Ceci n'est pas un blog

The dogs have arrived in Norway.

I rented a ginormous van to collect them. Seamus is 135 pounds (61.23 kilos) and his crate is four feet tall, it had to be modified since the biggest commercially available crate wasn't big enough to provide the required head clearance. Tosca is a comparitively dainty 73 pounds (33.11 kilos) and has a smaller but still large crate. So I needed something big and Rent-a-Wreck had just the thing. Big enough to fit the two crates side by side.

Oh and it was my first time to drive in Oslo.

Fortunately I was able to recruit a navigator, interlocutor, and lifter of heavy things. Karla looked quite fashionable in boots, turtle neck sweater, and belted rain coat despite having promised to wear vans and a bandana and do her best Fast Times impersonation.

And so we drove uneventfully out to Lufthansa Cargo at Gardemoen airport. The dogs flight was late and then they have to visit the vet and then come to cargo and then we can take them. 40 minutes later I ask someone who runs to the back for what seems like a long time and upon returning says that, yes, the dogs have arrived and would I pay this large fee and then go over to customs in another building down the block.

OK, I knew there was a fee and I had some cash and several credit cards on me. But they won't take foreign plastic (at an international shipping counter, that seems naïve) and I haven't brought enough cash, naturally there's no minibank for miles. Karla swooped in and saved the day, making up the difference.

Trotting over to customs we worry that they might have some sort of tariff based on weight and breed or something. Customs has a huge deserted lobby, very modern and clean and sort of lonely for the clerks who wait for the courier in a hurry or the dog owner who can't speak their language. That would be me.

"Did you just buy these dogs?" "Do you live in Norway? and do you plan to stay here for a while?" "Just what kind of dogs are these?" "How long have you had them?" Each of these followed by running to the back to consult and then asking the next question and going to the back. It was like a buying a car. But then, this: "Oh, I see they were allowed into Germany on the way here. Ok, then." STAMP STAMP SIGN "You can have your dogs now. Go back to the Cargo Building."

Cargo Lady sends us "to the back" which turns out to be a Tartus like doorway into a much bigger space. Speed-demon fork-lift drivers whisk items from place to place in a madcap whirlwind of zipping this way and that. Some with huge pallets full of boxes. Some with one tiny little parcel. As they approach each doorway they reach out and tug a rope hanging from the ceiling to open the door - they do not slow down. We see no one to talk to - just little forklifts heading this way and that. Zip zip zip. But a door is found and a man takes my papers and tells us to go back to the front, the dogs will be brought out.

I maneuver the behemoth of a van over to the cargo bay doors (every geek loves to be able to use those words). Soon a little forklift whizzes into view carrying a giant crate with a giant dog inside. Seamus has a big goofy grin on and seems to like this part of the trip. Tosca arrives a minute later looking quite skeptical about the whole thing.

After letting them stretch their legs for a bit we decide not to disassemble the crates here but to transport them whole and with dogs inside. Everything goes flawlessly thanks to Karla saving me from the toll booth we encounter after I've given all my money to the document processing cargo people.

The apartment is a 4th floor walk up. In the middle of each flight Seamus has a panic attach and tries to turn around and go down. Tosca on the other hand is charging up stairs like little Timmy is in trouble and needs her help. Somewhere in all of this Karla bangs her knee and the 13 year old from across the landing is shocked and awed by the great fluffy beasts moving in next door. She and her friend can't stop the giggles.

We ditch the crates in the courtyard. Every building in Norway has a courtyard. By this point it has been about 3.5 hours since we went out to get the puppies and we're starving. One Pad Thai later and I've got to get Karla to a train station, refuel the diesel beast, and get it returned by 5:00. And it's rush hour. And Raining. And very dark (sunset is at 3:12). But we manage and it goes well until I realize that I've left my jacket and umbrella in the apartment and don't have cash for the bus.

But all's well that ends well and after a wet slog home the dogs got their walk in the park and I got the crates disassembled and stored away. They are needy but otherwise fine and really enjoyed their walk even though the rain meant muddy paws and bellies, for which I had prepared with super cheap towells from Max.

Today was the fluffy vanguard, portents of family to come. My wife and daughter arrive almost exactly a week away. It will be nice to all be in one country again. I mean Skype is great and all but it just ain't the same as being there.