Tokyo Damage Report

norway 4

this trip. . . . it is dildos, page 5



wake up at 5 am so i can check out the amazing desert by the airport. It is totally covered with moss and broken rocks but it has a totally different vibe to the other moss-patch!



At the Iceland airport, I return the rental car. Drove like 300 km, not a scratch on it, but came within an inch of getting creamed WHILE PULLING INTO THE DRIVEWAY OF THE . RENTAL CAR AGENCY?some jackass in a rentacar speeding out of the driveway taking up both the in and out lanes!!


The flight from Iceland to Norway was hella uncrowded, but the passengers were noteworthy. There was some hell’s angel dude covered with cryptic tats that were either Viking stuff or secret Aryan brotherhood prison tats or both. Plus some random gargantuan pacific-islander-looking football hooligan dude with just a huge shaved head the approximate shape and size of a cinderblock. Maybe he was an Easter Islander? Most flights I don’t care if I have a window seat anymore, but the view coming in to Bergen airport is just amazing!! You pass over an archipelago of like 1,000 lake islands each of which has a tiny house that you wish was yours.

There was NO CUSTOMS at Norway’s airport. The “nothing to declare” line went straight to the parking lot! Is this an EU thing?


after Iceland, Bergen is such a relief!! no weird uncles smart-eyeing me, no tourist holding pens, but an exciting group of college students and immigrants. I mean there are still lots of tourists but it is not the forlorn leper colony feeling of wreck-a-vic.  Bergen gots of north Africans, Ethiopians, Muslim ladies with the head scarves, Chinese people and Turk-looking-guys.  not so many south Asians or Latinos. What is up with that?? I shouldn’t say it but I will; It is ADORABLE to see nonwhite people speaking English with a Norwegian accent.

if Japanese are the people who bust out an umbrella at the merest hint of rain, Norwegians are the exact opposite — it can be clearly raining and they don’t even care. they have an umbrella but they are like, “what, this? it is nothings.”




Although famous for inventing black metal, there are no concerts in July. I picked the one month that all the metallers are on vacation. Fuck!!


They say that Norse people have become very soft and wimpy since Viking days, but in fact they are looting and pillaging even more nowadays. . . even getting foreigners to come from as far away as china expressly to be pillaged; Bottled water is five dollars.

One beer at a bar is ten dollars. A hotel room that a Japanese would find tiny is a hundred dollars. And why are people lining up to be pillaged by Vikings? SCENERY!!! Other Scandinavian countries like Finland (cell phones and gay porn) or Denmark (Lego) or Sweden (meatballs and straight porn) have famous products but those products actually cost money to make. But Norway? They get their moneymaking products FOR FREE. Glaciers, fjords, mountains! What does it cost them? A photon?? So why is everything so expensive??!??


Basically the only way to stay sane in Norway is to pretend that a kroner is 10 cents instead of like 20.




There is a store called JAPAN CAMERA, and the kanji on their sign is neither “ Japan” nor the kanji for “camera”. Nor the kanji for photo, electronics, or store. The kanji means “thing.” At first I was like, ok that is some pathetic reverse engrish, but on the other hand, wouldn’t it be cool if English stores just had big storesigns that read THINGS ???

and of course. . .


Also a huge poster for something called the KYLLINGBURGER. Even better, the company that makes KYLLINGBURGER is called STABBuet.


Also, remember jotuns? The mythical Norwegian storm-giants that are like 1000 feet tall and always fight thor? Ok, there is a paint store, named Jotun. Their mascot is a penguin. But the penguin IS big. Still, wtf?



  • like all Scandinavians, they are addicted to imported sun-dried tomatoes.
  • They are trampoliners one and all. Norse families got a tramp’ in back of the house the way los angeles people got a pool in back.





Up at 3:30 pm, then go to a terrible Thai restaurant. Once again the so-called spicy food is far from hot, PLUS I ask for water with my food and they bring out one of those 5 dollar bottled waters, like they were back in Thailand and hustling foreign tourists. Plus there is a family right next to me with a totally loud baby that they finish their food and just sit there for like 40 minutes afterwards listening to it yell and make hideous fart noises with its mouth while the rest of us try to overcome our nausea and eat. Then even after they leave, they discover the store’s sandwich-board sign right outside, which the baby hides inside and screams really loud for ANOTHER 5 minutes while they take pictures of it.

I wanted to lean over and tell them, “Dood, you are not the only ones at the restaurant! Don’t act like this is your private room!”

But then they would probably come back with the usual dumb parent excuse, “You can’t criticize us, you have no idea how hard it is to raise a child!”

Which would force me to come back with, “No, I DO know how hard it is to raise a child. That is why I USE A CONDOM.” Which would result in fisticuffs, so I said nothing and paid 5 bucks extra for water.


After that, I hike the hill behind Bergen for 5 hours. On the side of the mountain is a usual “falling rocks beware” sign, on which someone has written “ICP” in what looks like wite-out.

It’s not clear whether the graffitist was expressing their support for the insane clown posse, or indicating that they would like to see the posse crushed by falling rocks, although I would bet the latter.


on the way down the hill, certain parts of the path are almost covered in brown Norwegian slugs. Like hundreds of them. They seem to be converging on, and eating, other brown objects, which I eventually realize are OTHER NORWEGIAN SLUGS that have been stepped on and killed. Who knows how many of the dead slugs THEMSELVES went into the middle of the road to do a cannibal feast and got smooshed? I do not think natural selection will be kind to Norwegian slugs.



Start off by going to the tourist info center. I arrange to rent a car tomorrow. Then I ask the tourist lady where can I rent bikes. She names two places ? FLAM and SONDAL. It turns out flam is accessible by train, so the car will go to waste. On the other hand, the tourist center is full of Japanese people being confused. There is a whole gaggle of cute girls next to me, at the tourist info counter, but by the time I finish my own business, most of them have left. There is one girl remaining so I ask her if I can help translate. She says, ok and then unexpectedly adds, “can I tag along with you today?” I was like, um, if you insist. Turns out she had an ulterior motive: she wanted to ask advice on dealing with her white boyfriend or stalker or whatever he was. Jesus, am i still That Guy?



Have dreams of a transvestite doing karaoke stripping performance to the music of the germs and sex pistols at gilman st.


I get my rentacar from this GIANT Norseman. The dude’s Avis shirt looks big enough to have a circus inside with acrobats swinging from the collar. He is a Big Guy. Midway through the paperwork I find myself speculating about what he needs to do to get laid. Hookers, I assume. Ok, hookers and the hertz dude lying on a super-size bed with his shirt off. A paint-roller and a bucket full of melted cheese. Belly all shaved. A small pyramid of golden belly hairs resting on a small mirror by the bedside table. Oh yeahhhh.


While I am waiting for the car, I see some arab dudes trying to push a broken van into a nearby mechanic’s shop. I help them push it. Maybe this will give me the good karma to turn this trip around.


Anyway, finally I get the car. And Bergen’s weather which has been overcast since I got here finally opens up with rain. I drive for three hours, while steadily hearing the 8-day clock on the car ticking and a mocking voice saying “$100 a day!! $100 a day!!” I am passing incredible mountain and fjord views one after the other but they are each completely ruined by the rain. All taunting me: “Nyah nyah!! It’s going to rain every day that you have this car!! We’ll transform into the perfect hiking spot as soon as your 8 days are up!!! Nyah!! $100 a day!!!”

Plus, the road is full of tunnels. Norwegians are famous for being fearless ocean explorers, so it is weird that their #2 hobby involves dwarf activity. They get tunnels up to 24km long! There is a tunnel every 4 minutes it seems, and each one has its own name written on it. Long tunnels have semi-secret parking lots built into them every kilometer, which seems like it would be a good place to do a illegal dance party or film a porno or do graffiti or etc. also, Norwegians . PASS IN TUNNELS. They PASS YOUR CAR. In America, such an act would go beyond simply crazy or criminal ? it would be TERRORISM. “Oh my god that terrorist must have a fertilizer bomb in his car, THAT CRAZY MAN WILL KILL US ALL AAAAAAAHHh!!!!!” and so on. But it kind of makes sense considering that the tunnels are incredibly long, and they are the only straight roads in Norway!


The town I stay in tonight is called f-l-a-umlaut-m . disappointingly, the umlaut is NOT pronounced with an “ehh” sound.

Check into the only hotel in town, and buy internet from an unbelievably hot but stuck-up American girl, and check the internet weather: I was NOT being pessimistic earlier; it really IS supposed to rain for the next 6 days nonstop!! But, for now the rain let up, so I go for a pre-dinner walk through the small valley and have my first stress-free fun of the day. I hike and think of freestyles I could have busted to the cute internet clerk girl, if I was 2 guys.


I forgot most of it but here is what I remember of the first scenario.


She: where are you from?

Guy 1: the sucker free, baby!


Guy 2: man, don’t use teen slang, you’re like my grand pop

You’re embarrassing trying to be hip hop

Like a forty year old still sticking to death rock

Hair ratted on the sides and bald on the top

You’re awkward


Guy 1: I ain’t awkward; I mock words.

To be precise, yours! You youngster, you are no mic controlla

Still sucking on your mom’s areolas

Us old guys were the original rap inventors

Come back when you get rid of your placenta


Guy 2: don’t talk that yang, you’re not at all hard

I’ll kick your ass from here to Svalbard

You ain’t no ice pirate.

You’re a a soft suburb dad, nice and quiet. Give up!

You can’t improve rap, just worsen it,

I’ll lock you in a stave church and straightup burzum it.


After that rap kind of ran out of steam, i cogitated another:


She: here is your change.

Guy 2: thanks! Where are you from?


Guy 1: man, give up , she ain’t trying to talk to you.

Sure as hell ain’t trying to jocking you


2: get you, with your rotten rhyming

trying to impress young chicks that still got a hymen

with your old nasty ass

you know you cried when megan’s law pass


1: exscuse me miss,

he ain’t usually like this

he ain’t used to females he gets over excited

he at that awkward age, all “why my body start to change?”

spends his days looking at a questionable web page


guy 2: your insults ain’t even hurting me

did he tell you about his genital reassignment surgery?

He used to be a ballerina name bernadet

By the way has your crotch stopped burnin yet?

He got a rash from a chick in Amsterdam

That was obviously half a man

Hairy ass and a huge Adams apple

Breath that smelled like scrapple


Guy 1: man don’t talk about your mom like that it is disrespectful

Besides this young lady don’t want to hear you talk so sexual

She very young and innocent,

Sorry ma’am he ain’t take his medicine

Plus he off his meds and on hella mescaline

Plus smoking crystal meth again


Guy 2: you’re the one who’s high if you think you can beat me

I’ll embarrass you in front of this girl, you should leave discreetly

Before security escorts you out of the building

Besides she wouldn’t kiss your for a million

Kroners, because you collect old ladies’ choners.


Plus I find a 40-ounce bottle thrown away in the grass next to the trail: ODIN PILSNER.

below, snapshots of Flam:



this trip. . . . it is dildos, page 6



I am about to start the epic bike ride though mountain valleys. I gotta pack light, because I will be riding a bike and can only carry one backpack’s worth of stuff. So, I take my big huge parka, the one that I’ve been lugging everywhere and almost never using, and put it in the car trunk.


I take a forty dollar train ride to a town called myrtle, where it is freezing. The one time I DO need my coat, and I don’t have it!! Or my gloves!! After all this I gotta cancel my epic bike ride!!! Have to take ANOTHER $40 train ride back to the hotel, and spend the whole ride thinking, “I just can’t do this another day! I can’t live like this with the constant helplessness and chaos, the carefully laid plans destroyed by one unknown but important fact, never knowing where I am going to sleep that night, if I will make the last ferryboat (is it at 5 pm? Midnight? Who knows?!?), and paying like $300 a day for the privilege of this situation!!!” it is like, not just the bike ride fiasco but the whole general vacation stress all comes crashing in on my head. I resolve to go back to the hotel and get hammered in my room. No more taking risks and nomore stress. No more worrying how much everything costs. No more TRYING. Just drink ? I know I’ll succeed at THAT. I decide to get RGB: Re Grettably Drunk. (When you hurl, you can call that RGB COLOR.)



Feeling a little cheered up by the prospect of success, I go to the town store, only to find a sign in the window saying NO ALCOHOL SOLD ON SUNDAYS. Jesus, here I am at my wit’s end, having the worst day, and I picked THE ONE DAY A WEEK when I could not find booze to help me cope!! Trying to maintain a mature adult attitude and not flip out, I walk unsteadily to the tourist center and ask about renting a bike HERE, and riding UPHILL to Myrdall. Better than nothing. The fat towheaded neckbeard bike dude who clearly hates his job takes me round back and shows me the last unrented bike. He says try it out. I say, with typical Japanese ways, “that could be a little difficult”: the last bike has a flat tire. He declines to fix it, requesting that instead rent one of 3 “super deluxe bikes” that cost more than my car to rent for 1 day!!


Right when I am about to explode, my sheer stubbornness kicks in. meeeh! Forget about it! I’ll walk the whole way. Fuck these tourist pillaging Viking towheads. Fuck the weather. And especially fuck ME for always getting into these situations to begin with; I’ll walk until I hurt so bad I just don’t worry about any of this anymore.


Turns out, though, the weather gets pretty good (i.e. bad but not actually raining for once). Plus the hike is beautiful and my hatred just melts away. Maybe I DID get good karma yesterday! I hike 9 hours and 22 km. I have enough food, drink, and coats!

hella waterfalls up in here. there are places on the river where you can hear the roar and actually feel the violence through your feet. it has such power when it’s squeezed into a small channel. . . .like a wet bomb.


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