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Posts tagged as “Sval and Bard”

‘Not a people zoo’ – locals peeved at tourists peering and peeing at cabins near town

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Read Time:3 Minute, 21 Second

OK, let’s try this again: Just because locals are living the wild life doesn’t make them wildlife.

Numerous complaints about tourists – and maybe even a rogue tour guide or two – intruding on private cabins (occupied and not) have been voiced in recent weeks, with visitors doing everything from barging in uninvited to using them as wind screens while answering the call of nature. While cabin owners say the problem isn’t new, or necessarily increasing, there is concern efforts by the tourism industry to educate visitors about proper behavior don’t always seem to be taking hold.

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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Chillingly clueless: Svalbard’s 10 strangest stories of 2015

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Read Time:10 Minute, 13 Second

Which is stranger: a year where parasitic wasps went on a killing spree or the year that actually happened? Yeah, we’re not sure either.

All we know is both versions of Svalbard will be back – and probably even stranger – next year.

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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Dishonorable mention: We watch and rank every episode of ‘Sval and Bard’ so you don’t have to

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Read Time:7 Minute, 18 Second

The temptation to use the moronic cliché “so bad it’s good” (and vice-versa) with great repetition is powerful since, as with anime porn, the more evil the better.

But “Sval and Bard” deserve better since – even at their good-bad moments (the kind where their lack of badness is not good, which we’re sure sounds confusing to nobody) – they deserve a spot somewhere in Svalbard’s Video Hall of Fame.

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 Oct. 27, 2015

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Read Time:1 Minute, 51 Second

It’s good to be bad, at least according to the early raves for our newly arrived troublemakers Sval and Bard. The duo, who first appeared last week and are planning on spending the next month violating every common sense rule in the book (and surviving the consequences with a resilience that makes Wile E. Coyote seem fragile), got mauled by reindeer and mummified in bird droppings this week but – setting aside the very real danger of such things happening in real life – it’s apparently up to us to be the harsh critics who call out the creators of the stop-motion series for the fictional liberties they’re taking.

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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Penal pals: ‘Sval and Bard’ show visitors how to commit Svalbard’s ten deadly sins by acting like total wankers

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Read Time:2 Minute, 35 Second

They arrive in Svalbard after one sticks his head out of a plane, causing the resulting suction to send them plummeting 10,000 meters into a glacier they demolish a hefty portion of. So, yeah, they merit a place somewhere in the ranks of Svalbard’s most clueless tourists in recent years.

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. 22, 2015

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Read Time:2 Minute, 5 Second

These guys are supposed to be our new role models for proper behavior in Svalbard. What’s wrong with this picture?

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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