walking

 

  I woke at 1:30 pm, went to the washroom, cleaned up where I sleep on the couch, and got dressed for a walk.  I quietly left the house and headed downhill towards downtown Oslo.  My earphones played their mix of rap, reggae and pop amidst interludes of wisdom from Eckhart Tolle.  Snow began to fall, but stopped nearly as quickly as it started.  The cold, humid air added rigidity to any exposed parts, such as my hands, but the cool wetness was easy to breathe in deeply.  I coughed, expectorating last night's excesses.  It felt easy to glide downhill.  The goal of finding the Rinzai Zen centre guided me towards the city's core.  There is free meditation on Sundays at 10am, which I of course missed, but I at least wanted to know if the distance could be walked comfortably.  At any time I considered this question, I felt a resounding yes.  It felt good to walk -- good to explore the city.  Crossing over a matrix of train tracks, I entered the edge of downtown Oslo.  On my left, a skate park with two graffiti artists completing their morning work.  Two conjoined, barely legible words spanning 20 meters of wall. One of the artists added green highlights to the outer edges of his moniker.  To the right, an ancient site of some sort, with steps, rubble, and edges of buildings that would have been there over a thousand years ago.  The thought of enjoying coffee in a park with such history enticed me to further explore, to go straight and see.  The corner with the skate park and ancient site, was on Oslo Gate, the street that the zen centre is on. I took a left and veered towards my goal.  As I went under another set of train tracks, it felt like it could be Brooklyn or Chicago, but much older.  Graffiti was everywhere, each tag a new handle, or artist.  Hundreds of unique tags, throw-ups, impressive roll-downs from the tops of buildings, all added to that feeling of the marriage between the two Wests. A marriage that I felt a part of.  Maybe I wanted to create a union with my environment, so I looked to see where I could fit in, what was the same and what was different. A few blocks further and I could see the park and church I had earlier spied on Google Maps.  When I found the building addressed number 31, the roll down gate was locked. I looked to the buzzer list through the gate, seeing Rinzai Zen listed, but it was clearly difficult to enter.  I resolved to write an email to them, now knowing how to get there, so I could join in other meditation sessions during the week.  Across the street I noticed a market, with baskets of vegetables outside in front, a sight I was familiar with in Vancouver, and my host had mentioned we could find these markets certain places downtown.  In the larger grocery stores, all of the vegetables are wrapped in plastic.  I didn't go peruse the selection, but made note of its location knowing I would return.  My goal at this point became coffee.  I hadn't had one from a coffee shop since my arrival, in fact, I had only tasted coffee once since I arrived in Europe.  Up till now I had spied several coffee shops, all enticing, and bustling with customers.  I decided to turn left towards the water, in what reminded me of going from the lower east side to yaletown in Vancouver.  In the midst of an area of shops, a through fare with no cars that serviced a surrounding block of apartments, I found another very busy coffee shop and went inside.  In English I ordered my usual, an americano -- double espresso with water in a small to-go cup, the cute barrista acknowledged she could do that for 27 krones. Upon receiving what appeared to be exactly what I was after, I used my new language saying, 'tag' -- thanks. I had to ask in English where the lids were, and exited the shop.  I put my earphones back on, and walked half a block before tasting my purchase.  Zip, bam, boom! A smile lit up my lips. The satisfaction of tasting and feeling the elixir in me was enough.  Wow, elation. I now headed towards a large white bridge that spanned the train tracks I had crossed earlier.  This structure, seemingly new, blended, although starkly into the landscape with other modern buildings and structures that contrasted the ancient ruins and churches.  I lit the spliff I had brought with me and puffed proudly, enjoying myself, the views, the feel of it, the adventure.  A buzz from the coffee, high on marijuana, listening to Edward Sharpe, I crossed the white bridge, and navigated eastward, uphill, and toward home.  I found myself now with graffiti artists on my right, completing their piece and signing it with the tags 'Rabeks' and 'Ask'.  The timing of seeing them complete the work felt fortuitous to me.  The ancient site, now on my left ensured me that Oslo will be there again for me to explore.  I crossed another bridge for the second time and meander up the hill.  I could see our house up top and I'm reminded of just how far I've come -- not just today, but also in life.  Eckhart Tolle guided to find a deeper appreciation of the moment.  Music fuelled me to stride up the hill without effort.  I found myself quietly entering the house again.  Smiling, I began to do the dishes.

 

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