Tag Archives: Gamle Sykehuset
Briefs from Svalbardposten for the week of Feb. 5, 2019
Briefs from Svalbardposten for the week of Jan. 15, 2019

Owner still hoping for alternative heating in new building despite city mandate
A new office/warehouse building in the seaside area of Longyearbyen that hoped to implement an alternative environmentally friendly heating is being told it must still hook up to the city’s central heating system at a cost of 150,000 kroner – but the owners said they still plan to follow through on their intentions.
Briefs from Svalbardposten for the week of Dec. 19, 2017
Wasted on cracks: One year after hasty evacuation of Gamle Sykehuset evacuees’ hopes crumbing with the building

(Author’s note: I planned to write a “straight” news article about last year’s sudden and drastic evacuation of Gamle Sykehuset, but this week’s avalanche and my once again going through what I did in that building sort of screwed that up. These are my thoughts as one of the evacuees a year later supplemented with factual updates from Svalbardposten, which did exceptional coverage despite being swamped with the avalanche. You’ll have to buy a 30-kroner daypass to read it, but since I’m quoting it I obviously consider it worthy.)
A year after being hastily forced out of my home permanently for the first time, only one thing is certain: the living room of the flat I was in must be pretty drafty during storms these days.
Random weirdness for the week of Oct. 25, 2016

For those 30 folks (including our vagabond editor) who got hastily tossed out of Gamle Sickhuset this year because the building was unsafe, get ready for your revenge. No, there’s still no payout from any of the parties that allowed that clusterchuck to happen. But they’ll be able to use the collapsing former hospital as a demolision target and/or crash barrier in the upcoming video game Asphalt Xtreme.
Rant: ‘You may want to go home’ – for the last time; two hours of hell and angels evacuating Gamle Sykehuset

I’m throwing clothing, books, computers, musical instruments, cables and who knows what else wildly about in my three-room flat, not caring where any of it lands except for those things I most desperately want to keep or think I can sell. With no time to hunt for empty boxes, I’m tossing everything I value most in my life in grocery bags that are carried out by people who are largely strangers to me, but are rallying to my aid in an ultimate moment of crisis.
Maybe what I’ll remember most about being forced to permanently evacuate my apartment building on two hours’ notice is those black reusable cloth grocery bags with a “Svalbardbuttikken” logo on them. Dozens of them, piled in a corner of my bedroom where I was using them as the base of a nightstand (a throwback to my college days when milk crates were my bookshelves).