Barentsburg, a vibrant town close to the North Pole

“There used to be quite a problem with alcohol here, you know. But now it is not so bad. The miners can only buy one bottle of vodka a month”. We were on a guided tour in Barentsburg, and the young girl from St. Petersburg showed us the old crooked buildings of the Russian town on Svalbard. Compared to Longyearbyen, I found the town surprisingly green and colorful. Geeba and her roomie took pictures of dandelions and the grass that grew along the road.  

Our guide informed us that there are 350 Ukrainians that live here, and the remaining 100 are Russian. There is a school+kindergarten with 30 kids and 3 teachers. The hospital looked ancient on the outside, and we were told it isn’t any better on the inside. But they now have a dentist in addition to the doctor and two nurses. Barentsburg still looks like a soviet republic with commie posters and slogans everywhere. They even sold artifacts from the soviet area.

As we walked with the guide, people of Barentsburg flocked around us, yet they pretended to have an errand somewhere. We took a look in a souvenir shop and bought knitted gloves. Geeba’s roommate had been to Barentsburg on a snowmobile trip six months earlier, and she told us tales of the nasty swimming pool in the sports centre. We smiled at the guy in the entrance and were let in to look around. According to the guide, swimming is a popular spare time activity for miners. The water was thick with algae and there were little bobbles of air coming up from the green mud. What really did us in was the floating devise for little kids at the edge of the pool. Is this pool used in gym classes for the young ones?

The boat trip to Barentsburg lasted all day. We stopped by a glacier and let off a group of French kayakers (they were going on a 20 day adventure trip in Svalbard). The weather was amazing, no clouds on the sky and sun shining brightly. The night before we’d played some board games and close to finished a 3-liter-box of wine. Needless to say, after taking a few pictures of the mountains, birds and water, we laid down to rest.

Angry arctic birds

“Why lock the door? Someone might want to get in?” my friend answered when I inquired about the house door. People of Svalbard often leave their car keys in the ignition as well. Someone might need to borrow their car and locking it would just cause problems. The only time Geeba locks her house is when a cruise ship is in town, because tourists tend to think this is an exhibition island. A girl she knows came downstairs one morning and found a drunken tourist asleep on her sofa.

Earlier today I went for a walk along a shallow stream while Geeba was at work. The road was paved, but there were clay foundations on both sides of the road. I brought a skiing pole as I had been advised, and I felt quite stupid until an arctic tern flew towards me. I automatically lifted my pole and the tern flew off. Some Dutch tourists pointed and took pictures; I smiled, nodded and kept walking.

This is what Wikipedia says about the arctic tern: “It is one of the most aggressive terns, fiercely defensive of its nest and young. It will attack humans and large predators, usually striking the top or back of the head. Although it is too small to cause serious injury, it is still capable of drawing blood.” I walked on with the pole over my head, cute little angry birds flying on and on above my head. They made little screaming sounds and I tried to get through their hatching areas as fast as possible. Suddenly my phone went off, and I stopped to answer it.

 A few years ago I subscribed to Aftenposten, Norway’s largest newspaper, and one of their salesmen was now interested in getting me back, offering me an 11 week highly reduced subscription. After listening to him for a little while, I interrupted and said: “I am sorry it’s hard to concentrate right now, I’m on vacation in Svalbard and I’m being attacked by artic birds. I really do like your paper, so please continue to talk to me.” Starting Saturday I will have the newspaper delivered to our door.

I didn’t want to talk back through the area with arctic terns, so Geeba came in her borrowed car and took me for a drive as far as the road goes east. We drove past deserted coal mines and research stations, satellite receivers and up a gravel mountain. What a landscape! No green anywhere, beautiful clouds and an amazingly fresh daylight.

First impressions of Svalbard

The first thing that struck me about Svalbard was the dry air. I got off the plane, tucked my fleece jacket closer around me and breathed in air that felt like a cough. Geeba was waiting in the terminal, and when I saw her, I started jumping up and down. I enjoy making people jealous of the hugs from my loved ones.  A taxidermist polar bear was standing where the baggage claim area was, and we were giddy and joked about how easily you could throat punch that creature. (Later she showed me the .45 caliber ammo that would kill an attacking polar bear, picture to the right.)

In Svalbard there are no taxes on alcohol, gas and cigarettes. A bottle of wine starts at 40 NOK (70 on the mainland), a liter of benzene is 7 NOK (14-15 at home) and a 20 pack of cigarettes cost 14 – fourteen - 14 NOK. Fourteen Norwegian kroner! What an incentive to pick up smoking. I believe the price is between 80 and 90 at home. Food is expensive due to shipping costs.

Traditionally the mine workers weren’t allowed to drink themselves senseless, so the governor issued rationing cards for liquor. I guess that was a clever thing to do back then. Turns out it still is a smart thing to do. The people of Svalbard still have a yearly alcohol card stating how much beer, strong wine and spirits they are allowed to buy each month. There is no limit to the amount of wine you can buy, and Geeba and I spent hours drinking red wine and catching up last night.

Geeba just went out to deal with some stuff at work, she’ll be back in an hour or so. She instructed me how to get to a walking trail below this row of houses. “Go past the Research Institute, down the gravel road and to the right. You’re not allowed to walk past the Polar Bear Sign! And oh, there are some crazy birds on that road, so wear a hat and bring a skiing pole.” She clarified that the pole was not for hitting, but for holding over your head so the birds can attack the highest point.

Northern Norway-bound

This, our little country is so big! I’m currently in the airport in Tromsø, waiting for a late night plane to Longyearbyen, Svalbard. Judging by the mumbling couples around me, I will be flying with a lot of German tourists. It is 10 pm a Sunday in August, and the sun is still shining brightly on the perky snowspotted mountains outside the window. This is so beautiful! I called Min and excitedly told him I was buying ice cream because it’s sunny out.


Most of my previous travelling has taken place in the south of Norway, between West and East; flights with less than an hour duration. I have been to Tromsø once, celebrating New Year’s with a friend whose family lives here. That time there was no sun, just a few hours of daylight from noon till 2pm. One day we overslept the light, and most of our time we walked from café to café in a Christmas decorated downtown.

I have another 2 hour flight ahead of me. Looking at a map, it seems Iceland lies very south compared to Svalbard. Is Iceland really south of the Arctic Circle? I talked to a woman from Alta on the plane; she had been to a blues festival outside of Oslo. It amazes me how big this country is. “Mitt lille land” (my little country) is a phrase people have tattooed to their skin after the massacre July 22^nd. Our country is bigger than I’ve thought, and though the population up north is sparse, we’re all Norwegian.

I think this flight is going to be as full as the other two I’ve been on tonight. More Germans with lots of handluggage. I am going to eavesdrop and perhaps take part in the conversations.