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
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