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!
Sunday, August 30, 2009
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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