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Time experiment
Apr. 15th, 2008 06:09 pmSo I was walking down the great Karl Johan street, absentminded (as always), when I was stopped by a police woman. I looked up, and this is pretty much what I saw:
A horde of nazis marched down the street, completely silent save a steady drumbeat. The Parliament building was sporting a swastica and a banner declaring "Deutchsland siegt an allen Fronten".
Only it wasn't 1940. A pretty surreal morning. All the times I've seen the pictures, watched the juddery black-and-white footage, and then, on a Tuesday morning in search of a Kim Newman book (which was a futile task. I can't find a single proof there has ever existed such a thing in Norway), it's before me in living colour. So familiar and yet so alien.
So yes, the movie about Max Manus, saboteur and national hero, is being made. Aksel Hennie walked by in period costume. The German army patiently waited, propped up on their rifles, for the next shot to be ready.
After the initial surprise had subsided, I was so thrilled we actually do things like this in tiny Norway. Block off the main shopping street, fill it with horse-drawn carriages and some lovely-looking motorcycles, even replacing all the signs and window-dressing with with more time-appropriate things.
So, in not-so-historical news, yesterday's ratbathing made me realize something: Domino has changed colour. Not over the course of a day, but so gradual I haven't noticed it.
Look at this picture from the day I bought him, back in September, and compare that to the one I snapped yesterday. That's not a trick of the light. Domino has gone almost entirely white over the course of the seven last months. How odd I haven't noticed that.
And in the freaky dream department (you've all been waiting with bated breath, I can tell): Last night I seemed to be doing my written Bio exam, only it was hard to consentrate because we we're all shoved together and the person to my right was a Parasaurolophus, which used to be my favourite dinosaur as a child (shut up, girls can have a dinosaur phase too). He kept trying to copy my notes. On my left hand, though, was Stephen Fry, and I was trying my best not to give in to temptation and copy his notes.
Yeah. I can only guess Stephen Fry has become my subconcious embodiment of knowledge or somesuch, since he pops up in all my school-related dreams.
A horde of nazis marched down the street, completely silent save a steady drumbeat. The Parliament building was sporting a swastica and a banner declaring "Deutchsland siegt an allen Fronten".
Only it wasn't 1940. A pretty surreal morning. All the times I've seen the pictures, watched the juddery black-and-white footage, and then, on a Tuesday morning in search of a Kim Newman book (which was a futile task. I can't find a single proof there has ever existed such a thing in Norway), it's before me in living colour. So familiar and yet so alien.
So yes, the movie about Max Manus, saboteur and national hero, is being made. Aksel Hennie walked by in period costume. The German army patiently waited, propped up on their rifles, for the next shot to be ready.
After the initial surprise had subsided, I was so thrilled we actually do things like this in tiny Norway. Block off the main shopping street, fill it with horse-drawn carriages and some lovely-looking motorcycles, even replacing all the signs and window-dressing with with more time-appropriate things.
So, in not-so-historical news, yesterday's ratbathing made me realize something: Domino has changed colour. Not over the course of a day, but so gradual I haven't noticed it.
Look at this picture from the day I bought him, back in September, and compare that to the one I snapped yesterday. That's not a trick of the light. Domino has gone almost entirely white over the course of the seven last months. How odd I haven't noticed that.
And in the freaky dream department (you've all been waiting with bated breath, I can tell): Last night I seemed to be doing my written Bio exam, only it was hard to consentrate because we we're all shoved together and the person to my right was a Parasaurolophus, which used to be my favourite dinosaur as a child (shut up, girls can have a dinosaur phase too). He kept trying to copy my notes. On my left hand, though, was Stephen Fry, and I was trying my best not to give in to temptation and copy his notes.
Yeah. I can only guess Stephen Fry has become my subconcious embodiment of knowledge or somesuch, since he pops up in all my school-related dreams.
