This weekend was something out of a film, or another time, or another reality entirely. “Epic party” does not do it justice. Not at all.
Friday was the road trip. We drove Rolling Stoned in a caravan of red russ cars from Narvik – nine hand-painted hippie cars, one after the other, along the coastline and fjords in the evening sunlight. Stopped now and then to get gas, or food, or switch cars, for a change of music and handmade interiors. It was idyllic.
Upon arriving in Harstad, we realized we had no idea where to go, and drove around in a huge chain of confusion until we found the sports hall where we were going to stay, and parked alongside all the other russ cars – from everywhere. 700 kids traveled to Harstad for this party, and 200 are from the area. So… a whole weekend of partying with 900 other kids. Cool. We checked out the hall where we were going to sleep, threw down some camping mattresses and ventured into the city. Pizza for dinner, pre-party in the back of a Volkswagen van, and then off to the real party it was.
Whoever organized the weekend had rented out two nightclubs for the 900 russ kids, which was clearly not enough. One was so packed with young people in russ pants that it was difficult to move, breathe, etc, and the music was so loud you couldn´t hear yourself think. Luckily, that wasn´t so important anyway, and the dance scene in there was seriously intense. Scandinavia owns club music. The other nightclub was less crowded but not as exciting – outside, in any case, were where it was going down. The streets were flooded with people, and not just red russ, but blue, black, green, white, white/red, everything. People were everywhere. It was chaos.
Upon leaving the crowded club, my phone rang, and I found Liza, the only other American I know in Northern Norway, across the street among the masses of people. It soon became apparent that a guy we know from the Netherlands was also there. Talk about insane coincidence. We found him inside and danced for a while, three foreigners, in matching pants, in northern Norway, partying with 900 Norwegians… crazy. It was a good time, to say the very least. Out in the street, sunrise approached, and the sky lit up bright pink and red and orange.
A lot of people drove back to Narvik that night, which was weird, but a few of us and I crashed on the floor of the gym for the night. We slept basically all day Saturday, ate, met up with the others, and went back out into the city for party number two. It´s a shame that the phrase “Å ta helt av” doesn´t translate very well to English. We went absolutely crazy and spent the night dancing on tables, hugging 100 people in under 10 minutes, and searching for my sunglasses, which some guy took right off my face, and disappeared. (We found him, though.) It was great. We got milkshakes and drove home, arriving in Narvik at sunrise.
To say the least, my sense of day and night is completely turned upside-down.
Pictures are taking forever, so for now, here´s an article I wrote: click here
And my newspaper-pictures from the weekend: here