Post by Elgen on Aug 1, 2009 20:25:41 GMT
A tale about braveness, horrible challenges, great battles through vast cities and comradeship.
Jo has been to England.
Arriving at noon at some random airport in the middle of nowhere, our driver comes 'round in a huge silvery van. I quickly get chunked into the back seat, with two screaming kids in front of me. With both our side windows covered in damp due to the excessive amounts of rain falling in england this day, I now and then can see a field outside of our windows.
Fields! I'm sure you've got that in Norway, you might say, and yes, you are correct. In between the fjords and the mountains we have fields. Covered in GRASS. For the cattle. WTF did all this yellow corn come from? I mean, come on, I've never seen this much corn grown anywhere. Not even old Mr. Løvberg's greenhouse next door could sport even a straw due to freezing temperatures mid june, and here they are growing corn all day long, like it's meant to be. Something is amiss.
Well in Bidford (a small village close to Stratford), we are greated by an overzealous couple, which happens to be my sister's parents-in-law. They are very polite, even bordering into insanity, and later on I'll barely manage not to kill them in their sleep due to their annoying habit of saying "how lovely" atleast 53 times a day.
Since we have to dine with them roughly 9 times a week, and my parents' english skills are below par, my parents try and force me into talking to the old man. Who happen to be something like 90 years older than me, and interested in classical music, arts and cheese. Due to my extreme lack of knowledge and interest in any of the aforementioned subjects I politely decline and instead survive a 90 minute long awkward silence.
Charming indeed.
We went to Warwick Castle, a real old castle. It was great, with jostling and sword duels and the whole lot. And since I suck at describing nice stuff, lets just say it was really nice. Along with seeing some cool old english villages.
Fish and Chips was not too good though. I was waiting for the fish and chips wrapped in newspaper, and then they tell me it's been illegal since the UK joined the EU. Man, way to ruin my childhood dreams.
Then we went to Oxford, the international capitol of smart people. And Oxford was a really nice town, I can't believe we went to London afterwards instead of just hanging around in Oxford. I met some really cool famous people there too, and they forced me into one of them coffee shops. Since I, being the farmer-in-town Norwegian I am, have never in my life ordered anything in a coffee shop before, I decided to just chill and take it calm. Which of course failed insanely, and I ended up being the most nervous coffee customer the shop had ever seen. Ever. They probably thought I'd stolen something. Bloody polite englishmen.
Afterwards, the two celebrities dragged me out into the dangerous streets of Oxford, and then started mocking me for my city walking style. (Which cunningly involves me just wandering randomly through the town until suddenly noticing anything familiar). After finishing my deeds, involving me buying a somewhat satanic record and finding a beloved obscure fantasy book, I had to relieve my family of their greatest fears; not finding their way.
Otherwise, alles ist gut. London is strange. Still haven't got stabbed though.
Jo has been to England.
Arriving at noon at some random airport in the middle of nowhere, our driver comes 'round in a huge silvery van. I quickly get chunked into the back seat, with two screaming kids in front of me. With both our side windows covered in damp due to the excessive amounts of rain falling in england this day, I now and then can see a field outside of our windows.
Fields! I'm sure you've got that in Norway, you might say, and yes, you are correct. In between the fjords and the mountains we have fields. Covered in GRASS. For the cattle. WTF did all this yellow corn come from? I mean, come on, I've never seen this much corn grown anywhere. Not even old Mr. Løvberg's greenhouse next door could sport even a straw due to freezing temperatures mid june, and here they are growing corn all day long, like it's meant to be. Something is amiss.
Well in Bidford (a small village close to Stratford), we are greated by an overzealous couple, which happens to be my sister's parents-in-law. They are very polite, even bordering into insanity, and later on I'll barely manage not to kill them in their sleep due to their annoying habit of saying "how lovely" atleast 53 times a day.
Since we have to dine with them roughly 9 times a week, and my parents' english skills are below par, my parents try and force me into talking to the old man. Who happen to be something like 90 years older than me, and interested in classical music, arts and cheese. Due to my extreme lack of knowledge and interest in any of the aforementioned subjects I politely decline and instead survive a 90 minute long awkward silence.
Charming indeed.
We went to Warwick Castle, a real old castle. It was great, with jostling and sword duels and the whole lot. And since I suck at describing nice stuff, lets just say it was really nice. Along with seeing some cool old english villages.
Fish and Chips was not too good though. I was waiting for the fish and chips wrapped in newspaper, and then they tell me it's been illegal since the UK joined the EU. Man, way to ruin my childhood dreams.
Then we went to Oxford, the international capitol of smart people. And Oxford was a really nice town, I can't believe we went to London afterwards instead of just hanging around in Oxford. I met some really cool famous people there too, and they forced me into one of them coffee shops. Since I, being the farmer-in-town Norwegian I am, have never in my life ordered anything in a coffee shop before, I decided to just chill and take it calm. Which of course failed insanely, and I ended up being the most nervous coffee customer the shop had ever seen. Ever. They probably thought I'd stolen something. Bloody polite englishmen.
Afterwards, the two celebrities dragged me out into the dangerous streets of Oxford, and then started mocking me for my city walking style. (Which cunningly involves me just wandering randomly through the town until suddenly noticing anything familiar). After finishing my deeds, involving me buying a somewhat satanic record and finding a beloved obscure fantasy book, I had to relieve my family of their greatest fears; not finding their way.
Otherwise, alles ist gut. London is strange. Still haven't got stabbed though.
And it's illegal to get a newspaper? WTH? 
I was part of your holiday! I feel honoured. Was awesome seeing you, even if you are just a norweigan country boy visiting the big city. 
