Repairs and Exploring Kristiansand
April 28, 2026 Filed under Curious
Slept pretty well. I wanted to just poke around the city all day, but first I had to take the tent apart and figure out why it didn’t hold air. With all my gear shoved to the corners of the room there was just enough space to test the thing.
Using the indoor space to test the tent again.
I pulled the 15-foot bladder out of the strut and patiently immersed sections of it in the sink, looking for bubbles that would show me a leak. I didn’t see any, but I did find a stowaway:
A stowaway from California! It would have caused trouble no doubt.
Finally I saw something when I reached the very end: Air was slowly leaking from the valve itself. The soft plastic ring underneath the cap had scratches all over it, probably from me jabbing around the valve with a pair of pliers when I was putting the tent back together last time. I flipped the ring over, then tested the valve. No leak, as long as I didn’t over-tighten it.
It took a long time to get the bladder back in the strut, line it up, hook the layers back together, and re-inflate the tent. I left it standing in the middle of the room. If it was still fine when I came back in the evening, I was good to go.
Before setting out, I took another look at the map of the downtown. There’s a decommissioned building in the center of town that used to be … a prison! It held 44 inmates. It was shut down only six years ago when a larger one opened nearby. (As an aside, it’s hilarious that Wikipedia has a category page called Defunct prisons in Norway.)
A recent fire. This would be the beginning of a pattern I saw as I went around Norway.
I didn’t go in… Though I probably should have!
The touristy fishy part of town.
All kinds of fresh noms for sale!
Down near the coast I found a restaurant that promised fish stew and fish and chips. So I ordered both, and ate them very slowly, listening to the birds and the inscrutable conversations around me, and generally unwinding. It was the first time in three days that I wasn’t being, or about to be, a passenger on some transport.
It was pretty dang good soup! I ate it very slowly.
Pretty good fisk and kips, but I know there’s better out there…
Near me a large group of old Norwegian folks were arrayed on benches around an open space, all in their 70’s or 80’s, having a slow discussion about — something or other. One guy had his beer set on my table, and didn’t bother to move it when I sat down. I didn’t mind of course. It was a little hint of that flexibility of personal space I saw in Iceland.
Time to check out the museumy part of the shore.
After that I decided it was time to walk around and gaze at stuff, so I rode over to the Museum Of Art, where there was an exhibition of the portraiture of Edvard Munch. I browsed through some nifty local kids art on the bottom floor, then put my stuff in a locker and got a ticket for the “real” museum upstairs.
Let’s see some portretter.
You check your stuff and get a key, instead of hauling it all over the museum.
Letter thievery!
I think these were made by art students? Adorable.
More art student art.
This one was especially striking to me.
When German troops invaded Norway in 1940, Munch spurned all contact with the occupiers, retreating to his main residence at Ekely, where he lived up to his death from pneumonia in 1944. Here he became known as “the hermit of Ekely”, even though he continued to receive friends and selected guests on a regular basis.
In this late self-portrait, Munch presents himself featureless and alone, walking in the arbour beyond his winter studio, deep in contemplation. While the empty seat and bench accentuate his solitude, the glowing yellow shrub and view of the landscapes to the distant Oslofjord convey a feeling of oneness with the natural world.
I worked my way almost all around that floor when a typically adorable young Norwegian staff member came up and said the place would close in two minutes.
“Oh no!” I said. “There’s so much more to see!”
“Well, you still have two minutes!” she said brightly.
After that, I cycled around looking for ice cream but the store I targeted was closed, and the next place was a really American-looking bulk candy shop, so I gave up. No evening treat for me! I still had leftover fish and chips from the restaurant so I certainly wouldn’t starve.
Back at the AirBnB the tent was still just as upright as before, which was fantastic news. I probably wouldn’t have had enough time to take it apart and look for another leak. I rolled it up and packed the large bags, getting as ready as possible for the next day.
Then I remembered: I had a leftover cookie from the bakery in Hirtshals! Mmmm. With no good reason to leave the AirBnB for the night, I realized it would be a good time to start an episode Vision Of Escaflowne, since I was actually in Norway as I’d planned.
That was kind of weird. I’d first had the idea of re-watching this series at least five years ago, and made a note about it in my travel plans, but I couldn’t remember why. The connection between the cartoon and Norway was tenuous: The main character Hitomi reminded me of a woman I’d dated in college, and that woman was from a family that emigrated to the United States from Norway. Or had it been Sweden?
Ex-girlfriend connection or no, Vision Of Escaflowne is fantastical and dramatic – a story about a girl who blunders through a magic portal into a swords-and-sorcery otherworld – and the idea of watching it in a far-off place was appealing. Norway would have lots of big spaces and I would be traveling it alone, putting me in an introspective mood, and I could watch the show and think about my angst-ridden college days as well. Plus, the show was 20-something episodes, which would be just enough to make my way around the coast watching one episode per day.
After so many years of this plan drifting around in the back of my head, it felt very strange to actually be in the place where it could happen. Here I was in Norway, and it had only taken ten days of travel away from my “normal” life. Is this what I’d been picturing, years ago? A little seaside town – chilly but not freezing – a grid of affluent streets at the end of a ferry port and a train terminal, a cramped and slightly rustic AirBnB room? This massive pile of gear?
I really couldn’t remember. But I poured a glass of Norway water and set the cookie on a napkin, put on headphones, and watched the first episode.
Here begins Escaflowne Corner, where I write whatever thoughts I have about the day’s episode. This is definitely of no interest to anyone but me, so it’s in a disclosure section:
The world of the show is interestingly small: There are only four characters with faces, and we say goodbye to two of them in this first episode. We don’t see any other school students or staff, no other people on the street, and even Hitomi’s parents are only heard in voice-over.
I forgot how unashamed the animators are of showing Hitomi in Japanese-flavor “upskirt” camera angles. When she’s on the starting blocks for example, the camera is aimed right up her ass. What’s funny is, there is some justification for the angle: We see how coiled up she is, poised to spring, and sense her focus and dedication to the sport. But a modern director would find a way to convey that without putting the camera in the exact spot a teenage boy would want to stick his face, saving Hitomi her dignity. They would lean away from the fanservice instead of almost literally into it.
Generally, Hitomi is portrayed as empty-headed. Her biggest concerns are getting a kiss from her crush, and improving her running speed. Perhaps this is the norm for a – what – 16 year old? I don’t know if she’ll grow in later episodes, but so far she’s only special because of some innate magical power that’s vaguely associated with her femaleness: She feels sick, then she has a premonition, and that compels her to act in some way that looks quite irrational to observers, like a sailor-suit wearing Oracle of Delphi.
I admit that one of the ways she reminds me of my college girlfriend is, she too would sometimes get very upset over some inner thought and have an emotional breakdown, and I was drawn to – could relate to – the emotional intensity of it all. 25 years later I am still sometimes drawn to that sort of dysfunction. Huh; I wonder what that says about me…