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Posts published in September 2017

Random weirdness for the week of Sept. 26, 2017

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Read Time:4 Minute, 22 Second

Hmmm…this week we’ve got the military strutting its stuff in our non-militarized haven, the mayor worrying tourism will soon be as unpopular as mining (at a time when many local pols are rooting for boom times in both industries) and outrage in Hong Kong about the exorbitant prices of our local “super premium” Svalbarði bottled glacier water. So which to lead off with? Well, since a real newspaper would go with the item most likely to significantly affect the most people reading this (and in this case the plural reference may be overly optimistic), we’re obviously starting with the water weirdness…

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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Briefs from Svalbardposten for the week of Sept. 26, 2017

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Read Time:1 Minute, 49 Second

Final fate of Svea and Lunckefjell mines may be determined Oct. 12
The few employees left at Svea will learn if the government supports resuming operations at the coal mine, as well as the one nearby at Lunckefjell, when the proposed national budget for 2018 is submitted Oct. 12.

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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A cool childhood: Popsicles on a freezing boat perfectly normal, fresh milk and mangled mushrooms are bizarre as a typical small-town youth in Barentsburg

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Read Time:4 Minute, 36 Second

Diana Kurtyak, 8, has been living in Barentsburg since about the time her hometown in the Ukraine was overrun by rebels three years ago. But while she says she enjoys being with friends at her tiny school and misses relatives back home, the strangest part about her new life has to do with birds.

“It’s very strange I’ve seen some sparrows flying here because it’s very cold and it’s strange they’re flying here,” she said via an interpreter.

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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Polar bear ransacks cabins at Kapp Laila; officials tranquilize it and fly it far north

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Read Time:1 Minute, 44 Second

A polar bear that ransacked several cabins at Kapp Laila was tranquilized and flown by helicopter to Nordaustlandet on Friday, according to The Governor 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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ALERT: SAS strike cancelled at last moment, extra Svalbard flight scheduled to help cancer patient

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Read Time:1 Minute, 13 Second

A full-scale strike by Scandinavian Airlines pilots in Norway was averted as the last moment, but that was still too late for Jørn Dybdahl, a Longyearbyen resident whose Thursday flight to Oslo to receive cancer treatment was cancelled. So Dybdahl, never one to shy from expressing his views, expressed his frustration to one of Norway’s biggest newspapers – and helped 112 other travelers stranded here by doing so.

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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BREAKING: SAS pilots threaten to strike starting Thursday; local concert cancelled, weekend events face uncertainty

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Read Time:2 Minute, 11 Second

A threat by Scandinavian Airlines pilots to escalate a strike starting Thursday has resulted in the cancellation of a tour-opening concert by a Norwegian band that evening and may disrupt other events scheduled this weekend – plus, of course, travelers and businesses.

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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1,600-liter barrel of diesel captured on film as it falls from governor’s helicopter into sea near Pyramiden

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A 1,600-liter barrel of diesel fell from a helicopter into the water near Pyramiden while it being carried by one of The Governor of Svalbard’s aircraft, with those transporting the fuel lacking the equipment to contain the spill before it dispersed into the sea, according to officials.

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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Random weirdness for the week of Sept. 12, 2017

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Read Time:5 Minute, 28 Second

The sight of gunshot-riddled reindeer carcasses hanging from what’s normally a swing set at Kullungen Kindergarten is yet another reminder Svalbard is a right-wing conservative haven, no matter what stereotypes they have about Norway being an Arctic version of North Korea.

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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Steal-A-Meal: Living on ‘stolen’ bread crusts, cheese and waffles? It’s possible. Here’s the next-best legal thing

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Read Time:10 Minute, 35 Second

A week’s worth of thick-cut oats and raisins: 33 kroner. A week’s worth of tomato/pasta soup and bread: 32 kroner. A week’s worth of spaghetti, jars of marinara and pesto sauce, and brussels sprouts hey, they’re now haute cuisine when they’re roasted): 51 kroner.

Or, if that’s too extravagant, just buy one of those five-kilogram bags of jasmine rice for 40 kroner and indulge in a healthy third-world diet for a month.

And if even that is too profligate, there’s always the crusts and other stray pieces of fresh bread people leave behind in the slicer.

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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