Oscar Bjørne

Closer now to the coffeeshops, the canals and the whores, things are starting to get a bit more real. That’s not some analogy I’m stretching either. Living a street away from the Red Light District means I see an assload of all three every day I’m here.

And that’s the tickle under my skin these days – the splinter in my mind. I’ve not yet left this city for others. I’m still here. This was not how things were supposed to go. I was supposed to be all over, putting out fires in distant corners of Europe, traveling fast to both cause and correct the levels of mayhem in the world. I was supposed to be an international man of mystery.


To date, too many tourists have laughed like absurd hyenas under my window; too many drunken English boys on stag parties have sung crazy Irish songs at odd hours of the night. Too many cute prostitutes have winked at me and knocked on their windows as I pass to make my way to buy bread, bananas and milk. And so far, all those notions of gallivanting around Europe with a corporate credit card and a smile as wide as Jesus could spread his arms?

Lies, lies, lies.

So far, anyway. Days go by and with my relocation per diem gone after the official move, I watch my euros – my precious little colored money – the way a freshman watches his stash of beer that someone bought him a month ago. I don’t eat out as often. Afternoon coffee breaks are taken at home, with my 7 euro coffee machine. I can’t go anywhere because I’m at work, but there’s only so many online trainings you can handle, only so many power point slides from June ‘03 I can scroll through alone in my room before my eyes start disintegrating from ennui, pouring out of my face like the sand in a broken hourglass.

And I won’t have it. Not me. Gallivanting is what I do. It’s all I know; it’s my thing.

So things cannot stay this way. The weekend is only days away and I have a car at my disposal. An honest to god CAR. Sure, it’s a European Ford, but it’s got 4 wheels and runs good. That passes for transportation where I come from. So it’s decided then. PKK road trip number one is green for go. Let’s see what kind of plans materialize.

https://facebook.com/oscarbjorne Oscar Bjørne

Oscar’s day job consists of saying & writing banter for which corporate executives pay outrageous amounts to shelve and ignore. He’s a consultant at one of the largest software firms in the world, and his clients are in major capitals all over the globe. From São Paulo to Prague, from Oslo to Riyadh, Oscar lends us his notes on travel, corporate life, fast adventures and a company dime.

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