For some reason I never posted this one when I actually wrote it… and looking at it now it seems complete enough. So let me take you back to the summer of 2009 (not written until November though, hence the Nobel reference):

Obama’s Nobel for Peace may or may not turn to be a remarkable feat of foresight on the part of committee or it may simply be, as so many Republicans claim, the world thumbing its nose at GWB finally relinquishing power. I’ll admit I’m ambivalent about the whole thing (GASP!!! am I actually agreeing with the Republicans?) not for the politics of the prize-givers, which I’m in sympathy with, but because politics rather than performance seemed to have motivated the decision. I’m not sure I have much more to say on that topic, but meanwhile it serves as a peg for me to hang my overdue post about my summer-solstice visit to Oslo where I not only visited the Peace museum but also some monuments to various childhood heroes (hence the title of the post).

Stories of polar expeditions, Peary and the North Pole and the race between Amundsen and Scott to the South, were gobbled up voraciously by my 8-to-9-year old self, oddly enough through the text books of my older cousins when I would visit them over holidays. I rejoiced in the victories of the victors. And though I felt truly sorry for the defeat of Scott, back in those days, Amundsen was my clear favorite. Until…

Fast forward a couple of decades to Yale, where I as a new graduate student in the history of science was working on a paper on the history of neuroscience for one of the introductory courses. During the course of my research I came across another name, Nansen, whom I did not remember from the Polar stories but was a true Renaissance man. He was a contributor to a fundamental concept known as the neuron theory, that incomplete as it might be, is the basis for understanding of how the brain does the various things its supposed to. He was also an explorer – polar expeditions, ski trips across Greenland the works… and finally, as I found out in a conversation with a doctor, also won the Nobel Peace Prize for post WWI humanitarian work. I had my (unfortunately too brief) flirtation of studying this guy further as a diss possibility but language barriers, other courses, papers etc soon sent him to the bottom of the pile. And over the next decade his name got lost in the recesses of my memory.

Fast forward again to summer solstice, 2009. There I am in Oslo, and decide to go to see the Viking boat museum. Only I found out that with my ticket I could visit an entire slew of museums all over town, in Oslo and on the peninsula by the Fjord were not one but 3 museums whose main themes were boats. There was the viking museum, where I could look at the vessels of Eric the Great (or Rapine depending on perspective I suppose); the Kon-Tiki Museum whose name jogged memories of yet another book/adventure I’d read about when I was young (very nerdy kid, what can I say?) and also the Polar boat museum aka the FRAM museum. So on a lovely clear summer’s day – the quality of light in Norway at that time of year is something to write songs about and maybe one day I inshallah – I took off for my land-bound maritime adventures. And reacquainted myself with some heroes from the days when I believed in them.

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