Memories

Funny how people remember things differently:

Thinking back to Winter Semester 2011 in Germany, I asked Corbin,

"Do you remember how it became spring just as soon as we arrived, and kept on being beautiful for months? Easter was just a dream..."

"I suppose it did get warm for awhile. But I remember 2011 as 'The year without a summer'."

Semester and Photo Problems

This fall has sped by faster than any other season I remember. Despite the drought the leaves have been pretty. The weather is even sillier than usual and we've had several late, lovely days. The chaos of the beginning of the semester has leveled off, and going into the final stretch I can shoot for A's and be assured of B's.

I watched the election at Ragtag with Tina and Nash. Kind of funny to see Obama's first and second elections during my first and last years at Mizzou.

I don't have proper internet this year, just 3G bluetoothed over from my iPhone. So that's meant less surfing, less Facebook, less emailing, less Skyping, less blogging.

I somewhat lament the blogging. I definitely lament being in such poor touch with various internet and far away friends.

But there are good sides to it, as well. I've read more and watched more movies. I've definitely been enjoying living in an apartment and being able to cook.

I'm slowly, slowly working through the knot of all my photos. It's tricky, trickier than it should be. I should have just been more careful and organized along the way. Here's what happened, basically -

I ran out of space.

Several times, really, but most critically in my final month-or-so in Scandinavia, post-Faroes.

Pretty much out of money and wanting very much to spend my last kroner on Icelandic pony rides rather than outlandishly expensive Nordic storage medium taxes, I threw pictures everywhere I could. I filled up my two external hard drives. I filled my macbook so full that, as I've later found out, I'm lucky it never corrupted and crashed. In the last stretch, pictures of my farewell parties, those last mountain hikes, my trip to Stavanger and Liisa's Iceland pictures got crammed onto my netbook.

My own Iceland pictures were left on the memory cards.

In D.C., I bought another hard drive with excellent intentions. I put the Iceland pictures on there, as well as various photos from my time in D.C., as that went on. I also backed up the Faroese pictures, which were precious to me and which I hated only having one copy of. I had intentions of sorting the rest of it, too, but I didn't have much time and it's all way more time consuming and difficult and confusing than I reckoned, so my half-hearted attempts only made things a bigger mess.

I'm honestly amazed that I (knock on wood) never lost a single photo in all of this, in lugging external hard drives and laptops across borders and messing around with them and moving stuff here and there and cramming stuff here and improperly labeling this and putting these folders in the completely wrong album and blah blah blah. No hard drive crashes (though there were scares!), no accidental formats, no deleting one folder when I meant to kill another.

And, two new hard drives later, I'm finally getting somewhere with the organization. At least the macro organization of being able to see all my photos (sort of) in the right place, have the presence of mind to know they're all there, back up that collection properly, and, maybe, this year or next, getting ready to start ACTUALLY sorting them.

All 200,000 of them.

O.O

Fall

It's October, and fall is here. Due to a combination of dry summer and slightly damp autumn, it's not very spectacular. The sky's as blue as ever and the smells are right, but the leaves aren't as vibrant - only the yellow ones are really making a go of it (the big tree next to Rollins is still, by far, the loveliest on campus) and I don't see much red or orange in the forest, only green, not-green, and the bit of yellow here and there.

I literally can't process the fact that I'm halfway into the semester. I've never had time fly by this quickly. I've just been busy, busy, busy - almost every day is full and when I do take time off I feel like I'm purchasing it dearly, can't just relax with friends and build the emptiness of days - we have to each steal a costly hour to spend together, to prove our worth to each other - and it's almost too stressful to enjoy. I don't like this part.

Things are better, now that I've recovered from the conference. If I work my butt off during the week, I can rest on weekends. I only have four classes, but they're trying their best to take me down. I'm actually getting organized out of sheer necessity.

My place feels like a home by now even though I've only unpacked 2/3s of the boxes and the map poster keeps falling down. Also the oven still doesn't work, which is obnoxious.

But living downtown is still great. I get annoyed with early morning construction noise (sometimes its so insanely loud, and I can't even figure out WHAT they are doing - sounds like a truck but louder than any truck I've ever heard - certainly not just a hammer or a drill or GAAAAHHH WHAT IS THAT!!) and I get annoyed with people partying at 2 am in the alley right underneath my window (really guys?) But I have such a nice, short walk to class, and I love being able to go get Sparky's Ice Cream or India House or whatever. Btw Columbia is even more diverse and perfect now than ever. The Middle Eastern Market has a huge new location, there's a French bakery with Macarons and a Korean barbecue place downtown with $5 Kimbap. 

Tutoring is blarggghhh. I'm scheduled for 9 hours a week but people keep not showing up. Oh, they're sick. Oh, they have car troubles. Oh, they just don't show up and later tell me they overslept. Is this just my bad luck? I didn't have these problems last year. Two students have even cancelled. I'm not even hurt or sad - hopefully the new ones will be better. 

I went camping last weekend with Nash and Isa, who is my American Life partner this semester. She's tall and German, a biologist, and the way she talks reminds me a bit of Rachel. She's a nice girl.

I'm thinking about graduate school next year. Not sure what to do.

I'm reading a bit. I don't have a car and there's no exciting hiking to be done here anymore and it can be hard to get friends together at the last minute, so I'm discovering this ancient old-fashioned past-time of spending time with paper and ink. Last Places is the kind of travel book I want to write, but maybe a bit too exaggerated for my taste - or have Iceland and the Faroes really changed so much in 30 years? Probably a mixture of the two. Travel journalism has certainly changed. Sometimes I think the title refers to the "Last Places" you could get away with writing about like that - certainly the last places in Europe.

My friend Jerry from Florida turned 100. Still writing, still learning all the new internet tricks. He's an inspiration.

And now, I have to run again...

Damage Assessment and New Plans

I'm not doing so great right at the moment.

I've neglected my friends, I've neglected my sanity, I've neglected my family, I've neglected my nutrition. I've neglected my bandwidth limits.

I've neglected the honor's society I'm president of, I've neglected my boyfriend, I've neglected my blog, I've neglected my tutoring job. I've neglected other work possibilities. I've neglected my organization, which in turn has affected everything else.

I've neglected my stories, and I've neglected my studies.

So I've said it, admitted it - I've neglected everything.

This will have consequences - some in more cases, less in others.

My friends, family, and boyfriend will forgive me. My blog will have to cope. I've managed to keep my head just above water for the tutoring and the honor's society. I probably won't take any other work this semester, tempting as it might be for both money and experience. The bandwidth issue is only a ten-dollar fee, as long as I'm careful the rest of the month.

Sanity is slowly returning - and I got an overdose of protein and veggies and yum in Indianapolis.

My grades will take a hit. This will not be one of my better semesters. I might be looking at B's instead of A's and C's instead of B's. It depends how the grades come in and how resilient the overall marks are, and whether I make a strong recovery.

My Spanish professor in particular is disappointed in me - I've missed quite a few classes, my essay was not up to par, and I'm sure I've missed homework assignments as well. My gun story is not all I wanted it to be, not for myself nor for my professor nor for those I'm writing about. I'm managing in German, but need to play a little catch up and I don't know when. Editing is a mess. Not sure how much of a mess but it's not what I want from it. Managed not to miss any homework, but today was an exam and I learned the hard way that missing a week of class was not actually such a small matter, and that I need to take better notes because yes, it's one of those classes where if they mention 'types of magazines' or 'qualities needed in a good editor', there will actually be a huge blank space on the test for you to regurgitate the list you were given.

But but but - The others are stressed out too. Some have done worse than I have, and with fewer excuses. I've done worse myself with fewer excuses. I've had tests where I guessed at almost everything because I skipped the classes for no good reason.

I had good reasons, this time, that I either couldn't help or can't regret - Moving into a new apartment and having lots of problems with that, attending a travel writing conference where I learned a lot about my career and made good contacts, and writing a major feature story for Vox, which I'm very proud of. I haven't been slacking off.

And it turns out that, due to a bit of luck, I've only missed one Spanish assignment. I still have the weekend to massively improve my essay, and when I met with the professor in his office hours I realized that he thinks all the essays are crap, and at least he can see that I'm trying. I thought my Magazine Writing professor was disappointed with me, but after talking to the other students I realized he's criticized me perhaps the least. I could do better - I agree myself, completely - but apparently even with the Vox story and the conference crowding me from every side, I did better than some of the others. There was a lot I didn't know on the exam today, but there was a lot I did know. And part two is tomorrow, and I think I can do better on that.

And in exams and essays and what have you, Even a worst-case scenario 50% is a big improvement over 0%. I haven't dropped the ball on anything that big.

Yes, it's discouraging to start a semester this way. But I still have a lot of room and chances to recover and improve. Later work is usually weighted more heavily.

Yesterday, I cleaned my place. I can see more clearly now, think straighter.

Today, I'm going to go buy the school supplies I should have bought a month ago - folders at least so I can organize my papers properly. I'll make a point of going through the syllabuses nightly so I don't lose track of anything else. I'll take better notes. I'll find study sessions and understand my professors quirks better. I won't miss class again.

It's been a rough start. There will be consequences. But I have reasons, if not consequence-altering excuses. I can't truly regret or blame myself, and even if I can - there's no point. I just have to take the wake up call, mitigate the damage, organize myself and move on more strongly.

Leftover Management

Back in school for my last year at Mizzou.

1.) Everything is going fine.

2.) I am insanely busy.

I also have to cook for myself now. This should be - I get to cook for myself now. But, see number 2 above.

And anyway for me it's always a matter of leftover management.

I don't eat enough at one time.

But I'm not complaining, it's cheaper this way and faster after the first time. I've really only made three seperate meals here:

1.) Spaghetti with ground-turkey marinara sauce -) leftover sauce over rice with fried egg (5 meals)
2.) Leftovers from Indian restaurant with more curry seasoning, tomato sauce, added chickpeas and mushrooms (3 meals post-restaurant)
3.) Thai tomato-vegetable soup with bamboo shoots, carrots, and peas (4 meals).

This last is non-intuitive but pretty damn tasty.

Tidbit

 Tidbit was so fat.

Tidbit had a big grey naked belly with lots of speckles on it. It was wrinkly in places but when she rolled over it got stretched pretty much taught like a drum. Dad liked to give her raspberries. I just liked to give her little kisses. But when you did she would freak out and start kicking to turn herself back over again. Sometimes she kicked us in the face accidentally with her little paws.

Tidbit had little hairless places behind her ears and on her elbows and even little patchy places on her tail. It got worse as she got older but she never had thick fur like Tootsie. I always thought of her like the Velveteen rabbit, worn out with love over the years.

When I cried, Tidbit used to get very serious, but she would lick the salty tears off my face.

Tidbit loved opening presents.

Tidbit loved laying in the sun that came in through the windows. 

Tidbit loved laying by the fire in the winter, and out on the pool deck in the summer.

Tidbit loved laying around. :)

Tidbit loved riding in the car.

Tidbit loved going out on boats even though it freaked her out a little bit, she wouldn't be left behind. Once we went out on the kayak, and found some fish lines hung out to catch bass. I messed around with them with my paddle, and got some fish to jump out. Her face was hilarious! Intrigued and yet frightened. Getting her up and down from the boats was hard but we did it anyway, held her tight.

Tidbit didn't like to swim but she would sometimes let herself be put on a raft and set adrift in the pool on a lazy day. And once or twice when it was really hot at the Ozarks and we were coving it, she let me lower her into the water and hold her tight. 

Tidbit had routines - a bedtime routine where she would stand up when we turned the tv off, stretch, then jump off the bed and head towards the door, ready to go potty, come back in, get bedtime snack, then go to bed. As she got older she would decide it was bedtime for us, sometimes mid-movie, stand up and start stretching. We'd all laugh. After all, it's not like we were even keeping her up - she was passed out as we watched the movie!

When she was young, Tidbit would leap off my bed every morning! I tried to teach her to at least go down to the wooden chest first, but she didn't learn fast. Both the dogs used to jump on and off the beds and the sofas and up and down the stairs as fast as they could. It was great - you could say, "Go outside go potty?" from the kitchen, run across the floor and down the stairs and to that door, and they'd run right behind you, nails over hardwood then marble and then thundering down all the stairs in a rush. So much energy! 

Tidbit was incredibly vocal and would - not whine exactly - but grunt and moan and make the cutest little noises, almost like talking. She did this more and more as she got older.

Tidbit used to strut around hotel lobbies like we owned the place. Don't know where she got that sense of entitlement!

Tidbit cried the first night we had her home, but the second night we put her in with Tootsie and she never cried again. Tootsie took care of her, but Tidbit got fat and big quickly and soon was dominant. They used to stay close together in the woods and wrestle together in the living room. But Tidbit was a bully and ate all the food and was the boss. The big ugly bully boss. Dad and Mom secretly liked Tootsie better, but afterwards they said Tidbit was the best dog they'd ever known.

Tidbit fit in my arms perfectly and always wanted and expected to be held. 

Tidbit was good at tug-a-war when her teeth were still good, but she never figured out fetch.

Tidbit would eat everything in her bowl. Then she'd have a nice long drink of water. Then she'd lick out what was left in the bowl. Then she would burp. Then she would go back to sleep. You didn't have to see it to know. You could hear all the sounds and they became as familiar as anything.

Tidbit lifted a leg to pee, like a boy dog... but she was so short you could hardly tell. 

For a long, long time, Tidbit loved going for walks. She'd freak out if you asked her, "Wanna go for a walk?" and she'd run towards the leash and almost wouldn't settle down long enough for you to get it on her, especially once we started using the harness. 

Tidbit stopped wearing her collar after awhile. Then we thought, maybe she should wear it to lose weight? Then we realized it was a ridiculous thought and laughed until we cried.

When Tidbit got cold by the campfire we'd hold her inside our jackets. She would shiver and shake so much it was silly. :P 

Once Tidbit was scratching at a snake, and when I saw it (she was on the leash), I jerked so hard she went flying through the air! She was so young, then.

Tidbit was so proud whenever she would get a treat! She would parade it around grunting and wagging with her head held high. And when she wanted a treat, we would always act confused, "What is it, Tidbit, what do you want?" She'd fall for it and try to show us again and again how to open the cabinet. She must have thought we were idiots sometimes. :)

Tidbit got so excited whenever dad would fire up the grill. We used to give her steak bones. But later they were too rich for her and we ate less steak anyway, so she started getting salmon skins. We'd break them up into little pieces for her because we wanted her to enjoy them, but she just gobbled them down as fast as she could. 

When we went for walks I would bring water for Tidbit. Stephanie used to say, "It's important to water your dachshund!" When Tidbit got overheated she would stand in a puddle or plop down in some shady grass and pant. She loved to run! And she would eat every dried worm and berry off the sidewalk. Even grass. She refused to lose weight. 

I used to sing to Tidbit all the time. A lot of sweet lullabies. And a lot of random shit. When mom was out of the house, Melissa and I used to turn on music and sing it loudly to Tidbit, replacing every other word with her name. XD

Tidbit used to fall asleep on my lap when I studied and when I ate. All through high school I kept these insane hours and she kept them with me. She'd wait for me in her bed in the kitchen while I worked and played Racquetball and then I'd come home and she'd be in my arms from then until I left for school in the morning, shower the only exception (and sometimes she'd wait in the bathroom then.) But when I left she adapted well to sleeping in her little bed at the foot of mom and dad's. 

Tidbit actually got cuter as she got older. In the old pictures she looked like a mobster dog and a bully with that thick neck and barrel chest. But when she got older she just got so dear. And when her little face and paws turned white, it undid me. Almost until the end, some people still asked if she was a puppy. I guess because she was small. Like me.

Tidbit used to sit with me while I folded laundry, and I would start placing it gently on her. She never decided if she liked it or not. The warmth relaxed her, but the act confused her. I would always do it anyway, a piece at a time like Zanga to see how much she would tolerate before it got 'too weird' and she moved away with an indignant grunt. 

Tidbit loved the four of us and a select few others. Our grandparents for example. She tolerated a range of others to various degrees and learned that she had to be nice to all people, even strangers. But she never did learn not to hate other dogs.

I used to hold an umbrella over Tidbit when it rained and shovel out a space for her in the snow. She never figured out how the umbrella worked through and always looked at me like I was crazy for getting so close to her while she peed, and always ran back to the house so fast I couldn't keep up, and she got soaked anyway. When she got old and fragile dad built ramps for her everywhere out of plywood and old carpets. She didn't like to use those either. She knew she was supposed to but she didn't know why, so sometimes she'd go over and tag them as an afterthought, mid jump, as if they were springboards.

When we moved to Florida Tidbit's bed was placed precariously in the back of the Armada, surrounded by crates etc. She found a big black snake in Ocala and was like, "What have we done?" (like the rest of us, at the same moment!) and she was always a bit unnerved by the big salty water. And she always got the painful sandburs stuck in her feet! (Luckily dad was good at taking them out) But she loved the warmth and the lack of steps was good for her. And when we first arrived she chased lizards all the time! Even caught a few. Once she charged a big pelican, who didn't budge. She decided she didn't see him after all. 

Tidbit had a funny, rolling, sideways run, like she was always about to fall over. I think to her right. How quickly we forget...

Tidbit had a swagger and a strut until the very end. 

Tidbit snored and sneezed and burped and it was all adorable. 

Tidbit had skin tabs and I loved those too. 

I carried Tidbit home when I was 8 years old. We put her to sleep 14 years later. I'd gotten though middle school and high school and four years of college. Everything had changed, except Tidbit. She was like something from another world and another life, by the end. I almost kept forgetting she was still around. A little link to my past. But I was so different, it was like she was different too. But now it's hard to realize she's really gone. God, I loved that little puppy.

I'm so happy I had her for all those years. When I think about how we so easily could have not gotten her, or sent her back, or how she could have died from the poison as a little puppy, or in the river that day both dogs almost drowned, or when they fell into the cold spring, or that time she had the neck spasms and we almost put her to sleep... it's really amazing that she lived so long. A blessing that she could grow old surrounded by love and comfort and even got to retire to Florida. I wasn't there for her at the end - something I'll always feel a bit sad about - but at least she had Melissa. And mom, and dad, of course.

But I loved her, and I miss her. And it's hard to believe that nothing's left now but a collar she hadn't really worn in years, too many photos, and a lot of memories. Memories every one of us will carry until our own last days, memories of a little red-brown dachshund who was as much a part of our family as anyone else. Memories no one else will ever be able to understand.

In many ways, Tidbit was my childhood. She taught me to be a mother, and a friend. First we grew up together, and then I blossomed as she got old and started wasting, slowly, away. She saw me through some of the hardest times of my life, and she was closer to it all, in so many ways, than anyone else. She's seen more of my tears and more of my sorrows, alone in our room, than anyone. But she's also seen more of my joy - the happy days I would run home, throw down my bag, and as soon as she came running to see me I'd throw on her leash and collar and we'd run out together, like the whole world was waiting, the big blue Missouri skies and the endless green lawns of suburbia waiting for us.

And I'll never, ever, forget that feeling.

I'll never, ever, forget my little girl.

Things that happen

I hadn't seen her since Christmas.

Every time I left, I knew it was for a long time - a long time even for a person, much less a dog... and still less for an old dog like Tidbit.

Still, she was healthy for her age. Doing okay. Still had a little bit of attitude and a lot of appetite.

They called me Sunday. They made the decision last Monday and they put her down Friday.

They talked about it and decided it was best not to tell me, that it would be easier on me to wait until Sunday. Didn't want to ruin my weekend (who gives a shit honestly). Thought it was better that I didn't try to fly down or anything.

Yeah, well. I'm trying not to make a big stink about it. They thought they made the right decision, and it can't be undone. I feel like dad should have known, I thought he felt the same way when we put Tootsie down, but I guess not. And it's not like I can ask them to do something differently 'next time' - there will never be a next time. I guess I should have been more explicit, about what I wanted them to do. But I don't think I myself knew until it happened. I knew she would die, I didn't know it was coming that soon, but I knew it was coming soon. I was ready in some ways but not in others. I hadn't thought out the details. I hadn't realized that I wanted to be there, that I wanted to hold her for her last minutes.

But I hadn't seen her for months. I never said goodbye.

And she was my girl.

I carried her home, I fed her under the table, I told her everything, we had all our secret places, she slept in my bed for 11 years.

I should have been told. I should have had the choice. I should have been there.

I wish she could have had her mommy come home, one last time. 

I held her all the way home, and I wish I could have held her, at the end of all things. 

I wish I could have sung her one last lullaby. 

Last night, I sang to her, into the darkness, thousands of miles away and days too late.

Just close your eyes
The sun is going down
You'll be alright
No one can hurt you now
Come morning light
You and I'll be safe and sound

Don't you dare look out your window darling
Everything's on fire
The war outside our door keeps raging on
Hold on to this lullaby
Even when the music's gone
Gone

Sure, this way was 'easier'. But it wasn't right. Tidbit deserved better from her mommy...

Iceland to Internship

Iceland was great, really fantastic, I lived hard and had six incredible days clambering over glaciers, hiking over lava fields that reminded me more of the moon than of the earth, watching seabirds swoop in and out of their cliffside homes, soaking in remote hot springs and standing awe-struck at the power of four enormous, thundering waterfalls. I ate whale sushi, sheep's head, and rotten shark, strolled down the city street's of Reykjavik and the line between Europe and America at Thingvellir. Liisa and I put some serious kilometers behind us as we drove our 'too pretty for Iceland' little red rental car from Reykjavik to Hofn, Hofn to Arnarstapi, and back again to Reykjavik.

But the trip didn't seem real until my flight landed in Keflavik, and it faded back out of reality somewhere over the Atlantic.

Suddenly, I was back home.

Loud, smiling, friendly, lovely Americans everywhere.

I could understand everything - it felt invasive.

I was suddenly eating every meal out - the extravagance was almost too much.

The heat is cutting me a break this weekend, it's only in the low 80's, but still it's weird to leave the house with a t-shirt without scarves and jackets tucked into my bag.

Arrival Friday.

Saturday was clean up day, cutting the extra hair off the mountain girl, scrubbing the dirt and callouses off her feet, painting her toenails pretty pretty red, and shopping for clothes that haven't been dragged through heaven and hell and everything in between. The shopping mall - my god. Talk about culture shock.

Sunday I went with Nash, Aunt Rhonda, and Uncle Chris to the 200th anniversary of the War of 1812. Boats and barbecue and scenery bursting with Americana. Skyscrapers, flags, airshow, military displays, corn on the cob.

More culture shock - moving from impoverished student accomodation to a cushy, luxurious set up at my relatives. The towels and carpets are white and soft. The room is big, dark, quiet. I have my own bathroom and the shower is lovely. The pantry and fridge are full to overflowing. We drive in nice cars from one garage to the other and hardly notice that it's raining.

The end in sight

You can't actually spend two solid weeks saying farewell. As the very last days arrive, it's actually getting a bit easier. 

Reluctantly I accepted one last couchsurfer. He was in a tight spot, so I helped him out. We joined Ffinlo and Jens for an acapella concert at Kvarteret, then drinks at KAOS. Next morning, I toured Bryggen one last time and finally made it to the Bryggen museum.

Then I met Lukas and Monika for Vidden. Monika came as far as Ulriken with us, then ran down to cook with friends. As promised, the hike took 8 hours. It was pretty cold up there and sometimes sun, sometimes threatening clouds. But we didn't get wet, and there were a thousand shades of green looking down towards the lake, and new perspectives on all the old familiar places, and at the end we managed to get lost at a place we should have known well by now! And there was a lovely sunset shining through all the cotton-puffy plants whose names I never learned, and we found an old burned down cabin and the ruins of a huge ski slope under the full moon, and walked back along Svartediket.

Slept in late today after all of that! Then we had a Dugnad cleaning of the kitchen with all the suitemates, and got a picture of everyone together! And then I ran downtown to Friday's to see Monica and some of her friends one last time. How funny to eat at Friday's, everything was super American except the Bergen scenery out of the window, the people from this semester, and of course the Norwegian prices! Gave Monica back the movie she lent me, as well as a Florida magnet and postcard and an American flag. We walked back together along the harbour and said goodbye... :)

Now tomorrow morning I leave early for one last trip. Destination: Stavanger. The primary reason I'm going, at least why I'm going now, is to see an old friend from my first trip to Norway! :) But I'll also enjoy seeing the city, might meet up with the couchsurfer again actually, and am planning to do Preikestolen on Tuesday.

Then it's back in town for one last day, I'll meet the cleaning department, do the last bit of packing, some last shopping, give friends photos, and have a nice party on the balcony here at Alrek!

And then, the next day, I have an early afternoon flight, to....

Well, home eventually, but first... one last exciting European destination! ICELAND! A few days stolen from the responsibilities on both ends, and time with one of my best friends. :D

The Wild Woman of the Mountains

I'm tempted to pack an empty bottle, my waterproof everything and my sleeping bag into my backpack, go up into the mountains and not come down again.

Sleep when it's dark (those rare three hours).

Walk when it's not.

Enjoy the sun and blue skies and the views over the sea and the islands.

I'll get dark from dirt and sun, and grow a wild beard.

They'll never catch me alive, they'll never make me leave.

:)

It's tempting...

Summer in Bergen

It's been incredible, incredible weather lately. Especially for Bergen. Pretty much two weeks straight with no rain.

No rain, hardly any clouds, and only three hours of darkness a night.

This is becoming a problem.

I'm trying to see everyone again, check those final things off my list, use every minute...

And there are too many minutes.

And I have to force myself to stay home and pack, sleep, rest, do anything except wander around outside until I collapse of exhaustion.

I feel like a moth, drawn to the sun like a flame. Weak as it is here I feel the slight redness on my face when I come home each evening. Always gone by morning, but still.

These last days are killing me.

I will leave a lot of my heart here.

And yet I still find time for a few words, typed here and there, a short blog post.

Because there's a magic in words, in expression, and something beautiful for the future knowing I was here in this wonderful place when I chose these keys from the keyboard and wrote these last things when it was a living description of the present, not yet a memory.

Today was a sort of Rennaisance Festival thing, the Bjørgvin Medieval and Viking Market down south at the Hordamuseet alongside the Fjord. Very low-key but lovely. Cool but sunny. Harps and ocarinas, viking soup and butter with wild garlic, and delicious Israeli hummus (oddly enough). The costumes were simple but nice, and with so few tourists the percentage of people in costume was much higher than at most such events. Cute families, children playing with fake swords and drinking out of little horns. Becky and I learned how to shoot the bows and each got a bulls-eye (out of 6 tries - best not to ask about the other five. ;)) And we listened to the story of Odin's quest for knowledge in a 2,000 year old stone-circle.

Waited a long time for the bus, way out in the sticks and with the strike going on. But it was warm at the stop, and we had a view over lovely green farmland. A tractor driving about kicking up dust and followed by a cloud of seagulls. A father and a sun flying a red kite in the distance.

Living Hard

I'm living hard, want to make the most of my last days here. But I need to chill out too, or it won't mean anything.

Anyway Saturday I slept in, then Becky and I went around Svartediket to swim in our waterfall. Enjoyed the view, had a little picnic, then I came home and Skyped with my family before a barbecue with Lukas and Monika. It went until late, what with the sun still high in the sky at 10 pm. Finally though it started to disperse, and Lukas and Monika invited me and John (another random American who just arrived) to a party, somewhere far away. We had to all run home and grab our camping stuff, since we didn't know what turns the evening would take.

I had the furthest to go, so I hurried. Ran to the Fantoft bybanen stop. Got off at Kronstad and went the rest of the way to Alrek on foot. Quickly informed Becky and Nash about change in plans, then compressed my sleeping bag, threw everything I needed into my backpack, painted my face and put on party clothes, and ran out to the bus to get downtown. I was actually there ten minutes early, so I strolled through the Nattjazz festival with it's whimsical wooden constructions and the salsa dance and smell of sausages on the streets.

Then I went over and met Lukas and Monika coming off the bybanen, we found John and tried to figure out the busses, ended up making the last free one up to the northern part of town. On the same bus we met a few others headed to the same party, they helped us find the stop and then we started hiking up through the darkness on the Munkebotn path, looking for this mysterious party.

We were hiking straight up mostly, taking shortcuts instead of following the paved road, so we quickly left our new friends behind us. We kept passing groups of people on bikes, smoking pot. Suddenly, sirens and lights. As we hiked up the shortcut between switchbacks, the police car drove up and talked to some of the bikers. All very calm and relaxed. As we emerged from the woods and passed them, they didn't so much as spare us a look.

The path got darker. We started to doubt our directions. But suddenly we started to hear music - far away but unmistakable. Another few corners and a bunker came into view, lit candles on the staircase, strange music and lights, people sprawled out everywhere over a remarkable view of summer-twilight Bergen. We went back and forth from the chill viewpoint to the inside of the bunker, where banners were hung over the small windows to keep out the sun and green, red, white lights danced around us. Cloudberry liquor and tequila and Daim Chocolate.

The party was set to go on until 10 am, but we left around 4:30 and climbed the rest of the way up the mountain. It was almost fully light by then, we scrambled to find a campsite up on top of Svartediket before the sun came over the ridge. Felt like we should be packing up and making breakfast, not saying 'goodnight'. Fell asleep nearly on the path, slept about 4 hours totally dehydrated and in the bright sun. Was proud of my sleeping bags versatility. Woke up in the 'morning', and went for an impromptu swim in the perfect, cool lake water.

John was freaking out, what was this, we were so close to the city, we had walked here from a rave, and it seemed like we were so far from everything - on top of a mountain with the pines all around. Drinking from clear streams and swimming in the cool lakes. The air smelled so pure.

I know, I know. Can't decide if it's good for me to meet John now, hear his first impressions. This was his first trip up into the mountains. I remember mine. Partly I've gotten used to it by now. Partly I haven't. I certainly haven't gotten used to being used to it. I smiled for him, for myself. His time here is beginning as mine is ending. A beautiful sort of pain as we put our bags back on and walked the well known trails over to Fløyen. I kept asking myself if this wasn't the last time I'd see that pond, that stream, that tree. But it's useless to think that way.

Raspberry chocolate ice cream from the kiosk over the city. The place was swarming with tourists, and again there was this wave of strange feeling. 

Went down to the city and met Becky, and we headed up north by bus to Gamle Bergen, a sort of open air museum with 18th and 19th century homes and a few reenactors. There were a handful of people walking around, but most of the people in the area were there for the seaside access, with it's diving board, sunning areas, sparkling blue water.

We headed back downtown afterwards and had a very rare lunch out at Zupperia. I had Rudolph's Soup with reindeer, berries, mushrooms, and cream.

I stumbled back to Alrek and put down my things at long last. Hiking around with my backpack and just a spaghetti-strap party shirt on had rubbed my shoulders pretty raw. I wasn't sure if I had the strength, but I'd promised Ffinlo and Sylwia a hike up Løvstakken, so I put a smaller day-pack together and set off with them, semi-deliriously.

We were always sort-of and never completely lost. Paths became smaller, bigger again, joined others, split constantly. We just kept walking, uphill when possible, towards the peak when possible. The sunlight was bright and strange. We sang silly songs and made ridiculous jokes that barely made sense. Finally we reached the infamous section of the ropes and metal bars, the climby bit. Sylwia got nervous, I had to come down and help her over one section. Then she got really eager and half-sprinted the rest of the way up. My legs were a bit shaky towards the end.

Beautiful view from the top and water in all directions. I could tell why people liked it, but I guess I still prefer the views from Lyderhorn, Sandviken, Ulriken. More photogenic, this one was too spread out and there was no obvious peak in a way. But lovely. Lovely, lovely.

I've gotten so used to mountains and sea and boats all fading into a blue mist below. The painful beauty of the sinking sun. It's awful. One shouldn't be able to get accustomed to such things. It should be a rare and hard-earned pleasure. But here it's been commonplace and that's ruined me. Tea and quick lunch and brownie-flavoured milk. I wanted to cry and laugh at the same time.

The way down was easier, a well-worn and stony path. Our feet were killing us though and we couldn't figure out how people manage the 7-Mountain-Challenge. Still, I would probably go for it if I had company. Totally unsure as to whether or not I would be able to finish. It would be hard at least. I guess it's supposed to be.

Strange noises and a distant ruffle of black feathers. We took pictures of some strange birds doing some strange courting ceremony. 

Then we walked across the city during the sunset, beautiful clouds over the city. I showered and a thousand different smells washed off my body and down the drain. Pine and dust and more.

Then I slept, unwillingly.

Smile because it Happened

I'm freaking out a little bit. Nash just left and that was pretty much my last scheduled thing to do here in Bergen. Now I just have two weeks left, in this beautiful city where it's suddenly summer, temperatures between 60-80 degrees all day, a sun that only sets for a few hours, flowers everywhere filling the air with sweetness, people sunbathing and swimming and eating ice cream and relaxing. There's things I haven't done. Things I want to say goodbye to. People I need more time with. I can do it all. I have more than a week.

More than a week. That's a decent length of time for a vacation. Except I haven't been here on vacation. I've had months and months to absorb and enjoy Bergen. But I'm not ready to leave yet and 'more than a week' isn't going to be enough.

I've been enough places to know, Bergen is perfect for me.

I love that I can walk straight out of my door and up into the mountains.

I love that this has been the only spring I've ever lived through without allergies.

I love that I can drink the lovely, clear water straight from the waterfalls and streams.

I love the city with its many cozy cafes, a few fun clubs, all the lovely houses, and even the tiny touristy area.

I love the public transportation and the fact that it's actually reasonable if you buy a student pass for the month.

I love how you can go and go in any direction and there are islands and mountains and lakes and rivers and streams and fjords and adorable red houses and it never, ever seems to stop.

I love the culture here, the emphasis on family, nature, education.

I love the climate - four distinct seasons, and no, it's not too cold or rainy for me, I like it, actually... it makes me value the sun and the summer.

I love the location in Norway and in Europe... easy flights to, say, Scotland, the Faroes, Finland... even further south to Spain and Italy, Belgium, Germany, Slovenia. And it's not even that far from the States, hardly further from Florida than say, Oregon.

Pamplona was lovely and charming, delicious food, historic, I loved it but a semester was just right. I felt the city and it was a beautiful time in my life, but then I went home.

Bonn was my springboard for freedom, from there I travelled all over Europe. I have happy memories there, indeed, and Bonn was a pleasant city, no doubt, but a semester was just right. I went home.

But Bergen is different.

They say, "Don't cry because it's over, smile because it happened."

I'll try.

But it's going to be hard to leave.

And it's going to be hard to go home.

I may find another place in the world that I like as much as Bergen, but I'm sure I'll never find a place I like more.

Bergen

Yet another rainy day in Bergen.

As always, the sound of power tools and music outside my window.

Seriously, what are they building?

The Numa Numa song, Johnny Cash's I Walk the Line, and others I can't name, echo from downtown... or Odontologen... or a few floors down. I'm not entirely sure.

Starefossen, seagulls, and the skyline of the city stretch out before me.

I still can't believe I live here.

And I'm running out of time to accept it...

Little piece of Norway in Alrek

Ffinlo and I watched the fifth episode of Game of Thrones. As I was leaving we ran into Eirik, from Voss, carrying the book version to lend to Ffinlo. We started chatting with him about the series and other nonsense, and before long we ran into another friend who hails from Eastern Norway. We spoke about the lovely warm days we've been having (I managed to get a sunburn today) and then about Syttende Mai, and I joked that I considered bringing my Renaissance fair costume but decided it would be offensive. Simultaneously, Eirik said, "To be honest with you, it wouldn't be," and the other said, "To be honest with you, it would be." The Easterner challenged Eirik on this, so Eirik said, "Have you seen the rediculous things they call bunad in Bergen?" And then the Easterner asked if he was looking for a fight, Ffinlo reminded him he wasn't from Bergen, and the Easterner started saying something about his Vestfold bunad, and then Eirik interjected that anything costing less than $3,000 shouldn't be considered a bunad. and Then I asked about Vestfold and before long we were talking about the fountains and the statues of Sandefjord. Yes, I love this country.

Hallingskeid Again

Went back to Hallingskeid over the weekend. It was a bit spontaneous - there are very few trips this semester that you can go on if you're not good on skis, and this was probably the second, and the last, one that worked for me. It was a funny feeling to leave Bergen now that it's getting warm and summery even for the interior of Norway, where reports said it was still well frozen over. And it was - still a winter wonderland of white like frosting over round mountains as far as the eye could see. But very different this time.

Last time we were 18 crammed into the tiny cabin, a tiny hive of frenzied life with the deadly wind and snow and ice just outside. This time the weather was much better - just below freezing, and largely sunny. We were only four which made the cabin luxurious and spacey. I even got to sleep one night in the reindeer skin sleeping bag! :D (Very traditional and cool, but hairy and not as warm as my down sleeping bag haha).

There was more work to be done by each in a sense, but that was good. I got much better at making the fire, I learned a lot of the basics of how to keep a cabin clean and warm and working. I helped cook. I walked down to the half-frozen river to fetch drinking water. Together with Alex I dug a hole fully eight feet deep to the latrine. We put up new curtains and painted half the cabin bright Vestlandsrød. It was a dugnad trip, after all!

And there was also time for skiing. I still can't turn hardly at all, but can't figure out if that's the fault of the mountain skiis, or that they're just far too big for me, even with the four pairs of socks. Probably both. Other than that, though, I'm improving. Climbing up to the station with skins on was a no-brainer this time. And I came down that whole hill in one movement as well. Getting better at bending my knees. I felt the extra and strange weight of the backpack, but I was better able to manage it this time.

After three times on downhill/alpine/slalom skis, I'm starting to feel confident saying that I'm no good, but I know the basics. This was my third time on crosscountry/mountain skis, and I guess it's about the same. On a normal path I think I'd have no real problems now. Even off-piste I'm managing, but the failure to turn means I can't tackle real mountains because I don't have enough control. Plus, I'd get exhausted pretty fast, if my hikes to and from the train station are any indication!

On Sunday people streamed out of cabins on skiis and snowshoes in solemn lines to the train station for the only train of the day at 4 pm. As we all stood there on the ice-covered platform, the announcement came on that the train had been delayed. For an hour and a half. Because of problems with the hot water supply. Do trains REALLY need hot water? The whole thing seemed ridiculous after a weekend of primitive cabin living. And having dragged ourselves all the way up the hill with all our stuff, we were sort of ready to be headed home. But it wasn't a bad time to be stuck.

Those with nearby cabins went home for a few more minutes. The rest of us headed to the sunny wooden roof. Sheltered from the wind, the warm sun was actually so intense that I stripped down to just jeans (with long underwear underneath), and a long sleeved shirt. The snow was melting quickly from the roof and falling in splatters and drops, which we dodged. The three boys started out reading and ended up napping. I mostly just leaned back and stared at the snowy, mountainous panorama stretched out in front of us. Yet another 'how did I get here' moment.

Photos and Other Stuff

Study days from the university. I need them both for studying and general organization and mental health. The Faroes took a lot out of me - in the best possible way.

And yet it's a sunny day and that's not fair - all these days have been sunny and it's Bergen for crying out loud - I'm sure it'll be nasty and awful now when my friends visit. 

Today I need to do laundry, clean my room, make a blog post or two on the study abroad blog. And STUDY.

But it's hard. :) I've still only sorted 1/3 of the photos from the Faroes. If that makes me sound lazy, consider how many I took -

Eysturoy (Where Uni lives, plus the highest mountain, the natural harbour Gjogv, etc) - 2,527
Streymoy (The capital, the mountain road, Kirkjubøur, Saksun...) - 2,149
Suðuroy (Southern Island, cliffs and stuff) - 1,715
Vágar (Western Island, waterfall and islets) - 626
Norðuroyggjar (Northern Islands of Viðoy, Kunoy, Kalsoy, and Borðoy) - 3,512

The Faroe Islands in 25 Pictures

I wouldn't go so far as to call this my '25 best pictures from the Faroe Islands'. I haven't even looked at half of the pictures yet! But this was the summary I threw together to show my Norwegian class, and I think it gives some idea of the spirit and diversity of the landscapes and villages. :)

The Faroese Forests

Sometimes I have this funny idea that I want to make really misleading travel posters. Pictures that were taken in the country but haven't captured its average, its stereotype, its feel, whatever. And I'm torn between just humourously misleading, and trying to showcase another aspect of the place that's too often overlooked. Snowy Italian Alps. Modern Architecture in Norway. The sunny beaches of Scotland.

And right now I have this desire to make a troll post about the "Faroese Forests" with pictures I've taken from their specially planted groves inside of towns. (the Faroes do not have natural forests, or even trees.) You can read about the 'tree situation' in the Faroes here: http://faroesestamps.blogspot.com/2011/04/europa-2011-forests.html They did a quite good job finding motifs for those stamps, but in fact I recognized immediately what both of them depict (I mean the exact place!)- that's how little forested area there is in the Faroes! :)

Halfway Point

It snowed a bit last night. I can't be sure, but it could easily be my last Bergen snowfall.

And the trees are still bare, so the mountains are still purple - and I'm used to them that way.

But there are tight little buds on branch and twig.

I think the city's going to explode into Spring while I'm gone.

It's my halfway point in Norway...

Racism and Hunger Games

The older I get, the more I realize how sheltered I was in West County from sexism, racism, etc. I had such a strict image in my mind of what a 'racist' or a 'sexist' was - and they were always over-the-top, exaggerated, idiots who were either out-in-the-sticks ignorant or old-as-dirt.

An example - a lot of people are tweeting about The Hunger Games, explaining their disillusionment with the decision to cast some of the characters as black. This isn't the simple, "Rue being black threw me off a bit since for some reason I expected her to look more like Prim," or something - which you can tell probably has some sort of borderline racism underneath, but maybe not - it would have thrown me off if Rue had had bright red hair, for example. But just that - it would have struck me as a bit strange in the first scene, but it wouldn't have affected the emotions.

But there are two things about this situation that make it far worse than that -

1.) They shouldn't be so surprised. The author described Rue as having 'dark skin'. And I believe Rue's district was described as being 'black' (not as sure about this, it's been awhile since I read the book.) The country of Panem is based on America, which has black people in it. So it's not like there's suddenly a gratuitous black character in The Last Samurai or Robin Hood. It both fits the world, and it fits what the author wrote about the character.

Actually, if you want to get technical, Rue is just as good of a fit, physically, for what the author wrote as Katniss. I had the idea that Katniss had all sorts of genetic mixing (as was implied in the books), and that she would be quite dark, sort of Mediterranean looking (black hair and olive skin, the book says). Instead they cast the girl from Winter's Bone, who was very pale and blonde in that movie. But guess what? They darkened her hair and skin a bit, and though I still thought she looked a few shades lighter than I expected, it wasn't a problem in the world or the role - also because, in the book, it's a bit strange that Katniss is so dark while her mother and sister are blonde and blue eyed.

2.) The comments are far, far worse than "that's not what I expected."

Examples:

"Kk call me racist but when I found out rue was black her death wasn't as sad. #ihatemyself."
"Awkward moment when Rue is some black girl and not the little blonde innocent girl you picture."
"why does rue have to be black gonna lie kinda ruined the movie."


What is wrong with the world, seriously??

Ugly new Blogger

Yuck, Blogger looks totally different now, and it's definitely for the worse. What is it these days with all the websites going to big, ugly, white boxes? The changes are always so random and negative in my opinion. I Naur Celedril is half a diary for me - and the new layout really takes that feeling away - it's so sterile, empty, and ugly. :( Sometimes I feel like all the website developers make these changes just to show you how powerless you are. And now when I post something I get to see information on how many times each of my posts has been viewed. WHY? I could have accessed that information before, but now it's up in my face - and it's not that kind of blog. 

Flash Cards and Hyperpolyglots

"At the end of his story, however, he finds a surprise in Mezzofanti’s archive: flashcards. Stacks of them, in Georgian, Hungarian, Arabic, Algonquin and nine other tongues. The world’s most celebrated hyperpolyglot relied on the same tools given to first-year language-learners today. The conclusion? Hyperpolyglots may begin with talent, but they aren’t geniuses. They simply enjoy tasks that are drudgery to normal people. The talent and enjoyment drive a virtuous cycle that pushes them to feats others simply shake their heads at, admiration mixed with no small amount of incomprehension."

- http://www.economist.com/node/21542170

Narrative

We construct a narrative for ourselves, and that's the thread that we follow from one day to the next. People who disintegrate as personalities are the ones who lose that thread.   Auster, Paul

Wake Up and Study...

Talking to Nadine all the time and playing board games recently, along with realizing I'm almost at the halfway point of my semester here, have all served as wake-up calls that my Norwegian can use some work and that I'm going to have to actually, well, work to get it there! :D So I'm going to start actually writing down words I learn, words I don't know and need to know, etc, and making flash cards out of them. My Norwegian course is teaching me a few words, and reinforcing a lot of the grammar, but I need a serious vocab booster to compensate for the years of learning Norwegian by internet and having an easily-accessed, easily-forgotten dictionary on hand.

But just now, it's sunny and beautiful. First sun longer than five minutes in the last weeks. Weather forecast says it'll be nice for two whole hours, until 12 noon. Lol, and it's the day after St. Patrick's Day. Life is cruel.

Win Win Win

Fjordtrip Wednesday was awesome. Nadine and I picked up this French girl, Laure, from Couchsurfing, and then the three of us went down to the docks and caught the boat out to Rosendal. The boat was sparsely filled and we were the only tourists. The fog was so thick at first that we couldnt see anything, passing under the Sotra bridge we could barely see the outline. It started to rise later so we could see a thin line of shore and houses, but still dense grey above and below that. Then later the mist thinned out a bit and we even had a few minutes of sunlight. I took so many pictures that the workers came over and told us that we could actually go out on top (just none of the commuters normally cared to). So up we went and enjoyed the minute of filtered sunlight through the fog. :)

I was surprised when we arrived in Rosendal because I only recognized the church a bit, in the fog I couldn't see any mountains or anything else and it was a bit anticlimactic to arrive. But the trip wasn't that expensive and I hadn't spent hours working up expectations over photos, so I was pretty relaxed and luckily so were the other two girls. We walked up and took some pictures at the church, then followed a path I had read about up the very low mountain next to the town. The fog was thick but very scenic and atmospheric wrapping around the fences and trees and sheep. It all felt very medieval even when it barely felt like Norway, it was still cool! Got some artsy shots of my feet running down the paths, and, at the top, the three of us balancing on the thin wooden boardwalks. Then, realizing we couldn't quite make it up all the way (and that there was no view to make it worth it), we stopped and ate lunch on a rock in the fog before heading back down.

On the way back down the fog started lifting just a bit. No longer did we feel encased by white and grey. Before long we could see a bit of water down below. And, as we came out into the village, we could see a mountain emerge clearly from the mist. And then, we realized that among the clouds, we were looking at patches of snow. There were big, snow covered mountains, right in front of us! The weather continued to clear and for the last half hour in Rosendal, we had glorious sun, blue skies, and mountains!!! Unbelievable! I was so, so, so happy that Nadine got to see some of Norway in decent weather. We looked behind us after a long time and were shocked to see more mountains there! We were surrounded! A real fjord!!!

Wednesday morning I said goodbye to Nadine! It was such a lovely visit, speaking Norwegian and reminiscing about Spain and Germany and chatting about languages and all the rest. :) Just the same a week is a decent amount of time to have someone over, even a great guest like Nadine who happily does the washing up and makes tea! So it's nice to have my tiny room to myself again in some ways!

Then it was time for the ski trip! Subsidized by the university for students, it was quite a good deal although having to rent all the ski stuff made it a deal more expensive. I played with the idea of renting mountain skis from the outdoor club. It would have been 1/4 of the price, but they're not nearly as good for downhill and they don't have my exact size. I'm glad I didn't do it that way in the end.

This was my third time skiing downhill and it was great! I felt like I had the basics down this time and could really enjoy myself from the get-go. Lorna and I spent the day on blue-rated slopes without falling. I played with trying to move faster as the day went on, sometimes I felt like I would fall but I never did, not doing that at least. It was really fun to have the confidence in doing the basic things and be able to test my limits a tiny bit. I know now that I can just go skiing and, at least on the easy-intermediate slopes, give it a go on my own, without falling unless I'm playing around, trying something out. :D And that feels good!

But we did decide to take the chair lift way up to the top, where we should have been able to take blue all the way down. But the fog was really intense and we were quite nervous when we realized how high up into the fog the chairlift went. Then it was hard to follow the markers and even the other people, and with the avalanche risk we were really afraid of accidentally going off-piste. We ended up on a red-rated slope for awhile which was a bit tricky but we actually managed. When we got back to a blue area, the piste was really narrow and that was actually harder for me! No room to turn, and I'm not as good at snow-plowing as Lorna is! So I fell about three times in a row there, my only falls of the day but the first one especially was not nice, the skis didn't come off and I wished they had, my legs were twisted around but once I got the skis off and stood up, they were pretty much okay and I was able to keep skiing the rest of the day.

Awesome! :D

Today I met Magda to work on our presentation for class. She took me to this really cool student 'cafe' hidden away in the University. Couches, board games, books, microwave, tables, really relaxed. You can get some cheap food, coffee, hot chocolate, etc... and for the drinks its not even mandatory to pay, there's just a donation box. I got hot chocolate and paid the suggested donation of 5 crowns. This is so so cheap for Norway. And no problem eating your own food, etc. I almost wished I had to study more often here, the place was so great!! When I have to write my papers after Denmark, I'm going to go there. :D

We had computer problems but in the end we finished the presentation in exactly the perfect time and were able to present without issues. Then we went into groups for the quiz showdown. I was absent Thursday so I couldn't help that much with the first part of the quiz, and anyway both teams did very well and were about evenly matched. Then the last question, for a lot of bonus points, was about the Norwegian national anthem! Which no one knew but me, apparently. :D So we got so many bonus points for that that my team won handily. Yay!
 
On the way home, I checked my mail. Still no micro curries from Nash (;_;), but I did have a postcard! From my suitemate Elin! It was a picture she took secretly of me during my birthday and sent using a phone application. Super cool. :D

I went home, ate super Norwegian fish-sticks and potatoes for dinner, had a Faroese lesson with Uni, and then joined Emma and Lars for awhile. The two of them have had a very long, hard, but hilarious to hear about week. But we drank a bit and Lars told me all about the three Norwegian national anthems. :D This was his idea actually, so funny after what I'd done earlier in the day. I knew also about one of the older ones but not the 'official stortinget' song. So something new as well. :D Lars kept doing cheers with me when I knew random things about Norway. ^^ They really like to feel appreciated here. We all joined in for rousing renditions of various national songs, I did an awful Star Spangled Banner and we debated what the best national anthem for the States would be. And Emma told me I could have her plants and other things from her room when she moves out. (But I'm so sad that she's leaving.... when I said that Lars said, "oh yeah, that's what I should have said." Apparently, when Emma gave him the offer of something from her room, he just said, "Yeah, I'll take your kitchen tongs." XD)

Downstairs for Club Alrek. I ended up playing a Norwegian game that they told me I couldn't play if I didn't speak Norwegian. I said I did but I realized the game would be quite hard at my level. Still it's a relaxed environment and I decided to give it a go and have fun with it anyway. Basically you get a difficult word/acronym/foreign term, etc, that no one is really expected to know, and you write a definition for it. They put those definitions together with the real one, and read them. You vote for the one you think is right. Then, you get a point for everyone who voted for your answer, and you get a point if you voted for the right answer. At first I did awful, I mean everyone could tell which answers were mine because of the unimaginative vocabulary and the bad grammar at times. :D But still it was fun, and I learned some words. Ffinlo came and joined my Team Foreigner effort. We got a few points from guessing a right answer or two, one decent made up definition, and Lars right before he had to leave randomly, accidentally voting for our answer.

But still we were way, way behind. Until we won. This was how -

You get a ton of bonus points if you actually write the correct definition.

- One question was - What does the Latin expression "Quantum scio, non est." mean?

- Another - What do Faroese people mean when they say Mikudager?

"As far as I know, it's not that way." and "Wednesday."

Win Win Win. :D 6 years of Latin education, so much Faroese studying, all so worth it haha.

But yeah, just a few great days, fun times! I love all my roommates and all the other people who live here in Alrek! Great community. <3

Nadine's Visit

Spring and Bergen are both finally living up to their reputations.

There's nothing but rain and fog everywhere!

I wouldn't mind so much - after all, I've had a lovely Norwegian winter and I'm looking forward to the summer - but Nadine's only here for this week and it would be great if she could see a bit of the Bergen I love.

Oh well. We've had fun anyway, making quesadillas, pizza, chocolate chip cookies, bacon-mushroom pasta and all that jazz...

Climbing up Sandviksfjellet for a brilliant night-time view and wandering around the Stavkirke in a mysterious, sinister fog.

And Wednesday, we're planning a tiny little fjord trip. :)

Fun times in Bergen

Yesterday I successfully hijacked my Norwegian class for the final 45 minutes so that we could talk about bad words to call men and women. This was inspired by my trying to describe what happened with Rush Limabaugh with my unimaginative Norwegian vocabulary. "He called her a bad woman!" Yep.

One word had my teacher trying to explain it as "an older woman, who gossips, and who..." and she did this certain gesture of pulling her elbows in and moving her hands towards her chest as if trying to shrink her boobs or something.

First I nodded as if this made sense. Then my brain caught up.

"Excuse me, she does what?"

"She does..." And then the teacher laughed and laughed at herself.

It was a good day.

Afterwards I picked up a couchsurfer from the train station, told him what to do downtown and went to Lehmkuhlhallen to go climbing. Unfortunately the hall was already full! I didn't know that could happen!

But the silver lining was that Yinon (the couchsurfer) was quite grateful to have a tour guide. We walked around Bryggen and to the old fortress for a bit of a view. Then, this morning, we went back downtown, he found out about his fjord options, and we walked up Mt. Fløyen. You could just barely make out the view in the rain and fog. But up at the top it was snowing a bit, and that helped make it worth it. We wandered through the troll forest and Yinon did his souvenir shopping. The shop on top of Floyen is actually reasonably priced, for Norway. Then I sent him off to another host for tonight, since I need to get ready for Nadine and my birthday. But first he gave me a Jerusalem magnet and a big package of Dead Sea Mud.

Definitely the coolest present I've gotten from a Couchsurfer! Ballin'!

Couchsurfing is truly a win-win. It's obvious that Yinon got a free place to stay, a free breakfast, and a free tour. Meanwhile I got a good excuse to get out of the house on my boring day of the week, some information about modern-day Israel, a free kebab dinner and hot chocolate up on the mountain, and a package of mud. :)

Lucky

I've covered this topic before, but here's yet another, subtly different, spin on it.

I get annoyed by all these awesome travel bloggers and nomads telling people, "I'm not lucky, stop saying I'm lucky, anyone can have my life! I just work hard!"

Come on. Some people are working way harder than you just to put a roof over their heads or food in their children's mouths.

At the same time, part of me relates to the way the bloggers are annoyed by friends, family, and total strangers about living such a charmed (and, the insinuation is, easy) life.

Here's the deal, folks.

World travellers are very, very lucky.

And they work. Sort of hard.

They do make sacrifices. They do encounter discomfort. They do not spend every day wandering through a fog of happy-happy joy-joy.

But if being able to follow a life entirely of your choosing, with an almost absolute freedom beyond what 99.99% of the world's population could ever dream of, is not luck... I don't know what is.

Spring Happy!

It's spring in Bergen!!

Yesterday I walked up Sandviksfjellet for the first time! It was challenging but awesomely efficient to go up the world's steepest race track, Stoltzekleiven, as a brisk walking pace and suddenly pop up with a brilliant view of sea, sea, sea sparkling in brilliant sunlight!  I'll never get sick of mountains! Even though I could easily see Rundemanen, Fløyen, Ulriken, and Løvstakken (all mountains I've done before), from Sandvik, and although it wasn't close to the highest, I still got a fresh and lovely thrill from the new angle and the new season of sunshine, and, at least for a few brief minutes in bright sunshine and following strenuous activity, t-shirt weather! Never would have dreamed the climate would be THIS mild in Bergen!

Today I think I'm going to Sotra, this island closing Bergen from the open sea, with my friend Emma! I Google imaged and streetviewed it and it looks lovely! That's a super underrated tool I used for Northern Lights hunting as well. A big Erasmus group from Fantoft apparently dropped about $50 each to go to some island on a commuter ferry, sight-unseen. They were really disappointed. I google image and street viewed it, and no wonder! Looks like the most boring place in Norway. Sotra on the other hand looks way better. Squee!

I've been waking up earlier and happier lately! Life is so amazing!

Norwegian Groceries

I got all excited today when I found chicken curry salad in the grocery store here in Bergen. I hoped it would be like the yummy coronation chicken stuff in Scotland. No such luck - it's close, but too mayonnaisey. Way too mayonnaisey. I don't even like mayo. :)

But, I will probably eat it anyway. Norway is cementing the lessons I've been learning over the years about not wasting food, eating healthy, and doing so on a budget.

I've basically come to the conclusion that, if you eat modestly but still treat yourself to the things you want, like ice cream and chocolate and even meat a few times a week, and only cook at home, from scratch or whatever's cheapest, everything store-brand, you can manage here on $10 a day - $70 a week. Funny, that's about what I spend at home, but that's eating tons of ready made stuff, buying exotic stuff half for fun, and eating out essentially whenever.

That's not how it works here. I can't waste anything. I plan my meals and if I know that bit of cheese is going to go bad, I make a plan to get it in my stomach first. And things seem to go bad faster here, as well - is it lack of preservatives, or just my paranoia?

Anyway, it more or less works out that I get to make two-three 'big meals' a week. This means something with meat in it and maybe special ingredients. Something I will eat of of for two or three days. My favourites are different varieties of baked salmon (pesto that I can eat with spaghetti, or teriyaki with jasmine rice and vegetables), and the ever-good thai red curry with chicken, carrots, and bamboo shoots. This week I'm thinking of trying a Moo Kure. Looks like the cheapest meat here is ground chicken, and I could use that for Moo Kure or Larb. Definitely a consideration.

For breakfast I usually eat kefir with corn flakes and musli. I fill in gap and lazy meals with spaghetti and garlic bread, or fish sticks and potatoes, or shrimp sandwiches. Snacks are popcorn, peanuts, chocolate, a milkshake, and occasionally something Norwegian like waffles, lefser, or gingerbread cookies.