Read Time:4 Minute, 36 Second
Emil Indreiten Johansen, 10, was the first to arrive with a friend, but still found himself enduring a lengthy wait to catch the pole lift at Longyearbyen’s new ski hill, since the cluster of oh-so-nearly trained adults to operate it were still at the top of the slope getting final pointers.
But after a three-year wait since the closure of the lift at a hill two kilometers from the one now in the center of town, he didn’t mind the delay – especially since he prefers it to the old one.
About Post Author
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.