Free educational and fun family activities Turknoy style aka deep-rooted into our family lifestyle are readily available in New York. There are lots of ideas, discussions and pondering mover aching feet and full stomach. Our senses are all overwhelmed.
Broadway is to talent and making it big in the world;
Times Square is to branding and consumerism and making it known in the world
Then, then… .. Financial District is money management and getting power over money in the world!
And until then… let’s get all the money vibes from The Wall Street Bull’s Balls. Legend has it that those who touch them will have prosperous and wealthy life. So, oohmmm we go. Seriously, we saw a Hindu lady who was actually doing this like a solemn prayer. So why not?
“My bull is a symbol for America. My bull is a symbol of prosperity and for strength.” – Sicilian artist Arturo Di Modica, creator of The Charging Bull.
Broadway, Times Square or Wall Street, New York can make dreams come true for this fearless and are able to stand tall and proud.
Freedom is NOT the absence of fear… but by being able to act fearless.. whoever we may be!
World citizens, worldschooler or not, New York sets an example. It may be the place, it may be the city’s history, it may be capitalism, it may be a lot of things… yet we firmly believe that these ideals can be replicated.. anywhere in the world. Dreams are dreams without time zone and coordinates. With positivity and a lot of hard work, sprinkled with luck (bulls’ balls!) dreams do come true, whatever they may be.
“Oslo’s contemporary art” is something that simply ceases to exist. From witnessing the art within the Astrup Fearnley Museet, I’ve come to terms with the fact that it’s solely hare-brained to categorize the art in such ways. Perhaps it had been easier to group masterpieces of which had been bizarre to the eye in a single group; although each and every piece had been produced with a pastiche of particular passions, each had been fashioned with idiosyncratic intentions. This is my opinion, due to the fact that I find hardship in distinguishing similitude between denim doused canvases, shopping cart creations, and paper-carved coups.
Based on my self-reflection, I distinguish a certain depth in “Oslo’s art”, the miniature brain-muddles it’d take a person to disentangle a sole piece, and the mystery that envelopes it, for unless you were to pry open the mind of the certain creator; you’d never truly fathom the depth that had originated from the marvelous masterpieces I had witnessed today.
Check out a simple version of my art based on my previous experiences in Oslo, Norway:
She had been buried in bed for the past ten minutes, debating on whether it’d be worth it if she had finally dragged herself out; although when it had come to it, her body felt as if it weighed a ton. Her brain barked and brandished psychological threats, though her body displayed no signs of swaying.
She squinted her eyes against the rouge ray of white light that had found it’s way through the gaps between blinds as she wiggled her toes and stretched her spine. Her brain had swapped tactics, and was now shuffling through memories of homework that had yet to be thumbed through; coincidentally- or rather voluntarily loitering on certain sore spots.
Six seconds later she had found herself in the bathroom.
It wasn’t hard due to the fact that the rooms within their current apartment- like any other, had practically been pulverized among one another, and she had been able to cover the living room with what had been consisted of three sluggish strides; although it’d be difficult to deny the fact that the dread that lay within her notebooks had egged her on a tad.
She slouched in front of the wall mirror, much to her mother’s dismay. Her mother’s voice bounced about in her head, her face that had remarkably mimicked one of a Saber-toothed tiger at the time flashed before her eyes. She grasped her toothbrush, although she couldn’t help but straighten her spine. Her hair jutted out at every angle humanly possible, though as much as she fingered fruitlessly it had bounced back to it’s former maddening mane-like glory. It was definite. She was indeed related to ferocious Felidae.
She breathed in the cool, crisp air. Her shoes clicked against the damp pavement, as it was slightly drizzling. Rain patterned against the roof of her hoodie, a mollifying melody. She yearned to dampen her hair, although wasn’t quite as zealous at the thought of awaking sniveling and stuffy the day after. She clicked across the wooden bridge, the usual light tone of oak mirrored one of spruce once it had been drenched.
She proceeded to pass sculptures that would have been considered scandalous if not for knowing Norwegians, eyeing a few people she presumed had been posing for the wrong reasons.
20 minutes later, her clicks had become less enthusiastic; if anything, they had morphed into piteous shuffles. Dad had map at hand, cracked at the rim; although allegedly function-able nevertheless. She made a show of her discouragement plastered at face, frowning at what seemed like scraps of metal that had miraculously managed to cling onto one another; although her father- oblivious to the lack of approvement, sauntered off, offspring ambling afterwards.
Another 20 minutes later, after passing the scrap-metal-map among one another, as if the change in person would affect the topography itself; they had found themselves at the point where they had started, the sought-after Grass Root Square quite literally underfoot.
She glanced at Dad, a mixture of triumph as well as daggers. He made a I’ve-had-three-kids-nothing-surprises-slash-tires-me-anymore kind of face, as he scrutinized the sculptures.
In all modesty, she had seen quite the number of sculptures in the span of her 13 year old lifetime, though nothing compared- or rather embodied anything nearly as unique as this.
From a further prospective, it seemed as if slabs off of the pebble-gray pavement seemed as if it were levitating; although at intimate inspection, hundreds of thousands minuscule men- and women, had been bolstering the bottom.
Their sizes varied, depending on whether they had been maintaining the weight of stone; since the immensely minute figures seemed only to sprout in the stead of numerous blocks. Their tiny jade heads clustered together in order to embody a single large, lime slab.
Their minuscule mouths appeared to gape in agony as her brother layered the slab the tiny figurines were bearing with his rear. A flat, elevated surface was equivalent to an inanimate object worthy of bottom smothering. At least, through a certain someone’s eyes.
Numerous people swept by, not a single fleeting glance at the grass-like population that had literally been sculpted under their noses. Well, we’re definitely one to talk, although considering the multiple renovations that took place surrounding the area, it’d be considerably difficult for anybody to spot. Anybody who wasn’t trodding all over it, that is.
With the expanse of knowledge she had unveiled that day, something bubbled at the pit of her stomach; something of a melancholy melody. The world had ballooned a green 50,000 time’s bigger that day, for how would she ever make it, if tens of thousands of people; excluding those below five inches, were clambering for “it”? She knew the answer, although the thought of it sent bile belting up her throat. How? Well, first things first.
I intend to leave after my death a large fund for the promotion of the peace idea, but I am skeptical as to its results. – Alfred Bernhard Nobel
Nobel Peace Center is located in Aker Brygge and it’s really close to where this traveling Turknoys stayed for several days. The Nobel Peace Center is a showcase for the Nobel Peace Prize and the ideals it represents. The Center is also an arena where culture and politics merge to promote involvement, debate and reflection around topics such as war, peace and conflict resolution.
Alfred Bernhard Nobel was a Swedish businessman, chemist, engineer, inventor, and philanthropist. Nobel held 355 different patents, dynamite being the most famous. The synthetic element nobelium was named after him.
Quote on Obama’s Nobel speech acceptance ..on climate change..apparently, the kids favorite topic on how to win the Nobel Peace Prize for their generation.
…the world must come together to confront climate change. There is little scientific dispute that if we do nothing, we will face more drought, famine and mass displacement that will fuel more conflict for decades. For this reason, it is not merely scientists and activists who call for swift and forceful action it is military leaders in my country and others who understand that our common security hangs in the balance.
Tjuvholmen is a neighborhood on a peninsula sticking out from Aker Brygge into the Oslofjord. At the tip of the peninsula, next to the sculpture park, is an outdoor bathing area. The water leads out to the Inner Oslofjord.
The Tjuvholmen Square great for kids, there are a lot of non-conforming scenarios aka ideas that challenges the norm– from naked sculptures to messages around the dining areas – expect a good number of questions from traveling kids.
WHAT IF?? -If we killed humans at the same rate as we kill animals, it would take17 days to wipe out the entire human specifies.
Visit Oslo notes the Tjuvholmen is a very recent addition to Oslo’s varied collection of boroughs. The buildings that make up the area are drawn by some 20 different architects, creating a concentrated display of current trends in architecture. Tjuvholmen is also characterised by elaborate outdoor spaces, including a city beach and several humorous outdoor artworks.At the point where Tjuvholmen meets the fjord you find one of Oslo’s main attractions, master architect Renzo Piano’s Astrup Fearnley Museum.Tjuvholmen may be knew in Oslo but this place will be the closest to our traveling family’s hearts in Oslo.
“From my rotting body, flowers shall grow and I am in them and that is eternity.” – Edvard Munch
The Munch Museum has the world’s largest collection of Edvard Munch’s art, which is displayed in exhibitions where Munch’s art is put in relevant contexts.
Edvard Munch was one of Modernism’s most significant artists
Edvard Munch was one of Modernism’s most significant artists. He is popularly known for his tenacious experimentation with painting, graphic art, drawing, sculpture, photo and film.
Munch was very good at portraying extreme emotions in painting, and he wanted to get a strong reaction from his viewers. His most famous work is “The Scream,” which definitely evokes intense feelings.
Munch left approximately 1,150 paintings,17, 800 prints,4,500 watercolours, drawings and 13 sculptures, as well as writing and literary notes to Oslo, Norway. The city is currently constructing a bigger Munch Museum close to the Opera House where Museum 2020 will rise.
“A work of art can only come from the interior of man. Art is the form of the image formed upon the nerves, heart, brain and eye of man.” – Edvard Munch
“Hope is not a prognostication; it is an orientation that no matter how things turn out, they can have meaning.” – Vaclav Havel
Family travelers are imparting the value of consistent hope. This is one of the many reasons we drag the kids around the world. Well, technically, just around Asia, Europe and North America for now. Hopefully, around the world soon enough.
When a traveling family run towards a train station hoping to catch the train on time, that’s hoping for the best.
When a traveling family is almost get denied entry by an Immigration Officer to a country of destination because of visa application requirements concerns and all family members continue showing calm while presenting valid travel documents, that’s hoping for fairness and diplomacy.
When a first time family hikes in an unfavorable weather up a gorgeous landscape in a foreign country and keeps the hyper mood, that’s hoping for an awesome adventure.
When presented with a bad customer service and the traveling family maintain a good attitude towards all people, that’s hoping for the goodness of humanity.
Emily Dickinson may have written it in a poem eras ago, but as family traveller, it is in our traveler’s literature pack.
“Hope”is a thing with feathers (By: Emily Dickinson)