Breaking News: Butter Crisis hits Norway

Just a few of the headlines hitting Norwegian newspapers these days are:


"Empty shelves dilemma"
"Cities run out of butter"
"Butter panic hits Norway!"

Every nation faces adversity - even the richest of countries. Norway is facing an emergency of unparalleled notability. The country has run out of butter, and the people are not happy. You may consider this a minor crisis, a "First-world problem", if you will, but speaking as someone of Norwegian decent, a butter hiatus is no small matter. Butter is the lifeblood of all our cooking and baking. A Norwegian newspaper quotes: "An acute butter shortage...has left people worrying how to bake their Christmas goodies."

To see a first-hand account of Norwegian people's feelings on the matter, watch the following video:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=82EaTbxihBI


As you can see, this is no laughing matter to Norwegians, but in the following clip, Colbert cruelly mocks their desperate plight.  


http://www.colbertnation.com/the-colbert-report-videos/404098/december-12-2011/norway-s-butter-shortage?xrs=share_fb

From Clumsy to Cushy Confinement - featuring Akerhus Fortress

Norway is known to have one of the most progressive and experimental penal systems in the world. The maximum sentence for any criminal is 21 years, and those years are devoted to providing the resources and facilities required for the practical and moral development of these criminals. Even Breivik (the recent Norwegian terrorist and gunman charged with 77 deaths) has been given this same sentence. Despite public demand to have him subjected to a more severe sentencing, the Norwegians are making no exceptions to their imprisonment policy. I think the Norwegian Prime Minister's response to the terrorist attacks reflects the penal philosophy nicely: “If one man can show so much hate, imagine how much love an entire nation can show.” In dealing with acts of inhumanity, Norway seems to be a leading example in the virtue of not repaying evil with evil, but with grace and mercy. They've really turned a leaf since the Viking Age...

I would take Breivik's "solitary confinement" cell over my room any day.

The other day, I visited Akerhus Fortress in Oslo. It dates back to the 14^th century, and has served a variety of functions - a primary one being as a prison for convicts and political enemies. Today, it acts as a museum, and retells stories of inmates in the 18^th and 19^th century, and their infamous crimes and escapes. The prison system in those days was used as a sort of house of slavery; work included cobbler work, tailoring, carpentry and stone masonry. 

Gjest Baardsen is the most famous Norwegian prisoner because of his many clever escapes.

Baardsen was tasked with carving this lion, which still sits outside the Oslo municipal hall.

Throughout the tour of the fortress, there was a strong emphasis on how unideal the prison system was throughout the centuries. As I mentioned above, it served as a form of slavery, and because of the lack of individual rooms, there was much communal living. The criminals themselves admitted that this set-up acted as a sort of “school for criminals”. After their escape from prison, they would be able to employ newly acquired lessons for their criminal engagements. It was eventually realized that reform was needed, and quite possibly a new holding space for criminals, as Akerhus was not fit for solitary confinement or for the growing number of prisoners.

Akerhus Fortress

On the grounds of Akerhus Fortress

Apart from exhibiting very interesting history and entertaining personal accounts of inmates, it is very clear that the primary thrust of the fortress museum is to demonstrate that their current progressive penal system is strongly rooted in the history of internment at places like Akerhus fortress. In the middle of the 1800s, prisoners were beginning to be moved to alternative prisons, where more effective punishment and restorative justice could take place. New directions introduced a much more strict solitary life, interactions limited to the prison director, priests, teachers, and prison guards.

Curious to see today's allegedly progressive prison conditions in Norway, I asked the museum curator where the current Oslo prison is located, and if I could visit it. She looked at me like I was crazy and said she didn't think that was possible. I explained that this is allowed in Canada and that I was curious to see how different their set-up is different from ours. However, apparently, privacy for inmates is one of Norway's prison philosophies.

More scenes of Akerhus

Norway has been criticized for their “cushy prison” experiments, however, they seem to be proving quite effective. Prisoners can get an education (degrees in fact), married, and acquire many practical skills. If you have time, check out this prison in the link below; it's an island south of Oslo called Bastoy. It is a low-security prison, where inmates live in houses, have saunas, sun-bathe, study, etc. This is the most lofty of Norway's prisons. 

http://www.dailymail.co.uk/home/moslive/article-1384308/Norways-controversial-cushy-prison-experiment--catch-UK.html

 Believe it or not, this man is in prison.

These "cushy prisons" are obviously not for all prisoners. They are for prisoners who have demonstrated considerable improvement, and are preparing for transitioning back into society.

You know you're in Norway when...continued.

...cities and towns are surrounded by such dramatic beauty.

 ...trolls are ludicrously large.

 

..."Girls nights" end in knitting.

...natural geographical features are exploited to reduce the amount of resources needed for erecting a shelter  (actually, this is done in Iceland too).

...there are hobbit holes.

...Peer Gynt is in the Oslo "walk of fame".

..."Henrik Ibsen" is a main street.

...and Bus stations have becoming names :)

You know you're in Norway when...

...it's considered a bargain to get a cheeseburger and coke for $15

...trolls roam the streets and stand guard at store fronts.

...people are exclusively blond...

...unless they're foreign.

...it's normal to see Krumkaka sold as a commonplace cookie in all stores. 

 

Bedtime Story

Thursday nights, Airwaves Hotel Reykjavik Natura hosts "Bedtime Stories", where professional actors/readers come and tell/read Icelandic stories to an audience. This is a free event, and they offer hot chocolate, cookies, pillows, and blankets, and encourage us to wear our pyjamas. The story teller tonight was, in fact, one of my professors at the University, and he told us wonderful folkloric tales of elves, seals, trolls, and ghosts. He sat in an idyllic red velvet armchair, on a dark stage with a single lamp shining down on his book.

The story I want to tell you is about the origin of elves. But first, whatever your impression of elves may be, Icelandic elves are said to be very similar to humans, only more beautiful, and capable. They live only in the countryside, maintaining a rural lifestyle, tending sheep and cattle.

The genesis of elves is an interesting mixture of Nordic and Christian mythology. In the beginning, Adam and Eve had fourteen children. They lived in a house, and one day God came to visit them. Eve was in the middle of bathing the children when God arrived. God asked Eve how many children she and Adam had, and if he may see them. Eve was ashamed to present the seven unbathed children to God, so she told Him that they had seven children, and presented the clean ones to Him. God, knowing very well how many children there were in reality, said to Eve: "What you have kept hidden from my eyes will also be kept hidden from human eyes henceforward." And this is why elves are not visible to humans today, except for when elves wish to reveal themselves.

Hotsprings

I heard recently that there is a thermal river tucked away in the mountains, about an hour's drive east of Reykjavik, in an area called "Reykjadal". I got on a bus with two friends, Lukas and Anna, and we hiked our way through billowing clouds of hot water and steam bursting forth from the ground. These emissions from the earth were met with hail and snow coming from above. I suppose this is one example of why they call Iceland a land of extreme contrasts.

Here are some photos from the day:

Anna and Lukas being warmed by the steam

This water was boiling like crazy.

Looking back.

More waterfalls

At the source of this thermal river, the temperature is 90 degrees, but here it was about 40.

Lukas looking like some mythological character.

We spent two hours soaking in the hotspring, dreaming about being able to stay there all through the night. Nobody wanted to get out and back into the snow and mucky path. I decided to walk back down the mountain in the thermal river because my feet (and body) were freezing. It eased the pain of leaving the hot water, but by the time we got to the bottom, the water was cold and the air even more so, so...pretty miserable end to the day, but on a whole, it was magical.

Protests at the Alðingi

I wrote in an earlier post that Icelanders can get fairly aggressive when it comes to political protests. I read a couple weeks ago in the local paper - The Grapevine - that there would be a protest outside the Althingi Parliament the next day, so I wandered on downtown, situated myself in a quaint little coffee shop until the scheduled protest. When I heard two gunshots go off, I piled all my books back into my bag, and followed the noise over to Parliament. For a bit of background information, many Icelanders are unhappy about their ongoing economic instability, restricted fishing rights, and the government's ongoing consideration of EU membership. 

This is what I encountered:

Apart from those making the smoke, people looked more like spectators than protesters

Parents do not shelter their children from such violent political displays; they make sure they get the best views (note child on shoulders).

Google translation of Icelandic sign: "Free brings ham solve urban poverty and employment problems Icelanders." Either this man has very poor grammar, or Google translate is not to be trusted; you decide. I trust you can all decipher the meaning.

 

A desecrated flag?! Where is your national pride?

Althingi

 This was about the extent of the protest. People threw toilet paper at parliament  instead of skyre and snowballs this time. Actually, I heard the next day that Reykjavikers were pretty disappointed in the rioters, pointing out that they were very passive and ineffective. I don't think this riot would have made any international reports, so I won't blame you if you had no knowledge of it.

Trolls can't keep me from the Westfjords

The Westfjords: the best, and least frequented place in Iceland

Icelandic folklore has it that three relentless trolls nearly succeeded in severing the Westfjords from Iceland by digging away at the narrow strip that connects them. They worked tirelessly – so much so that they failed to notice the sun rising (sounding familiar to Hobbit fans?). They had only managed to create the island of Grímsey before the sun's rays turned them all to stone. Their figures still stand overlooking Grímsey.

The Grímsey Trolls - frozen solid...by the sun (that was for you, Morgan)

 

Less than one person per square kilometer live in the Westfjords, making it one of the least populated areas in the world. There are road signs that seem to indicate towns or cities, however, one finds out soon enough that these are generally signposts for single-family farmsteads. “Towns” you do come across often consist of no more than 30 people, and some of the bigger, a couple hundred. Life is slow, relaxed; landscape: breathtaking.

View from a hike

I'm thankful that the Grimsey trolls were not successful in their attempts to disconnect the Westfjords from Iceland, as they have fast become my favourite place to visit. This could be in part because it's basically the only place I've visited so far, but nevertheless, they are something special. I went for the first time in the first week of September with my roommate Jake, his grandparents, and a tour guide friend of their's, Bragi. We passed through the north of the Westfjords, weaving back and forth between fjord after fjord, since the highway goes along the coast almost the entire way. This makes for beautiful driving, but extremely long, and somewhat aggravating, as you can see around every corner where you will be in about an hour's time, after you've driven in and out of the inlet (aka: fjord). I like to liken it to really severe switchbacks.

Town of Borgarnes - one of the many seemingly unused churches.

On this trip, we ended up in Bolungarvik, one of the furthest west towns in Iceland. On a clear day, you can see Greenland. Here we visited a friend of Jake's grandparents, Inga, who basically she runs the town. When we arrived in Bolungarvik, we didn't know where Inga lived, so we asked a woman on the street if she happened to know who Inga was, and if so, where she lived. The woman replied: “Oh yes, Inga lives in such-and-such a house over there. What time is it? Yes, she should be awake by now.” Hilarious. Not only is the town small enough to know everybody, but they also seem to know each others' schedules.

Dinner of fish balls, potatoes, and skyrtarte in Bolungarvik. From left: Amma, Jake, Afi, Bragi, Inga

 

This last weekend, I had another opportunity to go to the Westfjords, although this was not the original plan. Friday morning I skipped my incredibly important Japanese cinema course to start on a hitchhiking adventure. The plan was to get to the North or South; I decided to leave my fate to the drivers who picked me up. It all started to go awry, however, when my bus driver, who was supposed to drop me off at Mount Esja (a good hike and pickup spot for hitchhikers) forgot to drop me off, so instead took me to the western town of Akranes. He suggested going to the Snæfellsnes peninsula, because “everything that Iceland has to offer can be seen on this peninsula”. Snæfellsnes it was.

Those who have hitchhiked before, please share your feelings on the following: I did not find it easy to stick out my thumb for the first time. To a certain extent, I was nervous as to who may pick me up, but mainly, I was embarrassed to ask for a free ride. I walked for almost an hour along a road before a generous old miner pulled over and asked me if I needed a ride. He drove me maybe just ten miles, but his kindness gave me the confidence to get on with it and stick out my thumb. The first car that saw me pulled over and picked me up: an Icelandic man and his father, on their way up north to take part in horse round-up event. They invited me to go along with them but I already had my heart set on Snæfellsnes peninsula

My hitchhiking buddies, the infamous Icelandic horse.

 

That night I made it to Stykkishólmur, a quaint town on the north coast of the peninsula. You know it's a sleepy town when you arrive at 8pm, and the only thing you can hear is a baby crying on the opposite side of town. There were virtually no lights, nothing was open, and I had to call the hostel to have someone let me in. It was here that I met two Swiss guys, Noah and Stefan, who had spent the last three weeks driving, camping, and hiking around Iceland. They, like me, wanted to take a ferry to the small island of Flatey off the coast of Snæfellsnes, but when I told them it wasn't possible until Sunday, they invited me – in the meantime - to accompany them to the South of the Westfjords and catch the ferry to Flatey from the opposite side. So we did this, but to our great disappointment, found out once we got to the quiet town of Brjanslækur in the Westfjords that ferries do not run from there at this time of year. By this point, I was way too deeply in no-man's-land to leave them and hope to get back to Snæfellsnes, so once again, I found myself in my beloved Westfjords, and heading North again. This time, however, I was coming from the south, rather than the north, allowing me to see different landscapes. 

Noah and Stefan. Breakfast in Ísafjörður.

Ísafjörður

 

We arrived in Ísafjörður that night, and it was the guys' plan to head out in the morning, but as I wasn't ready to jump in the jeep again so soon, I stayed behind and spent the next few days getting better acquainted with my new favourite city. I and hiked and hiked, and almost died doing it. I have never thought so much about my loved ones and the important things in life as I did while overlooking huge precipices, holding on to dear life to crumbling rock faces as the rushing wind threatened to push me over. Despite the terror I often felt, I found myself smiling and laughing to myself at some of the scariest moments.

Waterfalls are a VERY common sight in Iceland

I hiked up this crater overlooking Ísafjörður, then went up to the top. It was very steep and, I'm pretty sure, not meant to be climbed.

Me standing in the crater, overlooking Ísafjörður and the ocean. Because it's autumn now, the colours are vibrant.

Q: What do you do when you're lost in an Icelandic forest? A: Stand up.

This is probably the scariest hike I've ever done.