The metal beast thrashed violently through metres below, steel on steel screeching receding down the tunnel followed by a sharp intake of breath, a chill wind pulled through from the portal not far up the tunnel. In the deathly silence after I slowly drifted back into sleep when another train raced through and I was torn awake yet again. Like some malevolent torture this continued on and on in a delirious half consciousness punctated by moments of thunder and thrashing, then a few minutes of shallow sleep.
pic: snappel
Marshall and snappel slept beside me, tucked away on a small elevated walkway bridging the two platforms of Oslo's abandoned metro station Valkyrie Plass. What might have been an hour before, shortly after climbing into our thick down bags and bedding down, tracks workers walked through the underground station just below us, meandering about the platforms going about their business. Huddled deep into our sleeping bags we had no choice but to wait and hope they left. In time they did and sleep came for a brief time until the trains began.
pic: snappel
Grim and filthly though our makeshift accomodation was the alternative, sleeping outside in -20, was far worse. We passed the day by wandering around the city, sniping uneaten chicken nuggets from fast food restaurant tables and considering that being homeless anywhere would suck, being so in Scandinavia is seemingly whole 'nother class of shite. At first glace this probably comes across as kids-playing-weekend-homeless but it's more complex than that. Sure we could have afforded a hostel but it's more fun to travel in a manner which puts you closer to the city, where not only do you see the sights but you evaluate all of them as potential places to sleep. Call it urban-camping or prohobo or whatever you want it's part of a game to find the best place to sleep in the circumstances. Try find a good place for a night, then a week, then a month, you're one short jump from being a squatter and reappropriating a small piece of urban space for a new purpose.
pic: snappel
The following evening, having been kicked out of central station for napping on the benches, with nowhere else to stay we crept into the tunnels after the last train passed and bedded down. In a few brief hours the track workers came once more, followed by the trains.
pic: snappel
pic: snappel
Marshall and snappel slept beside me, tucked away on a small elevated walkway bridging the two platforms of Oslo's abandoned metro station Valkyrie Plass. What might have been an hour before, shortly after climbing into our thick down bags and bedding down, tracks workers walked through the underground station just below us, meandering about the platforms going about their business. Huddled deep into our sleeping bags we had no choice but to wait and hope they left. In time they did and sleep came for a brief time until the trains began.
pic: snappel
Grim and filthly though our makeshift accomodation was the alternative, sleeping outside in -20, was far worse. We passed the day by wandering around the city, sniping uneaten chicken nuggets from fast food restaurant tables and considering that being homeless anywhere would suck, being so in Scandinavia is seemingly whole 'nother class of shite. At first glace this probably comes across as kids-playing-weekend-homeless but it's more complex than that. Sure we could have afforded a hostel but it's more fun to travel in a manner which puts you closer to the city, where not only do you see the sights but you evaluate all of them as potential places to sleep. Call it urban-camping or prohobo or whatever you want it's part of a game to find the best place to sleep in the circumstances. Try find a good place for a night, then a week, then a month, you're one short jump from being a squatter and reappropriating a small piece of urban space for a new purpose.
pic: snappel
The following evening, having been kicked out of central station for napping on the benches, with nowhere else to stay we crept into the tunnels after the last train passed and bedded down. In a few brief hours the track workers came once more, followed by the trains.
pic: snappel
Hobo holidays are the best... other than the crap sleeping and shite food 
