A Roll in the Universe

Here's a blast from the past (September 13 2008). I love the play of shadows and the blue reflecting in the water. Somewhere-north-of-here fjord I actually did not recognize where the above was until I looked at some of the other photos from the same day: This was from an overnight trip with my then-department. We went to Flåm and Nærøyfjord. The latter is on the UNESCO World Heritage list. The former is the destination for the "Norway in a Nutshell" trip that combines bus, train and bus—not necessarily in that order. The photo above is as we sailed out the Aurlandsfjord from Flåm. Below the highway headed to Aurland, decoration made out of rocks and plants mimic Viking hieroglyphs. Or maybe it's just modern art deer. Where the deer and the antelope play? Nærøyfjord has tall mountains on either side, and in the winter only the midday sun manages to shed any light there. The rest of the time it is in deep shadow. In September the sun was making its way d...

The final day of being lyrically challenged (in more ways than one), thanks to one of my inspirations for blogging, Paula at Light Motifs . If you're feeling inspired, please do your own challenge and let me know about it! And now for the third song with lyrics I not only paid attention to, but also bothered to learn by heart. But that came later, because when this song first played on the radio back in 1979, it made me cry. Every. Single. Time. This is one song that is on the short list as a song you may play at my funeral (the other songs are mostly happy disco tunes so bring dancing shoes). It is "The Rose" by Bette Midler. Teen years are intense years, and the evening I saw the movie "The Rose" has moments that I will never forget. I had two friends at the time (I always end up in a trio of two girls and a guy; I'm on my third such grouping), Ann and Grant (hi, Ann!), and we went to see "The Rose". I drove us to the movie theater in my littl...

I have been challenged by Paula at Light Motifs to do three days of song lyrics. I thank Paula for making me update my blog (no, really, I needed this) but I have no one else who is actively blogging to pass the challenge on to. That doesn't matter. I don't do anything that reminds me of chain letters, anyway. :-D I rarely listen to lyrics because I rarely catch what they're singing, anyway. But some songs had a singer with good enunciation, and even good lyrics, and so I became aware of the words. A favorite band of mine from the 70's is Little River Band, originally from Australia. I still listen to their 70's stuff (because I don't know if they did 80's or even 00's stuff), and some songs put me right back in California. They had that mellow, west-coast soft-rock sound. And good lyrics. Several of their songs tell good stories, dealing a punch here, a good tug on the heart there. LRB became a part of the tapestry of my life in late 70's Cal...

The great national holiday in Norway, on May 17th, is a far more involved and formal event than the equivalent celebration in the US, on July 4th. There are also a lot of traditions and traditional food associated with the day. This year, I'm going to partake in a 17th of May breakfast in town. In some ways, Constitution Day in Norway, is not exactly a Sunday or religious holiday. It's a day off but buses run on Saturday schedules and restaurants are open. Some Constitution Day ribbons that people wear on the day  A bunch of us got Norwegian citizenship during 2017 and have decided to go All Norwegian the only way foreigners can. So we've decided to have the 17th of May breakfast buffet, which is a tradition. It includes rømmegrøt (sour cream porridge) and that's all I need to know (although cured meats and smoked salmon with scrambled eggs are also traditional fare). I've booked a table that should also offer a fantastic view of the parade(s). There are thre...

Explore:1. travel through an (unfamiliar) area in order to learn about it. 2. inquire into or discuss (a subject) in detail. I tend to "explore" according to definition 2. You'd think I'd be quite the globetrotter, since I live abroad and have always had a passport. However… I am not a bold or unconventional traveler. I have never backpacked and have never found the idea appealing, either. I "interrailed" once on the coastal steamer that goes up Norway's coast from Bergen to Kirkenes and back, but we had a solid roof (deck) over our head and access to a shower. We slept in the 3rd class lounge. (I don't think they have 3rd class any more.) I will use an outhouse. I grew up with one so that doesn't faze me. For this reason, I am also not squeamish about using public restrooms. But I don't watch travel programs. I don't voraciously read travel magazines or read up on other countries (even though I grew up with somebody who did). I pi...

As a native Californian, I still feel a bit of worry when I let the water run, like I see so many Norwegians do. It's standard: They let it run to get it nice and cold. They well afford to: The one place that never seems to run out of fresh water is Norway. The never-ending supply of that most vital of fluids can lead to some bad habits and disappointments. Norwegians are always faced with culture shock when they leave their country, because the moment you set foot in Denmark, you get recycled water. Norwegians always complain about how tap water tastes elsewhere. They also complain about being told not to waste the water, especially when they want to shower every day just like they do at home. Norwegians are encouraged to take shorter showers at home, but this has nothing to do with water and everything to do with the price of electricity—used to heat up the water. During lunch at my first job in California, the discussion turned to personal hygiene. The showers-every-day woman ...

As the man said, as he took my signed papers, when I finally get notification that the Department of State has approved my renunciation in a couple of months' time, the date on all the paperwork will say January 30, 2018. My renunciation day. All the having to be my own travel agent, map reader, logistician and accountant aside, the big moment was the US embassy itself. I reread a good description of the renunciation process itself before I left home, and the part about the physical visit to a US diplomatic post was very helpful. I was (as is my habit) confused by where to stand, but a guard called to me and got me in the right place. He was Norwegian. I had to empty all my pockets, put my purse, watch, and belt in a small bin, and switch off my cell phone. I got a number, almost like getting a coat check ticket. Then I went to the sign that said "Wait here" and waited there. All of this was outdoors, in front of the guard hut or security forehouse or whatever they c...

Wordless Wednesday MS Bruvik On Saturday, I took a tour with the MS Bruvik , the same boat that once ferried me to summer camp when I was about 10 years old. Back then it was just a boat ride. Now it was a historical adventure in several ways. I live close to the city center of Bergen now, just 10-15 minutes by bus. As a child, I lived a short hour's bus ride outside of town. Going into the city then was a project. The first village we lived in was Salhus, a place that exists because of a waterfall that gave power to a textile factory. The factory sat right on the waterfront, and a little ferry ran across the fjord to Frekhaug. A road leading from Salhus to Hordvik, the second village we lived in when I was a child, wasn't built until the war years, engineered by Germans and built by Russian prisoners of war. There was a road going the other way, south towards town, but boat was best. MS Bruvik was one of the passenger boats taking people, mail and goods up and down th...

I've never eaten at McDonald's as much I have in Norway. Ironically. You'd think I'd be a regular when I lived in California, but no. Meanwhile, in Norway, McDonald's has been vote Best Employer for 2016. If Burger King had moved into my local mall some 20 years ago, I'd be eating Whoppers. But it was a McDonald's, and Quarter Pounders. And I am now admitting my guilty pleasure: I do eat McDonald's stuff often—up to once a week. One reason is that the place itself fascinates me. There are five cash registers, but rarely are there lines in front of them. Because the registers move at different paces, and people don't remain at them to wait for their food, people don't line up in front of them. Instead, they hang back in a loose group and wait for an employee to call out "Next customer" (actually, they call "Available register"). Whoever was first (as defined by everyone else literally watching each others back) moves to that ...

Living in Norway means living with all kinds of traditions, some ancient, like bonfires on Midsummer's Eve, and some much newer, like Valentine's Day. Here in Bergen, the joke is that if you do something twice, you've created a tradition. Celebrating Halloween is becoming a tradition, one for the 21st century, and has been supplanting Norway's original trick-or-treating done on Christmas Eve. At Christmas, many Norwegians decorate their trees with tiny Norwegian flags. I thought the flag tradition was as old as the flag, but it started right after WWII. After being denied anything that looked like the flag colors of red, white and blue, Norwegians got a little carried away their first Christmas after the liberation. It's a tradition that's dying out, though. I haven't seen the tiny flags on trees in recent years. I think that when we think of traditions, we think of something that has survived the generations and is still appreciated. We don't always re...

My own egg cups The thing about growing up with a Norwegian grandfather is that you assume everybody has a cheese slicer and egg cups. Turns out that one of the things American immigrants left behind in Europe were egg cups. I was reading an article on Lifehacker about how Americans eat soft-boiled eggs, seeing as how there is no such thing as an egg cup in the US. It was only then that I realized why a British friend who lives in Hawaii asked if I could get egg cups for him. In every hotel I've been in in Europe, they serve soft-boiled eggs for breakfast. That is to say, they serve a hot egg that is still nearly raw, or a hot egg that is nearly hard. I therefore rarely eat soft-boiled eggs in hotels. But they do have egg cups (and teaspoons) for the eggs. And I have egg cups at home. Any complete set of dishes also includes egg cups here in Europe. 60's fashion: Coffee cup and egg cup from my childhood Now for some etiquette on eating a soft-boiled egg: I learned b...

Ole Bull, violinist and considered Norway's first "rock star", had quite the flare for the dramatic and the mysterious. This last was why he was drawn to the island of Lysøen, where he built his last home. Portrait of a more mature Ole Bull next to flag gift from USA How famous was Ole Bull in his day? Well, the hotel manager in Bergen would save Bull's bath water, bottle it and sell it to Bull's female fans, and Bull didn't mind, as he absolutely loved any attention. He was constantly touring internationally, and knew how to promote himself before and during shows. He had a bottle of smelling salts, and when women would swoon at his concerts, he'd go to the prettiest ones and revived them, something considered a great honor among the female fans. Ole Bull also composed some amazing music, incorporating Norwegian folk music into his melodies. He started Norway's first Norwegian-language theater in Bergen in 1850, since Norwegian theater was ...

I can now compare the opera "Madama Butterfly" to the movie "Pulp Fiction": Both were to take about 3 hours to get through, and in both cases I gave up after the first hour. I've told people I'm not into opera or musicals. I don't like my concerts interrrupted by story telling, and I don't like my stories interrupted by singing. However, my season ticket included "Madama Butterfly", which I've only heard about, so off I went to row 15, seat 34. It didn't take many minutes before I realized the drawback to singing a story. In Italian. To a Norwegian audience. Fortunately, high above the stage, was an an LED screen giving Norwegian translations of the libretto. Look at what's going on on the stage, or look up at the LED captions to find out what they're singing so you can understand what's going on on the stage. Tough choice. I tried to find a way to get into the story or the stage or the music, but wasn't getti...

The funny thing about being foreign is that I don't talk about being foreign. Norwegian TV came to my place of work and interviewed some of our non-Norwegian employees during lunch. They managed to find one of the noisier places in our cafeteria to do so, but also a pretty visible one. (We assume it's NRK and the show " Migrapolis ", which is about foreign nationals living in Norway.) One of my co-workers grinned at me and said I should be interviewed, too. I responded with a quick "nope, too assimilated". But then I offered the real reason: I never talk about life in Norway as a foreigner. I have read how other foreigners feel about living here, I've sometimes talked to them about it, and it's never good. I don't watch "Migrapolis" because the foreigners arriving now seem to be taken better care of than when I first came here. Norwegians now are more curious about foreigners and therefore friendlier towards them; I'd rather n...

He gingerly makes his way slowly down the footpath on two crutches. He is on his way to the mall, the center that is the hub of my part of town, where we shop and socialize. He looks to be around 70, and seems spry in spite of the slow two-crutched walk. He is tall and skinny. He walks to the mall every day around 5 pm. I walk home from it, often at that time, and so I pass him. Sometimes just as I come out of the mall, sometimes as I near my apartment. We walk the same path, so we meet. I don't know him, but I've noticed that he's grown a mustache over the summer. I've noticed that we keep meeting, just the two of us. And because I think he looks nice, and he obviously lives in my neighborhood, and we keep meeting like this, I feel it is time we start saying hello as we pass. I try a careful smile, one Leonardo da Vinci could paint, well aware that women should not be smiling at male strangers. His blue eyes meet mine, but he doesn't smile back. Rather, he ...

10 days in a bus can still teach one a thing or two. Like how asphalt will tent in extreme heat, blocking the whole autobahn. Or how upsetting Norwegians find dealing with older German tourists who speak fondly of their time in Norway back in the 40's (I'm sure some US GI's have made the same faux pas when visiting Europe). Or that whatever may be going on financially, the Germans and Austrians still manage to keep the sides of their roads manicured. Or that words like "cup" and "large" don't translate at all. It's "large cup" in English, "grosse Tasse" (more or less) in German and "stor kopp" in Norwegian. My German was terribly rusty, but I did manage to use it. And I discovered that German-speakers have something in common with the French: They love that you try to use their language. So, this year's summer vacation was a bit early for me, and it feels like I didn't actually have a vacation. Still, I...

I think the most frustrating experience with the internet is TL;DR—too long, didn't read. I have a long list of longer articles that I know interest me and that I want to read but the energy just isn't there. Or the focus isn't. Or the time. How annoying! All this knowledge literally in my lap (or at least near it), and still so out of reach! I was reading about how productivity may be killing creativity over at Lifehacker , an article about how we distract ourselves by staying online rather than allowing ourselves to go offline and "'do' less and 'think' more". There was this long quote from "Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance" that, at the time, was TL;DR. But I knew I wanted to. I knew it was about my hunger for something more than status updates, for information that feels deep and significant and not like another piece of trivia. Once again, I find myself wanting to write . To rekindle my existence on my blog, because, h...

Wordless Wednesday

Damen hos politiet ba meg bruke jungeltelegrafen. Om hva? Jo, at nå skal det bli slutt på "stempel" i passet, dette innlimte arket med dårlig bilde og gyldighetsdato. I juni begynner ny ordning med et plastkort (sikkert med like dårlig bilde) og to års gyldighet. Kortet ordnes med personlig fremmøte (som nå), men sendes i posten etter 2 uker. Det vil si at du bør være ute i litt god tid før utløp av oppholdsbeviset i passet i tilfelle du skal reise utenlands. Kortet kan ikke brukes som ID-kort, men må vises sammen med passet i passkontroll. Det med personlig fremmøte kan også endres i fremtiden. Nå skal de ta fingeravtrykk, men i fremtiden kan det være mulig å ordne mye via nettet - i det minste booke tid så du slipper køsittingen. Sa den hyggelige damen hos politiet. This page in my passport tells Norway to let me back in when I've been abroad. The lady at the police station asked me to use word of mouth. About the changes in the residence permit. Currently, ...

Wordless Wednesday Later, that same night: