When The Moon Hits Your Eye Like A Big Pizza Pie...

A long day of travels took me to Alghero, a city a couple hours away from Bosa. The buses don’t run after 9 at night, so it was up to me to find an extremely last minute hostel that would be easy access and close to the bus station. So as I was walking to the closest McDonalds for their good wifi and tasty heart attacks a fellow strolled up to me and offered me a room for 25 Euros overlooking the entire ocean. It was only a couple blocks away from the bus station. I tried to dip into the skeptical side of me, but I found out I wasn’t born with that specific bone. With extreme excitement that I just got a great deal for an apartment over night I hoped in his very clean car and we took to the road. A couple minutes later I was inside a wonderfully big apartment that is actually bigger than the place in Bosa. He handed me the key and explained how to use it. I am not very familiar with the use of keys, so it was good that he told me that you put the mountain side up and then twist. I was just gonna hold the key next to the lock and hope it opened on its own.

I dropped my stuff off on my bed and took to the streets to find something to eat. As I left the building the kind sir was there to give me another lesson in key use. He assured me that the key to the building worked exactly the same as the one into my room. Phew…I can only take so much information at once. The city seemed quite dead, but I walked around and found an open pizzeria anyway. I ordered a random pizza off the menu and a water. The cook lead me to the bar where I could pay and wait for the pizza. As I walked in, there was a few men and a woman behind the bar. A midget of the group gave me a handshake and asked if I spoke English. I told him I was American, so barely. He loved talking to Americans because we are looser with our language. He said British people were very funny in the way they talk and hard to understand(he then gave a funny impersonation I don’t think I could ever copy). He then told me of his dreams of going to Las Vegas so he could take some of the money they have their home with him. I told him that was quite a few people’s dreams going there. I am not sure people go there dreaming to lose money, they just expect it. The pizza came out and I wished them a pleasant fair well. As I walked out of the building I realized I had a monster pizza and that I couldn’t eat it all. So I walked back into the bar and told everyone to have a piece. Without a moments delay, the midget man that could speak English dove right in. Others were reluctant, but eventually gave in. I now had roughly 6 people standing around me asking the man questions to ask me. I felt like I was on Opera and she let the crowd submit questions. We had some good laughs and some good eats but it was eventually time to go. That night I was offered a place to sleep if I was ever in Alghero and had no bed. Gotta love the locals…

Moral of the story, if you got a piece, share a piece…

Weegee Board...

Due to the fact that by going out and experiencing the Oslo would have cracked my bank in half, I made the decision to do what was free. So I sat in the hostel and walk about the town while watching the people. It wasn’t the most illuminating experience I ever had, but it did eat up 3 days and minimized casualties on my debit card. I didn’t think I was gonna miss Bosa so much, but when I was cold, hungry and bored I knew how good I actually had it on the paradise islands. It takes little trips like that for one to realize what others know so well already. My roommate lived in Italy and even asked with major emphesis “Why are you even here then?”. Good question, considering the main purpose of my flight was to get out of the EU so that I could renew my travelers visa and they didn’t even do that. I am just going to have to keep my flight papers on me until I leave for Turkey with the rents’.

Something that has caught me off guard since I moved to Italy then took my trip is the hand gestures. I got so use to hand waves, hand swipes, arm lifts and arm drags in Bosa. At first I just thought everyone was a wizard and were casting spells but as a culture, they love dramatic effect. Nothing is more dramatic to say good morning then a song and dance that Italian arms do. So when I got to Norway when people didn’t take part in such theatrics, I just figured what they said probably wasn’t important if you can’t even raise an arm to say it. Nothing anyone said would have been important then. So I took a closer look and they had a different dramatic effect that was unique to Norwegians. You know how in movies, the hero is driving around in his beat up old car and on the dash is a little baseball player with a bobble head(if there is no movie like that, then use your imagination). Well, from the amount of time I spent watching the weegees(Norwegians), their neck is actually made up of springs that fling their head side to side. It is kind of a subtle, but when conversations get a little more heated, the heads bobble just a bit more. So I guess if you are a hero and have no room for a figurine on your dash, just get a weegee and your quota is set.

Moral of the story, why wash your body, it will just get dirty again…

Mo Money, Mo Problems...

Many different things have caught my gaze as I have toured the city of Oslo. I am not quite sure that I was able to really get a feeling for the culture that Norwegians have. Which is funny because according to most people here, I am a local. I don’t know what gave them that idea. Sure I have the blue eyes and blonde hair, but don’t they see I have a tan? People here are ghost white. On lucky days they get to feel a little bit of sun pour through the mist of fogs. From my experience a lack of sun can only lead to depression. My roommate in the hostel told me that Norway, with its 4 million inhabitants, is number one in Europe for suicides. I am just gonna go out on a limb and say the lack of sun has a little to do with that.

Something else that quickly caught my attention and made me change my mind set on how I would spend my time in Norway was the currency exchange. When I was in Thailand with Carlyn we would spend 100 Baht on a full meal and it would include appetizer, drink, meal, and dessert. We chuckled at it because it actually cost us only about 3 dollars for such a large amazing amount of food. Well here in Norway I bought a drink and a kebab for 100 Kroner. Of course I bought this before I even knew what I was doing with my money. I ate the kebab, drank my drink and head back home to do a little math. When all was said and done my lunch put a whole in my plastic card worth 16 US dollars. It was that day that I decided I wouldn’t not eat again for the rest of the trip. When 5 kroner equals 1 dollar and even McDonalds cheap menu is 20 Kroner, I knew that I had no hope. This even made me re-evaluate my trip decision.

Moral of the story, do the math…

Ugly Duckling...

I believe that Norway is waiting to be butt of many blond jokes. As I was on the plane, I looked around the public sitting around me and apart from some grey haired piers everyone was blond. I knew I was going to be entering a different world when I tried to listen to what people were saying and I couldn’t understand a single word. I got off the plane at 8 at night and made my way to the information desk to get information on how to get to Oslo city center. She told me I had to wait for an hour for the next bus and from there I take a train and I would be there. I sat down, pulled out my computer and got to blogging. Out of the pit of the baggage claim came two confused young men that B-lined right for me. They started asking me questions about where I was going, where I was staying and if they could tag along. I took the little ducklings under my wing. As I said previously, the directions were quite confusing, but I had to protect these confused and wide eyed children and bring them to safety. My paternal attitude shown through and we found our way through to the hostel of my booking choice. It was midnight by that time, so it was time for bed. Good Night...

Moral of the story, if someone asks for your help, make sure to make them feel insignificant. 

I Took A Wrong Turn In Albuquerque...

I am about to leave to Norway on this day and I am getting a little antsy. I haven’t done the traveling thing for a bit of time now and each first experience after a lull is a bit rusty. Luckily I have everything taken care of. My 10 euro flight to Oslo checked in, hostel booked, warm clothes packed. To book my hostel I used Hostelworld.com. As a feature, they send you directions that were written out by the hostel to get easy access to their hostel. It is debatable depending on who you talk to(my mom), but I am pretty good about taking directions. I would say 95% of my travels were a success when trying to get to my hostel(damn you Salzburg, there was no bus 5). Well I took a look at the directions that they sent me today. To describe it best, I would say that the writer was either ADD or addicted to caffeine in a huge way. “get from the airport, center of town, bus 17, if you take a car then go down SJKNSDJNKDF street, but also from airport look for the homeless man, give him bread he wont pee on you…keep going…” I have noticed on other directions I have had to take that I had to be extremely perceptive. You know how in detective or spy movies how the hero somehow finds a clue to where he/she needs to go just by looking at a random sign that has the exact info that they need. A lot of what traveling is being able to find those clues and hoping for the best. If I feel like I am in the right spot, sometimes I just stand there frozen, take in my environment for a couple minutes and make my move. The people passing by most likely wonder if I am a posing street performer or caught a serious case of open eyed narcolepsy. I am a little skeptical about how I will fair in Oslo with these directions, but worst comes to worst Kurt has taught me to make fires out of nothing.

Moral of the story, there aren’t that many sardines in Sardinia…Weird…

Do you? I Do!

As advertised I am on my way to see where a quarter of my blood comes from. My handsome looks are a mix of German, Norwegian, and other. What other I am, I like to sprinkle a bit of everything in there. Helps with applications process when they ask for my race. Depending on the mood I will choose African, Persian, Indian, or Ninja Turtle. Michael drove me an hour to the airport so that I didn’t have to take the bus. On the way I wasn’t sure what to ask him, so I got personal and intruded on his history. He has been complaining that Kurt and I will go wild in the next few weeks if we don’t feel the touch of a woman. “So Michael, how did you go about talking to women?”. He gave his German smile and said that he use to be very shy and would wait for women to talk to him. He also said that they never came to him, so he was just like every other man out there that is standing on the sidelines holding the wall up. He said that when he was just a little older then I was he started gaining the confidence to talk to women. I could see there was no real gems of advice he was going to offer about this timeless quandary.

I then asked how he first talked to his wife Silvia. He gave that grin that told me I was in for a doozy. He told me that Silvia had a Japanese friend who was into mysticism and was foretelling that she would meet a bald blue eyed man with a gold earring. Michael on the other side was telling me that she had entered his dreams before they had laid their gaze. It was in India that Michael was in a hotel. She walked in and there was very intense eye contact between them. Later that day at dinner time he was sitting only a few table away from her again engaging in the equivalent to footsies but with eyes. Then straight out of a movie, she got up and walked over to him and pulled out a cigarette and asked if he had a light. Again they did not talk much after that. It wasn’t until a day later when both were sitting in a garden within close proximity that she came up to him and offered him some papaya. They started talking and shared the papaya right there. She pulled off a little necklace that had a bag at the end of it and handed it to him. She then told him it was a meteorite and that she wanted him to have it. The next day they got married and have been living happily for 17 years. You don’t need to believe in love at first site, but mysticism is too legit to quit.

Moral of the story, if you are thinking something, say it. Who needs a filter, whats the worse that can happen.

The Boys Are Back In Town…

Yesterday Silvia took the kids on a plane ride to go see their mother in Torino. I don’t know exactly where that is on a map, but I do know that the house now only has 3 men in it. It is now my belief that around the world when the opposite sex is not present the first thing to do is order a pizza. For dinner and lunch laziness had consumed us and decided a half assed cook was going to be better than getting milk for cereal. I am not sure if there will actually be work done for the three days or if we will just watch soccer games, nap and have sailor talk.

At the end of the 3 day vacation it will be time to go to Norway. One report I read a couple weeks ago was that it was 7 degrees Celsius there another said that they had a meter of snow. I am not sure what is gonna be going on there, but I know I am gonna probably see at least 3 movies just to stay warm in the theatre.