I’ve been in Norway for the past couple weeks, and in Svalbard for a week now. Here is an update.

Sleep has not been easy, not since I left the states on the 28th of December. My last night of good sleep must have been a few days before that, at least. An uninterrupted eight hour long rest would be like gold to me now, with the schizophrenic amount of rest I’ve been getting with all of this new excitement.

I landed in Norway on December 29th after an overnight flight from Newark, which had been harrowing by itself. There had been a snowstorm in the New York area a few days previously, which had fouled up the plans of many holiday-time travelers, myself included. A few valium helped to take an edge off, but rough turbulence over the Atlantic assured a sleepless night.

I spent my time in Oslo sleeping in small hourly shifts, my body not quite able to figure out exactly where it was and what it was doing in a place where the sun was “incorrect” and the people speaking an unfamiliar language. In regard to food, everything was very expensive (even exceeding when I lived in Manhattan, and by far). I ate a breakfast of meats, cheeses, and olives at my hotel. Later, I noshed on an unexpectedly delicious leek-topped pizza. In fact, I’d have to say that all the food I had in Oslo was fantastic, if not expensive.

On New Years Eve, I went down to a pier near my hotel, and watched an incredible fireworks display. It was stunning and frightful, as most of the fireworks were being set off were quite near where I stood. A few daring souls set about blowing up their own pyrotechnics into the crowds, setting down jackets aflame and revelers scattering. I’m not exaggerating when I say that the Norwegians are made from tougher stuff than Americans, because while I saw people singed and running from stray embers, not one person looked terribly upset about the whole thing. During this controlled chaos, I did not hear a siren or see a concerned policeman. I watched this scenario play out throughout the evening. It seemed to be a cultural fact that Norwegians can set themselves on fire using full sized fireworks, and their reaction one of annoyance, and not utter terror. Color me impressed, if a cowardly little American.

My last day in Oslo was spent in my normal turmoil in not being able to sleep with any effectiveness. On this day, I finally took a few pictures. Oslo is pretty, but I’d also like to see it when I have a lot more money to burn, and with a bit more sleep.

On the morning of my flight north to Svalbard, I had not slept. I was filled with every emotion that I could possibly experience. My brain was flooded with fear chemicals, convinced it was making a horrible mistake and that I was going to fly myself directly into the waiting maw of a gigantic dire polar bear;  I was also filled with elation, joy, passion, and anticipation that was both colored darkly and lightly.

Oslo’s Gardermoen airport is beautiful. I didn’t really appreciate it when I landed in from my overnight from Newark, but even walking through the domestic terminal, I was stunned at how clean and polished it was. Through the glass, I watched the sunrise as I waited for my northbound flight. I watched it for a long time. This would be the last sunrise I would see until March. I remember wishing that my phone was functional so that I could call friends and loved ones back home, just to tell them that I loved them and send them a picture of the fiery Norwegian sunrise. It wasn’t long before I was able to pick out an announcement being spoken in Norwegian about “Longyearbyen, Svalbard”… and the words for “open” and “boarding”, and I headed to my gate.

My flight was filled with Norwegian families and children. I would learn later that the majority of them would be heading along with me to Svalbard, to reconnect with their loved ones up north after a brief holiday in the sun. During the flight, I was lucky enough to be seated at a window, where I watched the sun slowly dim as we flew north. I put my hand against the window, and saw the sun blink behind the southern horizon in a warm orange flare. The sun was down, now.

As we flew further north to our connection in Tromsø, I noticed something that I had not anticipated. I had thought that the sun winking out would be the most moving thing about my journey, but it wasn’t. With no sun, and a high latitude, the sky became a stunning shade of lilac and soft white, with a deep electric ultramarine wash toward the northern horizon. The effect was otherworldly, and I did not think that such things on earth could be so stunningly beautiful. I actually began to cry a bit at how beautiful it was, and even though a little boy was seated next to me, kicking me like a mule, I couldn’t be brought down from my full experience of taking in the brilliant arctic sky. After about 30 minutes of my gaping at the majesty of the north, my flight landed in Tromsø.

Tromsø is well within the Arctic Circle, and is located around the same latitude of the highest points of Alaska. From my window, I watched shipments of mail and food load onto my plane. From what I saw from the plane, this city resembles a winter wonderland of grays, pinks, and deep blues. A large bridge artfully connected one point of town to another, with the traffic on it resembling tiny fairy lights. The bridge arched like a great stretching cat, I remember it resembling the style of architecture in Rivendell, from the Lord of the Rings movies. I made a mental note to come back and visit this town one day, if I was able.

After a short layover, we departed for our final destination. We flew past the northern coast of Norway. The soft pastel hues of the clear sky were unreal, and were nothing like I had never seen before. It was like flying into heaven, as I recall (or, if you want to get really nerdy, it was like flying into what I imagined the Ethereal plane in Dungeons and Dragons would look like with endless soft desaturated grays) Looking down, I could see small bits of frozen sea ice appearing in the dimming light.

As the sea ice increased, so the light decreased. Soon, we were flying through a rich cobalt and violet sky. Stars began to appear, and it was only about 1pm. I wondered if there were seals on that sea ice below. I then wondered how seal would taste, and decided that they would be delicious.

And then, with alarming quickness, the light vanished. The sky was as dark as you see at midnight, and the stars glittered coldly above my now descending plane. We circled around a tiny cluster of amber lights, which I then realized must be Longyearbyen, my destination. With a few bumps on a short runway built on permafrost, we had arrived.

Longyearbyen (LYR) airport is small, and you have to deplane on a staircase. The first thing that hits you is the cold, and the stink of the jet fuel from your idling plane. I heard the passengers ahead of me coughing as they departed, and as the cold air hit me, I was hit with a flurry of wracking coughs myself. The cold wind struck me in the face like a slap.

A giant taxidermy-ed polar bear greets you as you arrive in the tiny terminal and bag claim. Next to it, a droll sign that requests that you refrain from touching the polar bear. A few Japanese tourists nearby took many happy pictures of this mighty stuffed bear, much to the delight of the native Svalbardans waiting for their bags, and myself.

I claimed my bag, and looked for a taxi stand. I found a few people who looked like they knew what they were doing and waited with them in a line. Sure enough, taxis arrived and shuttled locals to their homes.

I should note at this point in the taxi line that I noticed just how oppressively dark it was (I think we were facing the water. I saw no stars). The time was about 2pm now, and it was as if you had taken black velvet tapestries, and covered the sky so that no light, space, or hope could escape. The effect was as if I was looking directly into an abyss, while waiting for a taxi. It was incredibly disconcerting. But, the Longyearbyenians had a solution to this. To cheer you up as you stare into the blackness at the end of eternity, a comical sign with a polar bear graphic before the endless oblivion stated the direction of the north pole, and how far away it was. The north pole, it turns out, wasn’t so far. I decided that a trip into oblivion would have to wait for another day. Probably at the time of my own death.

I shared my taxi van with a nice local couple, and when they were deposited at their home, the driver asked me in that familiar flattened accent “You are not from here”. I replied that I was not, and he declared “…you are an American”. I tried to smile and make a joke about my accent making it obvious, but my joke was met with grim silence. He drove me to a remote place at the far point of the settlement, which was to be my residency. “Do you know about the bears?” He asked. He did not wait for my answer. “A girl was killed, not 500 meters from here, up there” he waved dismissively to a glacial mountain near my destination. When we arrived at the gallery residence, he breathed an ominous “welcome to Svalbard”, and helped me carry my bag up to my door. We were met by an older Norwegian woman with whom driver had a brief discussion (everyone in town knows everyone else, it seemed). With a broad smile, she turned to me. In English, welcomed me to my home for the next two months. I asked about the internet, but I was told the person responsible for any internet-related stuff is on vacation, so I would have to wait until tomorrow for it to be resolved.

Another Norwegian woman tapped on the door behind me, laden with luggage. She appeared to be another resident, and had also been on my same flight over. We spoke and introduced ourselves, and we decided after getting settled to head to the grocery store.

The time was about 3pm at this point, and the deep polar darkness of the daytime(!) sky resembled a starry shadow. The town center is about a mile away, and is connected to the residency by an icy road. Since taxis are brutally expensive, I had been instructed that it is best to simply suit up, and endure the cold for the walk. I asked my residency companion about the polar bears, and about what the driver had said. She laughed and said, “Oh that was fifteen years ago!”, but then proceeded to tell me that wayward bears do occasionally wander into the settlement, and that she carries a flare to scare any inquisitive bears away.

I arrive at the grocery store intact, and proceed to begin to feel fatigue begin to catch up with the near constant adrenaline high I had had since getting on the plane in Oslo. Because of this, I forget almost everything that I was supposed to pick up at the store before settling down. I ended up picking up some basic materials for pasta and some breakfast materials, all of which would be $15 back home in Seattle, but was $45 here.

We both decide that we are too tired to cook and do much else, so we go to the Radisson nearby to have an early dinner. Huge slabs of half cooked indeterminate meat were served to me on a plate the size of Texas (beef or maybe reindeer, and I’m inclined to believe it was reindeer because it did not taste like any beef I have ever had. Who cares, it was bloody and delicious). I wandered over to a public internet terminal at this time, and since I could only get Twitter working, I updated that I was okay through there. We drank a few glasses of red wine, and I overheard a tourist-ing British couple who had also just arrived on the island discussing what to drink. I ran into them later a few days later in a cafe, having the same discussion. After an hour, we walked back.  I think I wondered aloud how I would taste to a bear while slightly marinated in a red wine sauce. Once home, I passed out the moment my head hit the pillow.

My sleeping problems were compounded here, as my sleep/wake cycle was completely thrown off by the lack of daylight. After just a few hours of sleep, I woke confused and distressed. Checking the time, it was 12am. I drank some water, and headed back to bed, blaming the wine on my confusion. I woke up six hours later, fuzzy headed and my body/brain confused. I could sense an internal confusion, asking me “where is the sun? Sun, you should be up now.” Then I remembered, oh, I’m at the North Pole. There is no sun here.

The second day, the gallery manager came by briefly to give me a passcode to the wireless network here, and to take stock of a few things before going home for a day. Before I could test to see if the code worked, I took one of my two hour long sleep sessions, and woke up with a smile so that I could tell all my friends and family back home about my fabulous flight over and how cold and dark it is here. I instead discovered that the network was completely unusable, and that I had no way of talking to the manager before he arrived back here again. So, no internet, and no sun. I figure out then and there that I can deal with the absence of one, or the other, but not both at the same time. To pass the time, I begin to read House of Leaves and sketch images of doleful polar bears while listening to the Tron soundtrack.

The third day, I woke up at midnight, and had no hope of falling back to sleep, so I spent the entire day exhausted and fighting with my own brain about where the sun was. “This is inexcusable!” my internal dialogue seemed to shout to me, “make the sun come back, and sleep will return. Do it!”. So, thusly, no sleep at all. Bad times. On this day, I was supposed to also head back into town to get more foodstuffs, as I’d been living on very few calories since arriving. I decide to scavenge, feasting on the Clif bars I had brought with me, and a box of instant noodles that I found in the kitchen. The noodles were gross. It didn’t matter anyway, because there was a horrible polar wind/snowstorm howling through the settlement this day, and even had I been in top physical form, I would have said “screw going outside”, anyway. The internet was supposed to be fixed this day, but some random problem popped up and it didn’t get fixed. I begin to think that everyone must think that I am dead, because I only checked in with people about my whereabouts on Twitter a few nights ago.

I find myself not being able to sleep at all on the night of the third day, so I decide to force my head down by taking two valium. This works, and I wake up to the fourth day after having dreams of warm soup and sunshine after 7-8 hours of sleep. Today, the internet should be fixed for sure, I think. This is not to be, however. I am told “there is a man coming tomorrow”. (I am told this two days in a row, actually). I realize on this day that I am starving, and that my mental state is declining in this land of no light, no communication, and no food. I check the temperature outside (-25c), bundle up and wander outside to the main part of the settlement.

I began my walk at around noon. The silence of the polar night is stunning. There are no birds, no sounds of life (with the exception of a bulldozer plowing snow at the foot of a glacial mountain, for a reason I cannot fathom). The air hurts when you breathe, and if you breathe with your mouth open, your tongue will begin to freeze. The smell of the air is sharp and fresh, with a slight odor of soot, which I imagine comes from the fact that this is a mining town. At one point, halfway to the settlement center, I turned around to glance at the stars and barely visible landscape. As I was turned to the south, I actually noticed a tiny hint of deep cyan-indigo lining the mountains, and blending gently upward to the starry dark, daytime sky. Ah, the sun, I think. This is where it will appear, but I’ll never see it. I stood there in the cold air for a moment, listening to the bulldozer move the snow, and reflecting on the beauty of the landscape. My thoughts were interrupted by a kindly internal warning reminding me that there are polar bears here, and yes, they will eat me if they catch me out here. I walked quickly into town.

In town, I sought out the library, and a public internet terminal. There, I attempted to find people online to bother and socialize with, neglecting of course that I was a full nine hours ahead, and that it was late at night over there. Oh well. I ate a sandwich at a nearby cafe, and ran into the kindly British couple I had seen earlier at the Radisson. We make a date for having a pint at whatever bar is open at 8-9pm here the next day. I pick up some more brutally expensive groceries at the store, and set about walking home. During this walk though, the wind had picked up, and the scarf that I had wrapped around my mouth and chin was freezing white with the water vapor from my own breath. I had to stop a few times to catch my breath, and to warm my cheeks enough to prevent them from getting frostbitten. I did mention that Svalbard was cold, didn’t I?

Coming home, exhausted from the walk, I sit down. I want nothing more than to talk with my friends and family. The heartache I’m getting at not being able to communicate with with my social circle is wrenching when combined with the weird insanity I’m feeling at not seeing any sort of light here so far north. My body decides to mess with me, and I lay down for a 30 minute nap that turns into a four hour long fitful, nightmare ridden slumber. I wake up absolutely enraged that it is 9:30pm, but am miraculously able to fall into sections of 1-3 hour long rests until 4am, when I think “what does it matter what time it is when the sun never rises?” So, I got up, showered, and had a coffee.

And now, here I am, typing this whole mess out on the fifth day, as I wait for “that guy” to come by and fix the internet.

…which he did yesterday, and which is why I am posting this. My sleep schedule is still completely unbalanced, and I still get rest in 2-4 hour long periods. I’m drawing and keeping very busy here. Today is my birthday, too, and I’m not certain how I will spend it. I may wander into town, and enjoy this especially balmy day (19 degrees so far today! yay!).