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Posts tagged as “Fruene”

AND SO IT BEGINS…AGAIN: Library ends ‘self-serve’ hours, Svalbardhallen closes pool, Fruene may halt serving due to two-meter distancing, Kroa shuts due to new COVID-19 crackdown

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Read Time:3 Minute, 49 Second

Lots of people are being vaccinated and lots of leaders are simply declaring the COVID-19 crisis over regardless of evidence. But on Thursday morning in Longyearbyen it felt a lot like the onset of the pandemic a year ago as lots of organizations and businesses announced closures, limited operations and warnings as a new set of nationwide preventative measures took effect.

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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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FRESHLY FRUENE: Cafe reopens with more ‘airy’ feel, additional seating and upgraded kitchen with after month-long renovation

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Read Time:3 Minute, 41 Second

Trygve Harald Amundsen, 73, reentered the cafe where he has drank coffee with a group of friends every morning for the past ten years and, after a look around the once-familiar space that has literally been turned sideways after a month-long renovation, picked out after a momentary glance a long table near the new counter where they’ll gather from now on.

“It’s nice,” he said while paying for his coffee while nodding an inquisitive colleague toward their new table. “We have our special space back.”

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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FAREWELL TO FRUENE AS WE KNOW IT: New Year’s Eve is the final day for the familiar cafe before it undergoes a complete month-long upgrade

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Read Time:3 Minute, 33 Second

Fruene, the landmark 16-year-old cafe that is the last “untouched” space in the renovated Lompensenteret shopping center, will close its familiar space for the last time at 4 p.m. on New Year’s Eve in preparation for a complete redesign expected to take about a month to complete.

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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