So here are two observations for me - I don't really care about anyone else as I've made abundantly clear - that I will note as true then either ignore or forget.
Number one is that I hate getting lost. Which is another way of saying I hate to lose control. And the first day in a new city, in a new culture, is THE day to get lost. It makes me mad. It infuriates me.
Yesterday we took a mental health day, a rest-the-feet day, to recover from all the traveling yesterday, the ultimate out-of-control day. The only thing on the schedule was buying some groceries - and I got lost finding the grocery store, where things only cost $41, not $50, in cheaper Helsinki - and make a 3:30 meeting, an option not available to us on the ferry at some cost to our mental health. Leaving plenty of time to get lost, I confidently march us out the door, point us in a direction 180 degrees from the direction that we . . . you know . . . actually need to go, and we stride purposefully away from the meeting for a good 20 minutes. Knowing we were going to be late, I piss out and head for home - SuperK, calmer, suggests we find the meeting place anyway, lateness be damned, because there are several English speaking meetings held there. We show up 1/2 hour late and enjoy half of a fine 8th Tradition meeting.
The other thing I hate is to be tired. I want to feel fresh and rested all the time. This is ridiculous when I'm in my home, fresh and rested and in control of a lot of stuff. Enduring some stressful travel to-and-from days, battered by the extreme novelty of an alien culture, driven to see and too too much in the short space of time you have in a place you'll likely never see again?
Preposterous.
Sunday, August 30, 2015
Saturday, August 29, 2015
Musings
Expectations are the bane of the serene mind.
Do less - enjoy it more.
Things are what they are and my trying to make them different will accomplish nothing to change them into something else.
When I was India I tried to make it like The States. Easier to control that way. When I'm in Scandinavia I try to make those countries like India. New! Exciting!!
Do less - enjoy it more.
Things are what they are and my trying to make them different will accomplish nothing to change them into something else.
When I was India I tried to make it like The States. Easier to control that way. When I'm in Scandinavia I try to make those countries like India. New! Exciting!!
Thursday, August 20, 2015
Zen Serenity
I'm tootling along in Norway, trying to stay out of my own way, decided to check into my rarely visited FB page and I see a post from a friend from The New City along the lines of "12 Steps to Zen serenity." I like Zen Buddhist stuff because there is such an emphasis on slowness and completeness. The list was along these lines:
1. Do one thing at a time.
2. Do it deliberately and slowly.
3. Do it completely.
4. Leave plenty of space between the things that you're doing.
5. Make time for sitting.
Man, why do I forget this stuff in my rush to move 1000 miles per hour?
The Zen Steps continue with suggestions like Live Simply and Be of Service. You know, stuff your English teacher used to say: Better to do one thing well than many things poorly.
It isn't rocket science this serenity stuff. It wasn't invented yesterday.
1. Do one thing at a time.
2. Do it deliberately and slowly.
3. Do it completely.
4. Leave plenty of space between the things that you're doing.
5. Make time for sitting.
Man, why do I forget this stuff in my rush to move 1000 miles per hour?
The Zen Steps continue with suggestions like Live Simply and Be of Service. You know, stuff your English teacher used to say: Better to do one thing well than many things poorly.
It isn't rocket science this serenity stuff. It wasn't invented yesterday.
Monday, August 17, 2015
From Here to There
So lest you think this is easy, here's the leaving Copenhagen run-down . . .
Twenty minute walk to the train station, pulling fifty pounds of luggage over cobbled streets.
Ten minute struggle with the ticket machine - helpfully translated into English, to no avail - with a one kroner assist from a very nice local woman. I had 71 of the required 72 kroners. The machines take Visa - but we don't have a pin number for ours - and they don't take AmEx - which doesn't require a pin. We could have overcome this whole pin obstacle by standing in a long line at the ticket counter.
Ten minute train ride to the airport, hoping we're going the right direction.
THE most brutally efficient security apparatus at an airport that I've ever seen. Strangely enough, we don't have to show our passports all day along, except to the clerk at a 7-11 where I buy a couple of $50 sandwiches with my pin-less Visa card which he apparently found disturbing. Maybe the state police would have tracked me down if I welshed on my sandwich debt.
One hour flight to Oslo in an exit row. I threw in the towel on pre-selecting our seats and was rewarded for my sloth with the best seat in the section.
Twenty minute extremely high speed train into the city which cost about $50. It took some time figuring out the ticket machine as we ate our $50 sandwiches standing up. There were no seats at the airport which was very weird.
Ah, then the hang-up. An attendant directs us to the #12 tram, our tickets secured at another 7-11. The 7-11s are everywhere. They are, for some reason, ubiquitous in Scandinavia. We're almost there! The old #12 stops literally right outside the station. We stand there for a bit, watching #12 trams go by in the wrong direction, before noticing that our tram no longer stops at this spot.
Thirty minutes later, hot, bedraggled, frustrated, we find the tram stop, somewhat discombobulated. Every one I ask for help is eager to speak English and most helpful even when they don't know shit about anything. They're SO good looking, though, that I don't mind asking. I'm a committed heterosexual of long-standing but some of these guys are tempting me.
Thirty minute standing outside the huge wooden door of our apartment before receiving a note that the key is at a nearby Shell gas station. On Frognervein Street. We try to imagine walking over to a gas station in Ventura, staffed by a rotating collection of minimum-wage, teen aged clerks, and giving them a key to our house.
Six hours door to door. An event.
Twenty minute walk to the train station, pulling fifty pounds of luggage over cobbled streets.
Ten minute struggle with the ticket machine - helpfully translated into English, to no avail - with a one kroner assist from a very nice local woman. I had 71 of the required 72 kroners. The machines take Visa - but we don't have a pin number for ours - and they don't take AmEx - which doesn't require a pin. We could have overcome this whole pin obstacle by standing in a long line at the ticket counter.
Ten minute train ride to the airport, hoping we're going the right direction.
THE most brutally efficient security apparatus at an airport that I've ever seen. Strangely enough, we don't have to show our passports all day along, except to the clerk at a 7-11 where I buy a couple of $50 sandwiches with my pin-less Visa card which he apparently found disturbing. Maybe the state police would have tracked me down if I welshed on my sandwich debt.
One hour flight to Oslo in an exit row. I threw in the towel on pre-selecting our seats and was rewarded for my sloth with the best seat in the section.
Twenty minute extremely high speed train into the city which cost about $50. It took some time figuring out the ticket machine as we ate our $50 sandwiches standing up. There were no seats at the airport which was very weird.
Ah, then the hang-up. An attendant directs us to the #12 tram, our tickets secured at another 7-11. The 7-11s are everywhere. They are, for some reason, ubiquitous in Scandinavia. We're almost there! The old #12 stops literally right outside the station. We stand there for a bit, watching #12 trams go by in the wrong direction, before noticing that our tram no longer stops at this spot.
Thirty minutes later, hot, bedraggled, frustrated, we find the tram stop, somewhat discombobulated. Every one I ask for help is eager to speak English and most helpful even when they don't know shit about anything. They're SO good looking, though, that I don't mind asking. I'm a committed heterosexual of long-standing but some of these guys are tempting me.
Thirty minute standing outside the huge wooden door of our apartment before receiving a note that the key is at a nearby Shell gas station. On Frognervein Street. We try to imagine walking over to a gas station in Ventura, staffed by a rotating collection of minimum-wage, teen aged clerks, and giving them a key to our house.
Six hours door to door. An event.
Sunday, August 16, 2015
In Retrospect
Retrospect: Consideration of past times (official definition).
Looking back at what I've worried about and realizing what a colossal waste of time it was.
Traveling really re-emphasizes the importance of being on the winning side of the ancient alcoholic existential battle between Acceptance and Expectations. The foe battling peace of mind is worthy, strong, and relentless. It wants to disappoint me. Quiet Acceptance is every bit its equal but it doesn't waste much time shouting to make itself heard. It needs to be nurtured. Expectations doesn't need any help at all.
I'm a guy who really likes to pack a lot of accomplishments into a day, to see and do everything, and to have it all be Fantastic! and to have it all run smoothly and without a hitch. I want to do it Right!
And then I maneuver the trains, trams, planes, streets, ticket kiosks, and security apparatus of 3 or 4 different countries. What I want to see and do often disappoints and what I stumble across unexpectedly thrills me in equal measure. I don't have to see and do everything or anything in particular. It all works out fine in the long run. It is always a waste of time worrying about the future.
I'm going to stand out on my balcony this morning and throw $50 bills into the street to get ready for my day.
Looking back at what I've worried about and realizing what a colossal waste of time it was.
Traveling really re-emphasizes the importance of being on the winning side of the ancient alcoholic existential battle between Acceptance and Expectations. The foe battling peace of mind is worthy, strong, and relentless. It wants to disappoint me. Quiet Acceptance is every bit its equal but it doesn't waste much time shouting to make itself heard. It needs to be nurtured. Expectations doesn't need any help at all.
I'm a guy who really likes to pack a lot of accomplishments into a day, to see and do everything, and to have it all be Fantastic! and to have it all run smoothly and without a hitch. I want to do it Right!
And then I maneuver the trains, trams, planes, streets, ticket kiosks, and security apparatus of 3 or 4 different countries. What I want to see and do often disappoints and what I stumble across unexpectedly thrills me in equal measure. I don't have to see and do everything or anything in particular. It all works out fine in the long run. It is always a waste of time worrying about the future.
I'm going to stand out on my balcony this morning and throw $50 bills into the street to get ready for my day.
Friday, August 14, 2015
Train Day
Today is Take The Train day. We feel some trepidation because our last train ride was in India, home of the 50 year old train with open air squatting holes for bathrooms - I can still remember like it was yesterday, the cold air massaging my ass as I pooped over the tracks rushing by 3 feet below, trying to translate the odd wordage of the sign which said something along the lines of "No Crapping When The Train Is Stopped." I think they wanted to avoid the steaming pile of shit sitting on the tracks in the station when the trains moved on - as they did fitfully, with no rhyme or reason and no explanation from anyone official - preferring that the feces be sprayed over a wide area at 35MPH.
Yeah, well, okay. The main station is staffed by agents fluent in English ably assisted by floor assistants fluent in English who help us navigate the system. They take credit cards of all make and model. The ticket has the track number on it as do the electronic signs above the entrance to that particular track AND the electronic signs up and down the platform next to the clearly marked train. In case you're still not sure what you're going people employed by the railroad get off the train at each stop who can help, also fluent in English. In case there's still a problem, the cars themselves have electronic signs scrolling the current stop, the next stop, the time of the day, and the exact minute that you're going to die. In case all of this is still not enough, a woman announces the name of the next stop in Danish and English. I was a little disappointed that someone didn't get off the train and carry me around piggyback for the rest of the trip.
The train itself would be at home atop a NASA rocket, substituting for the control module. It is smooth and quiet and fast, the seats comfortable, the stops timed down to the millisecond.
And the bathrooms! I may buy more train tickets just to use the bathrooms. I would be PROUD to have one of the train bathrooms installed in my trailer home.
Yeah, well, okay. The main station is staffed by agents fluent in English ably assisted by floor assistants fluent in English who help us navigate the system. They take credit cards of all make and model. The ticket has the track number on it as do the electronic signs above the entrance to that particular track AND the electronic signs up and down the platform next to the clearly marked train. In case you're still not sure what you're going people employed by the railroad get off the train at each stop who can help, also fluent in English. In case there's still a problem, the cars themselves have electronic signs scrolling the current stop, the next stop, the time of the day, and the exact minute that you're going to die. In case all of this is still not enough, a woman announces the name of the next stop in Danish and English. I was a little disappointed that someone didn't get off the train and carry me around piggyback for the rest of the trip.
The train itself would be at home atop a NASA rocket, substituting for the control module. It is smooth and quiet and fast, the seats comfortable, the stops timed down to the millisecond.
And the bathrooms! I may buy more train tickets just to use the bathrooms. I would be PROUD to have one of the train bathrooms installed in my trailer home.
Thursday, August 13, 2015
17 Flefferstrassgasseflort
Ah, yes, we made it to a meeting last night. It's a little different on the road getting to a meeting - not quite as easy as jumping in the car and driving to a familiar spot full of familiar people. So we take a walk to find an ingress point for the 3A bus. We could have taken the 6A as well but we didn't want to get too high and mighty with the larger numbers. You never can tell what might happen. I've got the whole kroner thing somewhat deciphered at this point and was able to deliver close to the right amount of money to the bus driver who actually gave me back a little change. I was tempted to tip him for not throwing us off the bus or under the bus or making us go to the very back of the bus. We successfully zip to a predetermined egress point and hop off - it's a short walk to 17 Flefferstrassgasseflort, the location of the meeting, actually a small coffee shop that's still closed when we arrive. A dude walks up at about the same time, sits down on the adjacent stoop, and starts puffing on a cigarette. Someone smoking is always a good indicator of a meeting spot.
Confident we are where we are supposed to be we wander down the block, find a bench on the shores of a small lake and watch the Danes jogging and walking the periphery, taking the night air. 10 minutes before meeting time we walk back to 17 - no dude smoking outside of a closed shop. I pull out my mobile and discover that the meeting is actually at 107 Flefferstrassgasseflort so we start to make tracks, finally finding a church which is dark and closed. We're peering at a sign on the door when it pops up and a bearded guy says: "Would you like to come in."
Yes. Yes, we would.
Nine people - 3 Americans, 2 Irish, 2 Danes, a Mexican, and an Italian. Half of us had been sober for a long time and the other half were wet behind the ears. Great meeting. A real shot of vitamins for both of us. Definitely worth the adventure.
Confident we are where we are supposed to be we wander down the block, find a bench on the shores of a small lake and watch the Danes jogging and walking the periphery, taking the night air. 10 minutes before meeting time we walk back to 17 - no dude smoking outside of a closed shop. I pull out my mobile and discover that the meeting is actually at 107 Flefferstrassgasseflort so we start to make tracks, finally finding a church which is dark and closed. We're peering at a sign on the door when it pops up and a bearded guy says: "Would you like to come in."
Yes. Yes, we would.
Nine people - 3 Americans, 2 Irish, 2 Danes, a Mexican, and an Italian. Half of us had been sober for a long time and the other half were wet behind the ears. Great meeting. A real shot of vitamins for both of us. Definitely worth the adventure.
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