Lost

(Saturday night. Outside a a block of flats at Grünerløkka.)

- Hi, are you also going to Kamilla's?
- Yes.
- Okay, good, you can show me the way then.
- Sure. I'm Kristine, by the way.
- Olav.

Something was strange about the vorspiel. The hostess was Kamilla, but not the one I knew. Helene and Tor weren't anywhere to be seen either. I peeked into the living room, but there were still no familiar faces. I opened a beer, put the other bottles in the fridge and embarked on the greeting round. There were two Ingvilds, one Yngvild, one Nicolai, one Henning, and three others whose name I forget.

It started to dawn on me when the phone rang. It was Helene.
- Hi Olav. Where are you, really?
- I think I'm at the wrong vorspiel.

Hard news

News wizard Lars Kristian tells the audience what a good story looks like. 70 student politicians were gathered at Jessheim this weekend to learn more about media and journalism.

Volda's glorious journalism class of 2006 was also represented by Jørgen and Marit. Young and promising Mr. Holen, misinformation guru and former roomie of Lars and present columnist, was also lurking in the crowd. He stressed that he was no journalist.

Unsurprisingly, Lars got many admiring looks from the females at the site.

Old ghosts die hard

I've been to the Baltics once before. That was in 2002, and I was doing a story on the Lithuanian Air Force. They carefully monitor Russian MIG fighters who fly near the border of the Russians' not-so-mighty neighbour. Judging from Latvia's Occupation Museum in Riga, the Latvians aren't big fans of Ivan either.

The museum portrays more than 50 years of on-and-off torture and horrors from the Nazis and, primarily, from the Soviets. But Riga also offers delicious food, medieval moods and a local booze that tastes something like Jägermeister.

The tax free quota was filled with red wine, as usual.