Beach And Moan

Posted on July 19, 2013 by Eivind Senneset

A long day of zombie literature at the beach takes its toll.

Virginia Beach #01. Catching crabs in Chesapeake Bay

The last time my thighs saw proper sunlight was a December morning in 2010, on my first day off after covering the United Nations Climate Change Conference in Cancun, Mexico. I was only supposed to take a morning stroll along the beach, then I happened to accidentally swim in the Caribbean Sea, drink beer and watch pelicans for six hours.

Virginia Beach #02. Fishing for croakers

Yesterday I stumbled upon a beach yet again. Supposedly the longest pleasure beach in the world, our arrival at Virginia Beach’s oceanfront was not really that accidental. And for once we also decided to forgo all of downtown’s delights and just have a day at the beach. This allowed me to catch up on some zombie survivalist literature.

Speaking of World War Z – In a breakfast room.some hundred motels ago, I met a ten-year old kid who was really concerned about post-zombie-apocalypse-gun-legislation: “The government can’t ban guns if there’s ever a zombie apocalypse, can they?” he kept asking his dad. His dad mumbled something incoherent while trying to get the waffle iron to work. But the kid, I’m sure, will grow up to be a fine and vigilant gun crazed paramilitary buff.

Of course – when the zombie holocaust really hits us, it’s not the zombies themselves that will kill most of us. No, most people will die from the lack of clean water supply, from dehydration from all the running. Yep, it’s the little things that will get us. Like forgetting to apply sunscreen to your legs.

Seems my thighs didn’t do the transition from the gentleman’s long trousers to shorter swim shorts quite as well as I had hoped.

This is America part seven point five. Read part seven here, part six here, part five here, part four here, part three here, part two here, part one here.

Mountains (woo-hoo!)

Posted on July 17, 2013 by Eivind Senneset

Enough flatlands. Enough dead armadillos. Mountain-time.

Mountains #1

Unknown, unknown, skunk, possum, skunk, unknown, dog, raccoon, unknown, deer, fox, unknown, armadillo, skunk, deer, unknown, dog, unknown, armadillo, raccoon, armadillo, unknown, armadillo, armadillo, armadillo, armadillo, unknown, armadillo, armadillo, unknown, unknown, deer, raccoon, armadillo, armadillo, armadillo, armadillo, armadillo, armadillo.

Those were roadkill, and about the only things besides asphalt, cars, billboards and endless fields of flat boredom that you see when driving south on the Interstate through the Midwest.

Enough of that, we said, and set course for the Great Smoky Mountains and the Blue Ridge Parkway.

Mountains #2

Mountains #3

Mountains #4

Mountains #5

Mountains #6

Mountains #7

Mountains #8

This is America part seven. Read part six here, part five here, part four here, part three here, part two here, part one here.

The Place Where They Cried*

Posted on July 15, 2013 by Eivind Senneset

Cherokee, NC: damn sad.

Cherokee #1

The town of Cherokee and the areas of Western North Carolina has been part of the homelands of the Cherokee people for centuries upon centuries. And yes – you still see clear signs of Indian presence in the town, even though most of the Cherokees in the 1830s were gathered, dispossessed and made to walk six months, 1,200 miles west, killing roughly one in four.

Cherokee #2

Depending on from which road you enter downtown Cherokee, the first thing you see is either a small stage with a scruffy looking bison and a sign promising Live Indian Shows, a 20 foot Cherokee statue advertising Indian Tattoos – or the Indian casino.

Cherokee #3

Despite my anti-gambling sensibilities, I suspect the casino might be one of the better thing to have happened to this town, in that tribal gambling at least generates a stream of revenue for tribe members. As of 2005, each member of the 13,000+ strong tribe received $8,000 from casino profits. Compared to the times before the casino opened in 1995, when most tribe members “were poor, almost totally dependent on the federal government for subsistence,” the opening of the casino meant dramatic improvements in everything from jobs to education to health care for the tribe, according to then chief Joyce Dugan.

Cherokee #4

But for the rest of the town… Its current motto is “Trails of Legends and Adventures” – how about changing that to “Cringeworthy?”

Well, at least judging by its main street.

Cherokee #5

There is a museum, as well as a reconstructed Indian village, that might very well be decent and respectful attractions, but they weren’t open when I passed through town so I wouldn’t know. There is also a historic play on the story of the Cherokee Indians that’s been running daily for over 60 years, so obviously that’s got something going for itself.

Cherokee #6

But ah, yes, the main street. Here, tribal pride is a commodity, a photo-op, a souvenir – all in the most tasteless of manners. A sign saying “Dance show by a full blooded?” That is so very, very wrong. No disrespect to the tribal members who for whatever reason feel compelled to partake in this, but this has to make more people than me feel uncomfortable.

There are also the bear pens.

Cherokee #7

* The Place Where They Cried – Nu na da ul tsun yi – is the Cherokee expression for the events in 1838 in which they were forcibly removed from their lands in the Southeastern United States, resulting in the deaths of approximately 4,000 Cherokees. Today’s Eastern Band members are direct descendents of those who avoided the forced removal.

Cherokee #8

This is America part six. Read part five here, part four here, part three here, part two here, part one here.

The Heroes of Gator-Aid

Posted on July 11, 2013 by Eivind Senneset

Hand feeding alligators with marshmallows is a desperate measure to save a species on the brink of extinction due to abrupt changes in the food chain.

Is that a wild alligator in the middle of the swamp? Yes. Is he swimming around with a marshmallow on top of its head? Also yes

Is that a wild alligator in the middle of the swamp? Yes. Is it swimming around with a marshmallow on top of its head? Also yes

Long-term ecological complications from hurricane Katrina have all but decimated many important species of plants in the Louisiana marshlands, severely disrupting the natural food chain. Among the species as good as extinct is the wild marshmallow, the main source of nutrition for the Louisiana alligators. In a desperate measure to save the species, swamp rangers set out to hand feed starving gators with rations of aid marshmallows. As there are an estimated two million gators in Louisiana, this is an arduous and labour-intensive job, demanding large numbers of volunteers and hundreds of thousands of bags of marshmallows every week.

Swampscape 1. Not a marshmallow tree in sight

Alligator 2. Misquoting Nixon: I am not a croc

Swampscape 2. Would you look at that complete absence of marshmallow trees

Swampscape 2. Would you look at that complete lack of marshmallow trees?

Why not use airdrop you might ask? Well, that would leave most of the marshmallows floating in the swamp waters, like they were windfall. Alligators are accustomed to jumping out of the water and nipping wild marshmallows straight from the branches of the marshmallow tree. A proud gator simply won’t touch soggy marshmallows. Thus the need for human hands tempting the gators like the marshmallows were fresh off the branches, allowing the animals to act on their hunting instincts.

Alligator 3. Of course there are dangers associated with hand feeding alligators. If you forget to remove your wristwatch, they can easily snag a fang, in worst case breaking the tooth off completely

Swampscape 3. Wait – is that a marshmallow tree over there on the right? Could it really be? Nope. My bad

Swampscape 4. Marshmallow tree. Dead, sadly

While visiting Louisiana my girlfriend and I felt the obligation to do our part, and joined a party of first time volunteers on a barge set out to distribute aid rations in the Barataria area south of New Orleans. We are proud to say that at least a dozen gators won’t be starving for marshmallows before the weekend at the very least.

Swampscape 5. Not a single marshmallow tree. Really, this is an ecological disaster

Swampscape 6. I mean – have you ever seen a swamp south of the Arctic Circle with this few marshmallow trees?

Alligator 4. My girlfriend having just completed the course “Caring for your alligator.” Lesson 101: The belly rub

Disclaimer: Let’s just quote the great pirate W. Shakespeare: “Do not trusteh all that thou readest on the Interneth.” Alligators are not a threatened species, and I just read that feeding them actually is against Louisiana law. Huh. Seems that our tour guide was breaking the law. Not too surprising really. After reading this article on disaster tourism I must admit a certain distaste for some of the practices of the New Orleans tour industry.

This is America part five. Read part four here, part three here, part two here, part one here.

Some People. And Chicago

Posted on July 9, 2013 by Eivind Senneset

Brief encounters with nice folks. And some mostly unrelated pictures from Chicago.

Trump Tower, seen from the El

When the Republican Convention came to Chicago in 1944, this tavern posted a sign saying "No Republicans Allowed," thus cramming the joint with Republicans demanding to be served. Savvy as hell

When the Republican Convention came to Chicago in 1944, The Billy Goat Tavern posted a sign saying “No Republicans Allowed.” Soon the joint was crammed with Republicans demanding to be served. Savvy as hell

Welcome to Illinois

Jeff – the Billy Goat bartender since 1981
“My god – you’re Norwegian? I’m so sorry.”

Motel-clerk in Battle Creek
“Why would you spend a night in Battle Creek?”

Oh, look. Another skyline

A dive bar owner, drunk, profane, lovely
“What can I get you motherfuckers? Draught beer? We ain’t got no draught beer here. Choose again. Where you from? Norway!? Okay, you like it strong, I’ll get you some bottles with some oompf. See that couple in the corner? They’re from New Fucking York so you ain’t the only ones who don’t belong here. Where you going now? South? Okay, you gotta stop by this church I know of. It’s the nicest motherfucking church in the United States’ hemisphere.”

Every time the Chicago Blackhawks win the Stanley Cup, Post-It expences are off the charts

The entire population of St. Louis, trying to cram themselves into one MetroLink Car on the night of July 4.
Really, I don’t think I’ve experienced public transport this packed outside of an African minibus (you know the kind, registered to carry 16, modified to carry 24, carrying 36).

Would you like the lucky horse shoe or the diamond encrusted American flag cuff links to go with your loafers?

Would you like the lucky horse shoes or the diamond encrusted American flag cufflinks to go with your loafers?

Two drunk girls with a camera
“Hey gorgeous – we love your hat. You have the best shirt we have ever seen. Please will you let us two girls take a picture with you?”
(No, I won’t. While my hat is brilliant, my shirt is only so-so. Besides, you threw a whiskey cork at me to get my attention.)

First time in a coin laundry. Damn exciting

The five year old at the zoo searching an empty rhino pen with her eyes, finding only the stray rabbit
“That’s not a rhino is it?”
(“Yes,” I told her, “it is. The Northern, white-furred mini-rhino is extremely well adapted to the barren, snowy landscape of the Chicagoland winters.”)

The Green Mill. Come for the jazz, stay for the restroom wall prose

The Green Mill II. When singer Joe E. Lewis wouldn’t take his act here during the Prohibition Era, owner “Machine Gun” Jack McGurn cut out his tongue and slashed his throat

The Chicago waitress taking my girlfriend’s order
“You have the best accent. Would you mind a lot if I tried it?”

Whether you’re wearing cargo pants or tuxedo – neon head bands go with everything

The restroom vandals at The Green Mill (the place is classy, their prose less so)
“Baa baa raa raa doo da your face!”
“Hemingways you’re favorite band (sic)”

July 3. Warming up with some light firework

This is America part four. Read part three here, part two here, part one here.

A Tale of Three Cities

Posted on July 4, 2013 by Eivind Senneset

It was the beginning of times, it was the end of times, and somewhere in between a rabbit stole the mayor’s parking space.

City One: Oil City, Ontario

Oil City, Ontario

Oil Springs, Ontario. America’s first oil well

Or rather, the trio of adjacent towns: Oil Spring, Oil City and Petrolia. The first American oil rush took place here from 1858 and onwards, after an asphalt producer set out to dig a water well but found free oil instead, sparking what was to become the oil industry.

Population:
Oil Springs – 704
Oil City – 2930
Petrolia – 5528

City Two: Flint, Michigan

Flint, Michigan

Flint, Michigan. The gospel

Flint was the center of the Michigan lumber industry. Lumber money funded the establishment of a carriage-making industry. Horse carriages gave way to automobiles. Flint became the birthplace of General Motors and a major player in the nascent auto industry. At its height GM employed 80,000 workers. Then the industry collapsed. NPR describes Flint as ground zero for the decline of American manufacturing. For the past decades Flint has suffered from disinvestment, deindustrialization, depopulation, urban decay and high rates of crime. FBI recently ranked Flint the most violent city per capita in America for the third consecutive year. According to FBI’s statistics, Flint had more than 2,774 violent crimes in 2012. They included 63 murders, 108 rapes, 673 robberies and 1,930 aggravated assaults.

Population: 102,434 (down from 200,000 in 1960)

City Three: Sarnia, Ontario

Sarnia, Ontario

Back across the border to Canada, midways between Flint and Oil City, in the city of Sarnia, a rabbit sat on the mayor’s parking space on a summer evening.

Population: 72,366

This is America part three. Read part two here, part one here.

Viva Las Canada

Posted on July 1, 2013 by Eivind Senneset

Welcome to Niagara Falls. Would you like a really, really big bed?

~~House~~ Casino on the hill

They are

Falls #1

Poncho Town.
Smurf City.
Disneyland Ontario.

Everyone’s blue, poncho’ed
against the mist and spray
of the friendly neon-lit natural splendor.

Schlock romance!

Honeymoon suites with
heart shaped beds,
heart shaped tubs,
heart shaped towels.

Cosmic dinosaur mini golf championship.
Big screen wrestling at the Hawaiian bar.
Wax museum upside down house of horror resorts.

And on the American side:
21,000 tons of toxic waste
dumped in Love Canal.

Girlfriend in disguise

Margaritaville. Certainly

Motel #1

Motel #2

Neon is a colorless, odorless monatomic gas under standard conditions. That and kitschy

When dinosaurs roamed the earth, miniature golfers roamed too

Motel #3

Motel #4

~~Eye of Sauron.~~ Revolving restaurant

Falls #2

This is America part deux. Read part one here.
Also: This is fantastic.

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