martinemonster (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
martinemonster) wrote2008-05-16 12:55 pm
martinemonster) wrote2008-05-16 12:55 pm
Entry tags:
Big city life
As most of you know, I grew up in a lovely little town right outside Oslo, where the grass was greener, the birds sang more cheerfully and whatever else one says of the countryside to try and convince oneself that kids grow up to be happier and more well-adjusted if you keep them out of big cities. And though we lie about a lot of the good stuff about growing up outside of Oslo to make ourselves feel better about it, one thing is for certain: it makes me grateful to live in the city center now.
In Holmestrand everyone knew everyone, and that meant that there was very little wriggle room for any anti-social behavior. Everyone not only knew who the drunken bastard who hung out at the docks, but why he started drinking and what happened to his wife and kids. But in Oslo, there is room for the crazies to just be crazies. The drunken old weirdo who lives across the street who I'm quite sure likes to stare at me either because he's seen me running through the apartment naked or because he wants to kill me, is just that. I don't know his family or go to school with his sister. It's the same with the crazy guy who dresses in something in between a dress and a sheet who rides his bike to our local shop to buy his food every day. Sure, I have to interact with them, and they're definitely weird, but at the same time it leaves a lot of room to be slightly weird without anyone noticing or caring about it. Nobody's gonna mention to my mom when they meet at the grocery shop that I went shopping in a bathrobe, for instance.
I started thinking of this when I was on my way home this morning. I was walking down the street, minding my own business, when a middle aged, clearly high/drunk guy presses himself up against the wall to make room for me to get by him (mind you, this was a regular sized pavement with room for at least 3 people to pass each other comfortably with nobody having to brush up against any strangers). "Ladies first," he smiled and gave me a bow. I did the only thing I could think of; smiled back and said thank you. "Well, it's soon to be the 17th of May," he said in way of explanation as I kept walking home. And hey, it made my day feel a little better. I like the crazies.
In Holmestrand everyone knew everyone, and that meant that there was very little wriggle room for any anti-social behavior. Everyone not only knew who the drunken bastard who hung out at the docks, but why he started drinking and what happened to his wife and kids. But in Oslo, there is room for the crazies to just be crazies. The drunken old weirdo who lives across the street who I'm quite sure likes to stare at me either because he's seen me running through the apartment naked or because he wants to kill me, is just that. I don't know his family or go to school with his sister. It's the same with the crazy guy who dresses in something in between a dress and a sheet who rides his bike to our local shop to buy his food every day. Sure, I have to interact with them, and they're definitely weird, but at the same time it leaves a lot of room to be slightly weird without anyone noticing or caring about it. Nobody's gonna mention to my mom when they meet at the grocery shop that I went shopping in a bathrobe, for instance.
I started thinking of this when I was on my way home this morning. I was walking down the street, minding my own business, when a middle aged, clearly high/drunk guy presses himself up against the wall to make room for me to get by him (mind you, this was a regular sized pavement with room for at least 3 people to pass each other comfortably with nobody having to brush up against any strangers). "Ladies first," he smiled and gave me a bow. I did the only thing I could think of; smiled back and said thank you. "Well, it's soon to be the 17th of May," he said in way of explanation as I kept walking home. And hey, it made my day feel a little better. I like the crazies.