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Posts tagged as “Knut Fossum”

Don’t have a cow: Hemlock’s visual twin among plant species invading Svalbard, threatening native flora

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It may not be the poison of Socrates, but it might as well be as far as the local plants are concerned.

A plant in Barentsburg known as a cow parsley – a near-visual twin of Hemlock – was one of three alien species removed in recent days by environmental and conservation advisors for The Governor of Svalbard. The officials also found a dooryard dock outside the governor’s office and a meadow buttercup at Longyearbyen Kindergarten.

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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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Briefs from Svalbardposten for the week of June 16, 2015

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Read Time:1 Minute, 34 Second

Nordstjernen again cruising in Svalbard after overhaul  
The Nordstjernen, a 59-year-old ship that supposedly departed Svalbard for good in 2012, is again taking tourists on cruises this summer in the archipelago after getting extensive refurbishments.  returns with millions in refurbishments.

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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