True North

February 13th 2023

Das Ganze Feld

Flashback to last weekend: I'm touring icy Ekebergparken, following the blurry "you are here" photo on my phone into untouched fields of snow on the lookout for various sculptures (the cooler the name, the greater the acceptable detour in the woods). I miss cliff sappho, twice, but I think she's just buried under the snow this time of year.
But it's not like there isn't other stuff to make up for it: There's talking lanterns and skeletons and many shiny things.
And, of course, there is one particularly reclusive creature: Ganzfeld by James Turrell, only accessible on sundays, with a guide and woolen slippers.

Our guide leads us into a futuristic looking white room. The walls to either side glow in a soft orange. Only if you walk up to it, there aren't any walls. But there also isn't anything that's not a wall. A small metal-lined edge on the floor lets you know this far and no further, and beyond there is just an absolute void. No structure, no texture, nothing for your eyes to latch onto.
Named after the Ganzfeld Effect, my guide kindly repeats in English after talking to the rest of the group, it is said that staring into the void for half an hour will make you hallucinate.

I dutifully step up the the threshold in my wool slippers and start staring. And if this were a good story, I'd say that this is where it all fell into place. Where I finally knew what I had to do.

But in a move that could be kind or cruel, we are ushered into the next room after five minutes at best.
We also stand on fur-covered benches watching a chiaroscuro sky drip onto the stone floor, but that's another story.
I could also tell you that it all made sense when I saw the idealistic art-deco murals in the town hall showing heroic polar explorers, my big moment underlined by the literal choir singing from some unseen concert hall.
But the truth is, I have had my flights booked for a while now. After realizing that Helsinki is ever so slightly further north than Oslo, making this not the furthest north I have ever been.

True North

So: Tromsø. At 350km north of the arctic circle this is comfortably as far north as I have ever been.

I personally feel like crossing the arctic circle should come with a bit more of a bang to it, but maybe I just missed it dozing off on the flight — I am very much not made for the 5 am lifestyle.

Anyway, there's no radical change here that lets you know you have entered the arctic. It's even quite warm, which is somehow related to the gulf stream, and probably climate change as well.

But it does feel just a bit wilder out here, even if it's just the almost-snow and wind hitting my face exiting the airport.
Fun activities in Tromsø include:
— connect to northernmost eduroam network
— climb thing
— church
There's a cable car here going up to a mountain over the city. It's like 200kr each way though, so no way in hell are we doing that. Not if google tells me I can just walk up comfortably in under an hour.
Google's advice, unfortunately, turns out to be 'just walk straight up underneath the cable car', and soon I'm stuck in knee-deep snow wondering how long I could survive off of my three müsli bars and a clementine.
I eventually make it through some guy's property and onto a barely recognizable path where you don't sink in quite as deeply. There are some other people here, which is nice.
It's a though climb, still, and I'm feeling very sweaty when I finally make it to the café at the top. I promise myself to take the cable car down.
But one hot chocolate later I look at the card reader and, really? 200? for something that gravity will do for free? My phone is at 14% and sunset is a solid half-hour away, so I should be fine, right?
I end up sledding down large parts of the way on my shoes, crouched down low, which quickly alternates between really fun and kinda terrifying. But hey, I make it down. For free. Isn't that something?