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Posts published in “Day: September 8, 2016

BREAKING: Official assessment of avalanche praises rescue efforts, but says many preparatory deficiencies need fixing

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Read Time:1 Minute, 34 Second

Rescuers and others involved in the massive avalanche last Dec. 19 essentially did the best they could with the resources they had. But there are things that could have been done beforehand and should now be done to minimize the impact of similar snowslides in the future.

Those findings highlight the official report about the avalanche by the Norwegian Directorate for Civil Protection, which assesses the response to the avalanche, and if there are people or agencies that were negligent in taking proper preparatory measures. The report, released Wednessday, offers what local officials and Norwegian media deemed a praiseworthy judgement.

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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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Motherland lode: Barentsburg salutes its workers with food, music and frivolity during annual Miners’ Day party

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Read Time:2 Minute, 30 Second

On a day saluting the work of the miners, all work stopped except for tourism activity – and those poor folks couldn’t find more than 15 minutes to join the party and eat something.

Meanwhile, everyone else partied from morning until late afternoon during the annual Miners’ Day celebration last Saturday in Barentsburg.

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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Ocean ambassadors: What on Earth makes Swiss sailors leave the comfort of their lakes for Svalbard’s icy waves?

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Read Time:6 Minute, 24 Second

A few years ago, a Swiss couple, engraver Mélina Repond and photographer Benjamin Ruffieux bought a sailing boat. Her name, Knut, predestined her to make a journey another Knut will never do: leaving the inappropriately temperate and noisy European continent for the welcoming cold and quiet shores of Svalbard.

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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