Bergen - A city of pervs

On a trip downtown today I found it best to take a taxi. People here often resort to taxis because of the rain. Judging from the big pools of water around, they could be bottomless. Trained to look for escape routes in the Johannesburg traffic, I quickly confirmed that the car had airbags. Worst comes to worst, I could always trigger the airbags, stay afloat and survive another rainy day.

The taxi driver could tell me that today’s weather was bad even for Bergen. Last year they were only a few days short of 3 months of continuous rain! Other than that, Bergen has had so much of nice weather over the last few years that the rain in Bergen is becoming an undeserved myth! Hammered with rain stats I was speechless in the back seat. It's an unavoidable subject in Bergen, but with statistics like this, and with my own wet experiences lately, its facts - NO BLOODY MYTH!

With the amount of rain you also have to plan your days accordingly. For this people have national weather services on the internet. Everybody in Bergen has bookmarked this site! First thing in the morning you check the weather. During your lunch break and a couple of more times you check again to avoid surprises. It’s like with the crime in South Africa, always stay alert with your guard held high!

The name of the weather service is the biggest joke though, www.yr.no! Yr in Norwegian has a double meaning, “drizzle” and “excited” (horny). Like rain is such a desirable thing?! It doesn't get me off! Rather depressive and impotent. Being in Bergen that's not a temporary state! I suspect the site was founded by somebody in Bergen. He/she must be a real perv but in good company it seems. The streets are crowded with people in rubber from head to toe. Over the years Bergen has of course attracted rubber fetishists worldwide. Here they can all come out of the cot, flourish and live out their rubber desires amongst fellow fetishists without sticking out.This blue eyed stud need no rubber any time soon...

Inside A Black Hole

It’s scientifically proved that it statistically rains more in the weekends. The industrial smoke pipes builds up to a massive downpour on your days off. What doesn’t come down during the weekend is forwarded to Bergen. Mountains also push the warm air up and cause rain. The mountains around Bergen makes sure no rainclouds can escape, but is this the only explanation? What else then?

A black hole theory seems applicable, simply because Bergen IS a black hole. A common misunderstanding is that black holes pull all kinds of physical matter indiscreetly. This is of course nonsense. You have selective black holes (SBH) out there, and this one basically concentrating/specializing on H2O, water. Global rainclouds are drawn to and sucked into the black hole being Bergen (Norway). Scholars disagree on what actually happen to matter that is sucked into a black hole, or how a black hole appears from the inside. I have the questionable pleasure of finding myself in one, and can thus share the insight of my empirical findings so far with the outside world (outside the black hole). Bergen in black hole terms is a relatively young one. How exciting isn't it to follow a black hole all the way from its cradle to our grave…

Global streams (Gulf Stream) in the water and wind patterns are all centred on or caused by Bergen. Like when you pull out the plug in your bathtub, the water will go down the drain. Bergen is the global drain! All the water will a little by little end up in Bergen. Don't fool yourself into believing that this is just a hate speech by a hamarroid struggling to dry up. Melting icebergs at the poles is just one of the symptoms. As opposed to popular belief, and my own assumptions (I confess), the sea level will not rise. It will just end up in Bergen. This will have two extreme implications for life on earth - in Bergen or any other geographical whereabouts. The seas, lakes, rivers, streams and humidity in the air will be sucked dry. Since all living life requires water, everything will die out and turn into a global desert. Sounds familiar? It’s of course useless looking for water on Mars since the black hole there already completed its mission! NASA, wake up! So that's what the future has in store for us... if you're not living in Bergen that is.

In Bergen, it has the opposite effect! Some water is good, but too much is also not good. The Bergen flood is already well documented. You don’t need Nostradamus to predict this one. At this early stage it means that people are for the most part weather bound at home. Today, I had to take a rain check on an invitation to my favourite water-hole (Pub). Storming horizontally outside, I could not manage to open the front door. Trapped inside I’m terrified that the “sinking car” principle applies, and I have to wait until the house is filled (equal pressure inside and outside) with water before I can get out. Poor me, I sold my diving equipment before moving to South Africa… If I survive this one, I will invest in tanks and equipment for the whole family! It could sure come in handy now... or would it just prolong this rain of terror?

So, when the Bergen black hole has done its job, there will be a dead planet of sand and stone… and then a tiny little bubble (Bergen) compressed with water. Nobody really knows what happens inside that black hole. Compressed and compressed to a fraction the pressure will squeeze life out of even the deepest of Norwegian bottom dwellers. The people in Bergen can thus not depend on their own evolutionary speed to outperform the progress of the black hole. Some scientists suggest that a black hole must have a white hole to spew the compressed matter back out, and that this white hole may create conditions where new organic life can grow. Recycling basically! Norwegians and people from Bergen to be more specific, will in any event form the essence of new recycled life.

Although this demonstrates that Norwegians are the chosen people, it causes no wet dreams from my side.

What the future holds (for Norwegians)

One epoch of the Stensby family is over for now, South Africa. Another one has begun. I have followed the steps of my forefathers northwards all the way back to Norway. Somewhat unwilling to follow exactly that path, I expect (hopeful, you have to give me that) that the journey ahead will unfold their logic and reasoning for settling down here. Someday I might understand and even accept…We have landed ourselves back in "the arse end of the world" (Wife's favorite expression), but not amongst the hamarroids in my home town Hamar. More specifically we have settled down in Bergen on the very edge of the European continent. Europe feels far away and remote…From Bergen you can look out over the horizon of the North Sea/Atlantic Ocean. Somewhere out there is our national borders. We have borders to Russia, Iceland, an actual iceberg popularly called the North Pole and "Smutthullet" (Translates; “The Loophole”). Despite the fact that it’s probably a lot of fish out there in Smutthullet, nobody wants it. It’s stormy like hell and a very undesirable place. That's the kind of borders we’ve got and Norway is not much better! Norwegians were most likely the last people in the queue, and had to settle with the only patch of land that was left to claim. But wouldn’t it be better to go to war for something better than this? Not Sahara maybe, but except from that, anything in-between would be worth a fight.

The history books can give you many motives for going to war. Territory, power, money, natural resources, religion, love... But nowhere will weather and climate be mentioned. It's a secret pact that dates back thousands of years. Nowadays the treaty is a confidential UN matter. All countries have sworn to not mention it to provoke the Norwegian Vikings. It’s a human right to have better climatic conditions. It's an obvious legitimate reason to go to war. Everybody knows it, except the Norwegians. Tip toe and hush hush, don't wake the beast (Vikings/barbarians)! They are happy to keep us under control up here. This deep freezer seems to have a calming effect… duh! Meanwhile, non Norwegians around the world enjoy their cocktail drinks at the poolside and make jokes about us.

Cold or wet, Norwegians always had to look on the bright side of life. Gallows humour was often the only thing that made people reconsider and loosen the noose. The expression; “There is no such thing as bad weather, only bad clothing!” depicts this. The desperation, hypothermia and deep depression shines through! Even our most successful exports in music, AHA, had to be sarcastic with songs like; "The Sun Always Shines On TV"! That's dilirium coming from a Norwegian!

Frenchmen drink a couple of glasses of wine a day. It neutralizes the effect of the fatty food. In Norway (except for one area in the South called "The bible belt"), every second household makes their own moonshine (traditionally). Brewing, we aim for no less than 96% proof! A lethal amount of alcohol in the bloodstream for a Frenchman is just what you need to keep the blood from freezing in Norway. During the dark Norwegian seasons, it serves as Prozac and wipes out the rest of the intolerable memories. A necessity up here! Bin Laden and Al Qaeda found only one way to hit the Norwegians where it really hurt. They flooded the Norwegian market with barrels of methanol. A few died, but worse still - people could no longer deaden the pain and have a dignified existence in Norway.

Extreme conditions pushes evolution forward though, so maybe something good could come out of it? Global warming, melting icebergs and rising sea levels could hardly benefit anybody better than people in Bergen and coastal Norway. With the amount of rain, we are pretty much in the water and busy evolving. People have wet and wrinkled skin on a regular basis because of all the rain... What about that itch under my ear that won’t go away… I might be developing gills already! Sharks has been around for millions of years and outlived dinosaurs, so it might be the right way to go. The only thing that worries me is that we would not automatically be on top of the food chain down there…

During the Norwegian season (alas when Norwegians are in their element) when it’s cold, it’s also pitch dark! Because of the lack of sunlight, the body can't produce its normal amount of vitamin D. That’s probably the only good reason for settling on the coastline, so that we can get access to vitamin D rich fish! My blue mutant eyes that I was so happy with, are worth f**k all and useless in the dark. Because of the darkness we are therefore busy developing night vision like owls. Evolution at work once again! When we have finalized the evolutionary steps and are 100% back in the water, I believe we will be bottom dwellers where no light can protrude and there are plenty of D vitamins (fish).Wow, how great isn’t that! I'm not a big bully or warmonger, but this time it makes sense to pick a fight with somebody. Other than that I'm no closer to finding the answers. No logic and no good reasons, so the search goes on…

Being Norwegian

I’m back in Norway, and reflecting on being Norwegian. Norwegians are nationalistic (I’ve heard), and they (we) love to show glorifying programs on TV about themselves. I watched one of these programs recently, and got more resentful than ever before against my forefathers for settling down here…

Here’s just an example from history to put things into perspective. Scott, an English explorer (but I suspect a Norwegian wannabe!) tried to get to the poles (North and South Pole), but failed. Shackleton, one of Scotts previous companions also tried but failed miserably. Then came this new guy, Roald Amundsen, from out of nowhere. His anonymous existence and home land was of course Norway, which resembles the North and the South Pole for most of the year. He made a slight detour from his back yard and his natural habitat. On this stroll, he passed Scott and his hardy explorers and planted a flag on the South Pole. How could this guy from Norway, where everybody is expected to be nobodies, beat the tough explorers from the proud British Empire? He is Norwegian, that’s all! After two years abroad I have lost touch and forgotten what actually goes into being a Norwegian. Norwegian broadcasting though is too sharp to remind me!

In Norway we have an expression; “sweat oneself to death” (å svette seg i hjel) ! Do not make the mistake and translate this into “sweat like a pig”, coz it’s not! Far from it! Sweating to death makes you think of a very hot and humid place, but wrong again! The expression originates (I swear!) in Norway and applies to Norway, the North Pole and the South Pole only. To develop a sweat under these extreme conditions can be lethal. It’s fine whilst you’re in motion and keep up the temperature. When you cool down though, sweat leads to frost, gangrene and you lose limbs or life altogether! Thus sweating to death! Norwegians are therefore not hasty and quickest of the lot, but don’t call them slow… they are just survivors! Norwegians won’t get too excited and worked up, knowing the warnings from the childhood tales. These normal Norwegian instincts are regarded as extreme survival techniques by Navy Seals, spetsnaz and other special forces. People think twice about attacking Norwegians on their home grounds. Still, Hitler attacked on April 9th (early spring), knowing that he had precious little time before the seasons changed and the Norwegians where back in their element. Those summer months proved to be the Achilles heel for Norway.

Roald Amundsen did only what came natural to him, and Scott must have been like Bambi on the ice in his eyes. As a Norwegian he was simply better fit for the task. Born in the cold (with skis on his feet of course) he was brought up with all the survival tricks like all Norwegians. It was a walk in the park for Amundsen. I should be happy and grateful, but why? You shouldn’t have to know these things. Back when vast areas of the planet were still untouched by humans, there was no sound reason to challenge the territory of the polar bear and the mammoth. Norwegians proved fitter than the mammoths and have long outlived them. Stuck in the cold, the victory is a bitter one. I wish I could have a good talk with my ancestor that was responsible for my Norwegian passport! He was a bigger schmuck than Scott for sure! Maybe I have no right complaining about my ancestors. After all I came back, and settled down in Bergen of all places! People here live in a steep hillside on top of each other. The amount of rain that pours down here can drown you in no time.

When the water pulled out from the shore in South East Asia, the elephants ran to the hills instinctively. They knew the tsunami was on its way. Likewise, people in Bergen settled in the hills. When the weather here shows its real potential, no stream or sucction will be able to cope with the amount of water. The sea level in Bergen will rise! Tales from early Norwegian settlers has shaped our instincts accordingly... just another Norwegian survival thingy. When all life is washed away and Noah's ark is searching for a place to start over again, they will be surprised to find myriads of Norwegians and elephants. So Norwegians are the chosen people whenever God finds the timing right to reset with clean sheets. Good prospects for survival in other words, but imagine what a heavy and unpleasant burden!! The burden weighs heavily on broad shoulders. From the tall Vikings, I'm down to 176cm above ground level... up in the hills!If you’re a non Norwegian, here’s a tip for ya. God will of course give his chosen people a real chance. I derive from this that the Bergen flood will not start during summer (our Achilles months, remember), but rather during the harsh months of January and February when Norwegians are in their true element! Just in case you want to improve your chances...

Future prospects for norwegians in an evolutionary perspective!

Monkey Glands

Monkey gland steak or steak with monkey gland sauce is a very South African thing. I was quite hesitant to try it out the first time, as the name itself did not appeal to my palate. I could think of many species, from gorillas, baboons to the small thieves in my in-laws’ neighborhood. Human like creatures, it’s like having the missing link on the menu – semi cannibalistic! Then glands. Not the most mouth watering part of any animal. Which glands? Armpits or groins, the menu will never tell you. With all these associations your once ravenous appetite vanishes as soon as you identify the dish on the menu. My wife convinced me to try it out though and that it had nothing to do with any monkey parts. So by now I’ve dug in a few times…

Reading a piece on the origin of the dish almost made me choke. The story starts with a scientist, Dr. Serge Abrahamovitch Vornoff (1866-1951). He caused sensation for his technique of grafting monkey testicle tissue into the testicles of men. Not just any glands in other words, but testicles! I felt seriously sick now, but still bewildered as to how the testicles could end up in a dish and become a hit?! Could "gland" be just a less repulsive cover up for a Viagra dish?

The first transplantation was so successful that Dr. Vornoff could not cope with the demand from the wealthy to arrest their advancing senility and retain former virility. Vornoff was hailed by 700 of the most leading surgeons at a congress in London for his "Revolutionary discovery of reversing the ageing process!" Quite an accomplishment and world news even today!

Vornoff set up his own monkey farm in Italy to get access to sufficient monkey balls. He occupied the entire first floor of an expensive hotel in Paris to serve as living quarters for himself, secretaries, chauffeurs and two mistresses. Vornoff injected himself on a regular basis in the hope of hard proof, fortune and fame. This must have caused swollen testicles, expectations and a pressure that must have been hard to handle! The mistresses must have been just as good for marketing as for blowing off some steam.

Dr. Vornoff was a regular visitor to the Savoy Hotel in London, and it was there that his medical experiments led to the naming of the dish Monkey Glands! It was a steak flamed with brandy in the restaurant. One of the waiters there (Bagatta), later brought the dish to Cape Town where it became popular. It is said that it had to be prepared in the restaurant to prove that there was no actual monkey glands in the dish… or testicles I assume!

Although relieved by the happy ending (of the story), I can’t help but associate this dish with monkey testicles now! Especially a type of blue balled monkeys that are quite common in Southern Africa.

My daily Apartheid

The company that I work for is not super big, but still multi in many ways! Multiple nationalities, culture, food… and quite a number of Jews also I’ve noticed. I could never pick a Jew from a crowd… fully dressed. Oh well, I see some of them wearing those small round patches on their heads. Other than that, I never really cared to find any distinct Jewish features for any reason. To me they blend in amongst the whites of the rainbow nation.

In the canteen we have different tables with hot food for lunch, really nice food. From day one I have simply picked from any table depending on what appealed to me the most at the time. I thought everybody else did also. One day when I was early there was no spoon to dish up from the tray. Naturally I helped myself and found a spoon so I could dig in. A lady tapped me on the shoulder and told me in an irritated tone that I can’t use metal (dirty I assume) spoons on the kosher table! Before any regulars at the table had a chance basically, Jonny messed up all their food! It was suddenly not so kosher anymore! Aha… so that’s why so many people at work use plastic cutlery when there are still tons of proper knives and forks to take from. Personally I think it must be damn annoying to break four plastic knives for every attempt on a piece of meat. It would ruin my meal totally!

Later I’ve learnt that there is also a halal table. Omnivore as I am, I have visited all tables. Halal too! I can’t say I have noticed any distinct kosher or halal taste. I am still blissfully unaware whether I have upset the halals or how I may have upset them. Any other groups also for that sake. I have now narrowed it down to one table where my barbaric Viking ways are accepted (as far as I’m aware of). If I move too close to either halal or kosher, I can feel the angry looks… so you’ll find me sitting down there in the corner!

In retrospect, the queues to each table have been helpful to identify and map the different groups at work. Fellow barbarians, kosher and halal at least. It’s like a small internal Apartheid going on. A buffet style group areas act! In this lunchtime segregation I am grouped together with Zulu’s and other African tribes represented. I wonder whether this can give me any BEE/Affirmative Action credits?!

Go to Hell! Sure, but where?

As a kid in Norway we used the expression “Go where the pepper grows”, meaning to the place where pepper grow (Norwegian; “Dra dit pepper’n gror!”)! This was a junior version of “Go to hell”, and one of the worst things we could throw at each other. For years I’ve been wondering why this was such a cruel thing to say? Even more so, where does pepper grow?!Firstly, nobody had any clue where this was; just that it was a very bad place! Norwegians had probably just acquired pepper and salt for cooking, and this was as adventurous as one could be in the kitchen back then. Pepper probably arrived on the same ship as the coffee beans . All we knew was that pepper was not grown in any of the nearby countries (Denmark and Sweden). That was as far as our imagination or horizon could reach. No doubt, pepper was from a place very far away!

Far away, for the purpose of sending somebody away could be good enough! If you could send this annoying person there, you should expect not to see him/her again for quite some time. Naturally though, since these orders were usually given during a fight, the bastard was not overly obedient or compelled to do so! My mindpower was under-developed at the time, so I never succeeded. It was safe to say that the moron had no clue where to head either. Pepper was not marked on any map! In fact, both parties where blissfully ignorant and unaware of the pepper’s origin or its geographical location. Why send somebody to a place you don’t know, and haven’t even confirmed as being a bad place either? It could be paradise, and far from serving your intention… There had to be some other explanation! Pepper is hot, and must come from a hot place! Hot is for some reason perceived as bad. Hell is hot (like Hell) – alas “Burn in Hell"! Hell is bad, so hot must also be bad! Any accounts of purgatory, before you even get to Hell, will tell you that it’s hot. Anything hotter than the beach in Spain (favorite holiday/roasting destination for Scandinavians) is pain and a bad place to be, no doubt! But how could we know that pepper came from a hot place? Tales from the seamen could of course have been told, retold and finally reached our ears, but not very likely. One look at the whole pepper corns can tell that they’ve been in a hot place. Roasted like straight out of Hell!

Surely we had tasted pepper, but spared of any bad burn. What the hell did we know about ring-sting?! This was of course long before chillies and jalapenos could reach us! Jalapenos and chillies are grown in hot places too, Mexico and many places around the world as far as I know. Although much hotter than pepper, we were totally oblivious of any of these chilli and jalapeno growing places. Pepper was as hot as it could knowingly get! The pepper growing area out there somewhere was the worst place imaginable. Up until recently I had no clue where to send my enemies though! A family member that lives in India came to visit short time ago. For some unknown reason she mentioned that they grow pepper there. A lifelong mystery for me was cleared up quite unexpectedly! Kerala in India to be exact! It’s probably not the only place in India or elsewhere, but at least now I have some clue where pepper is grown.

For a couple of years, we’ve been talking about going to India. Even with a long holiday, you can’t do the whole of India, but Kerala was one of our marked destinations. Without knowing it I had planned my future holiday at a place where I’ve previously wished only my worst childhood enemies! True, India had Thugs, but they don’t cause Hell anymore. How ironic?! All the Hell’s on earth that I know about and that I’ve come across are actually not bad at all! They are actually nice places and definitely not cursing material!!

However! "What happens in Hell, stays in Hell". What goes to Hell or grow there also for that matter, am I right?! As far as I know, the ticket to Hell is one way only! …and since pepper grows in India, there must be Hell on earth. Either that, or earth is in Hell. So whether I tell people to go to Hell or to the place where pepper grows, they will not be any worse off than myself! I might as well send them to Bermuda! Damn – swearing people kinda lost its sting now! Bloody useless!!

In my garden you will find chillies thriving alongside lizards and scorpions! The summers here (Pretoria, South Africa) can be hot like hell. With the recent xenophobia incidents, this is probably closer to Hell than any named Hell you will find on earth. I live here!! Somebody else’s mind power must be quite strong!

I quite like it here
Lucifer

PS! "In Rome - do like the Romans do"! When in Hell...???