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.

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 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!