dualsunset

Random weirdness for the week of Aug. 25, 2015

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Always eager to point out our stupidity before either of our readers get a chance, take a moment to look at the weather forecast on page 3. Did it take longer than three seconds to spot what’s amiss. Yup – we’re publishing as fact that Longyearbyen will have two sunsets on Wednesday. That might seem impossible unless you’re living on Tatooine, but remember the last sunset here was nearly four months ago. But the end of the polar summer has arrived and the double sunset marks the beginning of those two months where the sky gods torture our body clocks before plunging us into total darkness. For those new to the phenomena, be sure to check out the other sunrise/sunset times during the rest of the week since that’s when the change is most extreme …

The end of summer also means the beginning of school, which means that in addition to the usual welcoming speeches pupils of all ages are heading out into the hills for activities definitely not approved by the helicopter parent brigade. The preschoolers have their own reindeer hunting quota, Camp Svalbard has a permit this year for the teenagers there this week and Svalbard Turn also has a new permit as part of a new “locally sourced” food project. The UNIS students, while not being subject to fraternity hazing, will also be toting guns and going for polar dips in “highly attractive orange survival suits, which make you look like a Teletubbie that’s had a horrible fake-tanning accident,” according to a diary by Camilla Rootes describing the field school (tinyurl.com/p9oog3c).

About Post Author

Mark Sabbatini

I'm a professional transient living on a tiny Norwegian island next door to the North Pole, where once a week (or thereabouts) I pollute our extreme and pristine environment with paper fishwrappers decorated with seemingly random letters that would cause a thousand monkeys with a thousand typewriters to die of humiliation. Such is the wisdom one acquires after more than 25 years in the world's second-least-respected occupation, much of it roaming the seven continents in search of jazz, unrecognizable street food and escorts I f****d with by insisting they give me the platonic tours of their cities promised in their ads. But it turns out this tiny group of islands known as Svalbard is my True Love and, generous contributions from you willing, I'll keep littering until they dig my body out when my climate-change-deformed apartment collapses or they exile my penniless ass because I'm not even worthy of washing your dirty dishes.
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