Tomorrow we head to Kilimanjaro

Hello.

I started writing a blog a few days ago that was supposed to convey my excitement about going, but instead it ended up as a rant about how annoyed I was with the organisation of the trip, etc. etc., bla bla bla bla bla. I haven't posted it. Yet...

So this blog is going to be much more upbeat because I got all that other stuff off my chest, and I will ensure that all the bad stuff is fed back to the organisers at a point when I'm less likely to just rant, instead of providing something constructive.

Tomorrow, we (myself and some other people, the total number I don't remember) are flying to Africa. We're about to embark on a great challenge; to conquer Mount Kilimanjaro. Of course, it'll be less like conquering and more like getting to the top without major incidents. Although, I might bring a Kajsa World flag and leave it at the top. After all, we all know that once you plant your flag somewhere, it's yours. That's what Eddie Izzard said anyway. So I need a flag!! Oooooh, how exciting! Could someone creative please design me a Kajsa World flag? That'd be awesome, thanks. It mustn't have any writing on it, I don't think that's allowed, is it? Oh wait, Mexico's and Brazil's flags have writing on... Ok, then I guess it's ok.

I was talked in to this ridiculous adventure by my friend Hilary while I was out walking some dogs last September. Shortly after, I went for a chiropractic treatment at my friend Naomi's clinic, who promptly suggested she'd like to come on this trek too. Ever since then we have been obsessed with this stupid mountain! We've fundraised... we organised a business & music festival, with varying degrees of success... we cycled an exercise bike in central Nottingham with a gas mask on (does anyone want to buy a gas mask? Used once.)... I collected money for 4 hours in the pouring rain outside Loughborough Uni (poor Bumble was not a happy girl)... I collected money in the scorching sunshine outside Leicester's Highcross Shopping Centre... I've planked in some of the most ridiculous places anyone could think of. But between us, Naomi and I have raised over £5000 for Practical Action, an amazing charity! And we're still friends... So I just want to say a huge THANK YOU!!!!! to everyone who donated - you'll be please to know we will no longer be hounding you for money...

But what awaits us when we reach the foot of Kilimanjingalong? Well, I don't really know exactly. I've packed all the gear so I've got a fair idea, but I guess that's part of the fun, not knowing what will happen? Please tell me it is. Please.

I love packing stuff. I created a Kili Gear spreadsheet that contains a list of everything I've got with me, where they go (bag-wise) for each stage of the trip, etc. I think it took longer to create the spreadsheet than it did to pack, which is a sign of an EXCELLENT spreadsheet. And now I'm getting quite excited about going. But I don't think it's really hit me that I am going yet. Although I got a step further when I had a go with the Shewee. It was successful, no spillages as far as I could tell.

Around this time next week, I'll be (hopefully) nearing the top of Mount Kilimanjaro - I'm guessing it will have sunk in by then... So for now, wish me luck!! xx

Cheese please

(please read this blog in 0.5x the regular speed you would read it at)

I'm so excited I could eat my own head!!

I'm having breakfast for dinner! No, wait, that deserves two exclamation marks!! I'm having breakfast for dinner!! I LOVE having breakfast for dinner! I'm going to have bread and cheese and yoghurt. Norwegian cheese... Now there's an interesting cheese they do here in Norway, it's brown in colour and tastes a little bit peculiar. But I like it. If anyone would like to try some, let me know and I'll bring some back to the UK, but you have to pick it up from me in Nottingham, this isn't a dog damn delivery service!! Jeez. Here's a picture of the cheese (strawberries have to be bought separately as far as I know):

This isn't the cheese I'm having for dinner though, I'm not feeling that adventurous! My cheese is called something else and is regular cheese colour but it's all the way out in the kitchen and I'm in the bedroom because my laptop is charging. Actually, I'm pretty hungry, I think I'm gonna go to the kitchen and make my breakfast dinner. Please hold....................................... (Oh, btw, I'm going to see Prometheus in 3D tomorrow evening, fyi. Keep holding.)

Right, I'm back! The cheese I'm now eating is good old Jarlsberg. And the yoghurt I bought turned out to not be yoghurt at all but some kind of drink. It doesn't taste great and the whole dinner has now turned into a bit of an anti climax. Still, got Martini for dessert! Are you supposed to keep Martini in the fridge?

So, now that I've finished my dinner, I would like to discuss automatic doors. You know, the sliding ones. Actually, doesn't have to be the sliding ones. Do you think they're priced according to how quickly they open? If so, the doors here in Oslo must be really cheap (x3 for Norway prices). Personally, I think that automatic doors should be rated according to how fast you would have to run to bang in to it. Perhaps in kph rather than mph so it can be universal. Hmm, but I don't know how fast I walk in kph, so I'd have to convert... At the airport I reckon we have doors rated 3 - they're pretty crappy and slow and I often have to stop abruptly to not walk into them (I know, seems strange to think I haven't, huh?). But on the other hand, shopping centres tend to have faster ones, maybe even a 7 or 8-rated door. Perhaps the sensors are directed further away.

Automatic doors can be quite scary, especially if they start to close on you as you're walking through. Always makes me jump. In fact, at the airport yesterday I think I flew about an inch (2.54cm) into the air when the little barrier in the airlock started closing on me. It's quite noisy and very fast. Ok, it's not really an airlock, obviously, but there's a bit just before you go into the baggage hall that's the point of no return. Brussels and Copenhagen airport have them too. Haven't seen any in Heathrow or Birmingham, but they have those freaky e-passport gates, and they have scary barriers too.

So if you regularly have to go through automatic doors, maybe at work, maybe at your local shop, please could test their rating, in kph? That would be great, thanks.

Lastly, saw these guys this morning:

Aaaawwww... (any Swedish-speaking people will probably find 'gratis klemmer' amusing.)

The Rise and Fall of the Invisibility Cloak

Hello there.

It's 17:30. I'm at the airport in Oslo. I've been here since about 15:30 and my flight leaves at 21:05. I decided to arrive that early because a) I'd completed my day's work, and b) there's a strike on by the security guards at the airport. The expected queuing time through security was 1 hour and 15 minutes. It took me 40 minutes.

I knew there was a strike on; it was supposed to start on Friday morning at 06:00, which is why I got there at 05:07, but it didn't start until 20:00 that evening. It's now a week later and still there has been no resolution to the talks. But who cares!? As long as I get to see my Bumbler, I don't care who's on strike! Call me selfish, or a shell fish for that matter, but that's who I am. Kajsa "Shell fish" Tylen. Yeah, so where was I? Right, I knew there was a strike on so I logged on to the airport webcam (http://www.osl.no/osl/omoss/_presse/_webkamera) where I closely monitored the queue situation from work. The picture is sent every 15 seconds, which means all sorts of possibly hilarious situations, but they're not hilarious if nobody is watching as I found when I got to the airport. Kirsti had probably gone home and I couldn't think of anyone else to annoy. Ha, but I could watch myself on my phone! Which turns out to not be as much fun as I was expecting. If someone was watching I could've hidden in various places with just one body part showing, and the person watching had 15 seconds to figure out where I was before I moved to the next place. But instead I decided to do some planking. If you're not familiar with planking, you might want to read this: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Planking_(fad)

So, my plan was to go in to the clear area in the middle of the webcam screen, and plank. I was phyched up and ready for action when I arrived, but when I got there, I realised there were quite a few people about and I lost my nerve. This was the best I could do:

That's me on the floor in the middle of your screen.

But I needn't have worried!! Turns out I'm invisible!! Except to the webcam of course. I joined the security queue at the back, as honest people do, but kept getting overtaken by a woman. Of course, I can't stand for that kind of behaviour so I started blocking her. But turns out she, and her travelling partner (who I don't think was her lover but I reckon he wanted to be), couldn't see me. Why else would they repeatedly walk into my gorgeous little suitcase? But in true 'silent war' style, I because to become very unpredictable with my bag, and sometimes it just happened to roll back and squish some toes. But still, it continued relentlessly. I wondered if I might be wearing my invisibility cloak - it sometimes falls on top of me when I least expect it.

Anyhoo, we had been at the silent war for about 20 minutes or so when we queued in an open area, and someone tried to sneak in infront of me (don't think he saw me either). Well, this was more than I would accept! I said to the chap: "excuse me, the queue is over there", while pointing to where myself and the annoying couple behind me joined the queue. The man had been BUSTED!! He quickly folded into a posture of embarrassment and skulked off. The man in front of me in the queue (who's bag I had not kicked once during the entire queuing period, fyi) turned round, looked at me, and said "good call". Not just once, but twice. Well, well, well, seems like my cloak fell off during my confrontation with 'Sneaky'. And the couple behind me said "well done" and stopped kicking my bag. It was a proud moment. :)

No, what does one do in an airport for four and a half hours (other than write a ridiculously long blog about naff-all)? Shopping of course!! Except I'm not shopping at the moment, I'll get my ass kicked by my BFF if I go shopping. So instead I tried some sun glasses on. Here are a few of my favourites:

When I say 'my favourites', I mean 'the biggest glasses I could find'.

Now I'm bored. I've eaten (pizza), played Rumble, and listened to numerous screaming children, and now I'm bored. I don't mean I'm bored of writing this blog, I find it very therapeutic, but just bored of being at these airport. And I'm bored of listening to the guy on the tannoy telling everyone that "this is the last and final call for passengers [insert random passenger names] to join flight [insert random destination]". Twice.

Dresses and tea

Hello.

Fancy seeing you here.

I'm currently in Oslo - just arrived. Left the house a content lady and now I'm all worried. You see, I hired a guy to sort out my back garden (if I posted that on Facebook it would get all sorts of rude comments), and I believe him now to be a less than honest fellow. Not that he's told me any lies, other than the time it would take to do the work, but that's minor. Anyway, I've now left the country, this man is in my garden, and I'm afraid of what might disappear from my rather large shed - specifically my bike. I should've known better, nobody honest starts every sentence with "te be oonest wit ya".

I had to travel from Heathrow again today, and on British Airways rather than the usual SAS (Scandinavian Airlines Systems - what systems?). Initially I wasn't pleased, and I guess I'm still not, because it means no Eurobonus points for this week and you know how keen I am to get my Gold Membership, but it was a rather nice experience. Terminal 5 is lovely, and I didn't think I'd been there before because I entered from the other end of the terminal, and things look different from a different angle, but I have indeed been there. I resisted the shops and just bought food. A huge step forward. I waited in the main terminal until I found out what gate I was at and then proceeded to gate C52, via a shuttle (ha, wrote shittle to start with - should've left it). I was second at the gate, and it hadn't opened yet so I stood watching the traffic jam to the runway.

Is it still a traffic jam if it isn't cars? Yes, of course it is, as in air traffic... Eejit. As I was watching, a Singapore Airlines Airbus A380 was waiting in line. If you look carefully at the picture, you'll see it. It was HUGE!! Compared to the A380, the other planes were teeny tiny! You wouldn't mess with an A380 down a dark alley, I can tell you! It's awesome. And now I really want to go in one. When it finally took off, everyone, including the ground staff at the airport, watched it. That's how awesome it is.

So, I managed to be FIRST on the flight today! Very exciting indeed. I was so adamant to prove that I wouldn't hold the rest of the passengers up so I threw my bag into the overhead locker, trapping my finger. It didn't hurt at first but a few seconds passed and it because excruciating. To the point where several f-words exited my mouth in rapid succession, whilst I was flailing my hand about like it was on fire. The man that had entered the plane behind me was extremely amused by this behaviour. "Sorry!" I shouted at him as he giggled down the plane. I think it still hurts, but I can't remember what finger it was, so I can't be sure, could just be muscle ache.

Hey, I'm going to a party tomorrow with work! Brought two dresses to choose from and I need a vote. Dress A (the one on the left) or Dress B (the one on the right, if my powers of deduction are correct)?

Dress A is a bit more conservative, but Dress B is more comfortable, but the shoes are much higher and I'm afraid it might be a bit 'sexy' for a work do. Anyhoo, let me know what you think.

So, and I promise this is the last bit, I sat down in my seat (8F) and a good looking chap came and sat one seat away from me (8D). I decided I would attempt to make a bit of small talk... So I broke the ice by asking him if we get food on the flight. He replied yes, to which I responded by making a fist and bringing my elbow in to my side and exclaiming "awesome!". Like I'd never eaten before. Then, when the stewardess came by with drinks and snacks, I asked for tea and placed it on the tray table that belonged to the seat between the two of us. I pointed at the tray table and told the guy next to me that he could share it if he wanted to, it was no problem. Unfortunately, I think he thought I meant that he could share my tea...... He hastily said "no, thank you". I then figured I should rectify the situation so I joked "you do know I meant the table, not the tea, right? But if you really want tea, you can have some". He looked at me as if I was weird and responded by offering me some of his snack. I really wanted one of his snacks, because they looked rather unappetising, and I wanted to know if they were or not, but I had to say no.

I decided to leave him alone after that.

Bieber Fever

As Bieber Fever sweeps Oslo, I ask myself; "why have I grown another appendix?". The two are, of course, unrelated, but they are also both current bits of information.

But of course I am fully aware that I haven't actually grown another appendix, having had mine taken out at the age of 14 or 15, but it certainly feels like I have, and that it's got some -itis going on. On Sunday I drank rather a lot of wine, and have been in serious to moderate pain ever since. My stomach also seems to have ballooned to twice it's normal size. I'm not sure why this is happening, but I'm fairly sure it's related to wine and cannon balls. When I say cannon balls, I mean cinnamon rolls.

Anyhoo... Got myself a new ring at Copenhagen Airport today. A gift to myself if you will. Well, nobody else is buying me gifts, so why the hell not!? It's yellow and cream and diamond coloured, but all retro and stuff. It is also my plan to get a pair of retro spectacles, a bit like my dad has. I've realised I'm a lot like my dad. I have his memory (could be literally coz he doesn't remember anything either), I'm easily distracted, and there are also other similarities that involve clip-on mobile phone cases, and then the spectacles. I think it will make me look rather intelligent, something I probably don't at the moment. Maybe I should dye my hair brown as well. Anyone have any thoughts on this matter?

Good grief, the neighbours here in Oslo are being rather loud this evening. SHUT THE &!%K UP!! People are trying to blog in here!!!! Jeeeez. Sorry for swearing.

And maybe a suit. Should I don a suit too? I bet then the air stewardess wouldn't ask me what seat I'm in when I board the plane first. I can feel a challenge coming on... How exciting!! I could become all professional and stuff! I have another, air travel related, challenge that I failed today. I extend it to you also. When coming in to land at any destination during daylight hours, you must spot a golf course. That's it. Easy peasy. But today, coming in to land at Oslo, I failed. It was a dark hour indeed. Well, 10 minutes anyway.

Here's a picture of my new ring. Stop it, it's not rude.

And here's a picture of a Justin Bieber, because it's apt. There's no picture of my regrown appendix, you'll be pleased to know. Unless my regrown appendix looks like Bieber. It's quite possible.

Take care,
Kajsa.

P.S. There's a girl shouting at a guy next door but I think it's over t'internet.

Atmospheric Pressure

It's that time again. Blog-time. Like hammer-time, only less fun.

I was going to go to sleep, but the heat is making sure that's not possible. So I may as well bore myself to sleep by writing a blog. About babies and dates. Unrelated to each other, just for clarity. Actually, I'm also going to talk about penises, something that Norwegians seem to be obsessed with. At least when creating statues. Outside my workplace here in Oslo are some statues - naked statues. Ha, I wonder if anyone would find it funny if I dressed on up in an Abba outfit or something... Anyhoo, penises outside the window. And on Monday I went to an apparently world famous park, where there were LOADS of statues. Statues of naked people, doing all sorts of weird stuff. Like this:

Isn't it awesome?! And there's a famous one of an angry baby but I didn't take a picture of it coz everyone else was and I didn't want to conform. However I did take a picture of the piece de resistance, this phallic symbol:

You can find out more about the park and the statues here: http://www.vigeland.museum.no/en/vigeland-park/bridge You might not want to, but I don't care if you want to or not, I'm giving you the option at least. Jeez.

Just to clarify, no actual person or persons has shown me their penis here in Norway. And there are clothed statues available for viewing as well.

So, onto the date. I went on a date this week. My first ever date with a Swedish guy. Exciting eh? That's it, that's all I have to say about that.








Only kidding!! As if I'd leave you in suspense like that!? I'm not that cruel.

Right, so, we met near my house, said our awkward hellos and decided to go to a cafe/bar up the road. We walked up to the bar and umm-ed and aaah-ed about what to drink. At least, I did. My date promptly asked what the best white wine they had was and I thought "how sweet!". But no, not sweet. My date then proceeded to order a glass of said wine, pay for it, and go and sit down. Without a word to me. Without waiting for me to get my drink. Without offering to get me a drink. Actually, I don't really mind him not offering to buy the drink, but surely it's common courtesy to wait for your date, especially if it's your first one with this person, while they get their drink? I was flummoxed. So when I got home (after having down about a third of my cider because my date decided it was time to go and there was no way I was wasting £2.50) I decided to ask Google about date etiquette in Sweden (he was Swedish, after all). Yes, yes, I know I'm Swedish but, as previously mentioned, this was my first ever date with a fellow Swede so I wanted to know if it was a cultural thing. Here are a few snippets I found:

"I slowly start to realize that a Swedish man on a first date is like a lost puppy trying to find his way. He knows not how to approach a lady, carry a conversation, or to offer to pay. "

"And also - for the most part "special treatment" of women is not appreciated. If a man runs ahead of a woman to open a door for instance this would be seen as patronizing. "

"Another thing in Sweden is that since men and woman are viewed equally the man is not supposed to pay the bill and such things during dates. Instead they always split (well not always but its common)."

Make what you will of that. I'm undecided, but leaning towards the please-don't-leave-me-at-the-bar-on-our-very-first-and-probably-last-date side of things.

And lastly, I found this: http://answers.yahoo.com/question/index?qid=20070106084217AAJ71dz And I love it.

Night, night.

I don't know if this will work... But you'll never guess where I am!? I'm 34000 ft in the air (ish)!! First time using wifi on the plane. It's so exciting a little wee might come out. The view up here is spectacular. Unfortunately I can't upload a picture using my phone right now but I might share at a later time.

I could now tell you about my Eurobonus issue that I spoke about in yesterday's blog! What a grand idea!! So, I've been a Silver level member since working in Copenhagen last year and was very much looking forward to getting 50,000 points and receiving Gold status. I'm not at 50,480 points, but have not been upgraded!!!! I must say that this is hugely disappointing.it turns out that I need 50,000 points in one qualifying year, not in total. Now my spirit is crushed. I will never fly again. Oh, hang on...

The Runs

Dear Blog,

I ran today. Twice. And yesterday I ran once. It's my new old thing. From now on I will run to and from work, except when coming from, or going to, the airport. I run with a rucksack that carries my work clothes. I listen to music. It's rather therapeutic actually. Except when pedestrians and cyclists get in the way. And they certainly get in the way. People in Norway veer all over the pavement! They seem oblivious so anything going on around them. Yeah, yeah, I'm generalising obviously, and I'm pretty certain that it's not just Norwegians that do this. In fact, most people, regardless of colour or creed, are crap pedestrians. Just because you're moving slowly doesn't mean you shouldn't be aware of what's going on around you. Dem de rules. I'm a great pedestrian.

So, I said last time that I'd finish the list I'd made. But I'm not going to, because the rest of the list was boring. I'd like to talk about thinking. Or rather, I'd like to type about thinking. Next time you're thinking, think about what you sound like when you're thinking. Do you sound like you? The reason I ask is that recently it occurred to me that I'd started thinking in a Norwegian accent. Now, I can't actually speak in a Norwegian accent (in fact I'm pretty cack at any accent other than Irish, and some would argue - and lose - that I'm cack at that too), but in my head I have the perfect Norwegian accent. In fact, I sound remarkably like my colleague and friend, Kirsti. It obviously means we spend a lot of time together. So I'd like to challenge you to spend time with someone who has a strong accent. Lots of time. Let's see if we can become international thinkers. I say all this, and now that I think about it, the accent is nowhere to be found. Kirsti was away from work last week. Coincidence? I don't think so.

Did I tell you I've got a new flat? It's cool. Here's a picture of me in it:

Don't worry, Norway hasn't changed my face, it's just an effect on the laptop. Cool, eh?

Lastly, because I have to go to bed in order to get up at 5am to go to the airport, I want to tell you a disappointing story about the SAS loyalty scheme, Eurobonus. But before that.... tomorrow is 17th May. Do you know what that means? Norwegian Constitution Day. HUGE festivities, and I'm gonna miss them all! :( But it's going to rain, and I'm going home to see Bumble, and if I did go I'd feel like the loneliest person on the planet, so I'm good. Here's a picture of what it would have been like:

Pretty cool, huh?

So anyhoo, the Eurobonus thing... another time, I'm too tired and I'm boring myself. Probably coz of all the running. Or I'm getting old and decrepit. Meh, whatevs. See you next time!
(If you read it all, please leave a comment telling me what your favourite movie of all time is. Need some ideas for LoveFilm, who insist on repeatedly sending me DVDs.)

Laters,
Kajsa. xx (one for you and one for Bumble)

4 important things

Hi.

I figured that since it's been such a long time since my last post, and that post was about toilet paper, I need to write another. I've been rather busy since my previous post. Last week I was in Copenhagen, working and visiting friends. My memory often fails me so I decided to start writing a list of interesting things that happen that I could blog about, so I'm now going to go through that list, so it's all covered. Don't want you to miss out on all the juicy gossip!! So, here goes:

The death of manners
Hmm. I don't remember what this was... I suspect it was airplane incident in Brussels the other week, correct me if I'm wrong... Oh no, it can't be that, because that's further down on my list. Sod it, nobody has manners any more, especially at airports. That's it really. Next!

Treatment of short people
Ok, this may not have anything to do with me being short, but part of Napoleon Complex is that any negative behaviour toward someone of a short stature is automatically thought to be due to being vertically challenged. However, recent research has actually shown that Napoleon Complex is a myth. I'm not down with that, but whatevs.

So, anyhoo, the story is that I'm on my way onboard Brussels Airlines from Brussels to Oslo. I'm the fourth one onto the plane because I'm seated in b.flex economy+ (or something) that allows me to board before the peasants. I see the first three guys board with a friendly 'hello' from the air stewardess. They are tall, businessy-looking chaps, obviously important people. But when I board, I don't get a friendly 'hello' from the stewardess, despite me giving her a friendly 'hello'. No, I get asked what seat I'm in! How rude! Is this because I'm short? Is it because I'm wearing a hoodie? I always wear a hoodie when I travel because the hood can easily be turned into a make-shift pillow. Maybe it's because I don't look businessy enough. Whatever.

Personal space on airplanes
Now this is a good one. On my way to Copenhagen last week I was seated next to a guy (who was a white guy around 50 years old, strawberry blonde hair, similar-coloured moustache - not important but helps set the scene) who was already seated and reading a broad-sheet when I arrived. I told him I was sitting by the window and he kindly got up and let me in (this was a plane with only two seats on either side of the aisle). He then sat down and carried on reading his paper. His right arm (I was on his right, seat 6F) was on the arm rest between us and his newspaper was slightly over the imaginary line between his personal space and mine. Now, I've been a lot of flights. A lot. And my experience is that there is an untold rule that protects people's dignity and prevents elbowing, and that is that nobody 'claims' the middle arm rest. You can use a small portion of it, but definitely no touching the other person, ever.

I apologise that this is a long and tedious story, but I think you'll agree it's of utmost importance for a frequent flyer such as myself.

And this guy didn't just claim the arm rest, he proceeded to touch the sleeve of my hoodie will his sleeve!! The cheek of it!! So I decided to start a silent war. I suspect I was the only one aware of the war, but something had to entertain me for a couple of hours. The war consisted of me retaliating every time we touched sleeves or every time his newspaper went 'over the line'. The retaliation was me placing my magazine over the imaginary line onto his side, thereby blocking at least a couple of inches of his newspaper. Sometimes, when it got really bad, I would even flick his newspaper with my magazine. All this was done in an extremely subtle manner, whereby he would just think I was being rude. Genius, I'd say. I also let a teeny, tiny fart out.

Traditional arrival in Copenhagen
Now this is something that has to be done at any airport. Actually, the tradition was started by my mother (or perhaps it has come through the generations - nobody really knows) and is now fast becoming the done thing when travelling by plane. Note - this may be strange if you're being met by someone at the airport. However, it can be a source of amusement for all parties.

When travelling by plane, there is always an area just outside the exit from baggage reclaim where people wait to greet their loved ones after they've been away. If, like myself, you have no friends (at least not to greet you at the airport), there is a simple way to make yourself feel special. As soon as you exit those doors, and see the mass of people who are not there to see you, search around and spot your 'pretend friend'. Make it appear that he/she is a bit of a distance away. Wave (preferably wildly) to him/her, smile, and then walk off in another direction. Genius. It's particularly fun at Copenhagen because there's always a lot of people waiting to greet friends.


Right, I did have three more list items to cover, but it appears that this takes a lot longer than I had allocated, so I'm going to leave the rest until tomorrow, or another day. But don't let me forget, will you? Because the next three items are ridiculously interesting. And I'd like to talk more about cultural differences, but I keep forgetting what they are.

Take care,
Kajsa.

Loo roll

I've got nothing to say today, other than:

How much longer is the inside sheet on toilet paper than the outside??

Chicken Wings

I am giddy with excitement! Giddy, I tell you!! So excited I'm about to pee myself! Wanna know why? Course you do. I am about to eat the cheapest meal I have had in Oslo to date. And it's good stuff, too. I came across some BARGAIN chicken wings in the ICA supermarket near work, and I bought some ready made salad to go with it. The chicken wings were only 23 NOK and the salad 16 NOK. That's a total of 39 NOK, which converts to about £4.23. A bargain in any country! I'll put this into perspective, shall I? On Tuesday I went to the 7-Eleven and purchased a litre of milk and a box of cereal. That came to 75 NOK. That's £8.14.


So I'm off now to eat said chicken wings (though I'm going to call them buffalo wings so it feels like I'm in the US), and when I come back I will talk to you about crossing the street, for this is a fascinating subject.

Mmmmmmm.... I give ICA Supermarket 5 Bumblestars. 

Now that I've finished my dinner we will get onto the serious matter of crossing the road. I can't remember what it was like in Sweden, but certainly here, and in Copenhagen, people only cross the street at a pedestrian crossing, and, if there's a red/green man involved, only on a green man. When I cross the road, and I feel mature enough to make my own decision on when it's safe enough to cross, people look at me in disbelief! Perhaps it's because they can't believe how small I am, but I think it's that they're concerned about my safety. Or ready to see me get knocked down - whatever.


I was told that in Denmark, if you get caught (by the police I assume - getting caught by a guy with a red hat would surely make no difference) crossing the road on a red man (not on his back - you know what I mean, stop being so pedantic) you'd get fined. That's just ludicrous. Firstly, (most) people just aren't stupid enough to walk in front of a moving vehicle and secondly, it's just ludicrous. If I'm old enough to smoke, have sex, drink alcohol, hold a firearm certificate and purchase, borrow or hire firearms and ammunition subject to the conditions on the certificate, then I'm old enough to decide when it's safe to cross the road. Surely?!


I'm sure you'll agree with me when I say that this was an important aspect of the Scandinavian culture to discuss. When I say 'discuss', I mean 'give my opinion on'. 


I'd like to say that tomorrow I'm going to discuss whether or not to give money to beggars (I did today because I felt so weighed down with the extra money I had left over from my bargain chicken wings), but I'm flying home tomorrow so am unlikely to have time to write a blog. Oh, unless I do it at Brussels Airport. Soon I'll be able to enter the fancy lounge there because I'm very close to becoming a Eurobonus Gold Member. Hehehehe, Gold Member...


Oh, and by the way, someone has outbid me on the suitable alternative suitcase. This could turn into a war.

Hello Blog.

How many people do you think read you yesterday? I know at least 3 people who did. I think that's excellent. Now then... I guess today's blog should be chronological but I'm just really keen on letting you know that I'm in bed and it's before 10pm. This is excellent news. So I shall be quick so as not to reduce my beauty sleep by too much. Not that it makes a difference to my beauty, but I does make me less grumpy if I get a little more kip.

This morning started out with my normal pleasant walk to the train station. Except for my socks. My news boots hurt the balls of my feet so today I decided to place a sock in the bottom of each boot, like an insole. Not recommended. Anyway, coming out of the station was a group of teenagers (on a school trip perhaps). The boys all looked the same!! I'm sorry to generalise, and I hope this doesn't come across as racist, but these Norwegian boys really did all look the same!! Strong bone structure, blonde quiff. I had a little chuckle to myself, because that's what I do these days - I chuckle. And sometimes I even talk to myself. Yesterday, I was on the hunt for some milk on my way home from work and went in to 3 convenience stores - none of which had milk! I tried to figure out why until it dawned on me that they don't have milk in their tea! I then proceeded to exclaim that out loud. Dufus. Now, where was I?

Ah yes, the quiff boys. That's it really, not much more to say about that. Work was just as per normal but I did arrange to meet the lovely Monica after work. When we met she told me that I had a look of confusion as I switched from autopilot I'm-going-home-and-you-can't-stop-me to oh-hang-on-I'm-supposed-to-meet-someone-I-think mode.

We went to Alexandros, a Greek restaurant near where I live. It was empty, but the owners spoke Greek so that was a bonus. Difficult contending with four languages though, even for someone as culturally rich as myself (cough, cough). Unfortunately the food was too salty, and we were paid no attention until I asked for the 'logariasmo' (the bill). Then I got a full conversation in Greek, and the bill. Lucky, coz that's what I hoped I'd asked for. 

All in all, Alexandros only gets 3 Bumblestars. 

I wish I had the energy to tell you all about the rest of the stuff that happened today, but this is just enough excitement for one day. Surely!? Tomorrow I will discuss the cultural differences between Norwegians and non-Norwegians. Or possibly quiffs. Depends.

Return to Oslo, via shopping hell!!!

Dear blog,

Instead of writing my 'dear diary' in Facebook, I've decided to write to you instead. It could be that you're a better listener, or that you have more settings, but we'll just see how it goes. I feel a little lonelier on a blog than on a Facebook status, but I guess that's just a psychological weakness of mine. Perhaps I should write a paper on the psychology of Facebook. Like that hasn't been done already...

Anyhoo... I'm back in Norse Land after over a week back in the UK. It feels different. Firstly, I no longer have the heavy weight of the Altitude Festival hanging over me - that's been and gone. It was a great success in execution but not as great a success in fundraising as we would have hoped. So now it's back to the drawing board of fundtastic ideas (see what I did there?).

This week's flight took me through Brussels Airport again. To prevent boredom and to pass time, I set myself some tasks at the airport:

1. Find the best moisturiser money can buy - that doesn't cost the earth.
2. Find a suitable replacement suitcase for the €20 Spanish bargain I currently lug around (and have done for years).
3. Find some tiny travel-sized perfumes that are value for money.
4. Don't buy any of them.

Ridiculous, you may think. But nooooooooooo, it's not, for these are all extremely difficult tasks, for someone with my mind. Firstly, I have to source the 3 items. Secondly, I have to determine their suitability according to the specifications I have set. Analyse each of the first 3 tasks and tell me what I mean.


Done?


Good. Did you see the difficulty?
1. Find the BEST moisturiser money can buy. What defines 'best'? I do, obviously, but I'm no expert, nor am I capable of defining value for money. If I find a moisturiser that feels so great on my skin that I pop with excitement, but it costs €320, is it worth it? You start to see the challenge I'm facing...
2. Find a suitable replacement suitcase. My current suitcase is capable of holding:

• 4 days worth of work clothes
• 3 gym sessions worth of sweat clobber
• 2 pairs of shoes
• toiletries
• an extra set of clothes should I want to go somewhere posh in an evening
• my overcoat
• scarf
• umbrella

It is also expanding, and whatever the antonym of expanding is. Which means it can be used on Ryanair flights as hand luggage (I have checked the measurements) or non-Ryanair flights (recommended). So it would take a special kind of suitcase to convince me to switch. 

3. Do you know how many ml are in a mini perfume bottle? Between 4 and 7ml!!!! And 4 of those costs the same as a 50ml normal perfume bottle (containing perfume). That's just stupid. Nuff said.

Then we get to the fourth task. 

4. Resist the urge to buy........ The most difficult of all tasks. You see, my mind works in mysterious ways, similar to that of many other people. When I'm shopping, even if it's window shopping, I start to convince myself that I need all these wonderful and expensive things. I have wasted many thousands of £s on stuff I don't need. I don't really mind spending money on things I want, but when I convince myself that I need something just so that I buy it... Well, that's just ridiculous.

I'm rambling. Not in a positive way out in the countryside, but in a dull, fruitless way. I succeeded in only one task, possibly two. I didn't buy anything (go me!) and I may have found a suitable replacement suitcase. But just after writing that last sentence I went onto eBay and bid on the suitable replacement suitcase. I'm ridiculous.

Enough about the airport!! I arrived in Oslo on time and made my way back to the apartment. Nothing worth writing about happened, so I don't know why I'm writing this.

This morning I had an appointment at the Swedish Embassy to apply for a new passport. I realised, to my horror, yesterday that I had forgotten my hairbrush. But it didn't really matter coz I look the same whether I've brushed my hair or not. Did put some extra makeup on this morning though, and in the process I discovered that my liquid foundation smells of melon. I was so excited about this revelation that I had to tell me work colleague about it as soon as I got in. Anyway, had some fun at the embassy when the lady who took my picture exclaimed "you don't look like that, do you??" as she stared at the first shot. The one I didn't realise had been taken. I was grimacing as if I had a wasp stuck to my left ear. Luckily I was invited, rather swiftly, to pose again. 

This blog is too long, I'm getting far too carried away. I thought this might happen. I will stop now, and return tomorrow. But just so you know, I've set myself a goal to try out all the local food establishments. May as well review them too, for something to do. First up: Miki Sushi. Awesome. Simply the best sashimi I've ever tasted (other than the tuna on a boat in New Caledonia). 5 Bumbles (Bumbles are my stars). Tomorrow: Alexandros (Greek food). Bet you can't wait.