Alright, i’ve got this shitty tent (it was clearly a chinese revenge on wealthy europeans to whom all theses plastic shits were being shipped day by day for crappy paper-money). Did i mention i got it from the mall after Thord helped me when I was in distress mode: Come on, Universe, please help me! Let me know I am not alone! He gave me a lift to a nearest shop, at the same time laughing at me. He was like “what the heck, you’re 27 you and don’t have any money, no girlfriend, no job?”. Later he introduced me to his employees, some of whom were Poles too. For them it was obvious I was a fruitcake. I am not. Nevermind. It seems now as if it was so long ago.
When you are on your own you really can feel the fullness of life. The time slows down, it bends your mind and your german-geist spine. I mean, look around, all this thought system was build more or less in protestant Germany. Slavic people are much more moment-oriented, kind of improvisers. We are, along with Russians, the jazz musicians of the nations. Anyways, i woke up in this shelter (which is already soaking wet and did I mention it gives no protection from wind whatsoever?) and got no cigs. Not even one cancerogenic little heaven!  Shit, you got to put yourself in my shoes- when i got no cigarettes I can’t think properly. Also: i am addicted to sugar-rich, H3PO4 mixture known worldwide as cola. Just the red one, no stinking pepsi crap. Although I am a heavy addict (just these two substances), it is nothing compared to what i saw in Odda. But first things first.
So I woke up in this plastic rag, already filled with the stench of my feet. No cigs. No food. With the reputation of a thief I was the poor lad that ‘ve got robbed by a psychopath. He took my food rations. As long as I can recall he counted every couple of earned NOK joking ruthless about Poles getting pocket change for the work back in Poland. I think he stole the money from himself and forgot about it. Whatever, man, whatever.

Hardanger Fjord

Alrighty then, I took the tent got on my feet and went to a roadside bar. Couldn’t get any tobacco for my remaining 100NOK (I was short 7NOK) so i went for food. You get the idea how addicted I am? Like the Maslow’s hierarchy of needs should have been updated for me. But the venue’s owner, Maria, who looked at me (I must’ve looked wasted and so was my spirit) with a sort of condescending concern and compassion, gave me 200NOK. Still in the game, huh?
The game of cigarettes! Maybe you know how cigarettes became so popular among the men of America? The tobacco companies got themselves a lot of government contracts for this kind of cancerogenic love. That’s how Lucky Strike made a shitload of money. Then came Edward Bernays with his propaganda. His task was to sell this toxic crap to woman. That is how femme fatale archetype was born. The slick vamp with a slim cigarette.
Back on the road. I am trying to catch any lift in whatever direction- frankly- i don’t give a shit. Yeah, where to go? There’s nothing except the friggin’ Norway around here. After a while I was in Utne. Spent the money for coke, cigs and a ferry ticket. Kinsarvik. Cool. The owner of a campsite down there lets me pitch my tent for now. I’m gonna go look for a job.
I mean really, look how far I’ve got since morning. Something was pending  and i didn’t know things can get worse in such a simple manner. Or, eventually – better. I’ve found some bananas. Godlike taste if you are hungry. Meh, it is all the matter of perception. I laugh at how soft I were a couple years before when the experiences haven’t carved me yet. There is no turning back. Also: the sensation of time. It is so relative!
So I was walking down the street and knocking to every door with an honest offer – I will work for money. The time was running out slowly as I came nearer to the dusk. Eventually, somebody opened and…
I’ve got work to do. It was Leif. A big guy. He told me to come back tomorrow.
And this is the moment things got worse. Another day I was praising the day before. Why? I WAS ALL FRIGGIN’ WET. My shoes, my pretty new shoes were giving me the impression I was walking on two sponges.  I mean; God, COME ON. But it was nothing. Now i know it was only a dance lesson. Dance bitch, dance to the harmony of the universe. Shit. Obviously, I had no breakfast at all.
Leif really helped me out. He gave me 500NOK in advance before I started painting his house and then he went on a trip. Of course, I ran (!) to the nearest shop. Coke, cigs. My damned shoes were completely wet. Fuck it, right: I am young and strong and the pioneers of this land haven’t even had any cigarettes. Or have they?
After three days in these boots (“Whatever you do, take care of your shoes” like that old band Phish used to teach me back in the days) I’ve got a call from my friend – Ewa Zielonka. She gave me boots stained with paint but DRY. (another great person. Gotta chant “I go by with a little help from my friends”. Seriously, I would be dead already if not them. LOVE YOU MY SWEET LITTLE ANGELS! : ***). Shit I am going insane. Too much pressure without fucking credit powered coma. I will get back to that.
Even the owner of the campsite allowed me to stay there.

Since then, Ewa helped me a lot. She feeds me everyday- I mean, seriously, i am like her cat… Good, but it isn’t the way to get your wallet stuffed with cash. Got to find the job, anyhow.
In the meantime I went back to Thord with a rant about the tent. Maybe I was too harsh (I was like “What was your purpose, you want to kill me with this tent man?”) but I showed him this page and the movie about my camp life in the wild and he offered me that he will help me to get success in Oslo. I hope I will not cock it up.
Also: I’ve met some Christians who were playing improvised melancholic music. I’ve made a movie with GoPro bought for money from donation button on this blog. So, I am no longer a filmmaker without the camera, THANKS TO MY UNBELIEVABLE LUCK TO ENDURE SHIT HAPPENING TO ME. And also thanks to the kindness of good people all over the Europe.

The thing is: Money does not make you happy. Not at all. It took me so long to get the concept, but even if you have a lot of this funny papers and childplay coins different colors, patterns and sizes – You are still in huge trouble of being a stranger in a strange land. Why? People made this beautiful, most astonishing and breathtaking planet a hellhole for themselves. Look around: the happiest woman I’ve met in Norway (I’m not gonna name the names), I mean at first glance the girl looked to me as a fountain of joy. After a while of conversation she told me she hates her life and wants to end it. Also – credit. A lot of enterprises here (often on this planet) are credit-fueled. Even being an owner you still got to do a shitload of work. O fcourse back in the days land and water was for free. Clean air. The basics.
So, they got their money but they don’t have a tranquility. I’ve got my serenity though. I am happy to live, to be here and that I’ve met all this people. My friends. Living in the wildlife I spotted that I am not affected by the harsh conditions and theoretically hostile environment. I got my inner peace.
If it wasn’t for the goddamn cigarettes… It is my last little prison, and i don’t even like to smoke. How it comes to be?

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