callieandriddick

[callieandriddick]

Ragnorok (the end-ish)

Today - 7/4 -  I was engulfed in lethe. Moving all day from 8-23 is wearing. But I forced myself to get up at 8:45 and eat some yogurt with muesli, and take a stroll. It was Monday when everything was closed anyway, so walking about was all one could do. I covered three different islands, a long city walk, and then to the “garden island” - the old hunting grounds - where rests the most absurd “hunting lodge” on the planet. This thing is a spaceship turned on its side. It’s easily a hotel. The Smithsonian looks up to it w/envy. The fireplaces would digest trees. 

The “hunting lodge” now breathes on as the Nordic cultural museum. It was an interesting hr, with particular affinity for the stories of the native, arctic peoples I learned of in Alaska and a lot about climate change. An interesting wing had reconstructed Swedish domiciles from various centuries. Then the Vasa Museum. I will not describe it too much bc everything can be read online, but DAMN. This was an incredibly interesting museum/experience - completely immersive. After, I grabbed a scooter and meandered my way back to the room through the city, navigating the bike paths and listening to MASTER BOOT RECORD. It was utopic and dystopic. 

Gear: Pros and Cons:I had been rained on most of the day -  glad to have my Mammut jacket, but I think It may be losing some of it’s proof. Could perhaps be time for a new one - This jacket, though is well travelled. Alaska (3), Switzerland, Telluride, Scandinavia. I was also happy to just get my feet wet in my barefoot sandals rather than having soaked shoes. It made things easy until exactly as I was heading back to the hotel, I stutter stepped on a big wet cobble - They are the size of rugby balls some places - and stubbed the bloody fuck out of my toe. There was nothing to do but just keep bleeding in the rain on the scooter back to the hotel. 

Dinner was at Kryp In where the chef cooks in a galley kitchen right in the entrance of the small room and specializes in simple - but very dialed in - venison dishes. Think of the charmasters at the Houstons grill station, but half the size. I asked if I could watch him for a bit and he obliged. He seemed happy to chat, and then eager to, when I told him I have cooked deer for about 5 years now. I showed him some of my dishes/preparations. I will be damned, they are exactly the way he does them. From meatballs with fennel to ragu/bolo to cubed stew with cream (I call it stroganoff) to the loin preparation with port reduction sauce. It was fun to nerd out with a chef who really knows his deer, and I definitely picked up some ideas - especially to incorporate juniper into some dishes. One beer in Nobel square - the old town hall (where they decapitated criminals and dissidents for 300 years) and then bed. 

Biorhythms: Sunset is about 22:00 - late but not weird after a few days, but sunrise is 3:30! That seriously messes with you. Even with curtains closed, the laser beam shard of photons will crawl its way across the room from the cracks in the curtain, and it’s always there, fucking with your sleep just enough to be on your mind. 

Today does not look like rain. The plan is Skansen open air museum, and then MOMA. After that, I will repack and head back for an early smorgasbord then try to sleep before getting up at sunrise - 3:30! - and heading to the airport for my 6:30 flight to AMS then ATL for one night and then Maine.

[callieandriddick]

[callieandriddick]

[callieandriddick]

[callieandriddick]

[callieandriddick]

Next Leg

7/03

What a 30 hrs... -  Estonia was the gem of the trip. Estonians seem to be determined to compensate for their benighted USSR history by executing everything to perfection. I can only compare it to Slovenia or Switzerland. Although my time there, and my movement, was limited, I am fascinated, and I want to return. The “Gamla Stan” - Old City is so perfectly and thoughtfully preserved/rebuilt that it feels almost like a simulacrum. I quickly detoured from the Rickwalk, bc at every significant sight/building, I found adequate and engaging signage. I simply wandered. 

High in the old town crouches, a majestic 1900 Russian Orthodox Church that during the Soviet era became an egg-on-the-face symbol of Russian expansionism. It is a beautiful building, but having no affinity for Russians, or Christians, more broadly, I just took a glance inside. When I turned to leave, I was greeted with three Ukrainian flags flying from the brow of the State-house across the square. Walking down the the hill toward the post-Soviet municipal square, I was greeted with another massive show of support for the Ukrainians: a HUGE dual Ukranian/Estonian flag attached prominently to the side of the government/admin. building. The dual flags are striking. Estonia: Blue - the blue sky of hope and the world; Black - the black history of oppression; White - the optimism of the future. Beside the blue and gold of Ukraine - The sky and the land - it makes a powerful statement of self determination against fascism. 

Although I was only there for a short span, I think I felt the spirit and grit of the Estonian attitude. I would like to return and do some hiking and inroads, piercing the country and meeting more people. Tallinn was just so self-possessed and purposefully on point, I can’t really imagine what the rest of the country is like!

Simplicities: Arriving in Tallinn was pure simplicity. A walk off the plane, through the airport, and onto the tram to the Old Town. Into my room and then to a Scottish pub - I know - It was late! - about 22:45. It was the closest place with a cold beer and hot food. After, I slept so hard in a freezing room - glorious. The next day, I snoozed, but got up and wandered, as described earlier. I had fish soup and a salad at a soviet era restaurant. It proudly advertised that had been in operation since 1962, and I could see that in the design of the building and placement. It was very Soviet/modernist. Clearly, it has mutated with the times as it was a vegan/pesc/veg now and catered to happy, stylish(?) locals. Aperol spritz, thin, fish-head soup, and a cold, golden beet/citrus salad complimented by 10/10 people watching paused the day for a brief moment. Then it was back in the saddle. To the Hotel for my pack, trudging down the hill, through the city, to the elaborate - but still incredibly well oiled - harbor. I checked in, got my boarding pass and walked right on to the Baltic Queen and into my berth. 

...I was joyful! Everything was going terrifically! I explored the whole ship. I was on the 5th - the lowest floor - but I didn't care. 6 and 7 were entertainment floors, with a live theatre - which was over the top, but so fucking stupid, I’m not even... - a few restos and two nice kiddie areas where everyone removed their shoes and let the bambinos go coocoo. The top deck was brilliantly windy and accessible, with folks taking selfies, smoking cigs, sitting on the deck with beers, laughing and enjoying - well - just being on a boat to Stockholm. 

Returning to my berth, I showered, and strategized my charging strategy. Then it was time for the GRAND BUFFET - a smorgasbord - literally. It was fascinating, but I am wary of buffets. After dinner I sat on the deck in the fierce wind and wrote and thought. When I entered my room at dusk - 23:30 - I knew it was going to be a bad night. I was right - directly - over the main propeller, in the lowest berth on the ship. Water bottles were performing a vibratory pirouette across the one table in the room. The water in the toilet was standing in complex resonance patterns. When the engine burned, my room shook like a paint can. 0 sleep. 

Arrival in Stockholm was easy and forthright. The hotel is a delight. Gamla Stan is much more compact than I thought it would be. I am tired tonight. It’s going to be an early night. 

[callieandriddick]

[callieandriddick]

You see the red dot…..that was me. The lowest berth, right above the propeller. It was…a long night.

[callieandriddick]

[callieandriddick]

[callieandriddick]

[callieandriddick]

[callieandriddick]

Next Leg

Current fashion amongst the Danes:

The Danish men all look like they are either going to a meeting at a bank or going to the beach. The Danish women/ladies/girls - and this is a critique, not a criticism -  generally dress “professionally” or wear crop tops and baggy pants or blousy, cotton striped moomoos. The gent who guided me through much of the city on day 1 and then through the Rosenborg, commented that Denmark is a “post-consumer” country. I was immediately thrust into my SF brainspace, and it made sense - when social welfare is guaranteed, social signposts cease to matter. It’s conceptually adjacent to Iain Banks’s Culture concept where people are free to choose their own adventure in a post scarcity world... The obvious example is Christiania, a dirty, happy, paradise - evocative of a community in LeGuin’s Dispossesed. 

Tattoos: Many. Frederick IX 1847-72 (I think), a sailor, apparently had many and proudly showed them off, so it’s a cultural norm. Apparently more than 50% of Scandis have tats

On Being Barefoot: I think about my feet. Probably more than most people, but certainly less than some. I have been barefoot most of the time in my xero sandals. After two long, long days of walking, my feet did start to hurt and the stability of the Sportivas was welcome, but Copenhagen is a particularly punishing city for a maiden barefoot voyage. The cobbles are huge and rugged and everywhere. I love how the cords really pull the super thin sole onto your foot. They are incredibly responsive, and I received quite a few comments on them from interested Danes.

Dinner at PUNK ROYAL: Actual chaos. I was not ready for the anarchy. The chefs came and put food into my mouth - not nicely.  You are pushed around and moved into other places in the room randomly - sometimes it seemed just to fuck with you. The room is filled with smoke that becomes thicker and more impregnable as the evening groans on, contributing to the bizarre delirium. The experience was all about destabilization. There was a louche rake who roamed the rooms like some sort of queer Falstaffian MC. He seemed to have the pulse of the dystopic choreography of the evening and certainly moved the tables and parties along through the menu. At one point, he put a huge dollop of sturgeon caviar on the back of my hand, and ordered me to eat it NOW. When I did, he roughly pushed my head back and poured a pre-mixed martini shot in my mouth then grabbed an oyster from a passing trey and placed it, right on the table before walking off and accosting the rest of the room in a similar way - no one was safe. One course was a ritz-cracker-like platform with a disc of foie gras on it and a syringe of alcoholic vinegar....so weird. I would easily do it again and, being prepared, would probably have a fucking ball. It was just so absolutely, purposely, confusing. 

Today, I woke up a little rough. Punk Royal was right near my hostel, so it was not a treck, but the evening was intense. Today is 7/01 is the first day of the Tour de France starting in Copenhagen and it was managerie. We stumbled upon the end of the tour in Paris a few years ago, and I stumble on the beginning today. Massive human flow throughout the city center, and essentially a ghost town everywhere else. Each M stop was one way. I had no fucking clue that people/Danes/Europeans were so into this race. I think perhaps the only equivalent scene would be the Masters? There was a definite theme - portly men with stupid, colorful, skull-hugging hats, Tour t-shirts, and too-tight, cut off jeans, rolled to right above the knee. Then also a bunch of youthful lads - recent grads - just having fun. The teen girl fashion seems to be a mimicry of CrazySexyCool - era TLC - tight croptops and baggy pants with chunky shoes but  also oddly, Danishly dorky. Hiking around, and people watching, I sought out the “best” shawarma/doner in the city -Shawarma Grill No.1. It was good, but maybe overhyped. The spit was truly massive tho - the size of a lounge chair. That style of sandwich is just so good. 

I packed up and hopped on the M to the lufthavn. Flight to Estonia was easy. I arrived at 10pm, but it was totally still day light. I guess Estonia has a long dusk. Hopped on the tram and hopped off basically at my hotel. Very wierd salad  - Estonian Caesar is NOT a Caesar - at a pub right beside the hotel and writing. 

Initial thoughts on Estonia: Clean..CLEAN. Tidy as fuck. The tarmac at the airport looked like it had been freshly manicured with all of the vehicles, people, planes ordered and in place. The city, too is just so - very tidy. Even the derelict spaces exude well-manicured decrepitude. Similar to Slovenia maybe, but with a Scandinavian, rather than Teutonic, swirl. The people do not speak English well. Definite language barrier. 

Anecdote: When I was settling in to dinner at Spisellotten in Christiania, the waitress brought over a small Danish flag and placed it on the table. Confused, I gave her - head tilted,eyebrows up - and she said I requested it in my reservation as well as a high chair. Totally incredulous, I said hard “No fucking way.” “Oh Yes. I thought it was some sort of scam with these strange requests.” “What?! No way.” “Yes. Here. I show you.” And bizarrely, on my reservation was a request to have a Danish flag placed on the table and high chair!! I lost it. So did she. After chatting more she said that she assumed I was conducting some sort of clandestine/drug/legal/illegal meet up with a stranger who would have identified me as the guy at the table with the flag and highchair - like the man in the lobby smoking two cigarettes. We had a long running report over it and, being closing time, ended up walking to the main square where the rest of the night unfolded as earlier described. 

On Hostels: Like the doner, why do we not have this in the US? I peacefully, and respectfully cohabitated with, shared a bathroom with, went to sleep and woke up with 5 different people over the course of 4 nights - A mother/seamstress working a movie set, a young tech/energy professor, teaching at a symposium, a random dude from Hamburg - who snored, but not that bad -, and a cool, strangely innocent, Taiwanese punk travelling alone before his last year of uni. Each person’s social intelligence was completely dialed in. Each was quiet, thoughtful, tidy, humorous, scrutable, open. Willing to be understood and, in turn, share, just to the degree of the happenstance. These interstices, create the goodwill and understanding that contributes to the idea of a human community on a spherical dirt-ship trapped in the gravity of a slowly decaying nuclear reaction.

[callieandriddick]

Pure gold and ivory given to Christian IV.

[callieandriddick]

[callieandriddick]

[callieandriddick]

Thoughts on the Doner/Durum

Thoughts on the Durum/Doner: This is a truly delicious item, and it’s a shame that America has not adopted this pedestrian delicacy. The doner wrap - well made - is everything that a burrito, gyro, souvlaki, burger should be, but just a little better on every level. This is not to say that individual instances of the aforementioned food entities are fundamentally inferior to the doner. Well made and with care, each instance of these carbo-protein delivery vehicles can be supremely satisfying. The doner, however, is just so easy to get right. A sweaty man of indeterminate nationality will slice or shave shards of chicken, lamb, or mystery from a toddler sized agglomeration of protein. Rotating in the radiant heat of a low level coil, the vertical rotisserie both crisps the meat and retains the fat and juices that would otherwise drop into the gutter. When sliced and fried on the flat top, the meat provides crisped, charred, and succulent morsels of flavorful shrapnel, piled with off-handed expertise onto the elastic flat bread. Shaved lettuce is the texture and counterpoint to the rich herbal yogurt “white sauce”. Copious  red onions, chopped earlier and usually seasoned with a little salt in the cold container, bring the angular, acidulous crunch. True experts will drop a few diced cucumbers into the mix. A silken swirl of chili sauce gives a three way high five to the unctuous meat, crisp vegetables, and fulsome yogurt. The wrap, heated in the salamander, immediately before use, sometimes freshly made, keeps its innards hot and remains pliable and sturdy enough to avoid “burrito blowout”. It’s almost better than a pizza. Almost.