My Grand Adventure Part II

2011-12-25T11:38:00.000+01:00

Wishing everyone a very Merry Christmas! Hope you're enjoying the day doing whatever makes you happiest. Thank you so much for reading and sharing my Norwegian adventure. Much love to you and yours!

2011-12-20T13:10:00.000+01:00

Hello, Blog? It’s me, Michele.

It feels AGES since I last posted but, look! It’s only been 2 ½ months. Not really that long at all, in a generous, span-of-life view, right? I guess I needed a little break from writing, and that’s okay, as breaks are very fine things, but I’m feeling the need to get back into the routine, so here we go….

All is well with me and mine, thank goodness. I quit my daytime Norwegian classes two months ago, I’m somewhat ashamed to admit. I just couldn’t take it anymore! The class was too advanced for me; I had so much trouble understanding the teacher and some of my fellow students, I started feeling quite sad and frustrated over the entire experience. I should have asked to be transferred to the level two class, and I did think about that, but I also thought about the free time I would have if I was just working and going to my Thursday night class, and the free time thing won out. I felt bad about giving up---quitting is wrong!---but I felt bad about being crappy at Norwegian, too, so feeling bad but less busy was, really, the best option.

I also quit taking the hormones I’d been taking since I was prematurely shoved into menopause when the surgeons removed some of my lady parts two years ago. There’s so much talk about how hormone replacement therapy causes cancer, I got a little freaked out. Plus, I was having a pretty severe problem with what I thought was adult acne, and I blamed that on the hormones, too, so decided it was time to fling myself a la naturale into my “new stage” of life. Well, excuse my French, but fuck me! What a mistake! The hot flashes came roaring back within a month of stopping the pills, and the mood swings, OMG, the mood swings. I was all emotional roller coaster for weeks until I settled into what might be best described as semi-permanent bitchiness. Oh, and the acne didn’t go away. Pretty picture, yes? Mistake!!!

I visited my doctor and got permission to go back on the hormones for “a while,” with a promise to see her again within a year. And finally, I went to the dermatologist about my skin; it took her 30 seconds to diagnose rosecea and prescribe a face cream that “should clear that right up!” Bless these doctors, honestly. I love them. My hot flashes are abating, I’m not so constantly stabby anymore, and my face no longer screams, “Look away! Look away!” Sheesh! Menopause and getting older kind of sucks. Yes, yes, I know, consider the alternative, I’m lucky to have my health, blah blah blah, still sucks and y’all know it’s true.

Considering all of that, things are good. Through a friend (thank you Helen!!), I scored a fun gig teaching Business English to clients in my area for a company in Oslo and I’m so digging it! I only have one student so far but he seems satisfied with my teaching competence, which is a super nice thing for me. I really needed this. It’s been so, so, sooo long since I felt professional and appreciated---this has given me a real boost in the self-esteem department. I also recently finished two translating projects, resulting in two happy customers. Yea for me!

So that’s some of what’s been going on. I’m sorry I didn’t post about the world-famous Norwegian butter crisis but I’m sure you found information about that from other sources. In case you were worried about my Christmas baking, I’m happy to report the grocery store had a new supply of butter available Saturday. There will be Christmas cookies in the works here Thursday. Talk soon!

2011-10-09T09:57:00.002+02:00

Tuesday was a terribly sad day here for us.

It started in the morning. At around 8.00am, Husband and I were in our kitchen and saw a man wandering in our yard. H went outside to see what the guy was doing and found out he works with the city and was looking for a deer that had reportedly been hit by a car on the street that runs in front of our house. Husband explained about the family of deer that had been feeding in our garden in the summer and the guy said he knew about them; apparently their existence was common knowledge in his circles. He said he was looking for an adult female deer and she was, most likely, the mother in that family. He didn’t know how badly she’d been injured by the car but he wanted to find her.

A couple of hours later I walked outside to take out the garbage. As I rounded the side of our house that faces an adjacent football field, I saw a man marching into the field holding and aiming a rifle. It was such a weird sight. I figured he’d found the deer and I looked to my right, toward the forest, to see if I could see her, too. A shot exploded. I turned and there, about 15 meters in front of me, I saw the deer---our mamma deer---on the ground. She was moving. A second shot blasted and I saw pieces of her head fly backwards and her legs roll up into the air.

I looked at the man, he looked at me, I dropped my trashbag and ran back inside my house, crying like a child.

I hate the road outside of our house. It was one year ago this month that our little kitty, Harry, was hit and killed on that road. The speed limit is 40 kilometers per hour (25 miles per hour) but almost everyone drives faster than that; I often see drivers overtake those who are following the limit.

But even if everyone drove slowly and carefully, accidents would still happen. Animals and roads are a horrible combination. And since humans are not going to stop building roads and driving on them any time soon, this shit is just going to keep on happening.

Husband and I saw the two young deer run through our yard just this morning, so we know they’re still alive and still together. Do they know what happened to their mom? Do they look for her? I wish I didn’t care so much.

RIP Mamma Deer. We feel privileged for the time we spent with you.

2011-10-04T12:12:00.004+02:00

My new-since-the-end-of-August schedule of school and work has left me feeling overwhelmed. I go to Norwegian class four times a week and work four, sometimes five days a week. I feel rushed all the time; I wake up worrying I’m already late for something. Between school and work and homework and housework (isn’t it weird how similar those words are but how different the meanings?), I struggle to find time to keep in touch with friends and family or even just to sit down to read the newspaper. Clearly blogging has been relegated to the bottom of the to-do list!

But, really, these are such fine problems to have, right? To have work, school, friends, family, a house to clean, cats to play with, a husband to love. So, really, no complaining here, just stating the facts, ma’am. Too much to do and not enough time to do it has me feeling kind of stressed out.

This week, however, is høstferie (autumn holiday) and is a welcome break from school (not work, dammit!). I still like my new Norwegian class but am riding the familiar roller coaster of emotion with it---I like it, I can’t understand what people are saying, I’m tired of being constantly corrected, am I getting better?, I’ll never get better, I hate it, I quit, I can’t quit, blah, blah, blah. I really did need this week’s break!

I survive by reminding myself that the classes are good for me even if they are not a substitute for using the language on a daily basis with Norwegians. Unless I’m doing that, I won’t ever speak and understand Norwegian beyond my intermediate level. The key, therefore, is finding a job in a Norwegian-language environment and perhaps that will happen for me next year?

Quite a few people have suggested I look for work in a Norwegian barnehage (preschool), since I have experience and enjoyed the job at the English-language kindergarten. That is a very good suggestion….except for one thing: Norwegian barnehager are a very outdoor kind of thing. As in, the children and teachers are outside almost all the time. No matter the weather, no matter the time of year. Think about that. Imagine yourself on a playground with 20 toddlers playing in the snow (or horrors! the rain) for hours and hours and hours. Because they do that here!

I get how it’s a good thing, how it trains children who live in a Nordic climate how to deal with the challenging weather. I, however, did not grow up in such in an environment. I’m from the coast of California, dude. We do not ENDURE rain there; we AVOID it. When I went to school, we stayed inside when it rained. Outdoor PE was cancelled in favor of dodge ball or other activities in the gym. Do schools here even have gyms?

If you want to read an excellent description of a very outdoorsy Norwegian preschool, check out this post on The Lille-Stanges, a super blog written by American ex-pat Emily. I would last about one month as an assistant in that preschool.

So, the Norwegian barnehage is not on my list of possible job opportunities, although I’m sure I would learn lots and lots of Norwegian. We’ll see. I’m also coming to terms with the fact that I may never become more-than-adequate in Norwegian. And, really, is that such a bad thing? Sure, it’s not ideal, but at my age, learning a new language was always a long-shot. Anyway, adequate is better than inadequate. I’ll keep telling myself that.

In the meantime, it’s høstferie! Enjoy!

2011-09-12T08:50:00.005+02:00

Today is Election Day in Norway and I’m particularly excited because it is the first time Husband and I have the opportunity to cast a ballot in our local election. Voting rules in Norway stipulate that people who are not citizens are allowed to vote in local elections after residing legally in the country for three years; only citizens can vote in the national election. Husband and I had been here only two years when the last elections came around, so had to wait until now.

An article in our local newspaper last week reported on a meeting held at the Sandefjord library with leaders from almost all of the local political parties to discuss issues surrounding innvandrere (immigrants). The debate opened with this question: Do you know an immigrant? Surprisingly, many of the leaders admitted they did not; only a few, who are immigrants themselves, responded, “Of course.”

I find it very surprising that anyone deeply involved in politics in Sandefjord wouldn’t know at least one foreigner, considering 15 percent of Sandefjord’s 44,000 residents are immigrants. I mean, I know at least one Norwegian. A fun fact about that 15%---they come from a total of 170 nations. That’s a lot of diversity for one little town!

Here are some facts about immigrants in Norway:

We make up 12.2% of the entire population.
Just about half of us come from Europe.
The largest number of immigrants in Norway come from Poland, Sweden, Germany, and Iraq.
34% of immigrants are Norwegian citizens.

I have been reading the newspaper, listening to the radio, and watching political debates on television to ensure I’m up on the important issues and am ready to vote. I thought I was completely prepared to cast my ballot for Arbeiderpartiet and then I took the “Valgomat” on the NRK website. The Valgomat presents a series of statements regarding urgent matters in your area (in my case, Sandefjord) and you must rate if you agree or disagree strongly/not so strongly and if the matter is very important, just a little important, or not at all important to you.

I answered the questions as carefully and as thoughtfully as I could and---WOW---it turns out Arbeiderpartiet represents only 66% of my views. My results are as follows:

78% = Miljøpartiet de Grønne (The Green Party)
75% = Venstre (Left)
73% = Kristelig Folkeparti (The Christian Party)---WTH?
70% = Socialist Ventsre
69% = Rødt (Red)
66% = Arbeiderpartiet
59% = Senterpartiet
56% = Pensjonistpartiet (The Retirement Party?)
56% = Kystpartiet (The Coast Party?)
55% = Høyre (Right)
41% = Fremskrittspartiet (FRP, the right wing of Norway)

So, really, I’m much more a tree-hugging leftist than a center-of-the-road Labor voter. Oh, and apparently I’m a bit of a Bible-thumper. (Actually, the Christian Party in Norway is very concerned about the environment, so that’s how that happened.) Who knew?

The last question on Valgomat asks if I will change the way I was going to vote based on the results of the quiz. I answered, “Yes.” Then the quiz informed me that only 18% of people who take the quiz will change their intended vote based on their results. I take that as meaning 82% of people who vote disregard their true feelings about issues and instead vote for---what? The candidate they like the best? The party they have always voted for?

Oh well, that’s democracy. Until someone comes up with a fairer, more representative system of government, I’ll take it. And now, off to the polls!

2011-09-07T15:55:00.002+02:00

Ugh, the weather has been dreary lately. Rain, rain, and more rain, interspersed with the very occasional sunny day. I can’t really complain, though, as apparently this is exactly the kind of weather most of Norway has experienced throughout much of the summer. At least here in the southeast we had three or four glorious weeks at the end of July/beginning of August that we can remember fondly as fall comes crashing in. If my entire summer had been as wet as this past week, I’d be extremely bummed out. Norwegian summers are simply too short, so to be cheated out of even a couple of weeks of it is a real downer.

Despite the rain, it’s been pretty warm around here, so it was kind of shocking to look out at the forest behind our house and see that some of the trees have started to show their fall colors. Nothing says “summer is over” like a bright yellow tree that is already losing its leaves.

I’ve been super busy with work and school but it’s all good---I love my new Norwegian class! We are six, three young men (two Iraqi, one Iraqi Kurd), two young women (one Norwegian, one Brazilian), and me. The young people are all smart, good-looking, and speak much, much better Norwegian than I do. Normally, this kind of situation---where I’m the oldest, least attractive, and least capable person in the room---would unleash huge amounts of anxiety in me but it’s not at all. Okay, the first day was shaky, but after that, it’s been incredibly cool. It’s because the other students, in addition to their aforementioned attributes, are all SUPER NICE. They’re really friendly and chatty and include me in everything that’s going on. I feel so lucky to be in class with them and can only hope that, maybe, just maybe, by the end of the year I’ll actually be able to speak more-than-intermediate Norwegian with them. Hope is good.

We had our first class outing already. Last weekend, five of us piled into one of the boy’s (he’s 20 but that seems like a boy to me) cars and traveled up to Tønsberg (25 minutes north of Sandefjord) to see Henrik Ibsen’s “A Doll House” (“Et dukkehjem” på norsk) at a local theater. It was all in Norwegian, of course, and I missed about 30% of the dialog but understood enough to be able to follow along and ended up enjoying the show immensely. And it was fun to get know my classmates a little bit better.

So far, this experience of serious, daytime Norwegian class is 200% better than the last two times I tried to do it, even though the school is the same one I went to the last time. I have to wonder if the situation is really so much different or if I’m the one who has changed…. I think it might be me. Thinking about it, I’m 100 times happier than I was two years ago, or even a year ago. And 1000x happier than four years ago. I can’t at all explain what’s caused this massive turn-around---I mean, I still have a menial job and can barely speak the language---but it’s like a switch has flipped in my brain and turned on my “contentment juice” or something. It could be my hormones; my body has changed (read: become fatter) since my surgery in November, 2009, when the doctors removed my ovaries and sent me into menopause, so certainly my brain chemistry changed as well. I am definitely more calm than I've been in 20 years---just ask Husband. Or is it just that it took five years for me to “find my feet” here in Norway? Who knew it could take so long?

Anyway, I hope this feeling lasts a long time and that I keep enjoying school. I’ll let you know.

2011-08-22T11:23:00.005+02:00

The deer have decimated our spinach and stripped most of the green beans from their stalks. Husband is losing his sense of humor over the situation---he really wanted those beans---but we’re trying to take it in stride and think of it as a learning experience, as in, next year we should build a fence. And anyway, I always worry about the deer during the winter (how do they survive? what do they eat?), so maybe this winter I can worry a tiny bit less, knowing we fed them well over the summer.

Today is back to school day for most school kids in Norway, a signal that summer is fading and the regularly scheduled program of fall, winter, and spring is soon to come. I’m not ready! But, ready or not, today is the first day of school and I’m packing up my books and lunch along with everybody else.

I am not, however, returning to my job at the kindergarten. I gave my notice to them before the school year ended in June, a decision that was difficult but necessary. As much as I liked that job---and I really did like it! I never realized how much I love being around kids, or how good I am at entertaining/teaching them, or how much they would like me in return---I soon learned that working in an English-language environment was destroying my ability to speak Norwegian, and that is completely unacceptable to me.

The whole language thing continues to vex me in a way that is kind of shocking. I’ve been in Norway for five years now, and have attended language classes of one kind or another for most of that time, but my Norwegian remains fairly basic. Okay, I guess “intermediate” is the better description, but that is still so far from where I imagined I’d be five years into living here. It could be depressing if I allowed it to be, but I’m super wary of going in that direction, so I try to think of it only as a challenge I’ve yet to meet.

I don’t know why it’s taking so long for me to be able to speak good Norwegian. Most foreigners I know here who have made a real effort to learn have been able to reach something close to fluency in a couple of years. Granted, most of them are younger than me, and many of them are married to Norwegians, which makes a huge difference. Husband and I try to speak norsk to one another every day but since neither of us is much good at it, we don’t really learn from each other. And I do think that learning a language in your 40s isn’t ideal; it can be done, but it takes a long time. A lot longer than I hoped!

So, I resigned from the English-language kindergarten and signed up for intermediate Norwegian class…again. I’ll go three days a week, three hours a day, plus another two hours one evening a week. As for work, I’ve gone back to cleaning offices. Sigh.

Again, this step backwards could be depressing but I refuse to go there. I’m so happy here now, I think of what’s happening as just a small price to pay to be able to live in such a beautiful, peaceful, and economically stable country. Must. Concentrate. On. That.

2011-08-13T23:12:00.007+02:00

One evening this past week, maybe Monday, Husband and I were enjoying the water at Asnes, the rocky little beach where we like to go swimming. Later, as we sat drying in the warm breeze, I stared out at the sun glinting off the water and thought, “Hmmm, the sun looks, I don’t know, different… A little lower in the sky, even from just a week ago… It feels like…autumn. It can’t be!” Husband said, “Yeah, I know what you mean, but it’s too soon, too early to be autumn.”

But the signs are here… The sun is lower, and it’s setting earlier---it’s dark by 10.00pm now, an hour earlier (it seems) than just a few weeks ago. Our roof is often covered with dew when we wake up, a sign of how chilly it is now at night and in the morning. The cherries and raspberries are gone now, but the apples and plums are beginning to ripen on the trees, and the blackberries are coming out. I pulled on a little jacket before heading out on my bicycle to work yesterday. Yes, summer is coming to an end. Yikes!

Fall used to be my favorite season when I lived in California. Now summer is my favorite, but fall is a close second (spring is third, and winter is a distant fourth). So I refuse to bid farewell to summer just yet.

The weather was beautiful today, so we cycled out to the beach only to find it totally invaded by jellyfish. Bummer. No swimming today.

Hopefully, the current will change and the horrible creatures will disappear before the water gets too cold for swimming. In the meantime, we’ll try some other beaches or just enjoy our garden, where we will not be alone. Check out the adorable family that has been visiting us:

2011-08-06T13:10:00.004+02:00

The funerals have begun for the youngsters murdered on Utøya and those who died in the bomb explosion in Oslo. The media is posting pictures of these solemn ceremonies, and many Labor Party politicians, past and present, are attending and speaking at them, including Prime Minister Stoltenberg. I can’t look at the photographs without breaking into tears.

I take breaks from the continuing news coverage of the terror attack, only checking NRK and Aftenposten intermittently and occasionally switching over to the music station when I’m in the car. I need a little pause from the sadness and the grief, even though I feel a bit guilty doing so. Because, you know, I’m lucky enough to be able to turn away from it all for a while, since my family wasn’t shattered to pieces by this event. I don’t have to pass a son’s or daughter’s bedroom door as I wander through my house, knowing that the life that used to fill up that space is gone forever.

I’ve been working a lot and also enjoying the spectacular summer weather we’ve had for the past week, cycling to the beach after work to swim in the amazingly temperate fjord off Vesterøya here. This has been, by far, the best summer weather I can remember in the five years I’ve lived in Norway. Sitting on the rocks after a swim, breezing through an English-language crime novel, I can put the terror attack completely out of my mind.

But…. I worked all day long yesterday cleaning a hytte for a client of the cleaning company where I am a summer employee. I met her when she came home at 6.00pm. We chatted a bit as I gathered my supplies, chatter that consisted mostly of me gushing over her beautiful little house. She thanked me, telling me that the hytte has been in her family for generations and that her son had done the most recent remodeling of the kitchen and bathroom. She became very serious and said it was a stretch for her to afford the place but she never wanted to give it up, since her son who had done all of that work had then died in a car accident. Shocked, I used the Norwegian words I can remember to try to express my condolences. I asked her when that had happened and she said, “Not long ago. Three years.” Her eyes filled with tears as she said that.

Three years. Still so much pain after three years. I immediately thought of the Utøya families and shuddered at what is ahead of them.

It was overcast and pouring with rain as I carried my buckets and dirty mops to my car. The weather seemed appropriate. Still so much sadness here.

2011-07-26T23:59:00.006+02:00

I’m sorry I haven’t blogged before today. I feel like I had a duty to post something very soon after the terrible events of Friday in Oslo, because, well, this is my blog about my life in Norway, and what happened on Friday was massive for me and for everyone living in this country. But, honestly, I didn’t have the words. I was at a complete loss to come up with anything that could articulately convey my shock and my sadness that such a horrible thing could happen in this beautiful, peaceful country I now call home. I’m still at a loss, actually, but I wanted to reassure everyone who looks in on me here that Husband and I are fine, and to say that I think I need a little more time to digest all of this.

A few quick points:

Husband and I watched a program on TV2 tonight in which a survivor of the massacre on Utøya, a young woman from southern Norway, was interviewed about her experience. She talked and talked and talked. It was like she couldn’t stop talking. And when she did, her face sort of slid into a blank expression that absolutely broke my heart. It’s so obvious that she is totally traumatized, and I imagine most of the children and young people who lived through that brutal evening are feeling much the same way. It’s really inconceivable to me how they will heal, even though I believe they will.

The same program featured an interview with a man whose son was murdered on the island. Again, devastatingly heartbreaking.

Before I saw that program tonight, I halfway thought my extreme sadness was turning into anger, which is the usual way I deal with this kind of overwhelming emotion. But, no, not yet. I must be getting soft in my middle age, but all I can think about are the people who lost the most precious people in their world. I wake up at night thinking of them.

I do get angry when I read accounts in the foreign press, including The New York Times and FOX “News,” that are already assigning blame---to the Norwegian police, to the Norwegian security services, to the Muslims who (apparently dare to) live in Norway. The NYT keeps calling those who attended the youth camp on Utøya “the liberal elite” of Norway. What does that mean? The children and young people on Utøya were there because they’re passionate about their communities, their society, and their country, and they show their passion by involving themselves in the democratic process of political organizing. They came from all over Norway, not only Oslo, and many of them were otherwise ordinary kids. Referring to them as “liberal elites” proves to me that NYT is quite ignorant of Norwegian society and makes me suspicious of their coverage of any international news.

And did the American commentator, Glenn Beck, really compare the shooting victims to “Hitler youth?” Why is he popular? Who listens to him? Please stop listening to him and maybe he will go away.

Thank goodness we have our Prime Minister, Jens Stoltenberg, as a tonic to the madness surrounding us. His presence has been like a rock to which every Norwegian can anchor his/herself in this incredible turmoil. Since Friday evening, he has been there, on our screens and on our radios, relaying information and reassuring us that all has not, indeed, descended into chaos. His dignity, his humanity, his compassion, and, most of all, his insistence that Norway will remain an open and democratic society actually helped me get through the first few days of this crisis. I cannot begin to express my admiration and my respect for this man. This man who has been attending the Labor Party-affiliated youth camp on Utøya for over 30 years, since he was a leader of the youth organization himself. He knew so many of the people who were killed. His suffering was palpable in his speeches, but he never allowed it to spill over into anything but a consistent call for Norway to remain the country we all love, with its values and laws intact. He is a true leader.

Husband and I attended a memorial march through Sandefjord Monday evening, along with several thousand other people. It was a way for our community to join together and show how sad we are but also determined to show that our beliefs will never be changed by a monster with a gun.

It will be interesting to see how Norway moves forward in the months and years ahead. Yes, probably the police will make some changes in how they do their job---maybe arming themselves, I don’t know---and there might be more security around government officials and their offices, but I have faith that its core values, as outlined by the Prime Minister the day after the attacks---an open, free, and democratic society---will remain intact. This is a bright spot in a very dark moment in time.

2011-07-17T16:56:00.007+02:00

Sometimes when I haven’t posted for many weeks and a lot has happened during that time, I put off posting because I feel sort of overwhelmed as I try to figure out what to write, where to begin. Let me just plunge in and see where this goes…

The deer ended up eating all of our strawberries and all of the little flowers on the bushes that become strawberries, so we don’t have any strawberries this summer. Bummer but oh well. (My neighbor said she saw the deer one day with two fawns. Awwww, sweet!) The raspberries, cherries, and blueberries are coming in, and the arugula is ready to be picked. The potatoes are out of control; we’ll be up to our necks in ‘taters in October. Too bad the deer doesn’t like potatoes.

My job in the kindergarten ended for the summer in the middle of June but immediately my old boss called from the cleaning company where I used to work and asked if I could help out by covering for vacationing employees. So I’ve been cleaning a bit here and there, and will continue to do so for the next month. The work keeps me in shape and allows me to practice my Norwegian, which I really need, so it’s super for me.

I managed to finish some projects around the house that have needed doing for ages. I painted the guestroom upstairs---finally got rid of the yellow color I never liked---and finished repainting the kitchen, a job I started last summer. In both rooms, I went with a creamy white color. Boring but safe, and after making too many mistakes with color (and wallpaper!!) in the house, safe feels good. I also cleaned out a whole room in the basement; I opened boxes that had been sitting down there since we moved in four years ago. Better late than never, I guess.

The very best part of the last few weeks was getting a visit from my friend, Andrea, who is traveling around Europe and arrived in Norway on July 9. It was SO awesome to finally get to see her in person instead of on her blog, where I’ve been following her travels since she departed Vancouver in April. Secret: Andrea and I had never actually hung out before. We met on line in a mail forum---I’m not sure, maybe ten years ago?---and have stayed in touch ever since. I was really looking forward to meeting her and I cannot begin to describe how wonderful she is! We clicked instantly and, actually, I don’t think we stopped talking for five days. It was really, really cool.

Andrea chronicled our time together better than I can, so please click over to her blog, read her posts, and check out all of the lovely photos she’s posted there.

Besides meeting Andrea, the highlight of her visit for me was our trip to Bergen. Neither of us had been there before but we’d both heard and read so much about it and were excited to see it. I am happy to report that Bergen did not disappoint---we loved it! It is a funky, fabulous city surrounded by some of the most beautiful scenery I have ever seen. We took one of the Norway in a Nutshell tours (ridiculously expensive but worth it) into the famous Sognefjord, where we gasped in wonder at the mountains and waterfalls and tiny, isolated, little villages that seem impossible to live in. Simply amazing.

Here is a picture I took of a glacier we saw on our 9-hour train ride from Sandefjord up and over the mountains to Bergen. I'd never seen a glacier before!

The city itself reminded me of San Francisco with its steep hills, colorful houses, trendy shops and restaurants and people, and just the general beauty of the place. It’s more expensive than San Francisco, though, and apparently rains a lot more; the woman who owned the B&B where we stayed told us, on the day we arrived, it had been raining continuously for two months. That’s a lot of rain. Andrea and I must have brought the good weather vibe with us because we got a day of full sun and warm temperatures while there. Excellent!

A true treasure we found in Bergen: 44 kroner beer at Dr. Livingstone's pub. 44 kroner! That's absolutely unheard of in Sandefjord, where 66 kroner is considered cheap. I love Bergen.

Andrea left a few days ago to travel to Stockholm and I went back to work, so everything is back to normal here. And it’s raining hard today. I hope Andrea has the good weather vibe wherever she is!

2011-07-01T09:40:00.009+02:00

Ahh, summer in southern Norway. Det er en helt fantastisk tid! The most fantastic time of the year, in my opinion. It's like an awesome reward for enduring winter. The weather has been a little hit and miss so far, but I think sunny days have outnumbered rainy days and that's really all I ask.

Husband and I have been busy in the garden and in the house but have also managed a few really good bike rides and even a swim in the fjord, which was surprisingly not freezing.

Gunnar, our newest kitty, is enjoying his summer from the inside looking out, especially at birds.

We've kept true to our intention of making Gunnar an indoor cat for the time-being and don't regret it, as he seems quite happy and content. And safe, which is important to us. He's super sweet and playful but still a bit shy; we've learned from experience it can take a long time for a cat born in the wild to trust people, so we're taking it slow with him and giving him the space he needs. Which is sometimes just a bag to hide in.*

As for animal action going on outside the house, look what turned up in our strawberry patch the other day:

As handsome a fellow (gal?) as this deer was, we couldn't allow him to eat all of our berries, so Husband went outside to ask him to please move along. I like how the deer seems to be thinking, "Shit! Busted!"

"Run!"

Unfortunately, we have learned that once a deer discovers a strawberry patch, he can't stay away. After catching him feeding two more times, Husband put up a rudimentary tree-and-rope fence. It seems to be working so far but, sadly, many of the plants were pretty chewed up, so our strawberry crop won't be the bounty it was last year. Oh well. The deer has every right to wander around and eat what it finds; it doesn't know what is "his" and what is "ours." Anyway, after my last post, I'd seem a right a**hole to complain about a wild animal, right? Right!

* I know it can be dangerous for Gunnar to play with a plastic bag; I took this one away from him before I left the room. Just so you know.

2011-06-24T13:54:00.005+02:00

If you read other Norwegian blogs or have access to Norwegian news, you’ll know that Wednesday was the last day of NRK’s monumental six-day-long broadcast of a voyage of one of cruise line Hurtigruten’s ships along the coast of Norway, from Bergen to Kirkenes. NRK placed cameras in and around the ship and broadcast the entire trip--- almost 140 hours of sailing and docking---on TV and the internet. The show was ridiculously popular, with millions of people here and all over the world tuning in around the clock to see the gorgeous Norwegian coast and the lively parties that greeted the ship at every port.

I admit that I didn’t watch very much of the show. I tried; Husband and I tuned in at dinnertime to see what was happening but I found myself reaching for the remote after ten minutes. It’s not that I don’t appreciate the phenomenon of what is (apparently) the longest TV documentary ever produced, or the outstanding beauty of the Norwegian coastline; I just need a little more action with my TV. It would have been better for me if, say, a murder was committed on the ship and my favorite Swedish detective, Kurt Wallander, showed up to solve the crime. That would have rocked! Or, maybe if Rafael Nadal and Roger Federer had been playing tennis on the deck----yes, that would have captured my undivided attention (although, admittedly, even their matches don’t usually last that long).

Anyway, respect to everyone who spent more than 30 minutes watching the MS Nordnorge on its northward journey. I understand the captain of the ship, Geir Arne Johannessen, is now a national superstar. And I read today that a five- or six-hour “highlights” program can be seen on NRK.no, and also, I can buy a DVD box-set of the entire voyage in time for Christmas. Mom, Dad---guess what Santa’s bringing you!

It was fun listening to radio reports about the TV program, especially the way so many people were going on and on about how majestically pretty Norway is, how much they love nature, and how wonderful it is to show off the country’s bounty of natural wonders to the rest of the world. So imagine my disappointment when, right in the middle of this flora and fauna lovefest, I read in the papers that the government issued its new “predator management policy,” an outline of its plans---in agreement with all of the governing political parties---to “manage” the population of Norwegian bears, lynx, wolves, and wolverines. And by “manage,” it means---let’s be honest---kill.

The view on “predator” animals in Norway is extremely controversial. Farmers, who often refuse to put up fences or other barriers, complain that wolves and lynx kill their free-grazing food animals such as sheep, cattle, and reindeer. Hunters tend to see predator animals as competition for the animals they are after, i.e. moose and deer. Rural residents often feel threatened by the presence of what they perceive as large, dangerous animals. The government’s latest “management” plan is yet another effort to appease these constituents, while also trying to deflect criticism from environmentalists, animal rights activists, scientists, and a huge number of Norwegian and Scandinavian people who are horrified by anti-predator attitudes.

The populations of wolves, bears, and lynx in Norway are regulated by hunting and culling but incidents of illegal killing are routinely reported.

The bottom-line issue here is land and who has the right to it. Farmers? Hunters? Developers? Animals? A growing population of wealthy consumers is increasing pressure on the country’s disappearing wilderness. Demand is going up for coastal and mountain cabins, leading to further demands for electricity and roads in remote areas, which will then bring in more and more people.

All of that seems to spell even more doom for not only predator and other animals but much of the natural beauty so spectacularly featured on the Hurtigruten documentary. It seems like it’s getting to be time for more Norwegians to decide if they, indeed, really do love nature or just love the idea of it as seen from the deck of a cruiseship or the veranda of their hytte (cabin).

2011-06-18T23:01:00.003+02:00

I was at a party last week and met an Irish woman who mentioned she has a friend living in San Francisco and has visited her a couple of times. I asked her what she thought of the city and she said she liked it, that she especially found the surrounding areas (Napa, Marin, out to Yosemite) quite beautiful, but she didn’t at all like the people in San Francisco. “They’re so shallow and phony,” she said.

Wha, wha, what??? I had already told her I was from San Francisco, which is why we were even talking about it, and she said this right to my face, with many other people sitting around and listening. I felt challenged, in a bar-fight kind of way, except I was sober and it was a really nice garden party; in other words, there would be no punches thrown at anybody.

When I asked why she had such a poor opinion of my peeps in the City by the Bay, she said something about going out to bars with women friends of her friend and how they only faked interest in conversation with her while blatantly checking out men or whatever they were REALLY interested in. She listed other reasons that were along the same line, basically that everyone in San Francisco is so clearly on the prowl for the next best thing, they can’t possibly appreciate the organic realness of what is right in front of them.

As I was sputtering my objections, someone at the table piped up with, “Yeah, well, if you think that’s bad, you should go to Southern California, which is the Eden of all that is phony and shallow.” Or something to that effect. There was general complaining about how Californians “hug too much” and “ask ‘How are you’ when they don’t even care.”

Helloooo! Born and raised there!! How rude! Okay, yes, we are kind of huggy and we do say, “Hey, how are you doing?” a lot but so do other cultures; one of the first phrases I learned in Norwegian was, “Hvordan går det?” which means “How’s it going?” I was also taught to say, “Hvordan går det med deg?” which means “How’s it going with you?” and is to be used WHEN YOU REALLY CARE how it’s going, not just when you’re (apparently shallowly) making small talk. So, hmmph, it’s not just phony Americans!

Anyway, I did my best to defend my homies until someone changed the topic and, later, Irish left the table. Of course I jumped up and gave her a hug before she walked away. I enjoyed that.

Normally, conversations like this don’t bother me too much, but this one left a bad taste in my mouth. I’m quite used to people bashing America but this time they were talking smack about California, MY state, and much, much worse, about San Francisco, MY TOWN. Where many of my very-not-phony friends live. It hurt my feelings. It made me mad.

Later, I was droning on about this to a Norwegian friend and she said, “I know how you feel. A lot of my immigrant friends often say negative things to me about Norway and Norwegians. I try to understand their frustration but it can be very hurtful, especially when what they’re saying isn’t true about anyone I know.”

Oh, crap, guilty! I’ve thrown out my fair share of gross overgeneralizations about Norwegians, especially in my first few years after moving here. I don’t do it so much anymore, except to insist that they’re terrible drivers and horrible at waiting in line, but I can’t deny I’ve been there, done that. As, I suspect, have most of you, about one culture or another.

During the bad E. coli scare in Germany earlier this month, I read a comment in the New York Times from a Spaniard complaining that, of course, Germany blamed Spain for spreading the illness with its dirty vegetables. “As always,” he/she wrote, “Northern European countries are pointing their accusing fingers at the southern European countries. The typical opposite clichés of the ‘hard-working, thrifty and efficient German’ and the ‘fun loving, slothful, dishonest and unproductive Spaniard.’ Nevermind that the average Spaniard works longer hours than the average German.” And, of course, it turned out that the E. coli came from an organic German farm!

It wouldn’t be difficult for me to list twenty totally false “truisms” about twenty different nationalities from all over the world. Probably you can, too. Well, I’m going to use my unfortunate anti-San Franciscan party experience to remind me not to do the same to other people anymore. No more stupid generalizations! No more idiotic clichés! And the next time someone looks me in the eye and utters some nonsense about my people---Americans, Californians, San Franciscans, women, even Norwegians---I’m going to get right back at them and remind them that, although they may have experienced behavior A, B, or C with some people, it is absolutely wrong to blanket an entire people with any accusation. And then I’ll give them a hug. Because that’s what I do.

2011-06-13T00:18:00.003+02:00

I was shuffling through the photos on my camera today and realized there are a few I meant to post here ages ago but somehow never got around to. So here you go….

That's the Arctic Monkeys on stage at the Sentrum Scene in Oslo back in the beginning of May. I’m bummed about the poor quality of the pictures but it was the best I could do with my phone camera while holding a beer in my other hand. Just look how close Husband and I were to the stage! The Sentrum Scene is a great place to see a band and the Arctic Monkeys are an AWESOME band to see anywhere. If you ever have a chance to see them, GO. Alex Turner, the singer and guitarist, is just about the coolest rock star EVER. Totally mesmerizing, completely in command, just amazing. Truly a fantastic night out for everyone lucky enough to be in the audience.

That's me two days after an appointment with my dermatologist a few weeks ago. I’d been bothered for many months by some spots on my forehead I suspected were skin cancer. Sure enough, the doctor diagnosed them immediately as mild basal cell carcinoma and told me she would treat them with “fotodynamisk terapi,” a procedure consisting of scraping the spots, covering them with some sort of cream and bandages, waiting three hours, and then radiating the hell out of them with “red light.”

That all sounded fine to me, which was excellent because she didn’t really wait around to see how I felt about her plan. She pretty much just laid me out on a table and went to work. After applying the bandages, she said, “Okay, come back in three hours for the radiation treatment. Take a walk around town, go shopping, enjoy yourself.” Five years ago I would have been well and truly shocked she hadn’t checked with me to make sure I had most of the day free to devote to my skincare, but I’m so used to the way the medical system here works, I just said, “Okay,” and went out for lunch. I did have to cancel a dental appointment I’d carelessly made for later that morning but the dentist was, luckily, very cool about rescheduling.

My forehead looked a tad gruesome for a week afterwards but has healed up quite nicely and looks pretty good now, in spite of missing a bit of eyebrow. Hopefully that will grow back? Oh well, it’s better than the ugly cancer spot that was there before. Oh, and the whole procedure cost me just around 350 kroner (appx. $65)---a bargain! Count me satisfied.

2011-06-03T09:11:00.003+02:00

In a little follow-up to my last post, here is a video capturing the excitement of the day last week when Veranda, the Duck Mother, moved her Duck Babies from Jens Stoltenberg’s house to the park across the street. I found this video on YouTube and have no idea who posted it, but he/she seems to be enough of a fan of the Prime Minister to include him in his/her daily prayers. Ahh, bless.

Anyway, back to the ducks. Look at how sweet they are! As the video progresses, the PM explains that it’s a bit difficult for the tiny birds to get down the big steps and that, near the bottom of the stairs, our Duck Mum takes a wrong turn into the garden instead of down the driveway to the open gate, as planned. She also makes a detour to test the water in the fountain in the PM’s garden, which he points out isn’t a good idea because the water is chlorinated---oops. Out of the fountain, Veranda worries everyone by again going off-track into the bushes, causing the PM and his watchers to scurry out of the garden and onto the sidewalk outside to wait for her to pop out from under the fence.

Finally, the much-anticipated journey across Parkveien and into Slottsparken, complete with traffic-stopping bodyguards, photographers, and a very proud PM/Duck Godfather. I must be turning Norwegian, because the sight of Stoltenberg’s seemingly genuine pleasure in watching Veranda and her ducklings march to their new home brought a real tear of affection to my eye.

I have a feeling he’s going to miss them, and I’m certainly going to miss this story. It’s been a nice break from a lot of very bad news around the world---deadly tornadoes, continued wars, E.coli outbreaks, Sarah Palin maybe running for POTUS. So, yes, thank you, Jens Stoltenberg, for giving me something to smile about while reading the newspaper and reminding me that sometimes it’s the littlest things that give the greatest pleasure. And best of luck to you, Veranda, and your Duck Babies. Be careful out there and be well!

2011-05-24T23:00:00.005+02:00

I follow the Norwegian Prime Minister, Jens Stoltenberg, on Facebook (along with about 106,800 other people) and have been a wee bit captivated by his recent posts about a female duck that has taken up residence on the office PM veranda. The first missive, complete with the adorable photograph above, appeared on May 16, with updates later informing us the duck has laid nine eggs and also announcing a little Facebook contest to choose a name for the expectant mother duck. The very cute, if a bit obvious, “Veranda,” prevailed over such suggestions as Lame Duck (how mean!!), Anna, Andonym, and Urband. All of those names make more sense when you know that the Norwegian word for duck is “and,” pronounced “ond,” like “pond” without the “p.”

Another name proposed for the Ducky Mum was “PropagANDa,” a pointed dig at Stoltenberg’s publicizing of his sweet little feathery friend at a time when the PM is suffering a bit in the polls here at home. His dramatic drop in popularity is the result of a near-catastrophic miscalculation Stoltenberg made a few weeks ago when he decided not to invite King Harald to a big medal-presenting military ceremony the government put on to mark Norway’s first Veteran’s Day. (Note: Veteran’s Day here used to be called Liberation Day and was a remembrance of the day in 1945 when the German occupying army left the country. The government changed it to Veteran’s Day this year to make the day more inclusive of those men and women who have performed military duties since World War II.)

Handing out medals to military personnel is sort of a “kingly” thing to do, don’t you think? I think so, and apparently so does most of Norway because the reaction to Stoltenberg’s exclusion of King Harald from the ceremony was explosive, to say the least. The media was pretty much non-stop, “What was he thinking?” for days afterward, and the leaders of the opposition political parties were almost comical in the speed with which they pounced on the PM’s newfound vulnerability. I found it especially amusing that Siv Jensen, FrP’s sex-scandal-disgraced leader, was out and about shrieking that Stoltenberg must apologize to the King immediately. She, who never demanded that her perverted party colleague, Trond Birkedal, apologize to the naked men he secretly photographed or to the boy with whom he allegedly had sex. Her galling lack of shame continues to fascinate me.

At first, Stoltenberg was unrepentant, explaining that this Veteran’s Day celebration was all about the government and the parliament expressing their gratitude and admiration for the service of the men and women in Norway’s military. He said he did not “snub” the King and had, in fact, been in touch with the monarch prior to the ceremony to make sure he understood what was happening and why. For his part, King Harald backed up Stoltenberg’s version of events.

Part of me really sympathizes with Stoltenberg. I mean, it is the government that gets the military involved in wars around the world, so it seems only reasonable that they say thank you once in a while. But a bigger part of me thinks these kinds of ceremonies are exactly what Kings and Queens are for---it’s what they do, right? What’s the point of having them around if they’re not going to glam up a military ceremony? And, remember, this controversial ceremony occurred on May 8, a little over a week after The Wedding of The Century in London---people were still high on Kate and Wills! Kings and Queens were all the rage! Honestly, what was Stoltenberg thinking?

Anyway, the fever pitch of emotion over this incident has died down but the PM is still bruised and hurting. Is he using Veranda the Duck to soften us up, let him sneak back into our hearts? Is he that obvious? I don’t know but it’s working! I’m smitten with Veranda and her nine eggs and Jens’ commitment to her care and well-being. If I could “Like” him all over again on Facebook, I would.

In the meantime, I’ll wait with my 106,800 fellow followers to see how many of the nine eggs become adorable little chicks and then what happens to them. According to Views and News From Norway, Stoltenberg has “insisted that the duck will have to return to the park when her offspring are well-hatched and old enough to walk,” and he promised that “adequate escort will be provided for the duck family.” Awwww. Maybe he should invite the King to come along and make sure everything goes okay!

2011-05-17T19:32:00.003+02:00

Three nights after the incredible Eurovision final and I’m just now getting around to posting about it---how neglectful. I won’t write too much, since most of you reading this probably watched the show on TV or the internet and you don’t need my rehash of the event. I mean, you all watched the contest, right? Who would miss it??

Here is Nina Caroban of Serbia, who SHOULD HAVE WON, DAMMIT! Isn’t she delightful? I defy you to listen to this song and not dance!

If not Nina, than certainly Italy’s Raphael Gualazzi and his swinging, sultry piano jazz-pop artistry deserved to take the top prize. This song is so beautiful and fun, I listen to it over and over again.

Unfortunately, neither Nina nor Raphael won Eurovision 2011. Neither did my other favorites, Finland and Romania. No, the song that somehow---how, Europe, how???---won my cherished annual song contest was a fluffy, predictable pop ballad---I hate pop ballads---from Eldar & Nigar of Azerbaijan. This song got 221 points, which is a lot (although not nearly the record-breaking 387 points Norway got in 2009, just sayin’). Italy came in second with 189, and Sweden (with a ridiculous teeny-bopper anthem I’ve already forgotten, thank goodness) next with 185. Poor Serbia ended the night with a shockingly paltry 100 points, which I feel says much, much less about Nina’s performance than it does about Europe’s attitude toward her country. Memories are long in Europe…

Here is Azerbaijan’s entry, if you’re curious…

No matter that I don’t like the winning song, I still enjoyed the night. I watched it at home with Husband (who continues to tolerate my Eurovision fanaticism) but also with half a dozen Facebook friends, whose witty banter and spot-on sarcasm made my EV experience something magical indeed. We’ve all promised to meet back on our Facebook Eurovision page next year, unless any of us decide to fly to Baku for the show. It could happen!

One final little bit of news I must share about Finland’s Paradise Oskar, aka Axel Ehnström, who sang one of the most special songs of the night, Da Da Dam. I heard Norway’s EV representative, Stella Mwangi, interviewed on the radio Sunday morning and I’m pretty sure she said (my Norwegian is still bad) that Axel traveled to Düsseldorf by himself, no entourage or handlers or anybody, and that he is really nice, really down-to-earth, and just a super guy. Ahhhh, sweet! Here he is singing his song:

2011-05-12T08:31:00.001+02:00

I have so much to say and not a lot of time to say it, so this could be a dangerously bad blog post. But it’s the season for dangerously bad---it’s EUROVISION season!!! YES! It’s the best time of year for anyone who lives for the cheesy glamour of Europe’s favorite song contest---and that would be me!

Tuesday night was the first semi-final; the second follows tonight, Thursday. I admit to being the tiniest bit disappointed by the menu of cheese offered up last night by the 19 countries competing for a spot in the coveted final. That could just be me, though---I’m on a diet and have given up drinking alcohol during the week. Could it be that Eurovision isn’t everything it should be for the sober audience? That would be tragic. I’ll let you know after tonight.

Anyway, there were standouts in the first sime, both in honest-to-goodness quality and what-the-hell weirdness (both absolutely necessary for great EV viewing). For quality, my favorites were Serbia, Finland, and Iceland. Serbia’s entry featured a way-cute girl with an awesome voice singing in Serbian; a brave and excellent choice, in my opinion, as most competitors sing in English. She and her also-very-cute backup singers were dressed in super cool 60s-inspired dresses that matched the bouncy, retro spirit of the song. I would have been singing along if I could sing in Serbian.

Finland’s song was absolutely lovely! The boy who went out in the world to save the planet---both a song and an environmental message. And isn’t he the cutest! Between Serbia and Iceland, the cuteness factor is almost too much to bear.

Iceland’s all-man-sit-down-band was so corny, so understated, so fun! I loved it!

I voted for all three of them and was really pleased they got enough votes to send them to Saturday’s final.

Norway’s Stella Mwangi performed last night and didn’t make it through, which was sad but I have to say, I wasn’t surprised. Stella is a lovely girl and I admire her very much for standing up under the pressure she must have felt after all of the controversy here in Norway about her even going to EV. The vicious sniping about “how a Norwegian of African descent---singing an Afro-beat song!!!---could possibly represent Norway” was small-minded at best, horribly racist at worst. Through it all, Stella stayed strong and she looked beautiful and happy, albeit a little nervous, on stage Tuesday. She just doesn’t have a great voice, though, does she? It lacks power and depth, and is sometimes even out of tune, and that was her downfall. Her song was fun and should have impressed, but she just couldn’t manage it. I wish her all the best and will be interested to see where she goes from here.

Besides Serbia, Finland, and Iceland, the other countries who made it through the first semis are Lithuania, Greece, Azerbaijan, Georgia, Switzerland, Hungary, and Russia. Out of those, I only really like Greece and Hungary, and that’s only after the second and third viewing of their songs. Hungary’s entry is sort of a Mariah Carey-esque ballad with a me-me-me-what-about-me theme. The singer, who is tall and striking with a vaguely male face, has a fabulous voice, though, and the song is probably playing on Hungarian radio at this very moment.

Greece….wow, Greece. Majestic weirdness. A bunch of guys, two lead singers, one doing a little bit of rapping and one channeling George Michael, all to a traditional Greek rhythm. All that’s missing is the plate throwing. I adore it but I don’t see it winning.

I have no idea how Russia got through. A truly terrible song. Georgia’s has too much anger; why so angry? It’s Eurovision! And don’t even get me started on Switzerland. When a song begins, “I love everything about you,” I stop listening. I’ve been married for 20 years, for Pete’s sake. I love everything about you my ass.

I was sorry Portugal didn’t get enough votes to continue, as they won my vote for The Best What-The-Hell moment of the night. I mean, really, what was going on there? It was like The Village People crashed into a small Portuguese farm town and a riot erupted. Since it was all in Portuguese, some translation probably would have helped me understand the message. I needed Cristiano Ronaldo sitting beside me. Just to help with the translation, of course.

Well, tonight is semi-final #2 and I’m terribly excited. Look at Ireland’s entry! Oh yes. Bring on the May Madness!

2011-04-26T22:52:00.003+02:00

Today is back-to-work day after the week-long Easter holiday here. As per usual, because I’m disorganized and a serious procrastinator, I didn’t get nearly enough done during my break and wish I had another week to finish a few things. Ahh well.

The weather has been absolutely fabulous, so Husband and I spent a lot of time working in the garden. We went on a couple of nice bicycle rides, ate a few good dinners, and met some friends out for Indian food and drinks Saturday night. That was a super night, lots of fun, with lots of interesting conversation all in Norwegian, which is great for me because I really need the practice.

We talked about news we’d read in the papers lately and I expressed my horror at the number of rapes that have been reported in Oslo during April, especially the FIVE that occurred in one night on April 4. That shocking story captured headlines throughout the country, leaving people shaken by the feeling that Norway is no longer the safe country it has been for such a very long time. The blame is placed squarely, directly, and loudly on immigrants, particularly men from Africa and the Middle East. Even though none of the six of us out on Saturday night come from those places, four of us are foreigners and we cringed a little bit at talk that immigrants bring crime.

Sadly, though, evidence proves that this is, indeed, correct. Bands of criminals from Eastern Europe do run organized burglary rings in Norway. Street prostitutes in Oslo are predominately African and East European. And, most depressing and terrible, statistics show that 9 of 10 reported rapes in Oslo over the last 3 years were committed by immigrant men.

I recently heard a debate on the radio about this. One guest, a female psychologist from Oslo, said that a clash of cultures is definitely one contributing factor to the rise in the number of rapes in Norway. Norwegian women, she said, have an expectation that they can wear what they want to wear, drink alcohol if they want to, and be able to walk alone if they want to do so. These freedoms enjoyed by Norwegian women can be a problem for some immigrants who come to Norway from cultures that have very different standards for and expectations of women’s behavior.

The other guest on the program, a leader in an Oslo organization against racism, said it is extremely important to remember that the men who commit these crimes are not a fair representation of the immigrant population. These men often have very troubled pasts, have drug and/or alcohol problems, and probably come from war-torn countries where they have witnessed and/or been victims of horrendous crimes. Sometimes they come from tribal areas in, for example, Pakistan, where rape is actually an accepted punishment in the “justice” system. The solution, he said, is to work with immigrant communities, have various outreach programs and other systems in place to identify and help these men before they commit crime.

I have read that this approach is being used successfully in Stavanger, a Norwegian city on the southwest coast that used to have a very high rate of violent crime, including rape; in the last couple of years, that rate has come down considerably.

Maybe that will work in Oslo, too, but it will take time. In the meantime, women are going to bear the brunt of the changes that immigration is bringing to this country, and that is an excruciating truth. They’re going to have to learn to be more careful, plan their routes with safety in mind, spend more money on taxis, and look out for each other more than they’ve ever done before. I've heard that some are starting to carry pepper spray when they go outside, even though it's illegal to possess in Norway. It’s a terrible thing to realize you can’t be out by yourself at night, but it’s probably something we’re all going to have to get used to now.

I thought about that as Husband and I rode our bikes home from the pub that night. It made me sad.

2011-04-21T14:56:00.002+02:00

Taking a brief pause from blogging to address a technological issue. A few friends have contacted me recently to tell me they're unable to leave comments here on the blog. I've also had that problem with some of the blogs I read. I can't be sure the cause is the same for all of us but mine seemed to be the idiotic incompatibility of my browser, Firefox, with Google's Blogger. Even more idiotic: I had the same problem when I was using Chrome, a Google product.

Anyway, I discovered that Blogger wouldn't register my comment attempts until I had gone into Firefox (Tools, Options) and reset it to not only Accept Third-Party Cookies but to Keep (them) Until They Expire. I find I have to repeat this reset from time to time for no reason I can understand.

So, if you're unable to comment here and you'd like to, look into your browser's third-party cookie setting.

Hope that helps!

2011-04-19T10:30:00.005+02:00

I have been remiss in not reporting the FANTASTIC weather we’ve been having here in southeastern Norway. The warmer temperatures began in early April and the thermometer has been inching up every day since. Yesterday was like a summer’s day! It felt like 20C (68F) in the sun in our garden yesterday afternoon---sooo nice. We deserve this weather after the long, cold winter we put up with.

All of the snow has melted around here, save for a stubborn patch in the schoolyard adjacent to our property.

The grass is starting to turn green, little flowers have bloomed, and still more are popping up here and there. The trees around our place haven’t begun to bud yet but look like they’re thinking hard about doing so.

It’s amazing how quickly the memory of -20C, ice-filled days can vanish from my brain. To think the street looked like this just a few weeks ago:

Yesterday was the first day of the annual week-long Easter break for school children in Norway; they will be joined by most everyone else in Norway on Thursday, the first day of the five-day Easter holiday celebrated here. Yes, that’s five days, because the Monday after Easter is a holiday, too. It’s called Second Easter and even though I don’t know the religious origin of the day, I’ll gladly accept it as time off.

I could use a break, too. I’ve taken on a couple of extra projects at the school where I work and the time commitment required has really been kicking my ass. It has been enlightening for me, though, in a weird way. For one of the projects, I have to submit written “progress reports,” which is easy enough, no problem. BUT…two weeks ago, one of the people who read one of my reports came to me and said something like, “Wow, Michele, I read your report! It’s so astute and articulate! I was surprised!”

I was confused by this remark. I responded with, “Um, thanks?”

He said, “Yeah, I read it and thought, this isn’t the Michele I know.”

WTF? And then it dawned on me…. He thinks I’m stupid! Ouch!

This isn’t the first time this has happened to me. I think I must give off the impression of being a bit dim. Maybe it’s the blond hair, or the way I talk like a cross between a Valley Girl and a surfer? Or because I joke around too much? Or talk too much? I don’t know. I asked Husband if I come across as thick and he said no, but that I do smile a lot and say chirpy, nice things and act goofy sometimes and probably some people take that “the wrong way.”

In any case, that comment at work hurt my feelings. I mean, making a first impression as a dimwit is one thing, but I’ve worked at the school for almost a year now, so first impressions should have gone by the wayside ages ago. So the only explanation is….he thinks I’m stupid! Do other people at work share that opinion? Is it because I’m a 48-year-old kindergarten assistant? Do people think I do that job because I’m not capable of doing anything else?

Ah well, it’s too nice outside to worry too much about this bullshit. I really like working with the kids at school, so I’ll concentrate on that and think about the rest when I get back to work next week. I’ve got some homework to do right now and then it’s into the garden for me. Spring is here!!

2011-04-09T14:11:00.003+02:00

Have you ever wanted to say goodbye to your job, your apartment, your life as you know it, and travel around Europe for six months? Just you, your little suitcase, your camera, and your dreams of adventure, just to see what happens? I imagine many of us have thought about it but few have the opportunity and/or the courage to actually do it. Well, my friend, Andrea, is doing it! She left everything and everyone she knows in Vancouver, British Columbia, and has embarked on what will surely be the trip of a lifetime.

She's just passed through London and arrived in Paris yesterday. I'm following her every step of the way through her blog and invite y'all to do the same. She takes the most excellent photographs and is posting pretty frequently.

I really don't think I have the guts to do what she's doing. I tend to get lonely on the road, I hate to eat out by myself, and, generally, I'm a bit of a 'fraidy cat. I so admire Andrea for what she's doing. Oh, and I'm looking forward to seeing her in Norway some time in July, when she'll be stopping by to stay with me for a few days. Woohoo!

Until then, Andrea, I wish you all the best on your journey. God tur, venninnen min! I'm looking forward to hoisting a Norwegian pint with you this summer.

2011-04-03T19:10:00.007+02:00

We woke up this morning to see this little fellow wandering around outside our house:

I go giddy with awe and delight every time a wild animal comes into our garden, whether it’s a deer, a squirrel, a baby crow, or any of the birds that visit our feeders. Two weeks ago we caught a rare glimpse of a large-ish fox trotting through the yard late at night. Poor thing was probably starving and hunting for cats or bunnies or, if he was lucky, a dish of cat food left out all night (as our neighbor frequently, and unwisely, does). Also, this cute guy has been a frequent visitor over the last couple of months:

I honestly don’t know how any of these animals survive the winter here, especially this last one, which has been ridiculously long and extremely cold. What does a deer eat when the ground is covered with deep snow for five months? It boggles the mind. So my awe and delight is always mixed with pity for and admiration of animals that live outside in conditions that would reduce me to a weepy bag of slop in two days.

Seeing the deer walk off into the forest this morning reminded me why it’s illegal to walk dogs off-leash most places in Norway. Unfortunately, many people disregard that law and there is always a story or two in the newspapers every winter about animals that have been senselessly attacked and killed by dogs. I love dogs, I truly do, and I understand why people want to let them run around and have a great time. But look at that little deer! He wouldn’t stand a chance against a big dog.

I’ve been lobbying Husband to make a change in our own house rules and turn our indoor/outdoor cats into indoor-only cats. After what happened to Harry (may he RIP), it seems only logical. And now we’ve seen the fox, so we know there’s that danger. Plus, it’s better and safer for the birds and the squirrel, right? And I can't fail to mention our continuing problem with the horribly mean bully cat who lives next door who only two weeks ago attacked little Gunnar as he sat sunning himself on our own porch. Bully cat, or Dickhead, as we refer to him, took a pretty big bite of Gunnie’s butt and we ended up at the vet’s office so they could treat what was turning into an infection. Poor Gunnar!

Husband is of the opinion that the cats, especially Elfrida, are happier when they’re allowed to go out, but I’m hoping he’ll come around to agree with me that it’s just better if they stay in. There will be less stress, less bird-death, less strife with the neighbors. And there are ways of keeping them happy, even if they’re prisoners…. We’ll see how it goes.

2011-03-28T13:57:00.006+02:00

I received a comment on my last post challenging (in a very polite way) my less-than-positive assessment of food in London and I have been thinking about that ever since. It is true that there are an abundance of Michelin-starred restaurants in London, and, especially over the last decade, the city has gained a reputation as a culinary hotspot. So I admit to, 1) being super confused about why I always have---and have had, in the 20 years I’ve been visiting London---such a terrible time finding a good meal there; and, 2) feeling like a bit of an arsehole for complaining about the food which is supposed to be so good.

So, is it me or is it London?

I think it’s a bit of both. My experience and my research is leading me to believe that, if there is great food in London, it’s served at restaurants I don’t know about or at those whose prices take my breath (and appetite) away. To be fair, I have a pretty low threshold for breathlessness when it comes to restaurants---I don’t like to pay a lot of money for food. I’m also not comfortable with “fancy;” posh places, be they shops, hotels, or restaurants, make me feel unwelcome. I don’t have the clothes, hair, or attitude to fit in, so can never fully relax. What can I say? I grew up in a working-class family and neighborhood that infused my class-conscious view of myself. And I’m proud of that, as it also inspired my leftist political leanings, my deep sense of outrage at unfairness, and my rejection of senseless consumerism.

In San Francisco, Husband and I once celebrated our birthdays by getting all gussied up and splashing out on an incredibly delicious, extraordinarily extravagant meal at restaurant Gary Danko. The food was some of the most special we have ever tasted; it was culinary art, to be sure. Our meal, with drinks and tip, cost $300. We both spent days afterward mired in guilt over having spent that kind of money on food. The guilt almost ruined the experience.

That occasion aside, our motto has always been, “Value for Money.” Can that be found in London? Maybe. On our last visit there, we ate lunch at St. John, a restaurant in the Smithfield Market district; it has one Michelin star. We didn’t know to book ahead---even on Sunday afternoon, the dining room was fully reserved---so we sat in the very comfortable bar area. The food was good, the service was super friendly, the beer was excellent, and the price was way reasonable (£38 for both of us!). St. John is famous for what it calls “head-to-toe” eating, meaning they prepare and serve unique cuts of animals. Since Husband does that on a fairly regular basis, there wasn’t much on the menu I haven’t seen before, but I approve of the “don’t waste the flesh” philosophy. Mostly I’d go back there for the beer, the service, and the ambiance. Oh, and the great prices.

We only knew of St. John because a chef-friend of Husband’s recommended it to us prior to our trip. If we had walked past it on the street, we probably wouldn’t even have recognized it as a restaurant; the exterior looks like the back entrance to a butcher’s shop.

That might be the root of my problem finding good, affordable food in London---you’ve got to do some research and know exactly where to go before you get there, since you’re not likely to stumble upon a gastronomic gem as you amble through the neighborhoods. This is so different to my experience in San Francisco, where good, cheap restaurants are as common as the homeless people you have to step over to get into them (sad, that). Same with Barcelona, where I’ve never had a bad meal and always feel like I get more than my money’s worth. I’ve heard it’s the same almost anywhere in Italy---great food, amazing ingredients, excellent value for money. And don’t even get me started on the truly awesome food of Tokyo. My opinion is that Tokyo has the best food in the world.

So, okay, London is different. Since my last post, I’ve done some looking around on line and right now, I’m digging LondonEater, a food blog written by a guy who clearly does a lot of eating in the city. I’ve already got a few restaurant possibilities in mind for our next trip. Now, can someone recommend a frickin’ reasonable hotel or apartment service?

2011-03-19T10:46:00.005+01:00

Last weekend, Husband and I escaped the snow and ice of southeast Norway (yes, it’s still snowing here) for three glorious days in London. I adore London; it’s a city I never tire of. I know lots of people who say they don’t like it, that it’s too crowded, dirty, and noisy, it’s expensive, the food isn’t good, and the weather is crap.

Okay, so all of those things are true, to a point. For instance, excepting accommodation---which is outrageously expensive and generally substandard---London really isn’t more expensive than any city in Norway or most European capitals. Admittedly, the food isn’t much to brag about, and that is a problem, but you can find a decent meal if you look hard and have some luck. And, yes, it does rain a lot in England, but when the sun shines on London, it couldn’t be more beautiful or appreciated. As for the crowds, the dirt, and the noise, sometimes I NEED that! I miss a big, dirty, noisy city! I miss getting lost in an anonymous crowd. I love that part about being in London.

I also love the architecture, the museums, the pubs, the river, the parks, the shopping, and the theater. All of which Husband and I indulged in while we were there. We walked for miles, visited the Museum of London for the first time, did some shopping on Kensington High Street, and saw “The Children’s Hour,” a West End play starring Keira Knightley, Elisabeth Moss (Peggy Olsen of “Mad Men”), Ellen Burstyn, and Carol Kane. It was fabulous and well worth the ridiculous price I paid for advance tickets on the internet.

On Sunday, we popped into a pub in the Smithfield Market area to watch the Liverpool - Man. United game. The place was packed with men and peppered with large TV screens, only one of which was tuned to our game. The rest were showing a Scottish league game, Glasgow Rangers vs. somebody, obviously the game of interest with this crowd. We must have looked a bit confused, standing under the smallest TV, because a fellow pointed to the big screen and said, “Your game will come on there in 15 minutes.” We smiled, got drinks, and settled on a sofa.

Soon enough, the Rangers triumphantly ended their game, the men in the pub started singing Scottish songs, and the barkeep switched all the sets over to the Liverpool game, which Liverpool was winning 2-0. Yeah! Except, uh, the singing kept going. And going. And going. Something about King Richard on a wall? I sipped my whiskey and watched Wayne Rooney make a masterful pass.

A man walked over and asked Husband, “Which is your team?”

“Liverpool.”

The man smiled, shook Husband’s hand, and sat down next to us. We had a new Scottish friend. He seemed nice enough as he chatted away about the Rangers and Scotland, and then---wait a minute---did he just say he hated the Pope? And that he was proud to be British and how Celtic fans knew better than to come into this pub because if they did, they’d get a right bollocking before ending up out on the street? He did! My smile sort of froze on my face.

I admit to being completely ignorant of the infamous--and extremely aggressive--rivalry between the two Glasgow football teams, the Rangers and Celtics. I didn’t even realize how split the city of Glasgow is---apparently there are areas where a Ranger supporter (traditionally a Protestant Scot) won’t step foot, and vice-versa for a Celtic fan (traditionally a Catholic of Irish descent). I don’t think it’s like that in Edinburgh, the only Scottish city I’ve visited; there, they seem only to dislike English people.

The Rangers/Celtic rivalry is still a hot topic in the British press since their last game two weeks ago. That game ended with the Celtic manager and a Rangers trainer almost punching each other on the sidelines and then ballooned into near riots amongst fans on the streets, resulting in a record number of arrests and a level of violence later deemed wholly unacceptable by Glasgow officials. Since that night, police have intercepted two suspicious packages en route to the Celtic manager’s house; one contained live ammunition and the other, fake bomb materials. The manager, Neil Lennon, has also received ominous nighttime phone calls, a death threat, and has to have security to take his kid to school. Glasgow police were demanding the football clubs take responsibility for the torrents of violence unleashed every game day, and city officials were talking about forcing the clubs to play Rangers vs. Celtic ("Old Firm") games during the week, instead of on weekends, and maybe even behind closed doors. Many articles in the newspapers decried the huge increase (of between 113 and 96%!) in domestic violence after these games.

I didn’t know any of this when I was listening to the Rangers fan in the pub railing against the Pope and holding his hand over his heart (on top of his Rangers jersey, of course) while stating his allegiance to Scotland. But I know hardened hate speech when I hear it, and I was glad when Liverpool finally won their game and Husband and I could exit the pub with a cheery, “Goodbye!” to this fellow. As we walked away, Husband said, “Wow, imagine trying to change that guy’s mind. It would be impossible.”

We ended the day with a pleasant walk through Hyde Park and a stroll along the Thames. London is a great and beautiful and incredibly interesting city. I can’t wait to go back!

2011-03-13T17:09:00.004+01:00

Above are a few old and, sadly, quite poor-quality photos from two trips I made to Tokyo to spend time with Husband while he was working on consultant sales projects there in…2004? 2005? I’m a little fuzzy on the dates but I remember my visits to that phenomenally gorgeous and fascinating city in vivid detail. The lights, the trains, the food, parks, shops, bars, museums, the epically busy streets, and, mostly, the people that make up the vast urban beauty that is Tokyo remain happy memories of some of the best holidays I’ve ever had. For Husband, he says that of all the countries he has traveled through and worked in, Japan is by far the land that impressed him the most and is the one that he most longs to returns to.

So it is with heavy and terribly sad hearts that we view the devastation and misery that continues to roil through Japan after the earthquake and tsunami last week. The pictures of the destruction are almost too much to take in, and the suffering of the people is truly distressing and painful.

Longtime readers of my blog may remember reading comments from Annie, a Tokyo resident who became a friend when Husband and I stumbled upon her taco bar near our hotel in the Mita district of the city. One hour and several tacos later (Annie’s husband makes the best tacos in all of Tokyo!), Annie’s warmth and humor had made us feel not only like the most welcome of guests but a part of her life. We all stayed in touch and Husband went back to her bar every time he was in town; Annie once arranged a home-cooked dinner with English-speaking friends and invited Husband as the guest of honor. Several times, she sent gifts for me home with him. Annie is a remarkable woman.

We sent email to her on Saturday to see if she was okay and were so relieved when she responded right away to report that she and her family were all fine, thank goodness. She said the earthquake itself lasted for several minutes, although it seemed to go on much longer. Minutes!!! I can’t imagine! I’ve been through a few strong earthquakes in my life but I don’t think any of them lasted more than 30 seconds at the most. I was in San Francisco for the 1989 Loma Prieta quake, a 6.9 tumbler that scared the hell out of me and caused some pretty extensive damage in only 15 seconds. So several minutes of 8.9 shaking, not to mention the numerous fore- and aftershocks, must have been traumatically horrible.

Husband has been in touch with two work colleagues who live in the Tokyo area and they also are unhurt, although one of them spent 25 hours trying to get home from work Friday.

We continue to monitor the news, of course, and are despairing of the ongoing reports of the rising death toll, massive destruction, and nuclear disasters. We hold the Japanese people in our hearts, now more than ever, and wish for them some relief from this nightmare.

2011-02-22T13:10:00.006+01:00

Late last year, Norwegian media published a video exposé of horrible, horrible abuses at one of Norway’s “pelsdyrfarmer” (farm where fur animals such as foxes and mink are raised/imprisoned). I suspected the video would be difficult to watch but I had no idea how truly awful the conditions are; I only made it about 30 seconds into the video before I had to turn it off. If you’re curious, you can see it here; please let me know if you’re able to watch the entire thing without vomiting over your keyboard.

That video was quite an education for me, as I was very ignorant about the genesis of fur clothing. Ever since seeing it, I can’t look at any piece of fur product without feeling sick and angry. And there is, sadly, a lot of opportunity to experience that queasy feeling here in Sandefjord, since a lot of people---women, mostly---wear fur. Just last week, I stood in line at Vinmonopolet (where I spend a lot of time) behind an older lady wearing a long, thick, beautiful fur coat. I had a super strong impulse to grab a bottle of akvavit, break it open, pour it on her, and light a match. Isn’t that terrible? But, honestly, after seeing those pour foxes with their legs half-chewed off and the mink with their open, festering sores, slowly going crazy in those itty, bitty cages…. Well, I just don’t understand how anyone can buy their skin, let alone wear it proudly to buy their week’s supply of wine-in-a-box. I mean, okay, it’s cold here but it ain’t that cold. I get along just fine with my cotton sweaters and man-made poly-whatever-it-is shirts and socks. And I’m from California, dude!

Okay, I do have some wool stuff, a down-insulated jacket, and a pair of leather boots and I do eat the occasional chicken, pig, and lamb, so I guess I’m not a whole lot better than Fur Coat Lady. And probably there are some vegans out there who would like to set fire to me in line at the grocery store. I feel bad about that, I do. And just to reassure them, I eat vegetarian at least two or three times a week, wool is a sustainable product, leather come from animals whose flesh I eat for dinner, and I buy only free-range eggs. See, at least I’m trying.

So imagine my delight when I read in the papers this week that the people behind Oslo Fashion Week banned fur from the catwalk for this year’s show! Awesome! According to News and Views From Norway, the ban is “an international first that has been greeted by praise within the country and criticism from the fur industry and some in the Scandinavian fashion community.” Apparently fur farmers here and abroad are complaining that they’re being unfairly maligned as greedy bastard animal torturers (my phrase, feel free to quote me), and designers from around Scandinavia are whinging about how fur has a long tradition in fashion and it’s wrong to exclude it based on some tree-hugging-animal-loving-amateur-movie-maker’s secret video of a few sad foxes.

Most offensive was the comment by Morten Sauer,* a spokesman for the Norwegian fur industry, who said Oslo Fashion Week “was simply being ‘laughed at’ in Europe. ‘In Germany, France and Italy, the catwalk is full of fur,’ Sauer told newspaper Dagsavisen. “OFW has no meaning and gets little attention.’” What a wanker.

Just a month ago, Norwegian fashion designers (and sisters) Tanaz and Sanaz Shirazi shot to fashion fame when Kate Moss was photographed wearing one of the Shirazis’ fur jackets. Upon reading this, I wanted to set fire to the newspaper but then I learned that the sisters use only fur from food animals such as rabbits, sheep, and cows. Said Tanaz, “Alt materiell brukt er av det beste av naturlig materiell som finnes. Vi bruker aldri materiell som ikke er naturlig. Det er kun kaninpels, saueskinn og lignende hvor kjøtt går til matproduksjon.” That roughly translates to, “We use the very best natural materials. We never use anything that isn’t natural. It is only rabbit fur, sheep skin, and similar products where the meat is used for food production.”

I guess that’s a step toward the responsible use of fur in fashion? It’s so much better than the fox and mink hellfarm, though, that I wish the Shirazi sisters continued success and I hope that other designers can be inspired by them. It is too bad that their notoriety was generated by that never-met-a-dead-animal-I-won’t-wear bitch Kate Moss, but if that’s what it takes for people to see that rabbit can be dinner and a jacket, I’ll accept it.

In the meantime, I will try, I will really, really try to keep my hands off the red paint the next time I see this in town:

* “Sauer” translates to “sheep” in English, which I find ironically funny. How to say “wanker” in Norwegian? Anyone?

2011-02-13T18:04:00.008+01:00

Oooohweeee, it’s cold outside again. -13C/8F with a bitter north wind right now (7.00pm Sunday), although the sun did warm things up the tiniest bit in the middle of the day. Sadly, based on the weather report in Aftenposten, we may not see much of the sun for a while, as snow is predicted through the week. Bummer, man! Everyone I talk to is sick to death of the cold and ice and the only thing keeping folks from going completely mad is the hope that spring is just around the corner. Please, spring, get here fast! We need you!

To cope, Husband and I hunker down most evenings at home, in front of the fire, watching a bit of television or reading this and that on the net. Friday night we caught a fairly riveting 20 minutes of the Norwegian news program, “Aktuelt,” that featured a debate between Prime Minister Jens Stoltenberg and opposition Progress Party leader Siv Jensen. Jensen was being taken to task for an interview she gave to an American libertarian group on ReasonTV. In that interview, Jensen said most Norwegians pay 70% of their incomes in tax and that the healthcare system here is, basically, a Socialist nightmare of inefficiency and bloat. On Aktuelt, both the host of the show and Stoltenberg accused Jensen of painting a false and ugly picture of Norway with her inaccuracies and conservative bias.

You can see Aktuelt here (it’s in Norwegian) and the ReasonTV interview here:

My opinion is that Jensen did lie about the level of tax most Norwegians pay, which is more like 45 or 50%, including income and sales tax, and, therefore, not much higher than I used to pay when I lived in San Francisco. She should be very ashamed of telling such huge porky pies about the economic realities of living in Norway.

Her complaints about Norwegian healthcare are just the same old tired arguments that a government-run system can’t work because it lacks market-driven competition and robs people of their ability to “choose.” She moans and moans about how people here sometimes have to wait a year for surgeries and other vital procedures; I very much appreciate Stoltenberg pointing out that, in America, 40 million people are uninsured and have no access to any care whatsoever.

I understand that waiting-one-year vs. no-care-at-all is an unattractive, complex problem. I certainly do not have a solution to offer. But I also know that I have no desire to go back to the American system of private, employer-based insurance that leaves way too many people with far too little control over their healthcare (and their careers) while leaving others out altogether.

I talked to my brother last week and he told me that the bills for his cancer diagnosis and treatment are starting to roll in. He has very good medical insurance through his wife’s employer but he’s still going to have to pay a big chunk of the tens (hundreds?) of thousands of dollars in costs incurred because of his illness. So, imagine that---not only is he dealing with the trauma of fighting a 5%-survival-rate cancer, he’s also got to manage the stress of increasingly unmanageable debt. He’s too sick to work, hasn’t received a cent in disability money yet, has no income, and the bills are piling up. It’s a disaster!

So when I hear Siv Jensen say that a “private” system is far superior to Norway’s “socialist” system, I wonder if she knows what she’s talking about. I fear that if the Progress Party gets into power in Norway, they would work to create a two-tier healthcare system, i.e. great medical for those who can afford it, shit for everyone else. What a sad thought.

Do you think the world would be a better place if people could choose their country of residence based not on nationality or asylum-seeking-chance but on political philosophy? For example, there could be Capitalist Country, where the Siv Jensens of the world could be happy, and Socialist Country, where Husband and I could be content. Well, okay, for Husband to be content it would have to be Socialist Country Where No One Is Allowed to Drive a Car and All The Trains Are Super Cool Japanese-Style, but I digress. There could be Religious Fundamentalist Land #1, #2, #3, etc.(pick your faith), and a Dudes Who Want Women to Wear Burkas Country far away from the Women Who Refuse to Do What Men Tell Them To Do Land. The would be Racist Dickhead Land A, B, C, and D (pick your skin color) and Carrying Concealed Without A Permit Land (where everyone could just shoot each other). Canada could remain Canada because most Canadians are pretty happy. I know it’s ridiculous but it seems like it would be so much easier than the current situation where 55% of the people want something different than the other 45% (or whatever the statistics are), which is really stressful.

Yeah, I know. And maybe it will be 20C here tomorrow.

2011-02-07T11:52:00.002+01:00

A story.....with pictures.

Once upon a time, there was a pile of new yarn.

There was also an adorable, slightly new cat named Gunnar.

And a forgetful woman who left one alone with the other for just a few minutes.

And yet everyone lives happily ever after, because Gunnar is very cute and the woman loves him much, much more than she likes her yarn.

The end.

2011-01-31T10:06:00.006+01:00

Hi y’all! All is well here with me. I’ve been back in Norway for several weeks now and life has slid into a comfortable, comforting routine, which is nice. I talk to my brother as often as the nine-hour time difference and busy schedules allow. He’s doing daily radiation and weekly chemotherapy treatments and we’re all in wait-and-hope mode.

I’ve been thinking about all of the stuff I’ve missed blogging about because, uh, I haven’t been blogging, so I’m going to be doing a little catch-up in the next few weeks. Today’s post is dedicated to my home city, Sandefjord, or as it has become known to the locals, “Our Little Deathtrap.”

Last month, three people were shot and seriously wounded in a park near the library.

While certainly not the crime of the century or even a typical weekend in any city in America, it was HUGE news here, where things like that just do not happen. Police helicopters filled the sky as the manhunt for the culprit began. (Okay, that’s an exaggeration. There was maybe one helicopter but it circled the city for hours.) Traffic was stopped in town as police searched vehicles and questioned drivers. (Again, perhaps an exaggeration but there were roadblocks set up near the park and some people saw police talking to other drivers.) Schools went into lockdown and residents barricaded themselves in their homes. It was crazy, man!

The shooter was arrested later that night (our police are pretty good detectives!) and turned out to be a 63-year-old man who got into an argument with drug addicts (or are they ex-addicts? Don’t quote me there.) in the park, went home, got his gun, went back to the park, and shot three of them at point-blank range. He’s now in jail awaiting trail while protesting his innocence, although the coppers did find the gun in his house. Oops.

Husband and I walked our Doberman, Rufus (may he RIP), twice a day every day in a public park near our house in San Francisco and I must say that while I understand the impulse to shoot people you feel are ruining your enjoyment of any open space, it’s a bad thing to do and clearly very wrong. I mean, if everyone did that, half the dogwalkers in San Francisco would be dead.

So we all now know it’s very dangerous to get into arguments in Badeparken with grumpy older dudes walking their dogs. But, it’s now deathly dangerous to walk just about anywhere in Sandefjord because our streets are covered in ice. Our Arctic winter was interrupted two weeks ago by a freakishly warm (+2C) couple of days that melted just enough ice to coat every square inch around here in amazingly slippery ice. For example, here’s our driveway:

Simply going out the front door these days means taking one’s life in one’s hands. I’ve armed myself with these inconvenient spiky things I pull onto my shoes but I’ve still managed to fall many times in addition to falling off my bike and giving myself what I feared was a cracked rib. The pain has subsided now, in just over two weeks, so it probably wasn’t a cracked rib at all even though it hurt to breathe or laugh for ten days. I count myself lucky and now drive instead of walk or cycle whenever possible.

It’s back to being freezing cold these days (that ice isn't going anywhere any time soon), although not the -20C we regularly saw in December. Husband and I even went for a bit of a hike along the coast last weekend and found it to be nothing but peaceful and beautiful. Happily, we did not notice anyone with a gun.

2011-01-22T16:41:00.003+01:00

Soooo…..if you have a blog and think a lot about posting but go weeks and weeks without doing so, can you still say you’re a blogger? I’m thinking not…

To be blunt, I simply haven’t felt like blogging. Actually, I just haven’t felt like writing; I’m way behind on email, Facebook messages, and blog commenting, too. Which is kind of unusual for me, since I normally love nothing more than to sit and write. The problem is that I’ve been feeling just so….negative. Really, super-duper, reject-anything-and-everything, just-say-no NEGATIVE.

It was only very recently that I was able to put my finger on this particular emotion I’ve been holed up with for the last month. My “eureka” moment happened when I was watching the second episode (natch!) of my new favorite television show, “Episodes,” and heard Beverly say this to her husband: “My negative is so much, much bigger than your positive. In fact, my negative openly mocks your positive. My negative slaps your positive around. My negative grabs your positive, bends it over the couch, and buggers it from behind.”

YES!!! That’s how I feel! My negative is so, so, SO HUGE that I don’t want to inflict it on anyone by trying to write through it, so I’ve been ignoring the writer part of me.

This is, of course, because my brother was diagnosed with cancer and I don’t know what is going to happen to him. When I first got the news, I felt nothing but intense worry, fear, and sadness. I cried and cried and then bought a ticket to fly to California to spend some time with him. And that was an excellent thing to do, as it was very good for me to see him and spend time with him and understand exactly what he’s going through. But now I’m back, much too far away to be of any use to him or my parents, and my sadness and anxiety has manifested itself into….negativity. I just want to take his cancer, bend it over the couch, and bugger it into nothingness.

But I can’t. No one can. It’s just a really shitty situation that I can’t do anything about. Except admire my brother for the fact that he’s working really hard to be positive about his treatment, about his doctors, about his chances of surviving. And do my own hard work of slapping my negative out of its primary place in my order of emotions, since it’s only making everything more impossible than it already is.

Soooo….if you don’t feel like blogging but do it anyway because you think it might be good for you, can you still call it blogging? I’m thinking so…but that doesn’t mean I expect anyone to read!

We'll see how this goes. Be back soon.

2010-12-13T14:49:00.005+01:00

It’s been so long since I posted to my blog, I feel like a bit of stranger here. I haven’t forgotten my blog, or any of my very-valued friends who stop by, read, and say hello; on the contrary, I think of you very often and feel quite neglectful over my absence from blogland (mine and all of those I visit regularly). The last month has been busy, with things both good and bad, and I have been trying to attend to everything without succumbing to the stress.

The good:

My job at the kindergarten has been just about full-time since the end of October, rather than the three-day-a-week gig it normally is. That’s been fine---I like my job a lot---but I find that after spending eight hours with children, I’m pretty much spent. An introvert by nature, I expend energy when with people and can only “recharge” by spending time alone, something I haven’t been able to do very much lately. So the past six weeks have left me fairly over-socialized and under-energized, which isn’t a good combo for me and my writing.

Last month, Husband and I took a big step toward planning for our financial future and purchased a tomannsbolig (a house divided into two flats) as a rental investment. We’re super excited about this and also a little bit frightened and a tiny bit stressed, all natural responses to such a major decision. As you can imagine, this has taken up a fair bit of the little free time we have, but we hope, hope, hope it will all be worth it. We have so much to learn! Our first tenants move in next week, so wish us luck!

Husband and I also adopted another cat in November. It was very soon after Harry’s passing, we know, but, honestly, we felt that we needed to do it to get out of the very real funk we had fallen into over Harry’s sudden death. Everyone, please meet Gunnar:

He’s a very mellow little fellow, more quiet and relaxed than Harry was, which has made it easier for Frida to accept him. As you can see, they’ve become quite good friends:

There has been some not-so-good stuff, too:

It’s been freezing, freaking cold here since the start of November, when we got our first good snowfall of the season. That’s early for snow and cold here, as winter doesn’t normally get such a good grip before January. We had a couple of weeks of -15C temperatures, with some mornings dipping to -22C. That’s cold, dude! Our car decided it didn’t like the weather at all and stopped starting up. While it was in the shop, I did a lot of walking and biking to get to and from work, which was tough but good for my waistline, which is still doughy with winter fat from last year. I had to buy snow tires for my bicycle and have been really pleased with how well they work. Our car is repaired now but I’m still using the bike whenever possible.

Worst of all, I received some very bad news from home last week. My brother was diagnosed with cancer of the esophagus and is in the hospital now undergoing all kinds of tests so the doctors can figure out how to help him. He is scheduled to have surgery tomorrow, after which we will all have more information about what will happen to him. This is very serious, my friends, and my family could use all of your good, strong vibes to send Michael the positive energy he needs. Please, please think about him and wish him the very best. I’ll keep you posted.

That’s it for now. Be back soon.

2010-11-02T18:56:00.003+01:00

It’s November!! What happened to October? Where is the time going?

Thank you to everyone who commented about my wallpaper situation. I was extremely gratified to see some differing opinions over whether the paper is as bad as I fear it is. The fact that not everyone was horrified by it was of great comfort to me, since it made me realize that, 1) decorating is as much about personal taste as it is about rules regarding colors and patterns; and, 2) that my vision of how pretty that paper could be wasn’t completely out of whack, even if didn’t exactly turn out as I envisioned it. This has given me the confidence to try again, and that’s great.

The wallpaper is still up, only because I haven’t had time to tackle the stripping job. Soon. It will happen soon. I’ve just been a little busy lately. It’s weird that even though I work fewer days a week (although the same number of hours) at my new job than I did at my old job, I feel like I have less time. I’m not sure what’s going on there. It could be that I’m just massively disorganized and terrible at managing my free time---which is kind of true---but I think it’s more about how I’ve met so many new people at work and I spend more time socializing than I used to. This is a wonderful problem to have, I know, but is also causing me some frustration.

You see, while it really is super that I’m making new friends, I find that I’m speaking way more English than I have in the last four years. And this, to my horror, is making my Norwegian worse. My vocabulary is shrinking, my comprehension is retarding, and---worst of all---I don’t think in Norwegian any more, something I was doing only three months ago. Before I started my new job, I would occasionally dream in Norwegian. Now, I’m writing my grocery list in English again. Aaarrgh! After all of the hard-won progress I made with the language since moving here, this setback is a real concern to me. It’s scary. I’m not sure what to do.

I will try to get out more with people who speak Norwegian. I’m finally getting around to joining the gym, so hopefully will hear more norsk there. I still go to language class once a week and I will make more effort to do extra homework. I’m reading a Norwegian mystery novel now and will rent Norwegian movies this weekend. I will listen to more norsk radio. And I will try not to freak out.

And if I do start freaking out, I will remember that there is a GREAT reason to be happy. And that is…

‘Tis the season for juleøl (Christmas beer)!!! I was at the market this morning and saw that they have begun to stock this once-a-year treat. Woohoo! I love juleøl! I will be sure to drink Norwegian Christmas beer. Yes!

2010-10-25T11:52:00.004+02:00

I want to say a huge thank you to everyone who left such kind and sympathetic comments about Harry’s passing. It really did help Husband and me to feel less alone at such a sad time and it also warmed our hearts to know how many animals lovers there are out there. Truly, thank you so much.

We’re doing much better now. As I said to someone recently, time may be an enemy to my face and body but it certainly is a friend when I need help dulling the pain of heartache. It still hurts to think about Harry but we can’t help but think about him, especially because we keep thinking we see him out of the corner of our eyes. Is that some weird phenomenon that happens when someone dies?

We thought about Harry a lot this week because we got the first snow of the season Thursday night and Harry liked the snow. Or at least didn’t mind it. We kept thinking how excited he’d have been to go outside Friday morning and see the thin white blanket that had settled over the garden during the night. Poor Harry. He only had one winter in his short life.

To us, the snow was pretty but seemed to come a bit early in the year; we couldn’t remember it snowing before Halloween in the 4.5 years we’ve been here. It’s supposed to warm up later this week and even rain tomorrow night, so we still have time to enjoy the nice fall colors before winter really hits.

Husband and I used the bad weather as an excuse to get a couple of household chores done, including putting up some wallpaper we picked out a month ago. When we moved into our house, we wanted an “accent” wall all in our sitting\dining room, so we painted one wall dark red. We like color and liked the red but it was too dark for the room, so we thought we’d change it up with some colorful wallpaper. After a lot of searching and testing, we decided on this:

As I said, we like color and we really did think this pattern would work in the room. The background color blended nicely with wall color and with the tile behind the wood oven in the room, and didn’t (we hoped) clash too much with the dark wood floor.

We were totally wrong!

As soon as we finished gluing the last strip and stepped back to admire our work, we realized it was all wrong. The pattern is too busy, the colors not quite right. It doesn’t look right next to the tile and especially doesn’t go with the old-fashioned look of the wood walls in the hallway off the sitting room. It is, unfortunately, a big decorating mistake.

I was disappointed, to say the least, more so because it's just the latest in a string of decorating mistakes I’ve made in the house ever since we moved in. Honestly, the work I’ve done in most of the rooms in our house (i.e. paint color, curtains, furniture) makes me unhappy and it seems like whatever I try to do to fix it doesn’t work either. Ugh. I’m not so talented in the decorating/design department---I have a lot of trouble picking out clothing, too---and starting from scratch the way we did with our house has been a huge challenge.

But what can you do? I have a couple of friends who love decorating and have offered to come over and help me with ideas and advice but---this is stupid, I know---I’m too embarrassed to show them what I’ve done so far. I’ll work on getting over that, since I obviously need help and it should be fun, right?

In any case, the wallpaper is coming down. It really is a shame because it was expensive, it was a bitch to put up, and it’ll be a bitch to take down, but it must be done. It’s one thing to make a decorating mistake; it’s another to force yourself to live with it because you’re too stubborn to admit it. And Husband and I are being positive about it; we’re already talking about picking out new wallpaper. And, on the bright side, we’ve certainly learned a lot through all of the mistakes. I'll focus on that and just keep trying. It's better to have tried and failed than to have never tried at all and all that, right?

2010-10-18T12:22:00.005+02:00

Fate can be incredibly twisted and cruel sometimes. A few hours after I wrote my previous blog post, the one where I talked about how happy and content I had been feeling, our young and much loved kitty, Harry, was hit and killed by a car on the road near our home.

The pain of losing such a joyous and vital part of our family in such a shockingly horrible way was like a slow-spreading poison; it took a little while to fully sink in but, soon enough, it exploded like rocket fire through our hearts. Husband and I felt as if we had been punched senseless and left on the floor in a pool of grief, guilt, and terrible, terrible emptiness.

One of the hardest parts of mourning an animal companion is how it must, inevitably, be done in private. Usually, people don't know your pet. And certainly no one loves him or her as you do. If you are lucky---as I am---you will have sensitive and thoughtful friends who offer kind condolences and tell you they understand what you are going through since they have experienced it themselves. They make up for the one or two people who say the very worst thing: “Oh, that’s sad. Well, you can always get another cat.”

I will be forever grateful to my excellent neighbor who saw me in our garden Sunday, walked over, hugged me, and broke into tears as she talked about what a lovely cat Harry was. She held me as I sobbed into her neck and never once seemed embarrassed about what was happening. She will probably never know how much that moment meant to me. I don’t know how to explain it to her in Norwegian, the only language we share.

Mostly, though, Husband and I lean on one another as we try to get through these long days after Harry's death. We only had Harry for a year and it feels utterly unfair to be deprived of his company after so little time. He was such a happy cat, always ready for a game or a cuddle. He liked to climb trees and chase leaves and catch bugs. He loved sitting in Husband's lap. His purr could be heard throughout a room. He usually slept on Husband’s pillow but sometimes he slept next to me, often with one of his big paws curled around my fingers or pressed against my back. If I woke in the night and felt Harry snuggled up next to me, it was easier to fall back to sleep.

We still feel so sad about his passing but we know we can’t talk about it anymore except to one another. That’s the other thing about grieving a pet; if you do it for longer than a few days, people think you’re odd. So we miss him behind closed doors while keeping a close watch on Frida, our remaining cat and Harry’s best friend. She’s still slow to round a corner in the house, expecting Harry to pounce on her the way he used to. She cocks her head at any small noise, perhaps wondering what he’s up to and why he’s hiding. She’ll give up after a while, I guess, and get used to having the house to herself again. It will take longer for us.

RIP Harry. You were a very good cat. We're so very sorry we didn't take better care of you.

2010-10-08T12:23:00.007+02:00

Fall is upon us here in southern Norway. The trees are turning color, the mornings are colder, and the days are rapidly getting shorter. Our garden is full of apples, pears, and plums; consequently, our kitchen is full of pie, cake, and jam. I feel guiltily content.

To be honest, I have been feeling more and more content over the last year. Norway has become home to me and I am happy here. I am enjoying my new job at the kindergarten, my Norwegian, although still somewhat basic and heavily accented, is now good enough to see me through most social interactions, and I am incredibly fortunate to have met many truly excellent and interesting people who like me (I hope!) as much as I like them.

The things about Norway and Norwegians that used to confuse or annoy me are now mostly just normal pieces of the puzzle that is my new life. Okay, except that I still absolutely loathe the fact that Norwegians do not know how to queue. Really, for goodness sake, what is so hard about standing behind the person in front of you in a line? Why oh why, faceless Norwegian, must you hover stealthily at my side, barely able to wait to pounce at the slightest hesitation in my forward movement, taking the most miniscule lapse in my trajectory as permission to step in front of me? WHY DO YOU DO THIS? I have come to see any Norwegian airport as a battlefield in my attempt to preserve queuing etiquette vs. a seething tide of norsk I-must-be-before-you entitlement. It fills me with the urge to do physical harm.

But I digress. As I was saying, after four years of learning to fit in, I am happy here. I must be, based on my calm response to media reports of the government’s 2011 national budget. As I understand it, the new budget does not present any huge changes; the Finance Minister, when unveiling it, stressed the government’s emphasis on stability and fairness, with burdens and rewards being shared equally among citizens and businesses. There will not be big increases in any taxes or fees but also no big cuts in spending.

It all sounded great until someone mentioned a 5% increase in the tax on alcohol. That disappointed me but certainly didn’t shock me since I now understand the deeply ingrained Norwegian view that alcohol is a dangerous and possibly sinful product, the enjoyment of which must be carefully managed and, wherever possible, discouraged. The government expects to raise an additional 280 million kroner in tax with the 5% increase. That’s a lot of sinning, right?

Three years ago, this kind of thing would have left me enraged but now I just accept it. Yes, it does irritate me that the government tries to balance more of its budget by raising an already high tax instead of making a few cuts here and there to what I see as some unfairly high spending but it bothers me when any government does that, not just the Red-Green coalition in Norway.

The new coalition government in Britain is raising taxes and making cuts. Drastic cuts, according to what I read in the papers. Necessary cuts, according to Cameron/Clegg. I admit to liking some of what they’re doing, such as cutting child benefits to upper-middle class income earners. Indeed, why should anyone earning over £43k a year receive £1k a month because they have a child? They do the same here in Norway, give child benefits without means testing, and I don’t understand it. If you’re earning 1 million NOK a year and need help from the gov’t to buy shoes for your kid, you’re doing something wrong, mate. I wonder if most wealthy people here don’t just save their child benefits for 18 years and then use it to buy their kid a BMW; based on the number of Beemers in school parking lots, one has to assume. Both countries, as well as the USA, give pension benefits without means testing.

Anyway, even with the increase in alcohol and tobacco and car taxes, the Norwegian budget is nowhere near to being balanced. It never is, and the shortfall is always made up with a contribution from the massive oil fund. This year that contribution is 135 billion kroner.

I wish I had an oil fund to make up the dent in my wine budget. Instead, I will have to make cuts in my expenses. In a society based on fairness, it isn't right that I have to follow a strict budget while the gov’t does not. But that’s the way it is and I accept it.

I think I will go bake a pie.

2010-09-22T19:03:00.008+02:00

My last post was a little “feminista” and this one will be, as well. I haven’t planned this; it’s just that the newspapers keep handing me interesting stories about women and I feel compelled to share.

My latest source of lady entertainment involves a bit of a media “dust-up” between two Norwegians, artist Marianne Aulie and journalist Hella Vaagland. It all started when American actress Demi Moore posted that bikini photo of herself on Twitter a couple of weeks ago:

Demi is lookin’ good, no question, and I guess she spurred other “mature” women with hot bods to Twitter bikini pics of themselves. First was American actress Lisa Rinna, who embarrassingly sited Demi Moore as her “hero.” Seriously? Of all the women in the world one could think of to admire, she chose Demi? But I digress. Here in Norway, it was artist Aulie who posted this snap of herself online:

All of this “look-at-me-I’m-over-40-but-still-so-freaking-fabulous-in-my-bikini” Twittering must have been more than Vaagland could bear, as she apparently ran to the toilets at the NRK studio, tore off her clothes, and let this photo rip to the whole world:

I LOVE IT!! Good on ya, darlin’! For anyone too thick to understand the message she was trying to send, Vaagland went out of her way to explain that she was merely exposing (!) a bit of truth about what some women’s bodies look like, especially after they have had children but not cosmetic surgery. She said she worries about the constant beam of perfect bodies (a la Demi) people see in the media and the negative effect that can have on girls and women who feel compelled to compare themselves to what is often an unnaturally enhanced, airbrushed ideal. Bless you, Helle, for your efforts and, most of all, your amazing nerve.

The dust-up I referred to earlier occurred when reporters contacted Aulie for her comments about Vaagland’s obvious rebuttal to her skin shot. Clearly, Aulie wasn’t pleased, and was willing to meet Vaagland for a bit of a “face-to-face” to discuss the matter. The meeting---posted here, in Norwegian---was more unpleasant that I assumed it would be, but also very interesting.

I give Aulie points for sticking up for herself and saying that, whatever anyone’s “ideal” of physical perfection might be, she is perfectly entitled to think of herself as beautiful and not worry that she’s offending anyone by showing off her body when posing nearly naked or, quite often, naked. The most important thing, she said, is to love yourself. And to eat right. (Yes, she really said that.) Vaagland countered with her opinion that most women’s bodies do not look like Aulie’s or Demi’s and the media could support that fact more often and she was only trying to show another side of the debate.

Something I really, really like about Norway is how this story appeared on the front page of the newspaper one day and then was gone the next day. I like that because even though I think this is an important discussion, it’s so refreshing to me that an NRK employee---someone who works for the state---can take a picture of herself standing half-naked in a toilet at work, post it on the internet, have it appear on the front pages of several different newspapers, and then disappear back into her normal work life. Back home, I’m fairly certain she would be fired for such a stunt. Here, she’s reporting that she’s received mostly very supportive feedback and has just landed a new job as boss at the National Gallery. Lookin’ good, Vaagland!

I think she might be my new hero.

2010-09-14T18:21:00.010+02:00

Those are the last of our raspberries in the garden. I have been surprised at how many are still hanging on the bushes, as they're usually long gone by this time of year. These last few are also the biggest of this summer's crop, so whatever I did to create these "late season" berries, I should do again. I think it has something to do with when and how I pruned the bushes; I need to do a little research on that.

In addition to raspberries, we've got some blackberries that are just about ready, and the pears, plums and apples are starting to fall from the trees, too. September has been really mild so far, so we're hoping the fruit will stay on the trees long enough to get bigger and tastier. Often, the nights in September start to get very cold quite early in the month but that hasn't happened yet---yeah!---and that should allow the fruit to hang on at least another week.

I really enjoy being out in the garden this time of year, picking fruit and thinking about what to do with all of it. I can tell I've been watching too much Little Britain because yesterday I was wandering around with my bucket of berries and apples thinking, "Yes, I'm a lady and this is a lady thing to do. I like to do lady things." Just like Emily Howard...

Speaking of lady things, I recently read an article about the winter Olympics in a March edition of The New Yorker and was shocked to discover that the International Olympic Committee doesn't believe ski jumping is at all a lady thing. Did you know that women have never competed in the ski jumping contest in the Olympics? According to Nick Paumgarten, who wrote the article, "It's the lone male-only sport in the Winter Games."

I'm not a huge fan of the Olympics, summer or winter, so always just end up a casual observer of the sports I think are fun to watch (figure skating, gymnastics, diving, baseball, hockey) or happen to be on the telly when I'm eating dinner (here in Norway, that was the biathlon this year, evening after evening after evening; a freak coincidence of Canadian timing, I think). But, you know, now that I think about it, I never have seen a woman ski jumper in the Olympics. Or anywhere else, really, although I know they exist because of the huge controversy here this year over who jumped and when at the grand opening of the new ski jump at Holmenkollen.

Paumgarten writes that women have long been discriminated against in this sport and that weird prejudices continue to this day. "The president of the International Ski Federation, or FIS, speculated that jumping could harm a woman's uterus, and subsequently reiterated that it 'seems not to be appropriate for ladies from a medical point of view.'" My jaw dropped upon reading that, since it's such a load of bullshit it's hard to believe anyone with any sort of education would actually say such a thing.

Anyway, women have been ski jumping---and doing it well---for over 100 years without anyone losing a uterus. Again from Paumgarten: "Prior to the 2010 Games, the record holder on the Olympic jump at Whistler, the resort north of Vancouver where many of the skiing events took place, was a woman named Lindsey Van (not Vonn)." He goes on to contend that "The participation of women would threaten jumping's virile self-image and dilute the pool of money for prizes and endorsements."

Isn't that outrageous? I'm outraged. I think ski jumping should absolutely be a lady thing that ladies do with other ladies. I'm certain Emily Howard would agree!

2010-09-05T18:48:00.005+02:00

I have the flu. Or something that started out like the flu and is now more like a head cold accompanied by the most annoying dry cough. You know, the kind of cough that is sort of irritating throughout the day but manages to get much worse as soon as you lie down at night and try to sleep? I hope it goes away quickly. At least my stomach isn’t involved any more, which is a relief.

So I’ve been trying to take it easy over the last few days and have enjoyed catching up on some Norwegian news. A few articles captured my attention, including this one I saw in several newspapers about a traffic safety study that concluded that young men should not be allowed to drive until they are at least 23 years old. According to the senior researcher, this is because the brains of young men do not mature until they are that age; before that, they are incapable of making good decisions about safety and risk.

I was relieved to see that most of the comments in response to this article don’t dispute the suggestion that young men are, in general, bad drivers. They tended mostly to, 1) doubt the likelihood of the government ever really banning under-23-year-old males from driving while allowing young women to continue to get their licenses; 2) maintain that women of all ages are equally crap drivers (I resent that!!); 3) question the logic of forbidding young men to drive while still forcing them into military service (mandatory in Norway for all men at age 18.5 but is also, apparently, easy to avoid); and, finally, 4) question the intelligence of the researchers who conducted the study.

Personally---and I have written about this before---I find the driving standard among ALL drivers in Norway shockingly poor, so it’s hard for me to single out teenage boys as the worst culprits. If anything, this study gives boys a biological excuse for driving like idiots; how everyone else explains what they’re doing out there on the roads, now that’s a study I’d like to read!

In any case, I do think it’s pretty darn obvious that boys mature more slowly than girls. Anyone who has children or spends any time around children could probably attest to this. At the preschool where I worked in San Francisco, it would be commonplace for little girls to run up to me with a piece of paper and say, “Look! Look what I drew!” I would examine their picture of a house, a star, a horse or whatever and say, “Oh, it’s wonderful. Tell me about it.” And they would tell me a little bit about what they drew.

When boys said, “Look! Look at what I drew,” their paper would inevitably be covered in scribbles. I would say, “Ahh, yes, it’s great! What is it?” They would yell, “It’s a space ship!” and then they would grab it, crumple it into a ball and run off looking for someone to throw it at. Kind of endearing, really.

Here’s a funny look at the girl vs. boy baby development by one of my favorite comedians, Michael McIntyre. Go about 5.45 minutes in and have a giggle.

2010-08-31T11:19:00.004+02:00

I miss the weekend. I didn’t do a whole lot. I rested. And rested. Baked a swiss chard tart. And rested some more. I needed all that rest to recover from the last two weeks, which have been very full and very fun and very exhausting. I think I would be have been okay it wasn’t for the early morning shifts I’m doing at work as I cover for the “Before-and-After School Program” person who doesn’t start until tomorrow. Getting up early in the morning isn’t a particular talent of mine and neither is going to bed before midnight, so you can kind of imagine what sort of havoc my 7.30am start is wreaking. The last two Friday nights, I have fallen asleep on the couch at around 9.30pm. That’s just a little bit sad, don’t you think?

It didn’t help that I didn’t get a good night’s sleep during my long weekend in Oslo because the bed at the hotel where Husband and I stayed was way too soft and killed my back. By the time we staggered out of bed last Monday morning at 7.30am to the sound of massive freeway construction just outside our hotel room window, I could barely walk. I had to sit in a hot bathtub for an hour just to get down to breakfast. A soak in a Jacuzzi would have been nice but the hotel’s Jacuzzi was out of order. In other words, if you’re ever visiting Oslo and you don’t like soft beds or construction noise, stay away from the Clarion Hotel Bastion. I feel bad saying that because the front desk staff couldn’t have been nicer and the room was actually quite pleasant (it had a whole “boat” theme going on that worked pretty well), but, really, the beds are dangerous.

Or maybe it’s just me getting old and frail? Because in addition to my back pain, my feet are totally aching as well. I’m pretty sure that’s from spending so much time standing in the classroom and running around on the playground for my new job. My bunion is way sore. And to think I didn’t even know what a bunion was until earlier this year when I visited a good shoe store with my mom back in California. As I tried on shoes, I was chatting with the owner about how difficult it is to find decent shoes and he said, “Well, goodness, with your flat feet and that bunion, I can imagine it’s a challenge for you.” Flat feet? Bunion? I always just thought I had wide feet. What a nimrod I am!

My bunion looks like this*:

I guess part of why I didn’t realize it’s a bunion is that it’s never really caused me any pain before. So why it’s acting up now, I don’t know. I mean, I’ve been a professional cleaner for 3 1-2 years; it’s not like I haven’t had an active job prior to working in a kindergarten.

My best guess is it’s because I have to dress up a little bit for work now (as opposed to my sloppy cleaning gear) and I’m not wearing my dirty great sneakers anymore, which my feet apparently love very much. So it’s time for some shoe shopping. The good shoes I bought at the shoe store in California are really summer sandals, not appropriate for the cooler temperatures that have suddenly arrived here in southeast Norway. I really want some Dansko clogs but I can’t find one shoe store in Sandefjord or Larvik that sells them, and I didn’t see them in Oslo, either. Oddly, I found some Dr. Scholl’s clogs at the local Apotek1, which is a drug store/chemist’s, not a shoe store. Do they sell them because they’re called “Doctor Scholl’s?” Or because they’re supposed to be a “healthy” shoe option?

Anyway, I’m going to check them out again today and hopefully buy a pair I can use in the classroom. And then I need a pair of waterproof boots with a big, thick sole for the playground. And cross my fingers that my bunion approves of my choices.

* That is not my foot. That is a random photo from the internet. For some reason, I feel shy about posting a snap of my feet here. I do like the blue polish, though.

2010-08-29T18:09:00.003+02:00

The weather was so weird today. I'm not sure if you can see from this picture but for half an hour today, it rained on only one side of our house. Seriously, looking out the front door, I saw rain falling to the left of the porch but not on the right. So cool!

2010-08-29T17:36:00.002+02:00

BlogFest was a blast!! That was the resounding opinion of all the participants I met last Saturday night at the Dubliner Pub in Oslo. Husband and I didn’t arrive in Oslo until 5.00pm Saturday evening, so we missed the fun day of sightseeing and---this breaks my heart---drinking of champagne that Renny had arranged. H and I did our best to catch up to the overall level of drunkenness already achieved by this merry band of blogger travelers and I am proud to report that we succeeded by around 9.00pm. Not to say that was quittin’ time. Oh no. I believe we finally bid farewell to the last stragglers in the group sometime after 1.00am. I think. Like I said, it was a blast.

I feel like I have a whole new group of friends, which is absolutely awesome. I had a chance to catch up with Caroline and her husband, who I haven’t seen in months, and I got to meet so many others for the first time: Karla, BB, Corinne, Karen, Tor, Renny, Diane, Rachel and her sister (we needed more time!!), Claudie and Pierre, and Lelé. I hope I’m not forgetting to mention anyone. What a lovely, lovely evening. I’m already looking forward to getting back up to Oslo to hang out with everyone again, and am seriously thinking about booking a trip to Ibiza to see Maria Isabel, who is now my second very favorite Spaniard in the whole world (Mayte is still #1). Maribel, you are fabulous! I will come to visit you!! I will!!!

Sadly, I didn’t take any pictures! Sorry, I was too busy meeting and talking to remember to take out my camera. (I boosted the one at the top of this post from Diane's blog.) Please jump over to any of the above blogs to see photos and videos of the fun everyone had during their visit to Oslo.

I still just cannot thank Renny and his beautiful wife, Diane, for planning such an amazing event. The two of them encapsulate so much of what I love about Norway and Norwegians with their generosity of spirit, their enthusiasm for their country, and their love of being with other people. Not to mention their ability to organize a major freakin’ party. Renny and Diane, I bow to your talents, your energy, your vision, and your warmth. It was an honor to be included in Oslo BlogFest 2010. Thank you!!!

2010-08-16T14:25:00.002+02:00

Wow, it’s been a long time since I stopped in here to say howdy. I feel only the tiniest bit bad about that, since I notice most of my Norwegian blogger friends have also been absent from blogland. Everyone must be out enjoying the beautiful Norwegian summer and not bothering to report on it. Well, everyone except DianeCA and RennyBA, who have been out and about AND writing about it as well as working very, very hard getting ready for Oslo Blog Gathering 2010 which is happening this week!

The brainchild of Renny, OsloBG has been in the planning since last year and is the result of his wish to unite bloggers, blog fans and virtual networkers from around the world for a few days of fun and relaxation in his favorite city. I am simply awestruck by the scope of what Renny has achieved in creating OsloBG and am gutted that I am able to join the festivities for only one day because of work commitments. But I sure am looking forward to that day, especially to the opportunity to finally meet Renny, Diane, Tor, Beaverbush, Corinne, and everyone who will be traveling in for the event. This is going to be awesome!

The work commitment stems from my new part-time schedule at my new job back in the kindergarten where I worked as a substitute last year. I was very happy that they invited me to apply for a permanent position and am looking forward to becoming part of the school community. School started just last week and I already remember all of the names of the children in our class. Not bad for my middle-aged brain, let me tell you.

I have also just finished the first of what I hope are several Norwegian-to-English translating assignments for a firm in town, and am working on setting up a new website for my business. Oh, and I’m teaching myself to sew. Plus, I’ve decided that the interior of our house here needs some changes, so have been busy choosing wallpaper, paint and curtains. Don’t hold your breath for pictures of that work, since I still have unfinished projects started when we moved in three years ago. So, you know, just wish me luck.

I’ll check back in with y’all next week with news and pictures from Oslo BlogFest. Keep enjoying the summer!

2010-07-28T22:59:00.004+02:00

Husband and I have been really busy lately, working and gardening and catching up on chores around the house. Yesterday we enjoyed a rare day off together. The weather was beautiful, so we decided to drive out to a nearby town for some blueberry picking and a swim in a lake we'd seen on our last tour of the area. As we pulled into the parking area for the beach, we noticed this:

Honestly, I'm not sure what's more offensive, the aggressiveness of the missive or the guy's decision to accessorize it with the country's national symbol. He should just save everyone the time and trouble it takes to read the small print there and post his real meaning in big block letters: Hi! I'm a total dick.

2010-07-22T00:05:00.004+02:00

Summer is rolling along and all is well here. I’ve been harvesting strawberries from our garden; our plants did really well this year and we had a bumper crop of sweet, delicious berries. Sadly, the same cannot be said of our raspberries bushes. I’m not sure what’s wrong with them but the berries are quite small and fall apart as I pull them off the plants. I’ll have to do some research and figure out how I can get them to do better next summer. I also picked some cherries today and am looking forward to using them in a dessert…something with chocolate, I think.

I recovered from my World Cup love affair with Spain by taking a quick trip over to England with Husband to visit a couple of his friends and also to drop in on my friend and fellow ex-pat blogger, Joanne. Jo and I have known one another for over two years now through our blogs and through email but this was the first time we’d met in person and it was wonderful! She and her family moved to England from South Africa only seven months ago, so we now have the “starting over in a new country” thing in common in addition to all of the other things we’d already bonded over. I had a perfectly lovely time. They took me sight-seeing around their picture-perfect English countryside, complete with quaint seaside villages, authentic fish and chips, and most excellent local beer (Adnams Broadside…hmmmm.) It’s tragic that I forgot my camera and have absolutely zero photographs to document our fun. Next time!

Sometimes I can’t believe how lucky I am to have met so many amazing people through my blog. From the very beginning, really… Emily, Victoria, Liz, Helen, Caroline, Kristin, and now Jo. I look forward to meeting Mel and Gretch one day soon, and to hanging out with a whole load of my blogging buddies at the Oslo BlogFest coming up at the end of August. It’s going to be a hoot!

I had an interesting conversation with a man on the airplane coming back from England. We were chatting a bit about Norway and England and the near-global economic crisis and I mentioned how fortunate I felt to be living in Norway, where I was able to earn a decent living working as a cleaner. My new friend responded with a tad bit of disdain at this statement. “I have no admiration for a society that engineers that kind of false equality,” he said. “When a cleaner can earn as much as a professional, something is wrong. Why would anyone strive to be better, to be innovative, to create? Socialist economies make people comfortable and that’s bad for business. Markets work best when there’s an upper class and a lower class, a group that owns things and a group that works hard to also own things. What you have in Norway cannot be sustained. It will lead nowhere good.”

I’ve heard this kind of thing before from quite a few people. To be honest, I used to think a little bit the same way when I first moved here from California because the society and government are so, so different from the aggressively competitive atmosphere I was used to back home. I’ve totally changed my mind about that now, though, because I realize it’s just not correct.

It’s incorrect to assume that all Norwegians are economically equal. Sure, there is hardly any grinding poverty, not many people sleeping on the streets like we had in San Francisco. If you have a job in Norway, you earn a wage that, in general, enables you to take care of yourself. Isn’t that the way it should be? How can that be wrong? Can’t life be more than just working all the time? Anyway, believe me, there are plenty---plenty!!---of wealthy people here. So, although there isn’t a huge lower class, there is definitely an upper class. And as for striving, you don’t need poverty to make people strive---that’s what greed is for! Right? Remember Gordon Gekko in the original “Wall Street?” Remember what he said about greed?

“The point is, ladies and gentleman, that greed, for lack of a better word, is good. Greed is right, greed works. Greed clarifies, cuts through, and captures the essence of the evolutionary spirit. Greed, in all of its forms; greed for life, for money, for love, knowledge, has marked the upward surge of mankind.”

I feel safe in saying that Norway, just like everywhere else, has its share of greedy people, in a good way. There is innovation and creation happening here, all by people who are probably pretty glad they don’t have to step over homeless people on their way to work.

But people have been debating economic models for generations, so I knew better than to get too into it with my fellow RyanAir passenger. I just repeated that I was happy to be living in Norway and then I stuck my face in my book. A Norwegian crime novel that I’m proud to say I’m more than halfway through. Because I’ve been working hard on my Norwegian. Because I know that I won’t get a better job without better language skills. And I do want a better job. I guess I’m a little greedy, too. And I’m looking forward to seeing the sequel to “Wall Street.”

2010-07-12T00:19:00.004+02:00

2010 World Cup Champions

Yeah baby.

Spanish national team, oh how I will miss you.

Thank you for a wonderful month of beautiful, beautiful football.

2010-07-07T15:38:00.002+02:00

It’s been a while since I’ve dropped by here. All is well, it’s just summer in Norway and, as such, one is pretty much obligated to spend as much time outside as possible. And a lovely summer it’s been so far, with lots of nice weather and time spent with friends. I must say, though, that I can’t help feeling a vague sense of anxiety simmering in my head. I think I’m starting to panic that the summer is half over. That’s a bit ridiculous, I know, but I think it’s exactly what’s keeping me from being able to totally relax lately. I feel like I should be doing more all the time, going to the beach, bicycling, working in the garden, air drying everything I own, reading a book, taking a nap. It’s kind of freaking me out.

I wonder if this is why Norwegians, in general, are an impatient people. I mean no offense by that, and I don’t think it’s a national secret that many, many Norwegians find it very, very challenging to wait for stuff. They’re just not good at it. And I’m afraid I’m becoming that way, too. I feel like I don’t have time to waste, summer is passing me by, soon it will be over and then it will be fall and then NONONONONOOOO, it will be winter. And then I will want that to be over so summer will be here again, only to go by too quickly. Sheesh, this is making me super stressed out.

Good thing there’s a football game on tonight! Although I’m not sure how much it will distract me from my stress, since it’s THE BIG SEMIFINAL between Spain and Germany and I’m dreadfully frightened that Spain will not prevail. But I’m hoping against hope and will keep watching no matter what happens. GO SPAIN!!! GO DAVID VILLA!!!

For those who couldn’t give a toss about the game tonight, I leave you with some nice summertime photos I’ve taken while out riding my bike. Sandefjord is at its finest in the summer, and I especially appreciate how much crop-growing goes on around here. There’s something very back-to-nature about seeing field after field of wheat and other foodstuffs I can’t identify since I’m really a City Girl. It’s good for me to see the farmers working so hard all the time, planting and harvesting and tending their cows, as it is a constant reminder of where my food comes from and how much effort goes in to getting it from the earth to my mouth. GO FARMERS! Respect to you!

2010-06-28T13:37:00.012+02:00

The picture above is just to prove that I did do something besides watch football this weekend. To be sure, though, my World Cup fever has not abated. I’m completely addicted. Tonight is Netherlands vs. Slovakia (not Slovenia, I’m pretty sure) and Brazil vs. Chile while tomorrow brings us Japan vs. Paraguay and Spain vs. Portugal. About Spain, anyone who thinks Fernando Torres took a dive in their game against Chile is blind or needs to check that replay one more time because he did NOT.

It was very sad watching Team USA lose to Ghana Saturday night but I was impressed by how well the Americans played against a very talented, fast, aggressive squad. I will be interested to see Ghana’s next game, when they will play a team (Uruguay) whose skills are closer to their own.

It was a little bit sad but mostly just very, very difficult watching England get clobbered so fully and completely not so much by Germany as by their own lack of anything resembling Premier-league-level talent. The disallowed goal by Frank Lampard did not help, as it killed the badly needed momentum England had built up after 30 minutes of lackluster play. But they probably would not have won anyway, as it was clear from the beginning of the WC that something was deeply wrong with this team. England’s players are known all around the world and, on Saturday, the stadium was packed with people expecting a fierce contest. What we all witnessed was anything but that.

German fans were, of course, crazy happy, and they deserved to be, as their side played beautifully. I’m really looking forward to seeing them play Argentina, who beat Mexico 3-1 last night. (Note: it should have been 2-1 but for another blown call by the refs.) Mexico put up a brave fight and played a good game but they just couldn’t beat Messi and his teammates. I personally don’t think Germany will, either, but we’ll have to wait and see.

I have been so enjoying watching the games, although, since I am a neophyte fan, I would enjoy it so much more if I could understand the play-by-play commentary and learn more about what I’m seeing. My Norwegian simply isn’t good enough to decipher the rapid, excited speech of the guys calling the game on TV. The games shown on TV2 are impossible, since one of those guys has an accent I can’t wrap my head around at all. During the England game yesterday, Husband and I turned down the volume on the tele and listened to BBC internet radio and that was great! It made watching the humiliation of the players tolerable, especially as one of the commentators, a Northern Irish guy (I think) was blindingly honest about what he was seeing in a typically dry, Irish, funny way.

Turning the TV volume down also allowed us to escape the sound of the ever-present vuvuzelas. I want to say a thing or two about those things. I find them super annoying, especially because they never stop---people blow on them throughout the entire f-ing game, with seemingly no notice of the nuance of what is happening on the field. Football is a fluid game, the action spikes and rolls; it never stops but there are often periods of calm that cannot be appreciated if the noise of the fans doesn’t correspond. Anyway, that’s the way I see it. But is it okay to say that?

I’ve read a lot on the internet that people who are criticizing the vuvuzela are being “culturally insensitive” about the way South Africans enjoy their football. Is it racist to say the vuvus gives me a headache? But they do! Why is it wrong to say that? We all, in our own countries, have our different traditions and habits but we can’t expect everyone to find them pleasing or entertaining, right? I mean, the English have a tradition of stabbing one another at football matches; doesn’t make it fun for everyone. I wore my Los Angeles Dodgers t-shirt to a San Diego Padres baseball game once and someone threw nachos at me. That’s the way Pad fans treat their guests; doesn’t mean everyone has to think it’s okay. Once, in my language class, two Italian guys complained that Norwegians sit like robots during football games, that they don’t know how to have fun. My teacher simply nodded and said, “Yes, we tend to be a little quiet out there.” She knew it was true.

And sometimes a little criticism from an outsider can be a good thing. As an American, I have learned that everyone in the world thinks I “talk too loudly” and “wear ugly white sneakers.” Which I do! Or did; I listened to that and ever since make an effort to keep my voice down when traveling and also invested in a pair of comfortable dark blue trainers. No harm done.

So, really, if you, South Africa, happen to hear me say in my new quiet voice that I’d like to use my new blue trainers to shove that vuvuzela somewhere I can't hear it, just know I’m trying to help you, is all. It’s just a little something to reflect upon when you next have a quiet moment (after the World Cup, of course).

Okay, time to get to work so I’m home in time for the games tonight. Enjoy!!!

2010-06-20T23:32:00.006+02:00

I’ve been watching so much football! I’m loving the World Cup. I’m loving that I’m loving the World Cup. Football is still a relatively new discovery to me and it’s been really fun seeing so many games and feeling like I’ve learned so much about the game. In fact, on Friday, after suffering through 90 minutes of frustrating agony with England and Algeria, I realized I knew enough to be able to say to Husband, “Wow, your team is absolute shite.” He said, “Wow, you’re learning.”

As everyone knows by now, my favorite team, Spain, lost their first game to Switzerland, but their effort was valiant and exciting, easily the best game I’ve seen so far. In my opinion, the Swiss played a dirty game but I couldn’t find any criticism of their tactics in the news reports I read the next day. I know I’m just a beginner here, but look at the statistics:

Fouls Committed - Spain 9, Switzerland 19.
Fouls Against - Spain 18, Switzerland 8.
Corner Kicks - Spain 12, Switzerland 3.

Paints a picture, right?

Another picture: 'Nando cut his hair!

Anyway, Spain plays again tomorrow, so fingers crossed.

Husband and I did take a little time out from the Cup last night to watch the Swedish Royal Wedding of Crown Princess Victoria and her beloved fiancée/personal trainer, Daniel. We almost couldn’t help but watch it, since it was on NRK1 during prime time (AKA just before kickoff), but we were admittedly curious, especially after all of the media hoopla about the wedding over the last few days. H and I had developed a fondness for CP Victoria last year after seeing a television documentary about a research trip she took to the Arctic Circle with Norwegian CP Haakon and Danish CP Frederik to raise awareness of the effects of global warming on the polar ice cap. She seems like a lovely, vibrant, intelligent woman, and I, for one, am a real sucker for any sort of Royal-who-must-fight-to-marry-the-commoner kind of story, even one involving a Princess and a guy who owns luxury gyms in Stockholm.

The event was a romantic affair, full of pomp and splendor, and I admit to getting teary-eyed when the Princess addressed the thousands of Swedes gathered outside the Royal Palace. “Thank you for giving me my Prince.” Awww. Sweet.

While we watched the Royal Wedding Feast, I turned to Husband and said, “Gosh, not only is your team shite but the Swedish Royal family is much, much better looking than your Royal Family (except for Diana, may she rest in peace).” He said, “That’s mean of you to say but you are correct.”

Poor Husband. Poor England. They play again on Wednesday. I’ll cross my fingers for them, too.

2010-06-14T13:05:00.004+02:00

I’ve been in a funk lately. Not sure why. For the most part, everything is good. I’ve been working a lot, which is good for the paycheck. The weather has been rainy and gray, which can be a tad depressing but the garden needed a good soaking, so even that is fine. Also, the World Cup has started, which is exciting. The Americans played a decent, if maybe a bit uninspired, game against England in their first outing, ending in a 1-1 draw and leaving me feeling very sorry for the England goalie. (Imagine making such a big mistake in front of hundreds of millions of people. Stuff of nightmares, to be sure.) There is plenty of football to look forward to over the next few weeks, so, yea! I was bad in missing Germany’s drubbing of Australia last night but, to be honest, I prefer my contests a little less lopsided. I’m especially eager to see Spain play Switzerland Wednesday, as I have a real fondness for all things Spanish, especially Fernando Torres.

So, really, all is well and I should be in good humor. Definitely not, though. It didn’t help when, at a job last week, a woman---who was really very nice and tried so hard to decipher my accent and even offered me a snack---asked me if---wait for it---I had grandchildren. Not children, but GRANDchildren. Holy shit. To be fair, I had just asked her how many grandchildren she has but that was totally in context since I happened to be cleaning a room in her hytte and said room has three bunk beds and she is obviously well above the age of 60. So my question seemed, you know, logical. Hers was illogical, right? I mean, I’m 47 but can pass for 45 on a good day and who assumes a 45-year-old woman has grandchildren? Unless….I’m not passing for 45 anymore?

In normal circumstances, I would probably be laughing about her comment, but what with my hot flashes and stubborn winter fat that should have dissolved by now but hasn’t, I’m not feeling all that normal lately. On top of that, three of my women friends have recently had babies or announced pregnancies and news of that kind always fills me with ambivalence. Of course I’m happy for them---I love babies and really like kids---and wish them every ounce of joy, happiness, and good luck they deserve, but when my previously unchilded friends become parents, I can’t help but feel just the tiniest bit left behind, once again. This is difficult to explain, and is probably only something people without children can understand? If I knew any anymore, I’d ask ‘em!

Anyway, it’s no use dwelling on such things. What good does that do anyway, right? We’re all getting older, with or without kids, so maybe that’s where Hytte Grandma and I could have bonded. (I’ll remember to steer any future conversations like that away from children and on to menopause.) In the meantime, I think I’ll get myself over to Vinmonopolet and lay in some alcohol-based supplies for Wednesday’s game. That’s what I need…a little Spanish wine and a lot of Fernando Torres. Or the other way ‘round.

Bring on the football!!!

2010-06-10T22:21:00.004+02:00

Do you ever have those days where you look around and think, "What the hell is wrong with the world? Is there any hope for us? Are we doomed?" I had one of those moments yesterday as I perused the BBC's news website and looked at their table of "Most Read" stories of the day, listed in order of popularity.

MOST POPULAR STORIES NOW

Lohan violates alcohol court ban
Snakes in mystery global decline
Finland in double-dip recession
NATO convoy attacked in Pakistan
Immigrants face new English rules
Payne killer’s jail term reduced
Mexican boy killed at US border
Ambassadors bet on USA v England
Stretching the bodies of Kenyans
Iran faces “toughest sanctions”

Lindsey Lohan? Seriously?

2010-06-08T12:14:00.007+02:00

It's been a beautiful summer so far here in Southern Norway. The apple trees are blooming...

...and the days are sooooo looonng. Here is the view from our back garden at around midnight:

It's only dark now for a few hours very early in the morning, and light again by 4.00am. Husband and I have been very busy mowing the lawn and planting a vegetable garden but we did make time to get up to Oslo again last weekend. The sun was so bright, I had trouble keeping my eyes open...

...but that wasn't a problem Saturday night at the Sentrum Scene where we caught Jamie Cullum's show. He's brilliant! If you ever get the chance to see him, GO!! You won't be sorry.

Being in Oslo for a couple of days was a nice break from the commotion that's been going on around our house over the last week. The noise is coming from these two...

...who are keeping a very careful watch over this little fellow:

Do you know fledging crows regularly leave their nests seven to ten days before they can fly? Apparently they spend that time wandering around, exploring their world, and---I can attest---falling on their faces as they toddle around on their tiny legs. This youngster has been spending most of his time in the forest behind our house but he clearly feels free to come and go through our garden whenever it suits his fancy. We always know when he's close by because his parents make a huge fuss, screaming and cawing and dive-bombing who/whatever gets near their baby. Frida the cat is scared of them, but Harry doesn't seem too awfully bothered, so we've been keeping him locked in the house. Which causes HIM to make a huge fuss. Hopefully that little bird will fly away soon!

2010-06-03T10:35:00.006+02:00

The Grand Final of the 2010 Eurovision Song Contest was wonderful. Husband and I were a little worn out from an overly busy week, so we watched it from the comfort of our couch with a tasty dinner, a bottle of wine, and, of course, a notepad and pen to keep track of the acts we would vote for at the end of the show. As most people know, Lena Meyer-Landrut, singing “Satellite,” won for Germany, ending up with an amazing number of votes (but not as many as Alexander Rybak earned last year…just sayin’). Personally, I didn’t like the winning song, but, you know, that happens. I wasn’t the only one, to be sure, and there was some grumbling out in internet land about the song being a little silly and Ms. Meyer-Landrut being more than a little weird, but to that, I say shut up! I mean, so what if she’s weird? If a girl is going to fly her freak flag, what better place to do so than Eurovision? You go, Lena, you weirdo!

So, yes, some ugly things may have been said in the heat of the moment but, hey, competition---and everything else---is fierce at Eurovision, so a bit of sniping is to be expected. Now, in the calm of the aftermath, I think we can all agree on a few things…

#1, that NRK (Norwegian Broadcasting Corp.) did a fantastic job televising the show. I especially appreciated the opening sequence of the final that started with the scene of an ordinary family sitting in front of their TV in their home in Lugano, Switzerland, in 1956, getting ready to watch the very first Eurovision contest. Then it went on to a CGI montage of all the cities that have hosted EV over the years, interspersed with live-action sequences of, again, ordinary Europeans watching the show in bars, cafes, and living rooms.

This is why I love EV so much. A contest that was created to try to bring Europe together after the war continues to do so in its own goofy way. I actually got a little misty-eyed watching the opening sequence, as it made me feel part of something so much bigger than Sandefjord and Norway. It makes me feel a part of Europe, and even as messy and tense and economically wounded as it is right now, the continent (and its northern neighbors) still feels magical and young and full of opportunity to me. EV is a way for me to experience a glimpse of the various cultures and tastes of my new neighbors and I treasure it.

#2, that Britain’s song was terrible. Not the singer, poor fellow, but the song. I think Britain should have to start qualifying for the show along with the rest of us and be disallowed from joining the “Big Four” (Germany, France, Spain, UK) who go automatically to the Final. At least until they enter a half-decent song.

#3, that maybe it would be better for world peace if Israel was no longer included in EV and the Middle East started their own song contest. I would watch that.

#4, that Jimmy Jump or whatever his name is, the guy who jumped onto the stage during Spain’s performance and who inexplicably has his own “fan base” now, should really have tried to do that last year when the show was in Moscow. Because watching Russian security deal with him would have been interesting.

#5, that one of the funniest comments ever found on a EV blog asked, “So, what song did Obama win with?”

and finally, #6, even if some people weren’t super excited about Lena and her song, we can all rest easy in the knowledge that Germany, bless its financially sound heart and very out gay population, will definitely put on an awesome, awesome Eurovision next year. Woo hoo!

2010-05-27T16:10:00.015+02:00

Oh, my friends. It’s May in Europe. And you know what that means.

EUROVISION 2010!!

If you know me at all, you know I’m crazy for Eurovision. And because Norway won last year, the show is taking place at Telenor Arena in Oslo. That’s right, just up the E18 from me. So you know I would drag Husband along with me to see it live at least one night. And I did, Tuesday, for the First Semi-Finals. It was fabulous!

I admit to being the tiniest bit worried about my decision to go when, in the weeks prior to the show, I told a few people that I was going and their reaction was less than enthusiastic. A couple of women actually rolled their eyes at me! But now I know what was going on: None of those people I talked to is gay. Because let me tell you---Eurovision is totally gay. In the best way possible. In the way that makes uber gay-friendly people like Husband and me really, really happy. (Okay, it makes me really, really happy and Husband just a little smiley. But whatever.) In my opinion, it’s only natural that any show as spectacularly sparkly and full of lights, music, and costumes is big with homos. I mean, right?

H and I realized immediately what we were getting into when, in trying to make our way to the correct bus stop in downtown Oslo, we managed to sneak onto a Eurovison VIP bus leaving the Radisson Hotel and found ourselves surrounded by German accents, very divine outfits, and lots of chest hair. I was like, “OMG, this is awesome.”

And, really, the whole night was pretty awesome. In spite of our cheap seats way in the back of the arena and the fact that the stage was so low to the ground that it was impossible to see anything unless you were sitting in the front row. Dang, I know Norwegian EV officials were under pressure to keep costs down while organizing the show, but would it have killed them to prop that stage up a few feet? My elementary school used to do that kind of thing in 1968 for the annual Christmas pageant, so I'm sure the technology exists.

But I don’t want to dwell on those couple of negative points. The show itself was as wonderful, glitzy, professional, and just plain marvelous as I expected it to be. A quick run down on the acts:

Moldova – catchy song, cute girl singer with scary eye makeup, and a guy playing a violin. If they win, people can talk about “the Moldovan fiddle player” instead of “the Norwegian fiddle player” who won last year.

Russia – loved it! The song is kind of serious and a little slow but weird, too. Especially the way the guitar player who looks like Johnny Depp speaks the line, “What are you doing, man?” and the singer who looks like 1980s-era Robert Downey Jr. sings, “I’m looking at your photo,” while actually looking at a photo he’s holding in his outstretched hand. The photo is of a woman, not Johnny Depp guy.

Estonia – barely remember this one. I know it reminded me too much of a Jack Penate song, which was distracting to me.

Slovakia – don’t remember the song, only that the girl wore a seriously pretty green dress-thing. She looked like a tree princess.

Finland – fun song, pretty girls, one who played a very cool accordion.

Latvia – OMG, what was she wearing? A shorty bathrobe? In cream silk? As if that would get her anywhere in this contest.

Serbia – outrageously good. Saucy singer (he’s a dude, right?) in a fierce outfit, excellent song with a jazz hands beat, and girl backup singers who win for Best Use of Bridalwear. This one could be a winner.

Bosnia–Herzegovina – a straight-up rock song. And I do mean straight. Felt out of place, if you know what I mean.

Here was a short break in the action, during which the male host was shown knitting a Polish flag backstage. Hmmm…

Poland – ouch. Boring and weirdly disquieting in the way they combined a dramatic song with traditional Polish dress with Male Singer holding Female Singer #1 by the neck while Female Singer #2 ripped FS #1’s blouse off. What the hell?

Belgium – who thinks that guy seems super American? He looks like Jake Gyllenhaal. The crowd loved him and his “Me and My Guitar” song.

Malta – very Celine Dion. Who actually won Eurovision 1988 singing for Switzerland. I didn't think Malta could be a contender, though, despite Celine-girl's dress that sprouted wings, which was pretty sensational.

Albania – amazing! Great singer with a great voice who really worked the song and her Madonna hair. And another violin player in the band…

Greece – outstanding! WOW! Hot guys in tight white outfits doing a traditional-sounding Greek beat song while clapping and stomping around the stage in (gay) workman boots. Could be a winner!

Portugal – pretty girl in a pretty dress. Boring.

FYR Macedonia – oh no. White guy in a dark suit singing, even whiter guy in a silver suit rapping, girls in leather bikinis. No no no no. NO.

Belarus – sorry, I nodded off during this one.

Iceland – yes! Excellent dance song from a plus-size singer who got the crowd off its feet.

That was the show. The second semi-finals are tonight and then the BIG FINAL show is Saturday night. I can’t wait to see the shows and find out who wins. Imagine if Greece wins. How will they afford to put on Eurovision 2011? They’ll have to stage it in a public park, serving retsina out of paper cups and paying neighbors to let audience members use their toilets. And let’s not even talk about Iceland…

Oh well, bring on the Second Semi-Finals!!!

2010-05-21T10:17:00.003+02:00

It’s starting to feel like summer! I love this time of year and am always surprised at how quickly it seems to arrive. It’s like, one day you’re building a fire in the woodoven and the next, you’re ripping through your boxes of summer clothes looking for your short pants. After a month of fairly dry weather, we got some rain this week and that jump-started everything. Nature is popping!

The tulips are out and beautiful:

I swear, these trees were bare branches a week ago:

And our pear tree went from this…

…to this is three days.

Woohoo! Summer is here! And Eurovision starts next week! It’s time to party, people.

2010-05-11T11:29:00.004+02:00

I was driving home from work one day last week, listening to the radio, and heard the following news headline: “A special report from Save the Children ranks Norway the best country in the world to be a mother, while Sweden is the best place to be a child.” The irony was not lost on the newsreader, who chuckled the tiniest bit as he finished that sentence.

Curious about why Sweden is better for children, I looked up the report but couldn’t find enough details to explain why Norway ended up at #9 on “The Children’s Index Rank” after coming in first on “The Mother’s Index Rank.” Or, more curiously, how Australia came in 28th for children but 2nd for mothers. Near as I can tell, factors for ranking children’s well-being included under-5 mortality rate, pre-primary school enrollment ratio, and secondary enrollment school ratio. Maybe more babies in Sweden go to pre-school? Or fewer Swedish teenagers drop out of secondary school? (I believe this is a growing problem in Norway.) If anyone can shed any light on this, please comment!

At any rate, Norway can be very proud of its title as World’s Best Place to be a Mother. And we should all be very alarmed and saddened that Afghanistan is the worst place in the world to be a mother. From the report:

Why is Norway number one?
Norway generally performed as well as or better than other countries in the rankings on all indicators. It has the highest ratio of female-to-male earned income, the highest contraceptive prevalence rate, one of the lowest under-5 mortality rates, and one of the most generous maternity leave policies in the developed world.

Why is Afghanistan last?
Afghanistan has the highest rate of under-5 mortality, the lowest female life expectancy and the worst gender disparity in primary education in the world. Performance on most other indicators also place Afghanistan among the lowest-ranking countries in the world.

Here in Norway, the timing of this report and Norway’s top scores were greeted with great appreciation by the ruling government coalition, who is working to increase paternity leave from the current 10 weeks to 14. These efforts are being strongly and vocally resisted by the opposition conservative parties who say any increase in parental leave will hurt businesses. They (if I am reading my Norwegian news correctly) want to do away with paternity leave altogether and simply have mothers and fathers choose how to share existing maternity leave (which now lasts almost a year). Prime Minister Jens Stoltenberg says this will lead to a decrease in gender income equality, since the burden of childcare will undoubtedly continue to fall on women if men are not encouraged to do their part.

I’m in the middle on this one. I believe a year is a very long time for any employer to have to hold open/temporarily fill a job waiting for a new parent to return to the workplace, so I’m all for shortening maternal leave by giving some of it to the father. But by not legally labeling said time periods “maternity” and “paternity” leave, you do run the risk of continuing a patriarchal system of keeping women home with the children while men work outside the home. Why not do an even 6-month split, 6 months home for the new mom, 6 months for the father, and let them choose whether to take it concurrently or not. (Single parents would get the entire 12 months.)

If nothing else, it would be good for men to start getting that unpleasant, “Are you thinking of having children?” question at the job interview. And if the 6-month leave thing worked, maybe next year Norway could be named the Best Place in the World for Parents.

2010-05-06T10:06:00.006+02:00

UPDATED 7 MAY 2010

Well, the election is over but no one knows what's going to happen. The Tories didn't do as well as they hoped, gaining 98 seats but, at 307 total, still 17 short of what they need to form a majority government. Labor did better than expected, losing only 91 seats, leaving them with 258. Most surprising was the dismal showing of the LibDems, who actually lost five seats to end up with 57. I like this comment by Sandi Toksvig on a BBC radio comedy show:

"Do you not feel that Nick Clegg is sort of the new Susan Boyle? Originally no one knew who he was, then they were pleasantly surprised at what came out of his mouth, but they didn't vote for him anyway."

So now we wait. Gordon Brown is refusing to budge from No. 10, clinging to his claim that he can't step down until a new government is decided upon. David Cameron is so desperate to unseat Brown that he's making more and more promises to Clegg about involving the LibDems in his new cabinet and "allowing" them to have a voice in the Tory ruling unit. Brown, of course, has already approached Clegg to discuss teaming up, even though he knows Clegg would never agree to that unless Brown steps down as PM.

What a mess! If Clegg joins the Tories, he'll strip his party of any credibility it built up during the election. But if he joins Labor, can he trust them to not just push his party aside, as they've done in the past?

It's all wait and see. So that's what I'll be doing.

------------------------------

Today is the big day in Britain! Will the Tories slither back into power on the belly of the slick and shiny David Cameron? Or will voters decide to give crafty Nick Clegg and his Lib Dems a chance? Either way, it looks like Gordon Brown is out, and while I believe he is being forced to pay for the sins of that horrible liar, Tony Blair, his political skills are clumsy at best and he hasn’t shined very brightly during the four week election campaign. (To my American friends---four weeks! Can you imagine? What did we suffer through last time, two years?)

Husband and I will be glued to the BBC tonight and tomorrow to see what happens. No matter what, though, I just really, really, really hope that the next government will add to the list of British politician’s names that always gives me a good giggle. Such as:

Eric Pickles, Conservative Party Chairman
Ed Balls, Secretary of State for the Department for Children, Schools and Families
Alistair Darling, Chancellor of the Exchequer

and my personal favorite,

Lord Adonis, Secretary of State for Transport

Giggle giggle.

I’m going to miss that grumpy Scotsman, Brown. And I’ll really hate having to look at David Cameron for the next decade or whatever. So best of luck to Clegg. Go Lib Dems!

2010-05-03T16:00:00.008+02:00

So, I’ve been taking a class to learn about starting a business in Norway. The class is given by two consultants who have their own company that advises people in---natch---starting their own businesses and is held at the International Center here in town. The IC used to be better known as Breili school, because it used to be located on Breiliveien (Breili Street), and is where I went to language classes when I first moved to Sandefjord. It has since moved to a new location, and attending this business class is the first time I’ve been back to the school in three years.

Everything had been going along swimmingly. I was learning a lot about rules, regulations, marketing, pricing, etc., and was enjoying meeting some of the other people in the class. As always in these classes, it was an international crowd, with folks from Syria, Poland, Palestine, and, mostly, Iraq. I chatted quite a bit with the fellow sitting next to me, a nice guy in his 40s from Baghdad who has been in Norway for two years.

Last week, my new friend seemed really down, maybe depressed or sick, I wasn’t sure. During the break, I asked him what was going on and he said he was feeling very frustrated and sad, that he was struggling to learn Norwegian, that he missed Iraq very much, that he wasn’t sure he could make it in Norway, that everything was too difficult here but he couldn’t go home, either. He said he wanted to start his own business but he was afraid Norwegians wouldn’t buy anything from him because he’s Iraqi and people are afraid of him. He got tears in his eyes as he spoke and I felt just gutted for him.

The consultant leading the class overheard our conversation and, when class started again, she decided to tackle some of his comments in a group setting. She began by trying to explain that immigration remains a relatively new phenomenon in Norway and we all shouldn’t get too discouraged by what we might perceive as a bit of rejection from time to time. She asked how many of us had children and then reminded us that Norway was a good country to live in and to raise children in, and that second-generation immigrants usually have an easier time of it than their parents. So, while we had to struggle, it was worth it to give our children a good life.

There was some grumbling about hardships but, all in all, everyone seemed satisfied with this sermon. I was still feeling sad for my comrade, though, so raised my hand to speak. “I want to say, too, that I’ve been here four years now and it does get easier. My first two years were very difficult, even the third was hard. I cried a lot and thought about giving up. But now I speak more Norwegian, understand even more, have some friends, and feel much better about the future. It does get better.”

I smiled. I felt like a happy veteran, able to spread some cheer to the new recruits. And then the consultant said, “Well, yes, but you’re white. It would be easier for you.”

And then a woman across from me said, “Yes, look at you, people will think you’re Norwegian. And you’re from America, you can go home any time you want to. Most of us cannot. Asylum seekers often have to wait years just to know if they can stay and what can they do in the meantime? It’s easy for you, not for us.”

That hurt my feelings. Not because some of it isn’t true. I mean, I’m not idiot, I realize my situation has a lot of positives to it. But I think it’s rude and crappy to minimize other people’s experiences. If I say I was sad, accept that I was sad. Don’t be all like, “Oh, but I’m sadder because everything is harder for me, therefore you have nothing to complain about.” That is a fool’s game that cannot be won. Because I guarantee you, whatever your problem is, someone else has a bigger problem. Someone else is always more poor, more depressed, more traumatized, works more hours at a worse job, has more serious health issues, etc., etc., etc.

You know, sitting there in that class, I suddenly remembered why I stopped going to Breili school after six months---because it was always like that there. No matter what was going on with me, I never found sympathy, empathy, or understanding. It was always, oh, but you speak English, you can just go home, you’re white, on and on and on. A lot of times it was, “I’m here because your country ruined my country.” All true, like I said, but still, not helpful.

I'm not going to go back to that class because, to be honest, I feel embarrassed about being singled out as privileged and, well, American. It's hard to explain but I don't like being told that any success I've achieved here has been easy for me. It sure hasn't felt easy! I will say that even though I guess I can never fully understand the immigrant experience of others, I do know it's a very difficult process and I wish them the very best in getting through it.

2010-04-29T22:59:00.007+02:00

Wow, has it been beautiful here lately. I can’t remember, in the four years I’ve lived here, when we’ve had such consistently nice weather for so long so early in the year. Then again, sometimes I forget my cats’ names, so maybe we shouldn’t rely too much on my recollection of when we’ve had sun and when we’ve had rain. Anyway, it’s been a remarkably fair spring so far, with tons of sun and light (I can see the residue of a beautiful sunset right now, at 9.45pm), a few warm days, and just enough light rain to keep the grass green. We pulled the grill out of the garage weeks ago and are already thinking it’ll soon be time to fire up the lawnmower. Fingers crossed that May doesn’t go wet and arctic as it sometimes does.

I’ve been going through one of my difficult phases with the language recently, feeling pretty down about how impossible it still feels to speak Norwegian. I console myself with the realization that my comprehension is 200% better than it was a year ago, but vocabulary, pronunciation, and grammar remain my big weakness and that hurts, because anyone who knows me knows how much I like to talk. I’m starting to wonder if my spoken Norwegian will ever be better than intermediate student level. I hate thinking I’ll be one of those ex-pats who can’t speak the language of her adopted home. That alone will keep me from giving up trying.

Speaking of ex-pats, who saw the April 25th article in the New York Times about the increasing numbers of American ex-pats who are renouncing their citizenship? U.S. federal records indicate that 502 Americans gave up their passports or green cards in the last quarter of 2009, more than twice as many who did the same in the entire year of 2008. The Times article indicates the reasons most often cited by new non-Americans are U.S. income taxes and new, post-9/11 banking rules that make it almost impossible for some Americans living abroad to keep their U.S.-based bank accounts.

From the article:

“American expats have long complained that the United States is the only industrialized country to tax citizens on income earned abroad, even when they are taxed in their country of residence, though they are allowed to exclude their first $91,400 in foreign-earned income.

One Swiss-based business executive, who spoke on the condition of anonymity because of sensitive family issues, said she weighed the decision for 10 years. She had lived abroad for years but had pleasant memories of service in the U.S. Marine Corps.

Yet the notion of double taxation — and of future tax obligations for her children, who will receive few U.S. services — finally pushed her to renounce, she said.”

I’m going to go out on a limb here, perhaps even risk the ire of some of my American ex-pat friends, and say that the collection of some tax from citizens living abroad sort of makes sense to me. I mean, if you’re keeping your passport, one must assume there’s a possibility you’ll go home at some point, maybe even when you’re a bit old and not working anymore and heading into that “burden on society” point we’ll all get to at some point, God willing. If that’s the case, shouldn’t you have at least contributed something along the way to the greater community into which you’ll retire and from which you’ll leech services, as we all hope to do at some point, God willing?

Granted, this is all quite easy for me to say, since I’m so far from reaching that $91,400 threshold it’s not even funny and therefore don’t deal with the double-taxation issue. But I look at countries here in Europe that find themselves lousy with (primarily) British and Scandinavian pensioners who flock south to live out their golden years milling around Spanish beach towns or the French countryside and wonder how those frighteningly fragile economies can manage such a number of health-service consumers who never paid into the system in the first place. How does that work, anyway? If you’re, say, a 70-year-old Norwegian living in Malaga, does Spain tax the Norwegian pension benefits you receive every month, like a normal income tax on earnings? Or do they just get sales and (maybe?) property tax from you? Anyone know? At the rate Spain’s economy is sinking, they might start considering new taxes, maybe even from their ex-pats.

My gut feeling is that, if you remain an American citizen, no matter where you live, you owe something to your country in case you end up moving back. It’s actually pretty generous that they let us ride for the first $91,400.

I had to chuckle when I read Swiss Miss’ comment in the Times article that double-taxation is “taxation without representation.” Hello? You’re allowed to vote and, the last time I checked, that’s definitely how you get your representation. If the U.S. didn’t allow its ex-pats to vote, then taxing income earned abroad would be pretty inexcusable, no question.

This is how I’m rolling with this issue today; maybe I’ll change my mind tomorrow. Or when one of my high-earning American ex-pat friends explains to me how I’m wrong. If that happens, I’ll let y’all know.

2010-04-23T11:10:00.004+02:00

It’s been a while since I posted last and I don’t even have a good story about where I’ve been, such as, “I was vacationing in Tuscany when the volcano blew. I had to wait two days to catch a standing-room-only train to Stuttgart where I then hopped a crowded bus to Krakow and was lucky enough to be offered a ride with a Polish family who were on their way from President Lech Kaczynski’s funeral to their home outside of Lódź. They told me about some people they knew who might be able to help me get home, so I boarded a packed-out bus to Riga in Latvia. There, I caught up with the Poles’ Ukrainian friends who smuggled me aboard a Baltic Sea cruise ship and into a two-man cabin already being shared by eight Eastern Europeans trying to sneak into Sweden. We all bailed out at Malmö, promising to keep in touch as we went our separate ways, I to the nearest train station where, with the last of my holiday funds, bought a ticket to Oslo.” Nah, I’ve got nothing like that. Just been busy with work, gardening, and a few house projects.

My friends and family in America have emailed to ask me if we could see any of the effects from the Icelandic volcano here in southern Norway. I’m happy to say we haven’t---no ash, no smoke, no mysteriously darkened skies (aside from a freak snowstorm Wednesday afternoon). Everything here has been very normal except for various reports of loved ones stuck in places all over the globe waiting for airports to open again, which apparently started happening yesterday. The British and Norwegian news has been full of reports of airlines screaming and yelling for the authorities to lift the air restrictions, as well as accusations that the officials who rule the skies were too cautious in closing the airways over Europe while chaos and financial catastrophe ensued. Those officials have been vigorously defending themselves but it does seem as though some of this mess could have been averted.

Here’s something I discovered this week: The EU has very strict guidelines concerning the obligations European airlines have to their passengers with regards to reimbursing “reasonable” costs for accommodation and food when said passengers are stranded for various reasons, including, apparently, a natural disaster as huge as an exploding volcano. Europe’s favorite low-cost airline, RyanAir, was the first to refuse to pay out anything over and above the cost of an airline ticket, which in RyanAir’s case, probably amounts to about £25. Ryan has since recanted and are promising to review reimbursement requests but, I have to say, this is the first time I actually agree with that money-grubbing, hard-as-nails Irish bastard Michael O'Leary. Why should airlines have to pay hotel and restaurant bills for their passengers when the cancellation of ALL FLIGHTS over an entire continent are not in any way their fault? Sure, it’s a bummer for people but it was a bummer for the airlines, too, who all lost piles and piles of money in the last week. Am I way off base about this? Something tells me those EU guidelines are going to be changed very soon.

2010-04-17T11:24:00.002+02:00

I heard a radio program this week about an internet site that collects and publishes "Six Word Stories" written by people both famous and not. Started in 2008 by Pete Berg, the site invites people to write short, short stories consisting of only six words. Berg was inspired by Ernest Hemingway, who said he was once challenged by his writer friends that he couldn't write a complete story in six words. He won the bet with this sentence:

For sale: baby shoes, never used.

Brilliant! I fill in the unwritten part of that story in my mind and end up in tears every time.

I am certainly no Hemingway (who is?), but I love the idea of the six word story and gave it a try. Here's mine:

Can't speak the language. Cleaning houses.

What's yours?

2010-04-13T10:39:00.003+02:00

Winter turns to spring in our own backyard. I started taking these pictures on March 27; the last one is from April 11. Cool!

2010-04-08T08:06:00.006+02:00

Look at this picture of the little bear cubs! Are they not adorable? I guess this is why someone somewhere invented the teddy bear?

The mother bear is Trude, who lives in Bjørneparken (the Bear park) in Flå, north of Oslo. Trude gave birth to five cubs---four females and one male---in January and the newspaper was celebrating the cubs’ first walk out of their den into the big, wide world. A birth of five cubs is a rare occurrence in the bear world and the first time it has been known to happen in Norway. At this point, all of the cubs are healthy and, as you can see, cuter than I can describe.

Brown bears are the biggest land animals in Norway after polar bears. A normal brown bear can grow to a height of 2 to 3 meters (6.5 to 10 feet) and weigh over 350 kilos (770 pounds). That’s a big teddy bear, yes?

2010-04-02T11:45:00.009+02:00

Today is Day Two of Norway's five-day-long Easter holiday. One signal of the impending extended break came Wednesday, when the local newspaper published the TV listings through Monday. Yes, here in our town, even the newspaper stops for the long Easter weekend.

The holiday is giving me time to catch up on Norwegian news, something I'd fallen terribly behind on while I kept up with the American news about how citizens there are grappling with the new government plan to hand health insurance companies millions of new customers. Here in Norway, citizens are facing their own crisis---the worst train service in decades.

Since before Christmas, headlines have screamed about "tog kaos" ("train chaos"), and reports about delayed and/or cancelled trains, not to mention one fatal accident at a train cargo terminal, have only continued to rise. Just this morning, the front page of the on-line Aftenposten read, "Four-month train nightmare," and included a report about delays that occurred early this morning on the line between Lillehammer and Oslo. Earlier this week, all trains in the country were stopped for three hours because of a communications system failure. Imagine if you were trying to get to the airport that day! Nightmare indeed.

It really is a terrible, and terribly disappointing, situation, especially because the government here tries to discourage people from driving by taxing the hell out of cars and gasoline as well as collecting tolls along almost all highways. Some people blame the current government for the problem while others, including the current government, blame past governments. Whoever is responsible, those in power now need to step up and fix the problems; it's not like they can't afford it.

Also in the news is the alarming story of five young Norwegian men who went on a hunting holiday in New Zealand, filmed themselves killing a few endangered birds and animals, and then posted the videos on YouTube upon their return to Norway. Officials in New Zealand were alerted to the crime and have tracked down the men, using (of course!) their own videos as evidence. This is one of those cases where it would be so deeply satisfying to see a group’s complete and utter idiocy lead to their punishment. Sadly, NZ authorities are saying it may not be possible for them to charge the men because they already left the country, and Norwegian police have stated they also will not file charges. So, as usual, only the animals have paid.

I completely missed another story that occurred several weeks ago during the grand opening of Norway's fantastic new Holmenkollen ski jump in Oslo. A champion female ski jumper, Anette Sagen, was chosen by city officials to have the honor of being the first to ski down Holmenkollen. Sagen is popular in Norway not only for her talent and achievements but also for her persistent efforts to increase women's presence in ski jumping, a historically male sport. WELL, apparently the choice of Sagen did not sit will with some members of the local ski jumping bureaucracy who arranged for a different ski jumper, a dude named Bjørn Einar Romøren (who really should have known better), to do a "test" jump off Holmenkollen the night before the grand opening. So, history will now show that Romøren, besides being kind of an A-hole, is the first skier to use the new jump, although Sagen will always be the first "official" skier. Is that messed up or what? Although not quite as bad as killing an endangered kereru, this is another group who deserves a swift kick in a manly area.

Lastly, I see in the news this morning that young Norwegians have once again celebrated Holy Thursday by traveling to the Swedish border to get stupidly drunk, act like jackasses, get arrested, and generally strengthen international opinion that Norwegians cannot handle their drink. And look at this picture:

This is only one of many pictures in the Norwegian news this morning showing Norwegian drunkards displaying the old U.S. confederate flag on their vehicles yesterday. Actually, there's a guy who lives just down the street from me who flies a big ol' battle flag in the back of his big ol' pickup all summer long. Why do Norwegians use this flag? Do they, like, want to secede from something? Do they have slaves they want to keep? What's up with that?

Okay, now it's time for me to get back to my book and see if the kids manage to outsmart the smugglers. Where's my dictionary?

2010-03-27T09:19:00.002+01:00

This is a photo of Johanna Sigurdardottir, the Prime Minister of Iceland. And here is a link to an article I read in yesterday's Guardian reporting that Iceland has passed a law making it illegal for any business "to profit from the nudity of its employees." Essentially, Iceland is closing down its sex industry.

Certainly this decision will provoke outcries from people on all sides of the "sex as a legitimate business" argument, but I understand what the government is trying to do. International trafficking of women is a huge problem all over the world and Iceland has seen more and more immigrant women coming to the country to work in lap-dance and strip clubs. They want to do something to stop this and also, I guess, to send a message to women that it's okay to think of themselves as more than a pair of tits. Iceland already has one of the most gender-equal societies on the planet and they want to keep it that way. From the article: "Feminists say it is telling that as the stripping industry has grown, the number of Icelandic women wishing to work in it has not." I think that says a great deal about where Icelandic women see themselves fitting into society.

A club owner is quoted in the article saying that Iceland is becoming like Saudi Arabia, where it's illegal to see women's bodies. Sounds like sour grapes to me. Anyway, the new law only prohibits employers from profiting from the nudity of their employees. I don't see where it's stopping him from stripping off in his own club. He should try it and see if he likes it.

Something else I learned from reading this article: Iceland is #4 on the Global Gender Gap report. It follows Sweden, Norway, and Finland. The report "assesses countries on how well they are dividing their resources and opportunities among their male and female populations, regardless of the overall levels of these resources and opportunities." Seeing Norway at #2 makes me really happy. See what I mean about how, while no place is perfect, it is possible to find a place that's right for each of us?

Oh, did I mention that Prime Minister Johanna Sigurdardottir is Iceland's first female PM and also the first openly lesbian government leader in the world? Pretty cool. If you want to learn some other fun facts about Iceland, check out this blog post from Helen, my friend and fellow blogger. I'm going to have to get over to Iceland and check it out. Maybe I can see if Mr. Iceland-is-Saudi-Arabia has changed his business plan!

2010-03-25T10:35:00.009+01:00

Aww, spring doesn’t seem as near today as it did last week. The sun is hiding itself and yesterday morning it was -3C and icy out. So, the waiting for the big thaw continues…

In the meantime, I never told y’all about the pleasant-but-sort-of-annoying guy I met while I was in SoCal. It happened when my mom and I were shopping for shoes. We were looking for stylish, good-quality shoes---you know, the kind you can actually walk in?---and Mom suggested a store she thought would fit the bill. She was right, too, as the shop had exactly what we needed. And at first I smiled when I heard the owner say to a customer that his shoes were all of an excellent caliber, as most came from Europe.

“Those were made in Italy,” he proudly pointed out to a customer.

“Dansko is a superb Danish shoe. Europeans really know their shoes. ”

But then he started going a bit far.

“These shoes were developed by a Danish yoga instructor. People all over Europe wear them because they’re walking all the time over cobbled streets.”

Is that true?

“These are German and are divine. Europeans buy them and they know shoes because they walk all the time, everywhere.”

I sort of want to call bullshit on that statement. In my experience, Europeans are not walking everywhere, all the time. Not in Norway anyway. I’d estimate that 95% of Norwegians own a car and use them all the time to go everywhere. Not that I blame them most of the time, since the trains here are expensive and have become notoriously unreliable (negligent government investment in public transport, IMO). And although Italians do, indeed, make a fine shoe, I’m not sure it’s the Italians who are wearing them, since big cities in Italy suffer from some of the worst automobile-related pollution in the world.

The last time I was in Amsterdam, a city with lots of cobblestone, the locals were cycling; only the tourists (mostly American, by the way) seemed to be walking. Same in Berlin, except that the locals who weren’t on bicycles were speeding around in their BMWs and Mercedes. In Krakow, if I remember correctly, locals and tourists alike were walking. The Poles I know in Norway, however, love their cars and use them all the time, just like everyone else. I wonder if Swedes walk more than Norwegians do? I recall a lot of pedestrian traffic in Gotheborg. Same in Barcelona---lots of walking. So, the Swedes and Spanish are walking. Oh, and definitely some people are walking in France. Or marching, anyway. It seems public employees are always on strike there, marching through the streets. Which means everyone else is walking because the trains aren’t running. Vive la France!

Actually, when I think of places in Europe where people walk all the time everywhere, I think of London. Londoners definitely walk. Do the English make good shoes?

In any case, Shoe Guy wouldn’t have bothered me so much if I hadn’t overheard him telling another customer, in response to her polite inquiry about life in Europe, that IT’S SO FABULOUS. “It’s just so much more relaxed,” he said. “People aren’t all rushing around working their lives away because they don’t care as much about things as Americans do. They’re less concerned about prestige and buying stuff. Their lives are more real.”

I hate generalizations like that. One, because it’s just not true---Europe is a huge, varied place, full of different people leading different kinds of lives. And two, because that “Europe is utopia” nonsense antagonizes Americans who are suspicious of the swirling, fetid mass of lazy communists they believe Europe to be.

I never realized until I moved here how divided the American view of Europe seems to be. It’s like one half of Americans are like Shoe Guy and the other half are certain we’re going to bring down the entire global economy with our cradle-to-grave entitlement benefits and socialist approach to healthcare. I suppose there is a less extreme group, those who think Europe is a nice place to holiday and see lots of old things but wouldn’t necessarily like to live here. The same way there are probably loads of Europeans who like to visit U.S. amusement parks and shopping centers (because Europeans really do care about things!) but aren’t looking to trade in their passports. I am of the opinion that no place is perfect but it might just be possible to find a place that’s wonderful for each of us.

In the end, Shoe Guy pointed out my dangerously fallen arches, my mother and I spent too much money on shoes, and I exchanged email info with the woman who was interested in Europe. Now I just have to wait for the snow to melt so I can wear my new Danish Earth Shoe sandals; they’re supposed to help correct my flat feet and keep my bunions from getting worse. Hopefully the Danes really do know their shoes.

2010-03-18T09:44:00.001+01:00

Spring is coming! Spring is coming! I see grass....

2010-03-16T13:00:00.008+01:00

Yo! I'm back. Back in blogland and back in Norway. My trip to southern California was lovely. I spent loads of time with my parents, got to see my brother and his wife, had an amazing surprise visit from my niece, and was lucky enough to reconnect with a dear friend and her family in San Diego. The weather was good (warm enough, not too much rain), I ate food I don't get to eat very often (Mexican, BBQ, sushi, and frozen yogurt topped with crushed Oreo cookies), listened to a spring training baseball game with my folks, checked out the Getty art museum, and got some quality shopping time with my mom.

I will admit, however, that it was not so easy for me to relax on this little holiday, as I found myself really missing home. And by home, I mean Norway. Most of that was probably due to actually missing Husband, who didn't travel with me this time, but it was a little more. I missed my friends, my house, my town, and my routine. Jeez, I even missed football (American = soccer). I didn't miss the snow, though. The "winter" weather in SoCal is pretty much just The Best and I appreciate it now more than I ever did when I lived there. There's been a lot of rain in California the last couple of months, which is kind of unusual but also a very nice thing. It's left the air clear and clean, the hills green and beautiful, and the mountains east of Los Angeles more than dusted with snow.

So it was good to see my family and my friend in San Diego and I enjoyed the food and the weather, but, still, part of me could not stop thinking about home. That's the first time that's happened. My first two trips back to California after moving to Norway were all about feeling like I could breathe again because I was back home. This, my third trip back, was marred because of just the opposite feeling. OMG, I'm turning Norwegian.

It didn't help that California is really suffering right now. The economy is badly wounded, the state government seems helpless to do anything to stop the bleeding, and the people are overwhelmed and angry. Almost everyone I talked to had something to complain about, and the AM radio stations my parents listen to are filled with male DJs yelling about something or other, which feels very hostile and oppressive and foreign, and I don't like it. The bulk of the complaints center on taxes, the government, and immigrants, which, in my mind, are things Americans have been complaining about for as long as I can remember. I guess it never changes?

The moaning about immigrants made me feel especially uncomfortable because, well, you know, I'M AN IMMIGRANT. I kept thinking, "Do Norwegians dislike me the way these people dislike Mexicans?" One person I talked to, who is a math teacher at a public school, is extremely frustrated that some of his students don't speak English well enough to keep up in class, and many of their parents don't speak English at all, so he can't communicate with them when he rings up trying to help their kids. That must be a problem now at schools in developed countries around the world. Language is a barrier---I know that very well---but, really, shouldn’t schools have figured out a way to deal with this already? It's not like immigration is a new thing, particularly in America. Seems a shame if it just ends up with everyone hating on one another. I asked this person why he didn't try to learn Spanish. He said, "No way. This is America. They need to speak English." Well, that's a helpful attitude.

This post is getting a bit long, so I'll stop now. Next time, I'll tell you about the other irritating American I met, the one who went on and on and on about how fantastic and superior Europe is to anywhere else on the whole planet. No, I didn't slap him. But I wanted to.

It's nice to be back.

2010-02-27T22:07:00.009+01:00

My blogging is going to be sporadic at best over the next couple of weeks. I am lucky enough to be able to take a little pause from the snow and cold to visit my family and a few friends in California. If anyone is reading this and thinking now might be a good time to commit a little breaking and entering, please know that Husband did not travel with me and keeps heavy, sharp objects in the house.

As some of you may recall, I made this journey at the same time last year out of desperation to fight off the horrible depression that had seized me over that winter. It is all so different this time around! I planned this trip well in advance and only because I want to see my parents at least once a year---nothing desperate or depressing going on. In fact, as my departure date approached, I started to feel amazingly sad about leaving not just Husband but Norway in general, even for just a few weeks. I've been so happy and energized lately, finding myself thinking more and more about my future in Norway (or elsewhere in Europe), not in the U.S. And that feels so good. I hope my holiday doesn't break the spell!

I can tell you that things didn't start off on a good foot. At 10.00pm Wednesday, I was getting ready to get some sleep after frantic, last-minute packing when my phone rang. It was a fellow from KLM telling me my 6.30am flight to Amsterdam had been cancelled so the airline was rerouting me through London via Stavanger and was that okay? "I guess," I said. "Good," he responded. "I'll email your flight details."

When I hadn't received anything in 10 minutes, I called the KLM customer service line. After finally getting someone on the phone, she directed me to their website where I could see and print out my new itinerary. I freaked a little when I saw it and realized I would have lengthy layovers in Stavanger and London and would arrive into LAX in the middle of rushhour traffic. "Is there any way y'all couldn't just put me on the same flight through Amsterdam a day later?" I asked. "I'd really like to avoid all of the hanging out in airports."

"No, ma'am. Because you agreed to these changes, we are unable to modify it."

"Agreed to the changes? When did I do that?"

"Our office telephoned you earlier this evening and you said then you accepted the changes."

"That was 15 minutes ago. I didn't understand all of the facts. Are you serious that you won't help me with this?"

"Yes ma'am." (I hate it when people call me ma'am.)

I protested again and the woman said she would check with a senior agent and then she hung up on me. Maybe it was a mistake but I was beginning to feel very, very unkind towards KLM. I called back, got another woman on the line who proceded to parrot the same line of BS about how I agreed to the changes, the new ticket had been printed, and there was nothing she could do. I told her would never fly with KLM again if I could help it and then hung up on her, which was childish, I know, but, still. Flying just is not fun anymore.

I made it through the stopovers and even managed to almost enjoy my hangout time at Stavanger and London airports thanks to my new little netbook that I loaded with a few of my favorite TV shows. And let's not forget to mention the shopping at Heathrow.

And now I am in Los Angeles. It's raining today but, really, who cares? It's warm enough and my Mom and Dad are fun to spend time with and we're going to a show tonight and the Reagan Library tomorrow and a museum next week and on to San Diego and....well, you get the picture. I sure do miss Husband, though. And Norway. But not the snow. I don't think I'll ever miss the snow. I mean, you can take the girl out of California but....

2010-02-23T23:35:00.003+01:00

Let's just say we've had a lot of snow lately....

2010-02-19T14:09:00.006+01:00

Husband mentioned that I might want to stop complaining about the weather on my blog, as that is very off-putting to Norwegians. He’s right, of course, but I do want to point out that, technically, I haven’t been complaining about the weather so much as I’ve been complaining about lousy weather forecasting. Also, I did go to great pains to say that bad weather reporting is a universal phenomenon and in no way unique to Norway. Reader and frequent commenter Andrea backed me up on this, helpfully writing that meteorologists in Vancouver seem to be as flummoxed by the challenges of their jobs as those in San Francisco and Oslo. So, I guess if you want to know what the weather is doing anywhere in the world the best thing to do is simply look out a window.

Outside of my window right now it’s snowing. Again. It’s been snowing pretty much all week, and is supposed to continue through the weekend. It’s windy, too, which means the snow piles up into amazing drifts all around the house. I’m cool with all of that, though; the harsh winter we’ve had so far isn’t getting me down, which is great. My only problem with it (aside from the shoveling, which I believe is also universally experienced as a huge pain in the ass) is the really dreadful anxiety I feel about the deer that live in the woods in and around our town. We usually get a deer or two wandering through our garden every summer, so I know they live nearby, and I seriously spend a lot of time thinking and worrying about them. How will they survive until spring?

My friends and family try to assuage my fears. Husband asks that I try hard not to think about them, since it only makes me sad. My father, who grew up in Michigan and knows a thing or two about harsh winters, tried to comfort me over the telephone. “Well, honey,” he said, “deer and other animals have been surviving in extreme conditions for thousands of years, so they seem to know how to do it. Of course some of them will die but that’s nature and that’s the way it is.” And I know that, I do, but still, it pains me to think of them suffering.

So imagine my horror when I saw this in the local paper:

This deer was attacked and killed by what authorities believe were two large dogs. Mind you, they’re not certain this is what happened but witnesses say they saw the dogs running loose and harassing a deer they had cornered in a forest. Normally, I guess, a deer could outrun a dog but the deer are starving and freezing at this point, so are easy prey. I have only one thing to say: What kind of lowlife, halfwitted scumbag lets his/her dog(s) run wild and assault defenseless, winter-savaged deer?

Luckily, scummy halfwits are far outnumbered in my lovely little town by people who, like me, think and care about their local wildlife. Here’s a guy who gathered up a boatload of carrots and potatoes to give away to anyone who wanted to use them to feed deer. He said his phone has been ringing off the hook, too, with people calling to learn how to collect the vegetables and where to put them where the deer will find them. Isn’t that cool?

And here are some deer who were lucky enough to find the treasures that had been laid out for them:

Husband and I have been really good about putting edible food scraps out in our compost pile but, so far, only the birds have found them. Which is fine, too. Now, if only someone could predict when spring will finally get here…

2010-02-15T11:32:00.006+01:00

Oh, my blogging world, how I have missed you. Husband and I had some family visiting, so were caught in up The Real World this past week. How strange that feels…

I adore my brother- and sister-in-law and their two children and I learned something while they were here: Fresh, powdery snow + two small children = zero time for sitting around with a cup of coffee composing pithy blog posts. Quite frankly, I don’t understand how parents find time to do anything except entertain and feed their children. What do y’all do, lock them up for a while so you can catch your breath? Do you ever have time alone? How do you survive? Clearly, I am much more the kindergarten teacher-type---great at spending seven hours with small humans and then giving them back to their parents and having the evening to myself. The whole 24/7 thing….too much for me!

Of course, Husband and I would not have felt so exhausted by the experience if we had not spent the week prior to the family’s arrival rushing around trying to get our house ready. We’ve been in the house for 2 ½ years and, yet, many projects remain unfinished. A great percentage of baseboards and trim is unpainted, as are some hard-to-reach areas of walls, especially in the kitchen, which I began to repaint last summer. The “laundry room” is bare of anything except a washing machine, an unused refrigerator, and boxes still unopened from our move. The cellar, where we planned to keep the relatives, was a total mess; the sink we purchased last month for the bathroom down there was still in its box, as were the ceiling lights that needed to be installed.

What can I say---Husband and I are slackers! But we pulled it together (true meaning: Husband worked like a donkey) and managed to at least get the basement presentable in time. We even found time to make a mad dash up to Oslo on Tuesday to buy a kitchen table I found on finn.no and decided we HAD to have immediately. Unfortunately, the seller sold the advertised chairs to someone else before we got there (kind of rude, right??) so we stopped at IKEA on the way home to buy four (and 1500NOK of other stuff, which happens every time we go to IKEA…). I think it turned out okay:

In the second unexpected occurrence of the day, we encountered a blizzard during the drive home. It started to snow ever so slightly in Oslo and got a bit heavier as we left IKEA. By the time we hit Drammen, it was snowing so hard it was difficult to see other cars on the road. Those conditions kept up until just north of Sandefjord, where things started to calm down. So a drive we can usually do in an hour took double that time. I say this was unexpected but, really, we shouldn’t have been surprised. This was the weather forecast for the day:

2010-02-07T15:28:00.005+01:00

NOOOOOOO! Norway, I think you made a mistake!

Anyone who has been reading my blog for a while knows that one of things I have delighted in most since moving to Norway is my discovery of the Eurovision Song Contest. After only three years of watching, I’m completely and utterly smitten. The pageantry, the music, the delicious spectacle that is Eurovision has totally won me over and turned me into a devoted fan. And since this year’s contest will be held in Oslo, you can bet I’m even more excited about it than ever. So how sad is it that I believe Norway has shot itself in the foot already with it’s selection of Didrik Solli-Tangen and his ballad, “My Heart is Yours,” to represent us in the contest?

I could be wrong (selvfølgelig!), and I hope I am, but I don’t know… Husband and I watched all four of the pre-final competitions from which the eight finalists emerged, so we had strong opinions about who the best acts were and Didrik wasn’t among them. We figured he’d come close to winning because he’s so pretty but we were shocked when the votes were tallied last night and Didrik not only won but got something like 100,000 more votes than anyone else. Seriously? I don’t understand how this happened. Do people really think that “My Heart is Yours” song is going to win Eurovision? But….it’s so….boring. And his voice is….weak. I’m sorry but that’s how I feel. Judge for yourself:

My money was on Alexander Stenerud and his song, “Give It To Me.” THAT’s a Eurovision song! It’s got a shakin’ beat, fireworks opportunities, and a chance for Stenerud to sing, “Now I owe you, BABY!” It’s the epitome of Eurovision. And maybe that was the problem. I have read that some people think this year’s winning song will be a ballad, so maybe “Give It To Me” just didn’t fit in. Which is so unfair, since Stenerud sang an almost-ballad in the semifinals last year and lost to the other Alexander (Rybak) and his infectious “Fairytale.” (By the way, can someone please tell Alexander Rybak to buy a new outfit? That black trousers/white shirt combo is officially OLD, dude.)

When was the last time a ballad won Eurovision? My history with the show is brief, so maybe someone can clue me in? Personally, I prefer a song that makes me want to dance; if strange costumes and pyrotechnics are involved, that’s even better!

If Alexander Stenerud couldn’t be the winner, my wish would have been for either Venke Knutson or A1 to prevail, since they were, in Knutson’s case, weirdly loveable, or, for A1, stood a good chance of winning overall.

Did anyone notice that Venke’s song was about an emotionally unstable, possibly violent, stalker chick? Called “Jealous ‘cause I Love You,” it features the following lyrics:

I know I’m crazy
I know I am
I should be locked up considering
the state I’m in.
I’m boiling rabbits like everyday
and come to think about it
you should throw the key away.

I’m suffocating and killing you
with all my threats of repainting you
in black and blue
I know I’m overreacting a bit
But I’m jealous
‘cause I love
and I’m sorry if I choke you.

Whoa! That’s some weird shit right there. Maybe too weird to win EV? Not sure… As for A1, they’re three cute guys and their song, “Don’t Want to Lose You Again,” is super catchy, but it is extremely odd that two of them are British and don’t seem to speak any Norwegian. Perhaps that would have set a bad precedent…

As for Keepers of Kalessin, the heavy metal band that somehow ended up in the final, they were never going to win EV, so it’s best they laid that dream to rest last night. Ditto with that wanna-be rapper kid, Bjørn Johan Muri; he’s sweet-looking and his song is okay, but, again, he was never going to win. How did he end up in the final four last night, beating out Alexander and Venke? You know, I think there were WAY too many 12-year-old girls voting last night. See, parents---this is what happens when you give your children cell phones! If Norway loses Eurovision, it’s your fault!

To cheer myself up, I’m going to listen to “Give It To Me” one more time. Join me!

2010-02-03T15:43:00.010+01:00

Okay, you know how I wrote in my last post that Tuesday was supposed to be nice-ish weather and that “we may get more snow Wednesday?” WRONG! The blizzard started Tuesday afternoon and is just tapering off right now (3.00pm Wednesday). At least I hope it’s tapering off…

What is it with weather forecasters? It must be a very difficult job. When we lived in San Francisco, we got to the point where watching the weather forecast on TV was something we did only for a laugh, just to see how wrong they got it, which was most of the time. And let me tell you, the weather in San Francisco isn’t difficult to predict: From June through August, it’s windy, foggy, and chilly, unless a freak heat wave smiles upon the city. The rest of the time, it’s nice. Sure, sometimes it's cold, but now I realize it never really got cold. And sometimes it even rains. When that happened, the TV weather people all went on high alert---Storm Watch!!---and did ridiculous things like sending poor old Lloyd LaCuesta to the top of Mount Hamilton so he could report on the weather emergency---It’s raining!!!---while being blown around like a wet, spindly tree. I used to feel so sorry for that guy.

The weather people never do that kind of thing here in Norway. At least not on the NRK news report I watch. They always just have the weather person---sometimes a scantily-clad, bosomy young woman but usually an older man in a suit---standing in front of a map of Norway that’s filled with weather icons and temperatures. She/he will explain what’s happening weather-wise across the country today and what’s going to happen the next two days. Or at least what they guess is going to happen. Because as far as I can tell, it’s all guessing. And they are, clearly, crap at guessing.

Anyway, there’s a lot of snow outside. Unfortunately, Husband had to go to work this morning and he had to drive because he needed to take a bunch of tools with him (usually he rides his bicycle to work, seriously), so there was a lot of shoveling of snow that needed to be done. I took the top half of the driveway, from the garage to the postbox, while Husband shoveled his way to the street. After about an hour, we’d cleared it enough for him to get the car out. Just then, over the whip of the wind, we heard a low rumble coming from what sounded like overhead. Whoosh! Down came a huge pile of snow off the roof…onto the driveway. Dang. Back to shoveling.

While this was going on, Husband’s co-workers called twice, asking where he was. Quite honestly, we were feeling a little stressed out, but Husband was so calm on the telephone, explaining why he was late and even laughing a little. Listening to that, I realized how much more patient he is with other people than with me. If that had been me phoning up while he was thigh-deep in snow, he’d be all like, “WHAT? What do you want?” To be fair, I do the same to him. That’s a shame, isn’t it? Note to us: Be nicer to the person to whom you’re married.

All was smiles and kisses by the time he left for work. That was six hours ago and I see the driveway is unmanageable again. Dang. Back to shoveling. But I cannot complain! At least I have a nice, warm house to snuggle into when the job is done. Look at this picture from yesterday’s local paper:

I don’t know about you but that just about breaks my heart. That is so much sadder than Lloyd LaCuesta being pummeled by wind and rain on top of a San Jose mountain. The animals are having a tougher time of it this winter than I am, for sure. A little bit of snow shoveling doesn’t seem so harsh in comparison. Dang.