Hello World,
As 2009 comes to a close, I thought I'd take a minute to look back. It's been an eventful year. On a frigid January morning, I stood shivering on the National Mall, waiting for history to happen. I ended up abandoning that particular enterprise for the infinitely better view of the inaugural events provided by a large television in a friend's living room. This option came with the added benefit of being 1) indoors and 2) ready access to hot beverages. However, come December, I again set out in the sub-freezing weather to catch a glimpse of President Obama making history. This time, torch in hand, I stood outside the Grand Hotel in Oslo and waved, a small face in a 15,000 person crowd, separated from the President and the First Lady by an expanse of space and a cage of bulletproof glass.
And so has this year gone, a year which started with my life defined by my existence as a federally employed cubicle dweller, and which is ending with my transformation into a graduate student separated from my old life by the North Atlantic. It's hard to believe so much has changed in the space of one year. Indeed, it's hard to believe life has changed so much even in the past three months.
When I started this foray into life as a student and expatriate in Norway, I constantly questioned my decision to leave. Life in the DC Metro Area, if not perfect, was stable. Life in Oslo was plagued with mishaps large and small, from unfriendly roommates, to bewildering bureaucratic shenanigans. Nothing worked, nothing was open, nothing was right.
And then things changed. Classes started, and brought with them new knowledge and new people. I studied. I traveled to Western Norway and spent hours on the beach, staring at an endless ocean. I read, I acquired the Norwegian skills of a particularly slow 4 year old. I found the perfect coffeeshop and spent hours utilizing the art supplies meant to entertain small children while gradually coming to accept that 30kr ($5) is an appropriate amount to spend on a cup of coffee. I ate enough baby oranges to ensure I will never die of scurvy. I went to quiz nights and sprinted on cobblestoned streets in high heels to catch the last bus home. Somehow, I built a life.
I'm sitting here in Northern VA, with three generations of my family present in one room, while the other members of my immediate family sit in India, where they are already in the new decade. My family, like my life, is a unit, divided by time and space. And so, while half a world away from Oslo, I'd like to take a minute to indulge in a Scandinavian custom, and thank everyone for the year that has past. Tusen takk for alt i året som gikk, og jeg ønsker dere alt godt i det nye året. (thanks for all in the year past, and thanks for all in the year to come) And a special thanks to you, whoever you are, reading this blog. A final request: If you've put up with my self-indulgent reflection thus far (this entry and on the blog in general) and have any comments, concerns, suggestions, let me know. Or say hello. Whichever. Either way, thanks for reading!
Peace
Thursday, December 31, 2009
The Sun Beach in winter, Norwegian Christmas, and the concept of coming home
Hello World!
Life's been a frigid whirlwind the past few weeks. I spent Christmas in Norway, with a Norwegian family, an idea which seemed good in theory (a chance to "go native!") yet which was moderately terrifying in practice. In the interests of scientific inquiry, I decided to approach the entire situation as a cultural anthropologist would, an approach which might have worked slightly better if I had any background in the field beyond Wikipedia. Unfortunately, I do not have a background in this subject, so instead of detailed notes with photographic documentation, supplemented by first hand accounts and an in-depth study of minutiae of Norwegian Christmas Celebrations, all I have is a disjointed series of impressions - tastefully decorated trees, candles, presents, food, and a seemingly endless ream of tradition, all dusted with a layer of iced-over snow.
As an outsider, the weight of tradition, large and small, was almost overwhelming. There are the traditional Christmas movies, which includes "Tre nøtter til Askepott" a Czech retelling of Cinderella dubbed into Norwegian, which airs on TV every Christmas eve. Apparently, the charm of the film lies in the fact that the Norwegian dubbing is all done by one man who provides the voices for all the characters, male and female. Then there's the traditional Christmas dinner. The concept behind traditional Norwegian Christmas cuisine is simple: Take some form of meat, render it inedible (ex: dry it, soak it in lye, etc), then cook it into submission until it is edible again. If cooking it is not possible, serve it with enough alcohol so that, when time comes to eat it, one is intoxicated enough to not care. Then, add some boiled root vegetables on the side, and bam! a meal is born. Let's face it, there's a reason Scandinavian cuisine hasn't been a wide-scale success like say, Italian. As a vegetarian, I did not partake in the meat, dining instead on fake inedible meat in the form of a modified veggie burger. Of course, there are other traditions, but if I try to list them all I'll be writing well into 2010. In retrospect, it was an enjoyable experience, albeit one I could not handle more than once a year. :-P
Following my adventures in Norsk Jul-land, on Dec 28th, I hopped on a plane (or rather, two planes) and left Scandinavia to visit home. It's strange to write that phrase. "visit home." Where is home? The trite, overused answer is that home is where the heart is, which would work well if my heart was in one place. But my heart isn't in one place - part is with me, and parts are with the people and places with whom I've chosen to store bits of myself with, for safekeeping.
One of those places is Sola Strand, or the Sun Beach. I've written about Sola strand before. I've been told it's one of Norway's most beautiful beaches. THis is even true in winter, particularly when there's snow on the ground.
Unfortunately, I only had a cell phone camera available. An early 2010 resolution: To carry a proper camera with me more often, so that I can capture more of the places - and people - who make up my glorious collage of home-like things.
Peace
Life's been a frigid whirlwind the past few weeks. I spent Christmas in Norway, with a Norwegian family, an idea which seemed good in theory (a chance to "go native!") yet which was moderately terrifying in practice. In the interests of scientific inquiry, I decided to approach the entire situation as a cultural anthropologist would, an approach which might have worked slightly better if I had any background in the field beyond Wikipedia. Unfortunately, I do not have a background in this subject, so instead of detailed notes with photographic documentation, supplemented by first hand accounts and an in-depth study of minutiae of Norwegian Christmas Celebrations, all I have is a disjointed series of impressions - tastefully decorated trees, candles, presents, food, and a seemingly endless ream of tradition, all dusted with a layer of iced-over snow.
As an outsider, the weight of tradition, large and small, was almost overwhelming. There are the traditional Christmas movies, which includes "Tre nøtter til Askepott" a Czech retelling of Cinderella dubbed into Norwegian, which airs on TV every Christmas eve. Apparently, the charm of the film lies in the fact that the Norwegian dubbing is all done by one man who provides the voices for all the characters, male and female. Then there's the traditional Christmas dinner. The concept behind traditional Norwegian Christmas cuisine is simple: Take some form of meat, render it inedible (ex: dry it, soak it in lye, etc), then cook it into submission until it is edible again. If cooking it is not possible, serve it with enough alcohol so that, when time comes to eat it, one is intoxicated enough to not care. Then, add some boiled root vegetables on the side, and bam! a meal is born. Let's face it, there's a reason Scandinavian cuisine hasn't been a wide-scale success like say, Italian. As a vegetarian, I did not partake in the meat, dining instead on fake inedible meat in the form of a modified veggie burger. Of course, there are other traditions, but if I try to list them all I'll be writing well into 2010. In retrospect, it was an enjoyable experience, albeit one I could not handle more than once a year. :-P
Following my adventures in Norsk Jul-land, on Dec 28th, I hopped on a plane (or rather, two planes) and left Scandinavia to visit home. It's strange to write that phrase. "visit home." Where is home? The trite, overused answer is that home is where the heart is, which would work well if my heart was in one place. But my heart isn't in one place - part is with me, and parts are with the people and places with whom I've chosen to store bits of myself with, for safekeeping.
One of those places is Sola Strand, or the Sun Beach. I've written about Sola strand before. I've been told it's one of Norway's most beautiful beaches. THis is even true in winter, particularly when there's snow on the ground.
Unfortunately, I only had a cell phone camera available. An early 2010 resolution: To carry a proper camera with me more often, so that I can capture more of the places - and people - who make up my glorious collage of home-like things.
Peace
Saturday, December 19, 2009
Yoga Man - UPDATE!
Hello World!
An update on the spiritual seeker from the previous post: Earlier this evening (technically yesterday now, I suppose) en route to the train station, I met the monk again! Or rather, he precipitated the meeting, by calling out "hello" as I blindly (haha!) rushed past. "I know you! We met, you're Indian, and religious." He re-introdiced himself to my friends and informed us that he is Danish. I told him I might stop by the restaurant sometime, which he encouraged me to do, but then our conversation ended because it was cold. No, really. It was -6 degrees C (approximately 21 F) outside, and no compelling stranger was going to hold me for long when a warm train was mere meters away. However, I am sure yoga man and I shall meet again.
Peace!
An update on the spiritual seeker from the previous post: Earlier this evening (technically yesterday now, I suppose) en route to the train station, I met the monk again! Or rather, he precipitated the meeting, by calling out "hello" as I blindly (haha!) rushed past. "I know you! We met, you're Indian, and religious." He re-introdiced himself to my friends and informed us that he is Danish. I told him I might stop by the restaurant sometime, which he encouraged me to do, but then our conversation ended because it was cold. No, really. It was -6 degrees C (approximately 21 F) outside, and no compelling stranger was going to hold me for long when a warm train was mere meters away. However, I am sure yoga man and I shall meet again.
Peace!
Wednesday, December 16, 2009
"Excuse me, but can I talk to you about yoga?"
Hello World!
Today, I had a spiritual encounter. It was unexpected. One moment, I was waiting at a bus stop. The next moment, a sober stranger initiated a conversation with us, and in a blink, everything changed. The axis of my world shifted, and now my reality has been expanded, the knowledge I possess has blossomed, and the food that will feed this new self is within reach!
Okay, all of that is a lie, except for the bits about a sober stranger and the food, though I suppose the sweater-wearing "monk" who approached me in the street probably wishes differently. While waiting at the bus stop with a friend, this pale, western European spiritual seeker came up to us, introduced himself as a monk practicing the eastern discipline of yoga, and offered us some literature - for a small donation. I politely declined the literature but gave him some change, and received the menu for the restaurant run by the Hare Krishnas for my generosity. Now, I can find my way to a source of vegetarian food, and possibly, a monk!
Oslo - whee monks come to practice and preach on the ancient eastern discipline of yoga.
Peace
Today, I had a spiritual encounter. It was unexpected. One moment, I was waiting at a bus stop. The next moment, a sober stranger initiated a conversation with us, and in a blink, everything changed. The axis of my world shifted, and now my reality has been expanded, the knowledge I possess has blossomed, and the food that will feed this new self is within reach!
Okay, all of that is a lie, except for the bits about a sober stranger and the food, though I suppose the sweater-wearing "monk" who approached me in the street probably wishes differently. While waiting at the bus stop with a friend, this pale, western European spiritual seeker came up to us, introduced himself as a monk practicing the eastern discipline of yoga, and offered us some literature - for a small donation. I politely declined the literature but gave him some change, and received the menu for the restaurant run by the Hare Krishnas for my generosity. Now, I can find my way to a source of vegetarian food, and possibly, a monk!
Oslo - whee monks come to practice and preach on the ancient eastern discipline of yoga.
Peace
Monday, November 23, 2009
The first sunny day
Hello World!
It's nearing the end of another grey, rainy day in Oslo. It isn't very late - it's not even 10 - but it feels as if the evening has gone on forever. The fact the sun set around 3:40 this afternoon is the primary reason for this. It's hard to keep a grip on time, when one glances out the window at 6, and realizes that it has been dark for 2 hours already.
I could wax on about the darkness, the rain, and the unholy melding of the two which imbibes energy like some sort all-pervasive parasite. However, I'm running out of creative ways to describe this month of eternal rain. Instead, here are some pictures from the momentous event that occurred here this past Saturday - after 21 days, the sun came out for an entire day! Earlier last week, the sun teased us by breaking free of the clouds for 25 minutes before disappearing again. But Saturday morning saw the sun rising in a glorious blue sky. Naturally, we seized this opportunity to go out and enjoy Oslo.
First thing on our agenda was a visit to one of my absolute favorite places in Oslo, Vigelandsparken , a sculpture park designed by the sculptor Gustav Vigeland. However, the sculptures could wait. First stop: Ducks!
Armed with half a loaf of old bread, we went to visit some of Oslo's friendly, quacking waterfowl. Our preference for feeding the ducks was noted, and one of Oslo's ever-present seagulls decided to try and capitalize on the opportunity for a free meal. One of these ducks is not like the others...
We were popular enough with the ducks that they waddled up (and down) stairs after us, hoping for more bread. We're not sure why they decided to waddle instead of fly. Perhaps it was a method of conserving energy?
After determining that we had ceased with our role as food providers, our feathered fan club lost interest and we continued on to the main attractions of the park.
Monolitten (the Monolith) is 17.3 meters tall and consists of 121 intertwined figures.
The stairs leading to Monolitten hold a series of 36 figures. Here's one such group.
Next, it was down to the Bridge, where one can find 58 figures in bronze. Vigelandsparken is one of Norway's mos frequently visited tourist destinations. However, what most foreigners don't know is that Vigelandsparken is also where young Norwegian men come to learn about the mysteries of life, courtship, and parenting.
Lesson 1) When words fail when trying to woo the woman of your dreams, simply draw upon the power of your Viking ancestors, grab her, and run. Explanations can come later.
Another method of wife carrying, the forward throw, is demonstrated here. Remember, unlike these statues, real women are not made out of bronze. Thus, when throwing a woman over one's shoulder, be sure to judge the distance between her head and the ground to prevent an unpleasant scene.
In Vigeland's time, Norwegians had larger families and Norwegian men absorbed the art of child-juggling via cultural osmosis. However, in these modern times, this skill is beyond the reach of most modern Norwegian men.
Most men choose to handle their lack of child-juggling skills by having smaller families, which allows them to use other, less difficult child-carrying techniques.
Later, as they age, Norwegian parents can gaze wistfully at this statue and wonder why this classic parenting technique is no longer permissible in Norway.
However, there are other lessons to be found on the bridge as well.
For example, here are two figures trapped within a bronze ring. Attempts to escape are futile. Make of this what you will. Perhaps this helps explain the traditionally high suicide rate in the Nordic countries.
After departing the park, we heading further downtown, to Oslo's largest pedestrian walkway.
Our wanderings brought us to the Stortinget, or the Norwegian Parliament, where we found a protest underway. A man was making a very impassioned speech about something or another, which would have been more interesting if we could have understood it. For reasons unknown, the protesters were not protesting in Norwegian, or in English. but in Kurdish. If visibility was their goal, mission accomplished. If seeking acknowledgement from the Parliament of their concerns was the goal, perhaps using a language members would understand may have helped.
Ah, this is why the protesters weren't using Norwegian! They had thoughtfully provided this sign, instead.
Translations (clockwise from top right): Stop executions in Iran! Freedom for the Kurdish political prisoners! Stop the oppression of the Kurds in Syria! We strongly condemn the execution of Kurds in Iran!
Finally, we ended at the train station and Oslo City Mall, just as darkness fell (around 4 PM) It was a good day. The only good thing about the endless rain is that we seize the sunny days, and make the most out of them.
And now, back to being semiproductive. Be well.
It's nearing the end of another grey, rainy day in Oslo. It isn't very late - it's not even 10 - but it feels as if the evening has gone on forever. The fact the sun set around 3:40 this afternoon is the primary reason for this. It's hard to keep a grip on time, when one glances out the window at 6, and realizes that it has been dark for 2 hours already.
I could wax on about the darkness, the rain, and the unholy melding of the two which imbibes energy like some sort all-pervasive parasite. However, I'm running out of creative ways to describe this month of eternal rain. Instead, here are some pictures from the momentous event that occurred here this past Saturday - after 21 days, the sun came out for an entire day! Earlier last week, the sun teased us by breaking free of the clouds for 25 minutes before disappearing again. But Saturday morning saw the sun rising in a glorious blue sky. Naturally, we seized this opportunity to go out and enjoy Oslo.
First thing on our agenda was a visit to one of my absolute favorite places in Oslo, Vigelandsparken , a sculpture park designed by the sculptor Gustav Vigeland. However, the sculptures could wait. First stop: Ducks!
Armed with half a loaf of old bread, we went to visit some of Oslo's friendly, quacking waterfowl. Our preference for feeding the ducks was noted, and one of Oslo's ever-present seagulls decided to try and capitalize on the opportunity for a free meal. One of these ducks is not like the others...
We were popular enough with the ducks that they waddled up (and down) stairs after us, hoping for more bread. We're not sure why they decided to waddle instead of fly. Perhaps it was a method of conserving energy?After determining that we had ceased with our role as food providers, our feathered fan club lost interest and we continued on to the main attractions of the park.
Monolitten (the Monolith) is 17.3 meters tall and consists of 121 intertwined figures. 
The stairs leading to Monolitten hold a series of 36 figures. Here's one such group.Next, it was down to the Bridge, where one can find 58 figures in bronze. Vigelandsparken is one of Norway's mos frequently visited tourist destinations. However, what most foreigners don't know is that Vigelandsparken is also where young Norwegian men come to learn about the mysteries of life, courtship, and parenting.
Lesson 1) When words fail when trying to woo the woman of your dreams, simply draw upon the power of your Viking ancestors, grab her, and run. Explanations can come later.
Another method of wife carrying, the forward throw, is demonstrated here. Remember, unlike these statues, real women are not made out of bronze. Thus, when throwing a woman over one's shoulder, be sure to judge the distance between her head and the ground to prevent an unpleasant scene.
In Vigeland's time, Norwegians had larger families and Norwegian men absorbed the art of child-juggling via cultural osmosis. However, in these modern times, this skill is beyond the reach of most modern Norwegian men.
Most men choose to handle their lack of child-juggling skills by having smaller families, which allows them to use other, less difficult child-carrying techniques.
Later, as they age, Norwegian parents can gaze wistfully at this statue and wonder why this classic parenting technique is no longer permissible in Norway.However, there are other lessons to be found on the bridge as well.
For example, here are two figures trapped within a bronze ring. Attempts to escape are futile. Make of this what you will. Perhaps this helps explain the traditionally high suicide rate in the Nordic countries. After departing the park, we heading further downtown, to Oslo's largest pedestrian walkway.
Our wanderings brought us to the Stortinget, or the Norwegian Parliament, where we found a protest underway. A man was making a very impassioned speech about something or another, which would have been more interesting if we could have understood it. For reasons unknown, the protesters were not protesting in Norwegian, or in English. but in Kurdish. If visibility was their goal, mission accomplished. If seeking acknowledgement from the Parliament of their concerns was the goal, perhaps using a language members would understand may have helped.
Ah, this is why the protesters weren't using Norwegian! They had thoughtfully provided this sign, instead.Translations (clockwise from top right): Stop executions in Iran! Freedom for the Kurdish political prisoners! Stop the oppression of the Kurds in Syria! We strongly condemn the execution of Kurds in Iran!
Finally, we ended at the train station and Oslo City Mall, just as darkness fell (around 4 PM) It was a good day. The only good thing about the endless rain is that we seize the sunny days, and make the most out of them.
And now, back to being semiproductive. Be well.
Tuesday, November 17, 2009
The 17th day without sunlight
Hello world,
The perpetually grey sky is already darkening. Nightfall comes to Oslo quickly these days. A few weeks ago, at the start of November, as the first light snowflakes fell, a PhD student nodded at the window and told me, with the stoic acceptance only long-term Scandinavian residents (and natives) manage, that November is the worst month in Oslo.
Now I understand why.
November is not cold, or no colder than one expects of a city at the same latitude as Anchorage, Alaska. Nor does Oslo have the true Scandinavian mind-numbing,spirit-crushing darkness one finds above the Arctic circle, where the sun has set and will not rise again until February Instead, November in Oslo is grey. The sun rises and sets behind a wall of clouds. Sometimes there is rain, and sometimes there is snow, but there is never sunlight. At times, the sun threatens an appearance; the clouds part and reveal a hint of the pure, blue sky that somewhere, someone else is seeing. We find ourselves cheering on the wind - come on, north breeze, you can shift that cloud! - but to no avail. Grey days fade to twilight, to dark Scandinavian nights, and the cycle repeats.
Furthermore, the clouds actually feed on the energy and willpower of Oslo's residents. The city is in some sort of autumn coma. The Norwegians, I am told, are waiting for real snow and December (whichever comes first), when everyone can start looking forward to Christmas and skiing weekends in the mountains. I'm looking forward to it too. Really, I'm looking forward to anything to break the monotony of so many shades of grey.
But now, I am off, to purchase baby oranges, coffee, and possibly sample a 7-11 doughnut. On a completely unrelated note, 7-11 has mastered the art of being an extremely suspect institution regardless of location. Even in Norway, one of the safest, cleanest, most naive countries in the world, 7-11 cloaks itself in an air of seedy disrepair. It's truly bizarre. Equally bizarre is TGIFriday's transformation of itself into a trendy spot where Oslo's businessmen and other cool kids go to dine, see, and be seen. Why 7-11 hasn't managed the same transformation, I cannot say.
Peace
The perpetually grey sky is already darkening. Nightfall comes to Oslo quickly these days. A few weeks ago, at the start of November, as the first light snowflakes fell, a PhD student nodded at the window and told me, with the stoic acceptance only long-term Scandinavian residents (and natives) manage, that November is the worst month in Oslo.
Now I understand why.
November is not cold, or no colder than one expects of a city at the same latitude as Anchorage, Alaska. Nor does Oslo have the true Scandinavian mind-numbing,spirit-crushing darkness one finds above the Arctic circle, where the sun has set and will not rise again until February Instead, November in Oslo is grey. The sun rises and sets behind a wall of clouds. Sometimes there is rain, and sometimes there is snow, but there is never sunlight. At times, the sun threatens an appearance; the clouds part and reveal a hint of the pure, blue sky that somewhere, someone else is seeing. We find ourselves cheering on the wind - come on, north breeze, you can shift that cloud! - but to no avail. Grey days fade to twilight, to dark Scandinavian nights, and the cycle repeats.
Furthermore, the clouds actually feed on the energy and willpower of Oslo's residents. The city is in some sort of autumn coma. The Norwegians, I am told, are waiting for real snow and December (whichever comes first), when everyone can start looking forward to Christmas and skiing weekends in the mountains. I'm looking forward to it too. Really, I'm looking forward to anything to break the monotony of so many shades of grey.
But now, I am off, to purchase baby oranges, coffee, and possibly sample a 7-11 doughnut. On a completely unrelated note, 7-11 has mastered the art of being an extremely suspect institution regardless of location. Even in Norway, one of the safest, cleanest, most naive countries in the world, 7-11 cloaks itself in an air of seedy disrepair. It's truly bizarre. Equally bizarre is TGIFriday's transformation of itself into a trendy spot where Oslo's businessmen and other cool kids go to dine, see, and be seen. Why 7-11 hasn't managed the same transformation, I cannot say.
Peace
Thursday, November 5, 2009
The first snowfall
Hello World!
Life in Oslo has been a veritable whirlwind these past few weeks, days, hours - literally as well as metaphorically, as snowflakes are tracing psychedelic patterns in the air outside as I write. Since I last visited this space, I've taken an exam, traveled to western Norway and returned, participated in an art exhibition, carved a pumpkin, dressed up, dressed down, broken wine glasses and spilled coffee grocery shopped, and am currently sporting matching bruises on my knees, courtesy of an unexpected close encounter of the cobblestone kind. I'd like to take a moment to clarify that all of my more spectacular acts of clumsiness, the broken wine glass included, came while I was completely sober. What can I say, it's a skill. Some of us are awesome enough that we can encroach upon the territory of the intoxicated while stone-cold sober. It's a gift.
After careful consideration, I have decided I blame the darkness for my assorted moments of complete incompetence. Daylight savings time is upon us, and the Scandinavian night daily wrests minutes from the grasp of a weak autumn sun. I sat in class earlier today, watching as night fell on Oslo. It was 4:30. This past week, it felt as if autumn itself has stopped fighting the rapidly approaching winter. Clouds chase each other across the eternally gray sky, and today, the cold rain gave way to large, fluffy, snowflakes, spinning wildly in the wind. It's hard to keep track of time, when darkness comes so early. Some days, I barely know where the time has gone.
However, time passes. This past weekend, I celebrated Halloween. Halloween came and went in Norway with none of the fanfare one finds in the US. Stores halfheartedly tried to market costumes, candy, pumpkins, and the assorted trifles associated with the holiday. I carved a pumpkin, assisted by an assortment of somewhat bemused Norwegians. Afterward, we headed into downtown Stavanger, costumed and in search of Halloween madness. The weather was cooperative, serving up a wild wind which howled as it drove the clouds across the sky and whipped through tree branches, yet the temperature stayed above the freezing point. In essence, it was the stereotypical dark and stormy night, minus the more uncomfortable trappings of a storm. Naturally, while the Norwegians were out in force downtown, only 10-15% were decked out for Halloween. Reactions to our costumes ranged from the bemused, to the derisive, to the clearly envious. It was fantastic.
However, the snow is piling up, and my bed awaits. Until next time, stay warm!
Peace.
P.S. I'd like to to take this moment to thank the blog followers. I shall endeavor to write often, and more importantly, write in a manner which makes this space worth following!
Life in Oslo has been a veritable whirlwind these past few weeks, days, hours - literally as well as metaphorically, as snowflakes are tracing psychedelic patterns in the air outside as I write. Since I last visited this space, I've taken an exam, traveled to western Norway and returned, participated in an art exhibition, carved a pumpkin, dressed up, dressed down, broken wine glasses and spilled coffee grocery shopped, and am currently sporting matching bruises on my knees, courtesy of an unexpected close encounter of the cobblestone kind. I'd like to take a moment to clarify that all of my more spectacular acts of clumsiness, the broken wine glass included, came while I was completely sober. What can I say, it's a skill. Some of us are awesome enough that we can encroach upon the territory of the intoxicated while stone-cold sober. It's a gift.
After careful consideration, I have decided I blame the darkness for my assorted moments of complete incompetence. Daylight savings time is upon us, and the Scandinavian night daily wrests minutes from the grasp of a weak autumn sun. I sat in class earlier today, watching as night fell on Oslo. It was 4:30. This past week, it felt as if autumn itself has stopped fighting the rapidly approaching winter. Clouds chase each other across the eternally gray sky, and today, the cold rain gave way to large, fluffy, snowflakes, spinning wildly in the wind. It's hard to keep track of time, when darkness comes so early. Some days, I barely know where the time has gone.
However, time passes. This past weekend, I celebrated Halloween. Halloween came and went in Norway with none of the fanfare one finds in the US. Stores halfheartedly tried to market costumes, candy, pumpkins, and the assorted trifles associated with the holiday. I carved a pumpkin, assisted by an assortment of somewhat bemused Norwegians. Afterward, we headed into downtown Stavanger, costumed and in search of Halloween madness. The weather was cooperative, serving up a wild wind which howled as it drove the clouds across the sky and whipped through tree branches, yet the temperature stayed above the freezing point. In essence, it was the stereotypical dark and stormy night, minus the more uncomfortable trappings of a storm. Naturally, while the Norwegians were out in force downtown, only 10-15% were decked out for Halloween. Reactions to our costumes ranged from the bemused, to the derisive, to the clearly envious. It was fantastic.
However, the snow is piling up, and my bed awaits. Until next time, stay warm!
Peace.
P.S. I'd like to to take this moment to thank the blog followers. I shall endeavor to write often, and more importantly, write in a manner which makes this space worth following!
Thursday, October 15, 2009
An open letter to Norway regarding Christmas Marketing.
Hello Norway,
Earlier today, as I was cheating on my relationship with Kiwi by shopping at another grocery store, I happened to come across displays with Christmas cookies.
Now, I feel compelled to point out something that you, Norway, as a nation, might have overlooked. It is October. Christmas is more than two months away. The fact that we've already had several months where sweaters are a necessary part of one's daily wardrobe notwithstanding, October is clearly not a month one typically associates with Christmas. Can you please, for the love of little baby Jesus, hold off on the Christmas decorations and advertising until at least a month before the holiday?
I realize that this might leave you with a marketing void. I feel the simplest solution is to import a celebration to fill the blank calender space that exists between the last days of summer and what most would consider an appropriate start to the winter holiday season. May I suggest Halloween? At this point, any religious connotation has mostly been disregarded. It's a short leap from the sparkly leggings, huge shoulders, high-tops, and other relics of the 80s that make up your current fashion trend to real costumes, so I'm sure stores here can whip together a few intentionally frightening mannequins. To use the oft-overused phrase, there is something in it for everyone. Costumes, tacky decorations, and opportunities to play with fire abound. Children get candy, adults get alcoholic punch with ice cubes shaped like hands and the Thriller video on repeat, and grocery stores can make a killing on pumpkins. A win all around, I say.
Yours respectfully,
-A very bemused American
Earlier today, as I was cheating on my relationship with Kiwi by shopping at another grocery store, I happened to come across displays with Christmas cookies.
Now, I feel compelled to point out something that you, Norway, as a nation, might have overlooked. It is October. Christmas is more than two months away. The fact that we've already had several months where sweaters are a necessary part of one's daily wardrobe notwithstanding, October is clearly not a month one typically associates with Christmas. Can you please, for the love of little baby Jesus, hold off on the Christmas decorations and advertising until at least a month before the holiday?
I realize that this might leave you with a marketing void. I feel the simplest solution is to import a celebration to fill the blank calender space that exists between the last days of summer and what most would consider an appropriate start to the winter holiday season. May I suggest Halloween? At this point, any religious connotation has mostly been disregarded. It's a short leap from the sparkly leggings, huge shoulders, high-tops, and other relics of the 80s that make up your current fashion trend to real costumes, so I'm sure stores here can whip together a few intentionally frightening mannequins. To use the oft-overused phrase, there is something in it for everyone. Costumes, tacky decorations, and opportunities to play with fire abound. Children get candy, adults get alcoholic punch with ice cubes shaped like hands and the Thriller video on repeat, and grocery stores can make a killing on pumpkins. A win all around, I say.
Yours respectfully,
-A very bemused American
Friday, October 9, 2009
Obama wins Fredprisen (the Peace Prize), induces a "WTF" reaction
Hello World!
It's another sunny, yet frigid autumn day in Oslo, and while I sit at my desk, clutching a thermos of weak tea, trying to concentrate on reviewing for an exam while gazing at the blue sky through the slats in the blinds, the Norwegian Nobel Committee has caused a bit of an international sensation just a short T-Bane ride away.
For those who are not aware, in the words of Aftenposten (one of Norway's biggest non-tabloid papers) Obama fikk Fredprisen. or Obama wins 2009 Peace Prize.
The reaction in Norway - and the experts cited in the Norwegian papers - seems to be one of surprise. As a somewhat cynical American in Oslo, I'm experiencing a "WTF" moment. The entire enterprise seems more political than a legitimate assessment of Obama's contributions to world peace thus far. In essence, this comes across as a "yay, we like America again" selection. I've spent a fair bit of time in Europe, and Scandinavia in particular, since 2005. There has been a perceptible change in how Europe generally views the States, and the average American, since Obama's election. We've garnered a lot of good will abroad, and the Peace Prize only further underscores this point. However, the selection of President Obama is a safe choice, one which won't significantly affect other efforts on the international diplomacy front, in the way awarding the prize to a Russian or Chinese dissident would.
Hence, it will be interesting to see how this all pans out. I feel strangely homesick, watching my President - one I voted for, and who I genuinely believe in - become the center of attention across the Atlantic from home. And I am curious - Hva synes du om at Obama vant Nobel's Fredspris? (or: what do you think about Obama winning the Peace Prize?) Is the Norwegian reaction universal? How are people at home taking this? I fully expect that a certain segment of the population has already turned this into a negative - "ooh look, those European socialists in Norway love Obama. Yeah. Socialists love him, because he's undermining American freedom!!11!
So, Comments?
P.S. Completely unrelated, but the President of the Norwegian Nobel Committee is called Torbjørn Jagland. Torbjørn is an amazing name. Seriously, the man is called Thunder Bear. I can't be the only person who thinks this is pretty badass, or as badass as a white-haired Norwegian politician can get.
It's another sunny, yet frigid autumn day in Oslo, and while I sit at my desk, clutching a thermos of weak tea, trying to concentrate on reviewing for an exam while gazing at the blue sky through the slats in the blinds, the Norwegian Nobel Committee has caused a bit of an international sensation just a short T-Bane ride away.
For those who are not aware, in the words of Aftenposten (one of Norway's biggest non-tabloid papers) Obama fikk Fredprisen. or Obama wins 2009 Peace Prize.
The reaction in Norway - and the experts cited in the Norwegian papers - seems to be one of surprise. As a somewhat cynical American in Oslo, I'm experiencing a "WTF" moment. The entire enterprise seems more political than a legitimate assessment of Obama's contributions to world peace thus far. In essence, this comes across as a "yay, we like America again" selection. I've spent a fair bit of time in Europe, and Scandinavia in particular, since 2005. There has been a perceptible change in how Europe generally views the States, and the average American, since Obama's election. We've garnered a lot of good will abroad, and the Peace Prize only further underscores this point. However, the selection of President Obama is a safe choice, one which won't significantly affect other efforts on the international diplomacy front, in the way awarding the prize to a Russian or Chinese dissident would.
Hence, it will be interesting to see how this all pans out. I feel strangely homesick, watching my President - one I voted for, and who I genuinely believe in - become the center of attention across the Atlantic from home. And I am curious - Hva synes du om at Obama vant Nobel's Fredspris? (or: what do you think about Obama winning the Peace Prize?) Is the Norwegian reaction universal? How are people at home taking this? I fully expect that a certain segment of the population has already turned this into a negative - "ooh look, those European socialists in Norway love Obama. Yeah. Socialists love him, because he's undermining American freedom!!11!
So, Comments?
P.S. Completely unrelated, but the President of the Norwegian Nobel Committee is called Torbjørn Jagland. Torbjørn is an amazing name. Seriously, the man is called Thunder Bear. I can't be the only person who thinks this is pretty badass, or as badass as a white-haired Norwegian politician can get.
Sunday, October 4, 2009
Aker Brygge: The Boardwalk, Oslo Style
Hello World!
A desire to explore more of my new home lured us outside on an otherwise gray and unappealing afternoon. This time, we went to Aker Brygge, or Aker Harbor, home to some of Oslo's trendiest restaurants, priciest housing, and truly bizarre artwork. It's where the past meets the present in a somewhat surreal mass of humanity, boats, cobblestones and artwork, old and new. Some key points:
As we begin our stroll, we are greeted by the strains of cheerful dance music from another time. It's the sound one associates with warm days, with sunshine and summers. On a gray autumn day, the music seems wistful, a melancholy ode to a summer past.
The North sea washes into Aker Brygge, or Aker Harbor. From the pier, one can see the towers of the old fortress, and several small islands stretching out until the sea melds into the sky, a shifting gradient of blues and grays.
One enduring feature of Scandinavian cities seems to be a propensity for the prominent public display of random pieces of art. Unfortunately, the Norwegian language, which tends toward simplicity rather than elaborate turns of phrase, sometimes fails to capture the meaning behind these instances of artistic expression. Either that, or this artist basically undertook this entire art project while under the influence of illicit substances, which either filled him with feelings he cannot express, or left him devoid of any intelligent thought. Hence, this statue is called "Stor Form" or, literally "Big Shape".
According to a plaque on the opposite end of the boardwalk from this figure, this is a statue of Sri Chinmoy, an individual I have never heard of, and an Eternal Peace flame. Until I learn more than the contents of a disputed wikipedia article about this individual, suffice to note that Desis are everywhere - we're even statues near Oslo Harbor!
Move over, DC Metro. Your "Kiss and Ride" has just been one-upped by a Kiss and Sail. The sign says something to the effect that boats parked longer than 15 minutes will be fined or sent away.
One of these boats is not like the others...
The chain of suspended brassieres are part of an art display linked to raising awareness of breast cancer. The concept becomes significantly more surreal when the cannons (which are everywhere, relics of a time when they were actually used)are incorporated.
Where statues come to work on their relationships. "Look, Lise, just give me another chance. That girl at Vigilandsparken, that was just a one time thing, you know? One seagull dropping too many. Never again, babe. I promise. You're the only woman for me."
What can I say, I combat the dullness of an approaching winter with bouts of unadulterated silliness. And so too does Oslo, as the pink boats attest.
Peace!
A desire to explore more of my new home lured us outside on an otherwise gray and unappealing afternoon. This time, we went to Aker Brygge, or Aker Harbor, home to some of Oslo's trendiest restaurants, priciest housing, and truly bizarre artwork. It's where the past meets the present in a somewhat surreal mass of humanity, boats, cobblestones and artwork, old and new. Some key points:
As we begin our stroll, we are greeted by the strains of cheerful dance music from another time. It's the sound one associates with warm days, with sunshine and summers. On a gray autumn day, the music seems wistful, a melancholy ode to a summer past.
The North sea washes into Aker Brygge, or Aker Harbor. From the pier, one can see the towers of the old fortress, and several small islands stretching out until the sea melds into the sky, a shifting gradient of blues and grays.
One enduring feature of Scandinavian cities seems to be a propensity for the prominent public display of random pieces of art. Unfortunately, the Norwegian language, which tends toward simplicity rather than elaborate turns of phrase, sometimes fails to capture the meaning behind these instances of artistic expression. Either that, or this artist basically undertook this entire art project while under the influence of illicit substances, which either filled him with feelings he cannot express, or left him devoid of any intelligent thought. Hence, this statue is called "Stor Form" or, literally "Big Shape". 
According to a plaque on the opposite end of the boardwalk from this figure, this is a statue of Sri Chinmoy, an individual I have never heard of, and an Eternal Peace flame. Until I learn more than the contents of a disputed wikipedia article about this individual, suffice to note that Desis are everywhere - we're even statues near Oslo Harbor!
Move over, DC Metro. Your "Kiss and Ride" has just been one-upped by a Kiss and Sail. The sign says something to the effect that boats parked longer than 15 minutes will be fined or sent away. 
One of these boats is not like the others...
The chain of suspended brassieres are part of an art display linked to raising awareness of breast cancer. The concept becomes significantly more surreal when the cannons (which are everywhere, relics of a time when they were actually used)are incorporated. 
Where statues come to work on their relationships. "Look, Lise, just give me another chance. That girl at Vigilandsparken, that was just a one time thing, you know? One seagull dropping too many. Never again, babe. I promise. You're the only woman for me."
What can I say, I combat the dullness of an approaching winter with bouts of unadulterated silliness. And so too does Oslo, as the pink boats attest.
Peace!
Saturday, October 3, 2009
The only point of this post is to share pictures of people dressed like Vikings
Hello World!
Autumn is upon us here in Oslo, and as a result, whatever creative juices I had are slowly thickening and starting to resemble creative slush. I blame the increasing cold and the looming shadow cast by the prospect of a 4 hour long essay exam. This past week, I have actually been a fairly productive student, which leaves me with little to say about life in Oslo, apart from some feeble comments about the weather. In possibly the most "duh" inducing comment I have made thus far, Norway is bloody cold. As soon as October started, the weather gods decided the temperature needed to drop below freezing, just to drive home the fact that months of mind-numbing, spirit-crushing, frozen darkness are fast approaching. Well, point taken, weather gods. Point taken.
However, last weekend, I visited Jernaldergarden (the Iron Age Farm, in English),located just outside Stavanger. The farm was in use between AD 350-550, or approximately 300 years before the time of the Vikings. The farm burnt down in roughly AD 550, and was excavated in the 1960s. Subsequently, the buildings have been restored and the area operates as a museum during the summer months.
Here's a close up of one of the buildings, believed to have served as one of the main dwellings. Not visible: The low, narrow entryways, believed to have been designed as both a method of temperature control and as a defense mechanism, as they would force anyone entering to enter at a near crouch.
Sheep as they might have appeared in the Iron Age, though presumably without the plastic ear clips. The gray one behind the rock came trotting up to me and wanted me to pet it. That's right. I have now successfully petted a Norwegian sheep. And yes, I felt really accomplished.
A view of the sea from the farm.
And then, all historical accuracy was lost as the Vikings descended upon us. I really wanted to ask the Vikings if they are actually paid to dress up as anachronistic interlopers, or if they provide this service free of charge.
Bonus points if you can correctly identify two individuals NOT dressed as Vikings!
Much posturing on the part of the Vikings.
Direct quote: "Arrrrgh!"
Translation: "Do not come near me, I still can't control this pointy stick!"
So really, in summary, I went to an old farm, saw some awesome restored buildings, made friends with a sheep, and laughed at the Vikings. Not a bad way to spend a Sunday.
However, now, my bed awaits. Until next time, take care, and stay warm!
Autumn is upon us here in Oslo, and as a result, whatever creative juices I had are slowly thickening and starting to resemble creative slush. I blame the increasing cold and the looming shadow cast by the prospect of a 4 hour long essay exam. This past week, I have actually been a fairly productive student, which leaves me with little to say about life in Oslo, apart from some feeble comments about the weather. In possibly the most "duh" inducing comment I have made thus far, Norway is bloody cold. As soon as October started, the weather gods decided the temperature needed to drop below freezing, just to drive home the fact that months of mind-numbing, spirit-crushing, frozen darkness are fast approaching. Well, point taken, weather gods. Point taken.
However, last weekend, I visited Jernaldergarden (the Iron Age Farm, in English),located just outside Stavanger. The farm was in use between AD 350-550, or approximately 300 years before the time of the Vikings. The farm burnt down in roughly AD 550, and was excavated in the 1960s. Subsequently, the buildings have been restored and the area operates as a museum during the summer months.
Here's a close up of one of the buildings, believed to have served as one of the main dwellings. Not visible: The low, narrow entryways, believed to have been designed as both a method of temperature control and as a defense mechanism, as they would force anyone entering to enter at a near crouch.
Sheep as they might have appeared in the Iron Age, though presumably without the plastic ear clips. The gray one behind the rock came trotting up to me and wanted me to pet it. That's right. I have now successfully petted a Norwegian sheep. And yes, I felt really accomplished.
A view of the sea from the farm.
And then, all historical accuracy was lost as the Vikings descended upon us. I really wanted to ask the Vikings if they are actually paid to dress up as anachronistic interlopers, or if they provide this service free of charge.
Bonus points if you can correctly identify two individuals NOT dressed as Vikings!
Much posturing on the part of the Vikings.
Direct quote: "Arrrrgh!"
Translation: "Do not come near me, I still can't control this pointy stick!"
So really, in summary, I went to an old farm, saw some awesome restored buildings, made friends with a sheep, and laughed at the Vikings. Not a bad way to spend a Sunday.
However, now, my bed awaits. Until next time, take care, and stay warm!
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
More bizarre Norwegian organization, peanut butter, and the first day of fall.
Hello World!
Apparently today was the first day of fall. As Oslo, Norway has essentially been providing me with what I consider fall weather since I arrived, I hadn't really noticed. I've also been living within a term-paper shaped force field for the past several days. Side effects of this included looking longingly out the window at the stunning blue skies Oslo managed to produce on days I was theoretically writing, an inexplicable desire to check Facebook profiles of people whose existence I don't even remember during the days when papers aren't hanging over my head, visiting the Norwegian Parliament (Stortinget) on a Friday night, and gaining an irrational dislike for all topics associated with my term paper. This included, but is not limited to: Norway, primary care physicians, the Netherlands, the Dutch Ministry of Sport, Welfare, and Something, health economists, the WHO, and the APA. Now, my paper is completed, so the irrational dislike is fading again. And besides, all the cool kids tour the center of government on Friday nights!
Anyway, the first day of fall was a mixed up day here, in every sense of the word. The clouds were an ominous shade of dark gray all morning, but the sun shined in the brilliant patches of blue which surrounded them, When the wind was calm, it felt like summer, when the wind blew, I wasn't warm enough despite a cardigan and a windbreaker. Class was short but the morning was long. I acquired a Norwegian bank account with almost no hassle but couldn't purchase a new monthly student transit pass because of a low level civil servant on a power trip. There's something slightly worrying about a country where they will trust you enough to let you open a bank account without a letter from your bank, and then turn around and demand a slip of paper stating you are a student - despite seeing the ID they issued you a month previously stating this exact fact - because it isn't the right student card. Honestly, it's completely bizarre.
So, I'll have to buy a new monthly pass tomorrow, armed with all the "right" ID cards. However, the day will be slightly easier because I now have real peanut butter! For those unaware, peanut butter is a strange concept here. Apparently, spreading sweet, sweet peanut paste, combined with all those lovely additives and sugar, is well, unheard of here. The only peanut butter one can find here normally is that weird, healthy, ground-up-peanut-sans-sugar stuff. Hence, while I am here, my love can be purchased with plastic jars of Skippy, Jif or similar. (Hint! In case anyone reading this isdesperate to purchase my love just wants to make my day) In fact, it currently has been, thanks to two jars of Skippy stacked on the edge of my desk. Combined, these two jars are roughly the size of a standard jar of peanut butter at home, but cost about 3 times as much. Alas, said peanut butter was brought to me from Stavanger, so while there is apparently real peanut butter in this country, it is an 8 hour train ride away. Still, I have peanut butter. Trust me, this is an amazing thing.
Anyway, bedtime on this side of the Atlantic. Take care!
Apparently today was the first day of fall. As Oslo, Norway has essentially been providing me with what I consider fall weather since I arrived, I hadn't really noticed. I've also been living within a term-paper shaped force field for the past several days. Side effects of this included looking longingly out the window at the stunning blue skies Oslo managed to produce on days I was theoretically writing, an inexplicable desire to check Facebook profiles of people whose existence I don't even remember during the days when papers aren't hanging over my head, visiting the Norwegian Parliament (Stortinget) on a Friday night, and gaining an irrational dislike for all topics associated with my term paper. This included, but is not limited to: Norway, primary care physicians, the Netherlands, the Dutch Ministry of Sport, Welfare, and Something, health economists, the WHO, and the APA. Now, my paper is completed, so the irrational dislike is fading again. And besides, all the cool kids tour the center of government on Friday nights!
Anyway, the first day of fall was a mixed up day here, in every sense of the word. The clouds were an ominous shade of dark gray all morning, but the sun shined in the brilliant patches of blue which surrounded them, When the wind was calm, it felt like summer, when the wind blew, I wasn't warm enough despite a cardigan and a windbreaker. Class was short but the morning was long. I acquired a Norwegian bank account with almost no hassle but couldn't purchase a new monthly student transit pass because of a low level civil servant on a power trip. There's something slightly worrying about a country where they will trust you enough to let you open a bank account without a letter from your bank, and then turn around and demand a slip of paper stating you are a student - despite seeing the ID they issued you a month previously stating this exact fact - because it isn't the right student card. Honestly, it's completely bizarre.
So, I'll have to buy a new monthly pass tomorrow, armed with all the "right" ID cards. However, the day will be slightly easier because I now have real peanut butter! For those unaware, peanut butter is a strange concept here. Apparently, spreading sweet, sweet peanut paste, combined with all those lovely additives and sugar, is well, unheard of here. The only peanut butter one can find here normally is that weird, healthy, ground-up-peanut-sans-sugar stuff. Hence, while I am here, my love can be purchased with plastic jars of Skippy, Jif or similar. (Hint! In case anyone reading this is
Anyway, bedtime on this side of the Atlantic. Take care!
Monday, September 14, 2009
Beach-based political propaganda
Hello World!
I return from another wekend spent in western Norway. I can now say I have attended a wedding in the middle o'nowhere, Norway. Or possibly, it was slightly to the west of the middle of nowhere. Either way, the wedding was in Jaeren, which is straight up country. How country? The wedding reception was in a converted barn, and my tour of the thriving metropolis of Bryne included a tractor and a potato festival. However, both the bride and the groom were glowing, and the reception also included a musician preforming Sting songs translated into Norwegian. So good times all around.
Prior to my trip back to Oslo, we made another stop by my favorite beach, this time to engage in some political propaganda.
.jpg)
Message: "Husk aa Stemme, men ikke stem FrP"
Translation: "Remember to vote, but don't vote for FrP!
Who are FrP? In English, they are known as the Progress Party, best known for spouting the sort of commentary one associates with the right wing at home. Part of the platform includes a particularly strong strain of anti-immigration positions, which walks the line (and occasionally merrily leapfrogs over it) between fear and outright racism. Unfortunately, they are also one of the largest parties in Norway, commanding roughly 25% of the vote, and are quite popular in southwestern Norway.
I'm hoping that the message is being taken to heart by at least some who pass by it. THe notion of progressive Norway taking a stp backward is not one I want to contemplate.
Peace!
I return from another wekend spent in western Norway. I can now say I have attended a wedding in the middle o'nowhere, Norway. Or possibly, it was slightly to the west of the middle of nowhere. Either way, the wedding was in Jaeren, which is straight up country. How country? The wedding reception was in a converted barn, and my tour of the thriving metropolis of Bryne included a tractor and a potato festival. However, both the bride and the groom were glowing, and the reception also included a musician preforming Sting songs translated into Norwegian. So good times all around.
Prior to my trip back to Oslo, we made another stop by my favorite beach, this time to engage in some political propaganda.
.jpg)
Message: "Husk aa Stemme, men ikke stem FrP"
Translation: "Remember to vote, but don't vote for FrP!
Who are FrP? In English, they are known as the Progress Party, best known for spouting the sort of commentary one associates with the right wing at home. Part of the platform includes a particularly strong strain of anti-immigration positions, which walks the line (and occasionally merrily leapfrogs over it) between fear and outright racism. Unfortunately, they are also one of the largest parties in Norway, commanding roughly 25% of the vote, and are quite popular in southwestern Norway.
I'm hoping that the message is being taken to heart by at least some who pass by it. THe notion of progressive Norway taking a stp backward is not one I want to contemplate.
Peace!
Saturday, September 5, 2009
One month in, and the most beautiful beach in Norway
Hello World!
It's strange, how entire ayds pass without seeming to leave a permanent mark on my memory. As I was sitting her, a weak sun filtering though my blinds as I attempted to clean, study, and coax my hair into something less curly (a degree of multitasking which produces mixed results, to say the least. My hair in particular is a bit of a lost cause)I realized that I arrived in Norway exactly one month ago today. Somehow, it simultaneously feels like I just arrived and like I have been here forever. It's a rather mixed up feeling.
Anyway, to celebrate the official one month anniversary of being here, I give you beach pictures! These pictures are from last weekend, but as I am trapped inside by textbooks today, these are the best I have to offer at present.
Hilsen fra Norge! Or, greetings from Sola strand, to be more precise. Sola Strand = Sun Beach, in Norwegian. A somewhat optimistic name, although there was actually sun for a a bit.
One of the reasons why I love this beach is because it combines expanses of lovely, soft, white sand with sections of craggy rocks and grassy dunes. This is quite a walk down the shore from where most people park. It's the sort of place where one can sit, watch the sea, and lose track of time.
Rocks against the North sea and a late (Scandinavian) summer sky. Note: LLate Scandinavian summer is mid-autumn on the US east coast!
the sea crashes against the rocks, and the spray is quite dramatic against a darkening sky.
Walking back across the beach, and the clouds rapidly cross over the North sea
And as the ominous clouds came in, we sprinted back to the car. Luckily, we made it just as the first drops started to fall.
Here, the little sunlight we had this morning has retreated, and my work still awaits. Back to attempts at productivity!
Peace!
It's strange, how entire ayds pass without seeming to leave a permanent mark on my memory. As I was sitting her, a weak sun filtering though my blinds as I attempted to clean, study, and coax my hair into something less curly (a degree of multitasking which produces mixed results, to say the least. My hair in particular is a bit of a lost cause)I realized that I arrived in Norway exactly one month ago today. Somehow, it simultaneously feels like I just arrived and like I have been here forever. It's a rather mixed up feeling.
Anyway, to celebrate the official one month anniversary of being here, I give you beach pictures! These pictures are from last weekend, but as I am trapped inside by textbooks today, these are the best I have to offer at present.
Hilsen fra Norge! Or, greetings from Sola strand, to be more precise. Sola Strand = Sun Beach, in Norwegian. A somewhat optimistic name, although there was actually sun for a a bit.
One of the reasons why I love this beach is because it combines expanses of lovely, soft, white sand with sections of craggy rocks and grassy dunes. This is quite a walk down the shore from where most people park. It's the sort of place where one can sit, watch the sea, and lose track of time.
Rocks against the North sea and a late (Scandinavian) summer sky. Note: LLate Scandinavian summer is mid-autumn on the US east coast!
the sea crashes against the rocks, and the spray is quite dramatic against a darkening sky.
Walking back across the beach, and the clouds rapidly cross over the North sea
And as the ominous clouds came in, we sprinted back to the car. Luckily, we made it just as the first drops started to fall.
Here, the little sunlight we had this morning has retreated, and my work still awaits. Back to attempts at productivity!
Peace!
Sunday, August 30, 2009
It's not over until David Hasselhoff sings
Hello World!
Well, it's been a veritable whirlwind of a week. Between classes, purchasing materials for classes, and a nasty cold courtesy of the chilly Norwegian rain, I just haven't had much to write about worth sharing. Classes and colds are the sorts of constants which challenge my ability to write truthfully without whining.
However, this weekend finds me across the country from Oslo, where I have just returned from a birthday party. It was an interesting experience. For one thing, I knew exactly 2 people at the party, one of whom was the birthday boy. He suggested I pretend to be Canadian for reasons linked to *drunk person logic* a strange, twisted state of mind which cannot be understood while sober. This I attempted to do by throwing a few "eh"s into conversation, while trying not to feel slightly out of place by virtue of being the sole native English speaker AND the darkest person in the room. The party progressed, as these things do, with the usual mingling, random photographs, spilled drinks, and as this is Scandinavia, some really questionable music. Somehow, the playlist managed to encompass Iron Maiden, Michael Jackson. Ace of Base, and Riverdance. Of course, the party grew, from invited guests, to friends of friends.
and then. the "local celebrity" arrived.
Yes folks, I can now claim to have been at the same party as an individual at the center of Norway's biggest insider trading case. No one (including the birthday boy) was entirely sure how he arrived. According to party rumor, his legal team had received a call from him, asking where they were and if he could hang out. According to his legal team (who HAD been invited), he's completely innocent.
Unfortunately, I can't claim to have met this man, as we had no idea what he looked like. Besides, the playlist spit up David Hasselhoff, and we took that as our cue to leave.
Anyway, that's all the news that isn't!
Well, it's been a veritable whirlwind of a week. Between classes, purchasing materials for classes, and a nasty cold courtesy of the chilly Norwegian rain, I just haven't had much to write about worth sharing. Classes and colds are the sorts of constants which challenge my ability to write truthfully without whining.
However, this weekend finds me across the country from Oslo, where I have just returned from a birthday party. It was an interesting experience. For one thing, I knew exactly 2 people at the party, one of whom was the birthday boy. He suggested I pretend to be Canadian for reasons linked to *drunk person logic* a strange, twisted state of mind which cannot be understood while sober. This I attempted to do by throwing a few "eh"s into conversation, while trying not to feel slightly out of place by virtue of being the sole native English speaker AND the darkest person in the room. The party progressed, as these things do, with the usual mingling, random photographs, spilled drinks, and as this is Scandinavia, some really questionable music. Somehow, the playlist managed to encompass Iron Maiden, Michael Jackson. Ace of Base, and Riverdance. Of course, the party grew, from invited guests, to friends of friends.
and then. the "local celebrity" arrived.
Yes folks, I can now claim to have been at the same party as an individual at the center of Norway's biggest insider trading case. No one (including the birthday boy) was entirely sure how he arrived. According to party rumor, his legal team had received a call from him, asking where they were and if he could hang out. According to his legal team (who HAD been invited), he's completely innocent.
Unfortunately, I can't claim to have met this man, as we had no idea what he looked like. Besides, the playlist spit up David Hasselhoff, and we took that as our cue to leave.
Anyway, that's all the news that isn't!
Sunday, August 23, 2009
A very administrative (yet sunny) weekend
Hello world!
The past three days have brought exceptional weather to Oslo. Friday was a day without rain, so despite heavy cloud cover it was out of the ordinary. Saturday and Sunday were what we'd consider a lovely autumn day at home, but were quite summery here - the sky was blue, the sun was shining, and the highs ranged from 20-24 C (68-75F) Naturally, the lovely weather coincided with a weekend fraught with administrative tasks. I spent Saturday gazing longingly at the sun while trapped inside of a police building.
Why did I spend a day with the police? Well, it turned out to be a combination of bureaucracy, shockingly bad organization, a misinformed staff, and excessive optimism on the part of the Oslo Police. New Norwegian residents are required to register with the Norwegian Police, as the police handle parts of the residence permit application process, instead of the embassy. The police department cooperates with the university to arrange a special "student day" to facilitate this process. On paper, the process sounded flawless. We had been organized into categories, and requested to arrive at set times for our allotted categories. I was to arrive at 11, and be done by 1.
Instead, the actual time line of the day:
10:00: Left.
11:00: Arrive. Notice that students are milling about like lost sheep, partially herded by individuals with badges and a few uniformed staff.
11:01: Take a queue number. Realize my number is roughly 500 people away from being served.
11:30: Track down a member of staff, and am told I belong to an "express line" where the queue number is not necessary. Ask whether I need a passport photo, as some individuals in the express line have one, whereas my documentation did not state one was required. Have my documents examined and am informed that I do not need one.
1:30 Realize the "express line" is a myth, as 9 people have been served in the past 2 hours.
2:15: Am placed in a new line and informed that despite the information provided in writing and by a member of staff, I DO need a passport photo. Rush to booth in police station to take one.
2:30: Return to learn "express line" has been disbanded. Ask another member of staff about the lines. Her answer? "There is no express line. They were wrong about that. I am sorry."
2:35: My queue number is 200 people away. Storm out of station and indulge in a minor breakdown. Consume 3 spoons of possibly the worst fried rice we have ever had the misfortune of paying for.
2:40: Contemplate feeding bad fried rice to pigeon, but decide this would constitute animal abuse.
3:00: 180 people to go. Learn that uniformed officers milling about are not police officers, but rent-a-cops from a security firm. Feel slightly confused and slightly amused by the fact that the police use rent-a-cops.
3:30: Go for a walk, staying within a few blocks of the police station so I can compulsively check how many people remain before me in the line.
3:55: Witness a man doing what appear to be lines of cocaine on a sidewalk, less than 500 meters from a police station. It's impossible to tell if the man is very clueless, or just very strung out.
4:35: Finally receive residence permit in passport, Redirected to another line to receive a Norwegian Personal Number (similar to a social security number)
5:25: Am informed by the National registry workers that they have provided me with an old version of the form, and am directed to step aside and fill in a new, updated version of the form. Obviously, the new, updated version of the form is almost identical to the old one. The old form had several misspellings, (conserns, singel). At this point, I do not care enough to see if these have been corrected on the new form.
5:40: finally leave the police station, having lost an entire sunny day.
After this experience, it was with trepidation I approached Trafikanten, the information center for public transport in Oslo and the place where I needed to purchase a student transit pass. As we entered the building, we heard the sort of singing and chanting one generally associates with Native Americans. I decided to investigate after securing a pass. 10 minutes later, pass in hand following a blissfully straightforward process, I returned to the square. There, I witnessed possibly the most random Native American display I have ever seen. mostly because we were in a city square, across the Atlantic from the natural dwellings of Native Americans. It was rather surreal.
The rest of the day was spent hiking around Holmenkollen, avoiding construction zones and picking and eating blueberries. It felt like a throwback to my childhood, or some bygone era. It's been decades since I lived somewhere where one could go for a walk and gather food at locations other than supermarkets. These moments almost cancel out the hell of snarled bureaucracy which has governed my first weeks here.
Peace!
P.S. I'll be updating this post with pictures tomorrow, once I transfer them from the camera. Watch this space!
The past three days have brought exceptional weather to Oslo. Friday was a day without rain, so despite heavy cloud cover it was out of the ordinary. Saturday and Sunday were what we'd consider a lovely autumn day at home, but were quite summery here - the sky was blue, the sun was shining, and the highs ranged from 20-24 C (68-75F) Naturally, the lovely weather coincided with a weekend fraught with administrative tasks. I spent Saturday gazing longingly at the sun while trapped inside of a police building.
Why did I spend a day with the police? Well, it turned out to be a combination of bureaucracy, shockingly bad organization, a misinformed staff, and excessive optimism on the part of the Oslo Police. New Norwegian residents are required to register with the Norwegian Police, as the police handle parts of the residence permit application process, instead of the embassy. The police department cooperates with the university to arrange a special "student day" to facilitate this process. On paper, the process sounded flawless. We had been organized into categories, and requested to arrive at set times for our allotted categories. I was to arrive at 11, and be done by 1.
Instead, the actual time line of the day:
10:00: Left.
11:00: Arrive. Notice that students are milling about like lost sheep, partially herded by individuals with badges and a few uniformed staff.
11:01: Take a queue number. Realize my number is roughly 500 people away from being served.
11:30: Track down a member of staff, and am told I belong to an "express line" where the queue number is not necessary. Ask whether I need a passport photo, as some individuals in the express line have one, whereas my documentation did not state one was required. Have my documents examined and am informed that I do not need one.
1:30 Realize the "express line" is a myth, as 9 people have been served in the past 2 hours.
2:15: Am placed in a new line and informed that despite the information provided in writing and by a member of staff, I DO need a passport photo. Rush to booth in police station to take one.
2:30: Return to learn "express line" has been disbanded. Ask another member of staff about the lines. Her answer? "There is no express line. They were wrong about that. I am sorry."
2:35: My queue number is 200 people away. Storm out of station and indulge in a minor breakdown. Consume 3 spoons of possibly the worst fried rice we have ever had the misfortune of paying for.
2:40: Contemplate feeding bad fried rice to pigeon, but decide this would constitute animal abuse.
3:00: 180 people to go. Learn that uniformed officers milling about are not police officers, but rent-a-cops from a security firm. Feel slightly confused and slightly amused by the fact that the police use rent-a-cops.
3:30: Go for a walk, staying within a few blocks of the police station so I can compulsively check how many people remain before me in the line.
3:55: Witness a man doing what appear to be lines of cocaine on a sidewalk, less than 500 meters from a police station. It's impossible to tell if the man is very clueless, or just very strung out.
4:35: Finally receive residence permit in passport, Redirected to another line to receive a Norwegian Personal Number (similar to a social security number)
5:25: Am informed by the National registry workers that they have provided me with an old version of the form, and am directed to step aside and fill in a new, updated version of the form. Obviously, the new, updated version of the form is almost identical to the old one. The old form had several misspellings, (conserns, singel). At this point, I do not care enough to see if these have been corrected on the new form.
5:40: finally leave the police station, having lost an entire sunny day.
After this experience, it was with trepidation I approached Trafikanten, the information center for public transport in Oslo and the place where I needed to purchase a student transit pass. As we entered the building, we heard the sort of singing and chanting one generally associates with Native Americans. I decided to investigate after securing a pass. 10 minutes later, pass in hand following a blissfully straightforward process, I returned to the square. There, I witnessed possibly the most random Native American display I have ever seen. mostly because we were in a city square, across the Atlantic from the natural dwellings of Native Americans. It was rather surreal.
The rest of the day was spent hiking around Holmenkollen, avoiding construction zones and picking and eating blueberries. It felt like a throwback to my childhood, or some bygone era. It's been decades since I lived somewhere where one could go for a walk and gather food at locations other than supermarkets. These moments almost cancel out the hell of snarled bureaucracy which has governed my first weeks here.
Peace!
P.S. I'll be updating this post with pictures tomorrow, once I transfer them from the camera. Watch this space!
Thursday, August 20, 2009
How I acquired a grocery bag
Hello world!
Yesterday, while walking back to the T-Bane station after my daily journey around campus, I found my path blocked by a herd of Norwegians brandishing black tote bags. Now, for those who are unaware, Oslo is one of the world's most expensive cities. As a result, when someone offers me anything free in this country, I say "takk" and run with it. Granted, this is also due to the fact that my Norwegian isn't developed enough for me to a) ask "what is in this bag" or b)comprehend the answer, if one is given. But I digress. As I continued to walk towards the station, I spotted what appeared to be clones of my new bag, drooping sadly, abandoned by their owners. Feeling curious, I decided to examine my bag further, and noticed several things a more observant person would have picked up on earlier
1) The bag said "Follow the Bible" in large, clearly printed letters.
2) The bag had the website for the Adventists printed clearly on the bottom.
3) The bag was filled with Norwegian evangelical literature
4) The bag had an apple.
.JPG)
What baffles me is why so many people accepted the bags, then abandoned them. Were they Norwegians, afraid to appear rude by rejecting the bags, but not afraid of appearing rude when abandoning the same bags once out of sight of their bag-proffering countrymen? Were they international students, who didn't understand what was being said? Were they people who really wanted a free apple, but were less enthused about religious propaganda? The world may never know.
However, the apple was green, crunchy, and made a tasty afternoon snack. Turned inside out, the tote bag makes an excellent grocery bag. It's lightweight, made of one of those synthetic fibers which is strong yet folds easily into a pocket or similar, and is the perfect size for a basketful of groceries. And the evangelical brochures? Well, if anyone wants a copy of evangelical literature in Norwegian, let me know! But speak up soon, because the recycling bin awaits.
.JPG)
Peace!
Yesterday, while walking back to the T-Bane station after my daily journey around campus, I found my path blocked by a herd of Norwegians brandishing black tote bags. Now, for those who are unaware, Oslo is one of the world's most expensive cities. As a result, when someone offers me anything free in this country, I say "takk" and run with it. Granted, this is also due to the fact that my Norwegian isn't developed enough for me to a) ask "what is in this bag" or b)comprehend the answer, if one is given. But I digress. As I continued to walk towards the station, I spotted what appeared to be clones of my new bag, drooping sadly, abandoned by their owners. Feeling curious, I decided to examine my bag further, and noticed several things a more observant person would have picked up on earlier
1) The bag said "Follow the Bible" in large, clearly printed letters.
2) The bag had the website for the Adventists printed clearly on the bottom.
3) The bag was filled with Norwegian evangelical literature
4) The bag had an apple.
.JPG)
What baffles me is why so many people accepted the bags, then abandoned them. Were they Norwegians, afraid to appear rude by rejecting the bags, but not afraid of appearing rude when abandoning the same bags once out of sight of their bag-proffering countrymen? Were they international students, who didn't understand what was being said? Were they people who really wanted a free apple, but were less enthused about religious propaganda? The world may never know.
However, the apple was green, crunchy, and made a tasty afternoon snack. Turned inside out, the tote bag makes an excellent grocery bag. It's lightweight, made of one of those synthetic fibers which is strong yet folds easily into a pocket or similar, and is the perfect size for a basketful of groceries. And the evangelical brochures? Well, if anyone wants a copy of evangelical literature in Norwegian, let me know! But speak up soon, because the recycling bin awaits.
.JPG)
Peace!
Tuesday, August 18, 2009
The Sun is out, let's work on our tans!
Hello World!
Well, it's been a few days, hasn't it? In this time I have started class, taken a trans-Norway train ride by night (it was dark, not much else to say) and am roughly 1400 NOK poorer thanks to the cost of two textbooks. Apparently, ripping students off at University bookstores is a common cultural (or capitalistic) swath of behavior that transcends borders and language barriers. It would warm my heart, if I were more of a capitalist.
Anyway, this is just a quick note between the twist of class, orientation meetings, and Norwegian beaurocracy which control my life at present. The sun is out today, which means that as I walk to class, I will spot many Norwegian students working on their tans. The natural way, for a change.
One of the more bizarre things about Scandinavia is the obsession with tanning. which is most apparent due to the prevalence of bad fake tans. It truly is mind boggling. Yesterday, seated on the T-Bane, warily gazing around at the other passengers while studiously avoiding eye contact (as those of you who know me know, avoiding eye contact is one of my skills. Perhaps this is why I do well over here? But I digress) my attention was caught by the woman seated across from me. Something seemed off about her, and after a few moments, I realized why. Her face and her arms were two completely different shades of brown, both shades darker than my own skin and neither shade of which was intended by nature.
I can't wrap my head around it. Entire schools of thought and portions of history have been influenced by the the belief that those as pale as the driven snow are morally and intellectually superior the the myriad brown masses. Kipling, I'm looking at you. Centuries of brainwashing has worked. Light skin is valued....by those from parts of the world where it isn't natural. Meanwhile, the light skinned Norwegians bake, trying to coax - or spray - pigment onto their skin.
I know it's eminiently more complex, that woven throughout these beliefs about skin color are beliefs about income, and leisure time, and health. This analysis is, as they say, skin deep. But when the skin in question is some weird shade of bottle tan, skin deep is all I have time for.
Peace!
Well, it's been a few days, hasn't it? In this time I have started class, taken a trans-Norway train ride by night (it was dark, not much else to say) and am roughly 1400 NOK poorer thanks to the cost of two textbooks. Apparently, ripping students off at University bookstores is a common cultural (or capitalistic) swath of behavior that transcends borders and language barriers. It would warm my heart, if I were more of a capitalist.
Anyway, this is just a quick note between the twist of class, orientation meetings, and Norwegian beaurocracy which control my life at present. The sun is out today, which means that as I walk to class, I will spot many Norwegian students working on their tans. The natural way, for a change.
One of the more bizarre things about Scandinavia is the obsession with tanning. which is most apparent due to the prevalence of bad fake tans. It truly is mind boggling. Yesterday, seated on the T-Bane, warily gazing around at the other passengers while studiously avoiding eye contact (as those of you who know me know, avoiding eye contact is one of my skills. Perhaps this is why I do well over here? But I digress) my attention was caught by the woman seated across from me. Something seemed off about her, and after a few moments, I realized why. Her face and her arms were two completely different shades of brown, both shades darker than my own skin and neither shade of which was intended by nature.
I can't wrap my head around it. Entire schools of thought and portions of history have been influenced by the the belief that those as pale as the driven snow are morally and intellectually superior the the myriad brown masses. Kipling, I'm looking at you. Centuries of brainwashing has worked. Light skin is valued....by those from parts of the world where it isn't natural. Meanwhile, the light skinned Norwegians bake, trying to coax - or spray - pigment onto their skin.
I know it's eminiently more complex, that woven throughout these beliefs about skin color are beliefs about income, and leisure time, and health. This analysis is, as they say, skin deep. But when the skin in question is some weird shade of bottle tan, skin deep is all I have time for.
Peace!
Wednesday, August 12, 2009
4-0, Norway-Scotland!
Hello World!
So, it's been a few days since I last visited this space. Unfortunately, the Blog was lost in a swirl of minor crises, including a computer meltdown which ate one of the previous posts, many orientation meetings, and yet more trips to IKEA.
Over the past several days, we've noticed an influx of highly patriotic Scots. These individuals have been wandering around the city and riding the trains, dressed in a strange combination of Kilts and soccer jerseys, periodically bursting into drunken song. The reason? Today's World Cup qualifying soccer match between Norway and Scotland. The new students were invited to a barbecue, and then to campus to watch the match on televisions in tents. Instead, I bought a ticket and went to see the ACTUAL match - or, to be more precise, to watch the Norwegian supporters watch the match. As the players warmed up, the speakers blasted a techno-inspired remix of "Fairytale" (A Norwegian song that won the Eurovision Song Contest, which is a topic which completely deserves its' own post) and Grieg's "In the Hall of the Mountain King". It was possibly the most random piece of music I have heard in a looong time. In most sane musical peices, classical music and the Euovision Song contest do not coexist
Things only improved from there. Norwegian soccer supporters do not sit silently. One can follow the tide of the game without seeing a single pass, provided one can just hear the supporters. They sing. They shout "Norge!" They wave signs and scarves. and wear Norwegian flag hats with Viking horns. They whistle and boo when they disagree with the referee. When a Scottish player was red-carded a scant half hour into the match, I knew it was going to be good game.
The end result? Norway won, 4-0. I can't tell you who scored, but I can tell you I clapped, yelled "Nei!" when everyone else did, and leapt up and applauded like mad when Norway scored. I did the wave. I watched small children nearly take out each others' eyes with felt viking helmets and their fathers leap up and gesture madly at the field. I waved a Norwegian flag scarf. The Norwegians have a soccer song about being on their way to South Africa. This might be wishful thinking, but after tonight's match, it's a fun wish to buy into.
Peace!
So, it's been a few days since I last visited this space. Unfortunately, the Blog was lost in a swirl of minor crises, including a computer meltdown which ate one of the previous posts, many orientation meetings, and yet more trips to IKEA.
Over the past several days, we've noticed an influx of highly patriotic Scots. These individuals have been wandering around the city and riding the trains, dressed in a strange combination of Kilts and soccer jerseys, periodically bursting into drunken song. The reason? Today's World Cup qualifying soccer match between Norway and Scotland. The new students were invited to a barbecue, and then to campus to watch the match on televisions in tents. Instead, I bought a ticket and went to see the ACTUAL match - or, to be more precise, to watch the Norwegian supporters watch the match. As the players warmed up, the speakers blasted a techno-inspired remix of "Fairytale" (A Norwegian song that won the Eurovision Song Contest, which is a topic which completely deserves its' own post) and Grieg's "In the Hall of the Mountain King". It was possibly the most random piece of music I have heard in a looong time. In most sane musical peices, classical music and the Euovision Song contest do not coexist
Things only improved from there. Norwegian soccer supporters do not sit silently. One can follow the tide of the game without seeing a single pass, provided one can just hear the supporters. They sing. They shout "Norge!" They wave signs and scarves. and wear Norwegian flag hats with Viking horns. They whistle and boo when they disagree with the referee. When a Scottish player was red-carded a scant half hour into the match, I knew it was going to be good game.
The end result? Norway won, 4-0. I can't tell you who scored, but I can tell you I clapped, yelled "Nei!" when everyone else did, and leapt up and applauded like mad when Norway scored. I did the wave. I watched small children nearly take out each others' eyes with felt viking helmets and their fathers leap up and gesture madly at the field. I waved a Norwegian flag scarf. The Norwegians have a soccer song about being on their way to South Africa. This might be wishful thinking, but after tonight's match, it's a fun wish to buy into.
Peace!
Sunday, August 9, 2009
Day two: Waiting on the world (Or Oslo) to change
Hello world!
Before I break down a thoroughly uneventful day here in Oslo (short version: it rained, and nothing is open), I would like to take a moment to publicly revel in the fact that this blog has followers. Thank you, followers! You have no idea how excited your presence makes me. I shall endeavor to keep this space as interesting a read as possible, within the constraints placed on my writing by the reality of a generally uneventful life.
Anyway, on to the day. In a throwback to some simpler time, nothing is open around here on Sundays. The sole exception to this rule is Statoil, a gas station. The strangest thing about it is that Norway, despite having a state church (the Church of Norway, which is Lutheran) is one of Europe's more secular nations. It's bizarre. And when one desperately needs groceries or a distraction, it is also supremely irritating.
In an attempt to compensate for the general air of laziness surrounding the day, the weather decided to step it up and frenetically cycled from clouds, to rain, to humidity, to heavier rain, to sun, and then back to clouds again. Naturally, a fair percentage of the cycling happened while I was out walking, attempting to familiarize myself with my surroundings. Such is life. Thanks weather, for introducing me to all facets of Norwegian summer, all at once! Please note: I use the term "summer" in a loose sense. It was 16 degrees C outside today, which is approximately 60 degrees F. I was wearing a sweater. One does not wear a sweater outdoors, in the middle of the afternoon, during summer. It violates some law of the universe. However, a sweater is as far as I go. I categorically refuse to bust out a jacket during the month of August. Weather gods, please don't take this as a challenge!
Anyway, that's all for today. Tomorrow, I head to campus to pick up orientation information. Weather permitting, I'll have a camera with me. So watch this space!
Night!
Before I break down a thoroughly uneventful day here in Oslo (short version: it rained, and nothing is open), I would like to take a moment to publicly revel in the fact that this blog has followers. Thank you, followers! You have no idea how excited your presence makes me. I shall endeavor to keep this space as interesting a read as possible, within the constraints placed on my writing by the reality of a generally uneventful life.
Anyway, on to the day. In a throwback to some simpler time, nothing is open around here on Sundays. The sole exception to this rule is Statoil, a gas station. The strangest thing about it is that Norway, despite having a state church (the Church of Norway, which is Lutheran) is one of Europe's more secular nations. It's bizarre. And when one desperately needs groceries or a distraction, it is also supremely irritating.
In an attempt to compensate for the general air of laziness surrounding the day, the weather decided to step it up and frenetically cycled from clouds, to rain, to humidity, to heavier rain, to sun, and then back to clouds again. Naturally, a fair percentage of the cycling happened while I was out walking, attempting to familiarize myself with my surroundings. Such is life. Thanks weather, for introducing me to all facets of Norwegian summer, all at once! Please note: I use the term "summer" in a loose sense. It was 16 degrees C outside today, which is approximately 60 degrees F. I was wearing a sweater. One does not wear a sweater outdoors, in the middle of the afternoon, during summer. It violates some law of the universe. However, a sweater is as far as I go. I categorically refuse to bust out a jacket during the month of August. Weather gods, please don't take this as a challenge!
Anyway, that's all for today. Tomorrow, I head to campus to pick up orientation information. Weather permitting, I'll have a camera with me. So watch this space!
Night!
Saturday, August 8, 2009
Day one in Oslo: or "You spent HOW MUCH at IKEA?"
Hello World!
Yesterday, we drove across Norway from near Stavanger (on the Southwestern coast) to Oslo. Had we wings, this would be a straight shot east. However, we do not have wings, so this was a 9 hour long drive. The GPS anticipated the drive lasting 7.5 hours, however, the GPS failed to account for goats napping on dilapidated asphalt, sheep staring us down as they slowly sauntered across the roadway , trucks redoing the paint on the dividing lines, RVs and other hazards of taking single lane roads through the Norwegian mountains. Alas, no moose were spotted, despite several moose crossing signs.
Nonetheless, we arrived at Oslo late last night, and after a night spent in a hotel which takes modern Scandinavian design to the extreme, I arrived at the Student Housing Center to collect my room keys. When I arrived a few minutes after opening, there was already a line. Or rather, there was a number machine and a herd of students clutching small numbered sheets of white paper, eying each other warily. Finally, my number was called and I received the keys to my room. I made my way past buildings which I can best describe as inspired by the design aesthetic favored by soviet Russia. After 5 minutes, I arrived at my own corner of the student housing village and entered my room.
I suppose the polite term for the room is "utilitarian." A less polite (and potentially more accurate) is "boring as a hospital ward, but without the illness." The university provides international students with a furnished room, which appears to be furnished by a mishmash of IKEA and rejects from an office supplies catalogue. Hence, it was off to IKEA to try and buy the room some personality through quirky mass-produced Swedish furnishings. Roughly 2000 NOK later, I feel like I have succeeded somewhat. IKEA taunts you with all the things you didn't even know existed, but you feel you must have. Luckily, I managed to avoid the pitfalls of such things as milk frothers, decorative straw candle holders, and mirrors on strange extendable arms, and have limited myself to things I will actually use. This is an accomplishment, trust me.
On the way home, I discovered the Gandhi Indian restaurant, which announced its presence to Oslo at large by means of a light-up neon Indian flag. Obviously, this was so tacky that it is awesome. I now have leftover Indian food in the fridge for tomorrow. I also concluded my first successful grocery run....as well as my first conversation entirely in Norwegian! Granted, all I had to say was "Ja" and "Takk" (yes & thanks) but still!
Anyway, that's enough for now. I have suitcases to unpack, IKEA lamps to assemble, and bedding to spread before I can sleep. Until next time, god natt!
Yesterday, we drove across Norway from near Stavanger (on the Southwestern coast) to Oslo. Had we wings, this would be a straight shot east. However, we do not have wings, so this was a 9 hour long drive. The GPS anticipated the drive lasting 7.5 hours, however, the GPS failed to account for goats napping on dilapidated asphalt, sheep staring us down as they slowly sauntered across the roadway , trucks redoing the paint on the dividing lines, RVs and other hazards of taking single lane roads through the Norwegian mountains. Alas, no moose were spotted, despite several moose crossing signs.
Nonetheless, we arrived at Oslo late last night, and after a night spent in a hotel which takes modern Scandinavian design to the extreme, I arrived at the Student Housing Center to collect my room keys. When I arrived a few minutes after opening, there was already a line. Or rather, there was a number machine and a herd of students clutching small numbered sheets of white paper, eying each other warily. Finally, my number was called and I received the keys to my room. I made my way past buildings which I can best describe as inspired by the design aesthetic favored by soviet Russia. After 5 minutes, I arrived at my own corner of the student housing village and entered my room.
I suppose the polite term for the room is "utilitarian." A less polite (and potentially more accurate) is "boring as a hospital ward, but without the illness." The university provides international students with a furnished room, which appears to be furnished by a mishmash of IKEA and rejects from an office supplies catalogue. Hence, it was off to IKEA to try and buy the room some personality through quirky mass-produced Swedish furnishings. Roughly 2000 NOK later, I feel like I have succeeded somewhat. IKEA taunts you with all the things you didn't even know existed, but you feel you must have. Luckily, I managed to avoid the pitfalls of such things as milk frothers, decorative straw candle holders, and mirrors on strange extendable arms, and have limited myself to things I will actually use. This is an accomplishment, trust me.
On the way home, I discovered the Gandhi Indian restaurant, which announced its presence to Oslo at large by means of a light-up neon Indian flag. Obviously, this was so tacky that it is awesome. I now have leftover Indian food in the fridge for tomorrow. I also concluded my first successful grocery run....as well as my first conversation entirely in Norwegian! Granted, all I had to say was "Ja" and "Takk" (yes & thanks) but still!
Anyway, that's enough for now. I have suitcases to unpack, IKEA lamps to assemble, and bedding to spread before I can sleep. Until next time, god natt!
Thursday, August 6, 2009
Hello, world!
Well, as promised, the Blog hath risen from the dead. Or rather, hath crawled off of LiveJournal and onto the vast fields of the Google conglomerate. Having established myself as feeling self-important enough to share my life with the internet, I feel like I should also pre-emptively create an FAQ list, for the souls who might wander across this without knwing me already
1) Who are you? I'm nobody, who are you? Are you nobody, too?
...what, no Emily Dickinson love? Fine. I'm American, quite introverted, willing to move to foreign countries in search of adventure but terrified of asking strangers for directions(or really, anything). Go figure.
2) Why Norway? I hate the cold, the dark, and standing out in crowds. Apparently, I also have a hidden masochistic streak, because I keep ending up in Scandinavia. I'm in Norway because I decided to study in Oslo.
3)Why the blog address? Blame my former co-workers. Plus, Lost in Norway already exists. So now, it's an attempt at accuracy. While this blog will mostly be about life in Norway, it will also touch on other things, and well, at least now you know the general direction of my thoughts on any given topic.
4)What else should we know? Look, if you are relying on this list to learn more about me, it's probably not something you need to know.
That's all for now! Peace
1) Who are you? I'm nobody, who are you? Are you nobody, too?
...what, no Emily Dickinson love? Fine. I'm American, quite introverted, willing to move to foreign countries in search of adventure but terrified of asking strangers for directions(or really, anything). Go figure.
2) Why Norway? I hate the cold, the dark, and standing out in crowds. Apparently, I also have a hidden masochistic streak, because I keep ending up in Scandinavia. I'm in Norway because I decided to study in Oslo.
3)Why the blog address? Blame my former co-workers. Plus, Lost in Norway already exists. So now, it's an attempt at accuracy. While this blog will mostly be about life in Norway, it will also touch on other things, and well, at least now you know the general direction of my thoughts on any given topic.
4)What else should we know? Look, if you are relying on this list to learn more about me, it's probably not something you need to know.
That's all for now! Peace
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