Hello World,
Alas, yet another pledge to be a Good Blogger (is there such a thing?) has been swept away in the dizzying swirl of classes, teaching and interning which was this past semester. October flew by, and the snowflake that is November has barely been more than a glimmer of white on my eyelashes, rapidly meting away before I had a chance to blink.
However, unlike the figurative snow alluded to above, the real snow which lies in drifts here in Oslo is not melting away. Rather, it is blowing, drifting, swirling in the constant wind which coats everything in a thin layer of white and makes everything feel colder than it should. One of the strange truths of winter in Oslo is the fact that I am ALWAYS walking directly into the wind when in a hurry, regardless of the direction I am headed. Megalomania, or spiteful Viking gods mocking an ABCD transplant in Oslo? The jury is still out.
The jury also remains out on whether it was temporary insanity which led me to willingly choose to relocate here. I loathe the dark, the cold, and the rain. I have spent entire days of my life living on Maggi noodles, popcorn, and hot chocolate rather than brave the winds and purchase real food. My family is from a part of the world where 20C (68 F) is positively chilly. As a child, I lived in a part of the US where the threat of snow was enough to delay school; the weather we have in Oslo would have shut down schools for weeks in the warm Carolina winters of my childhood.
I was pondering this earlier, as I sat in a reading room at the university, watching a short day turn into a long night. It was 3:30 in the afternoon. When I left the university at 5, after 7 hours of reading, the sky was dark gray and the air full of swirling snow. My fingers were stinging within minutes.
Half a world away, where my family goes about their business, where my dog continues his endless battle for dominance against the squirrels in our yard, where the last of the autumn leaves cling to branches, it is sunny and, by Oslo standards, warm. In my parents' homeland, it is warmer still. It is still a mystery how I ended up here, dressed in sweaters and scarves and winter boots for half the year. My people were not built for this.
And yet, I remain.
Peace!
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SAIRAM, SvAmi sharaNam. Simpler living and iyer thinking includes such stretches of masochistic self-flagellation - like good old Opus Dei. So, from one vratam observer to another - rock on! Love, SvAmi sharaNam, SAIRAM.
ReplyDeleteTo be honest, I wouldn't mind trading temperatures with the people who have 20 degrees. That said, clear, calm winter days are wonderful - assuming you dress up in enough layers and cover everything. Everything is quiet, and a fresh dusting of snow cover up all the muck of the city, given it an otherworldly feel. Especially if you go out at 5 am or so on a week-day.
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