed of formalities and was told to return after 3pm on Friday. I was elated.
Today we stopped by the police station to pick up the passport upstairs at the information desk. I had done this before, and it was in and out. Today there was a line. I drew number 81. They were in the upper 60s with one line open. I went out to the car to tell Lise this would not be a quick wait. It could take five to ten mintues. It was 3pm. There was one line open, and some thug on crutches devouring time. Eventually another line opened. Who were these people, spending their Friday afternoon at the police station? This was the info desk-- not a court room. I just needed to pick up my passport. A Japanese woman who I was seated next to saw my receipt. "Passport?" she asked. We struck up a nice conversation. She told my she lived in Norway for 35 years. I was apalled that she still needed to wait in a line for her visa renewal-- until she told me she had a permanent one and had renewed her passport.
As we spoke, some eastern European looking guy came in, very antsy. He cut in line to ask a question. By this point, Lise had been calling me several times, since we had a ferry to Kvitsøy to catch. I had already suggested that she buy the groceries, but we still had to pick something up at the pharmacy for her grandfather-- although I thought it was only for one of the sheep. This line cutter was really angering me, since it would be a disaster if we missed the ferry. We had to be there by 4:15, since it was the very busy, Friday after work ferry. People were likely already lined up waiting. It isn't a clown ferry that can hold a gazillion cars. I was really getting antsy myself. I contemplated cutting in line to ask if they were serving anyone pressed for time-- but the police officer soon sent this other guy on his way- after about 10 minutes had elapsed. The crutches thug was still hogging the other window.
I was getting stressed. I asked Lise to stop calling, and eventually I left the bench-- some Polish looking guy had entered the building and started pacing. I knew exactly what he was up to. He was going to become another line cutter. I stood up and stood in front of him, where I could see Lise in the parking lot. More importantly, I was blocking him. Eventually we were one number away, which was for the Japanese woman- who was numbered before me. The Polish-looking dude started making his move and approached the window, asking a question. I couldn't help myself- and I said to him, "Hey, I have a ferry to catch. You need to wait your turn. She is next, then me. We only need to pick up our passports." He responded in Norwegian that he only had one question. The Japanese woman who had been waiting over an hour gave me a smile as she hurried to the window. I knew she would be far too polite to confront him. The other guy apologized. The crutches thug was finished at the same moment-- after taking a full hour at the window. I was there and gone in under a minute, with a brand new visa.
We hurried to the ferry, plotting our next move. If we couldn't get our car on, we would drag all of our crap on by foot. Traffic was horrible. Lise had avoided having to stop at the pharmacy. We were much later than we had hoped. As we approached the lines, we saw more than enough room to Kvitsøy (the ferry serves two destinations). It was a miracle. We made it. We probably could have stopped at the pharmacy-- except they were closed. Sometimes things have a way of working out.
I Don't Know What It Is
But it is a cool image nonetheless. It also shows what perfect weather we had. Warmer than we had in Stavanger this year-- until today. I didn't sleep well in Trondheim-- it never really gets dark.
Not What I Expected
This was a cool "Lutheran Cathedral"- but it appeared that much of it was rebuilt within the last 150 years (even though it was started in the 1100s, or something like that). Anyway, this is not a normal building for Norway.
Sunday, June 03, 2007
Back from Trondheim
We took Julian, my parents, and aunt to Trondheim for a few days. Julian traveled very well. I will post photos later. What was most unusual about this trip was landing back at Sola (the local airport) in the middle of an air show. I half expected to hear cheering when we touched down. One more week off, then back to work-- full blast.
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