Eek! (A Halloween Tale of Horror!)

A bit of background, before my spooky story begins. There is no drywall or sheetrock in our house--most of the walls and ceilings are made of pine boards. The exceptions are the ceilings in the living room and the office, where some sort of thin, white, stretchy plastic cover has been pulled taut across the ceiling. It looks just like a typical sheetrock ceiling, and in fact I had no idea it wasn't until I needed to change a lightbulb, put my hand up to steady myself, and was very surprised to feel the ceiling give a bit to the pressure of my palm. Anyway, on with my creepy tale.
Late last night I was checking email one final time before going to bed when I heard a strange noise from above...kind of like raindrops on a tent. Imagine my shock when I looked up and saw something in the ceiling moving! It was a mouse! I could tell because I could see each poinky little mouse paw stretch the ceiling ever so slightly as it ran along over my head, making a scritchy, pitter patter sound. I know to most people, the horror of this story is the fact that there was a mouse suspended above my head in my strange, stretchy ceiling, but I was actually concerned that it would get trapped and die up there, so I consulted Kevin (who had been sleeping). He was, justifiably, not pleased to be awakened by my shrill voice babbling about a mouse stuck in the ceiling, and sagely advised me, "If it found its way into the ceiling, it will find its way out. I'm going back to bed." He was right, as by the time I returned to the office, the ceiling was still. But now I can't stop worrying about the fate of the mouse...what if it cheated death in the ceiling only to later find itself whisker to whisker with one of the cats? As I have established in previous blog entries, Toonces (pictured above trying to squeeze himself out of his kitty teepee) enjoys eating. So far, so good, there are no mouse entrails on my floor, no fat cats smugly licking their chops. Hopefully my spooky encounter will not take a gory, gratuitously violent turn after all!

The Picture Below is Not a Bear!

It really is such a small world--one of Kevin's childhood friends now lives in Oslo. The last time they saw each other was about 19 years ago, and here they both are, living in Norway. We had plans to get together for dinner last night in Oslo, and decided to meet by the tiger statue outside of the central train station. (Kevin insisted it was a bear statue, until I asked him what kind of freaky bear has stripes and a long tail! I think he has bears on the brain after all the recent bear attacks along the Swedish border! http://www.aftenposten.no/english/local/article2048344.ece ) Anyway, because almost 20 years have passed since Kevin last saw his friend, he wasn't really sure if they would recognize each other. When I asked what his friend looked like, Kevin said, "He has light brown hair, he's about my age..." That didn't narrow it down too much, so when an incredibly inebriated man (who was in his 30's with light brown hair) pulled up to the tiger statue on his bicycle and started screaming, I nervously asked, "Is that him?" Kevin said he didn't think so, but he wasn't completely sure--at that point I was hoping we could just sneak back inside the train station and get away! Luckily, Kevin's friend walked up to us a couple of minutes later (and he was completely sober and not ranting at all!) so we headed up Karl Johansgate to the restaurant. We had a great time at dinner and then went to a fantastic Irish pub for a drink.
Oslo is such a fun city--Kevin's friend told us about one of his favorite bars which has an ocean theme--huge fish tanks everywhere, walls and ceiling painted as if they were underwater. Not only is the decor unique, opera singers perform there nightly--can you imagine drinking a cocktail and listening to opera all while enjoying a submarine view? I know I only have 13 days left in Norway, but I really want to go there! Oh well, I just need to keep reminding myself that I will be back a lot for visits when Kevin travels here for work...there will still be time to make it to Svalbard and Lofoten and even the underwater opera bar!

Three Things I Learned Today

One of Kevin's coworkers stopped by our house this afternoon. Everyone is always very interested in our house, and I have never quite understood the curiosity. I'm always happy to oblige, though, so we gave this guy the "grand tour" of our house. He told me that the house was designed by Arnstein Arneberg, a very famous Norwegian architect. Arneberg was one of two architects who designed Oslo's town hall (Rådhuset) which you can see here: http://oslo-norway.ca/attractions/radhus.html Kevin and I were really surprised to hear this--why in the world would a house designed by such a revered architect be allowed to slowly fall apart, rented out to riff-raff like us for a pittance? It kind of makes me sad, and I really hope that whoever ends up here next takes good care of the old house.

I didn't just learn that our house has illustrious beginnings, I also found out that the strange, straw wallpaper in our study (which reminds me of the "Trading Spaces" episode where Hildi glued hay all over a living room wall) is very special and in high demand. I guess it's handmade in this area of Norway and decorated a couple of the walls in part of the World Trade Center. It also covers the walls of a famous jeweller on 5th Avenue in New York City...I guess it makes sense that an art-hater like me wouldn't see the value and beauty of the straw wallpaper!

The third thing I learned was that when faced nose to nose with a daschund puppy, my dogs will not mistake it for a tasty hot dog and will not chomp it down in one bite. Kevin's coworker brought his adorable 7 month old puppy to visit, and while I was concerned about Kermit and Honey turning cannibal on the tiny dog, they actually behaved themselves. It was so cute to see all three dogs racing around our yard (although there were a couple of times when I thought the puppy was going to be crushed beneath Kermit's thundering paws). Anyway, now I'm sitting here all puffed up and proud of our special house, our special wallpaper and our special dogs who don't tear little weiner dogs limb from limb!

Teenagers Make Me Laugh

I had an amusing conversation with a Norwegian 14 year old the other day:

14 year old: I love the show "Fresh Prince of Bel Air"--is that what America is really like?

Me: Um, no, I mean I guess there are a few people who really live in mansions with pools by the ocean, but most of us definitely do not.

14 year old: I also watch "The O.C."--is that how it is in America?

Me: Um, again, no, a tiny percentage of Americans live that way, but most of us do not. Even though lots of our T.V. shows are set in California, there are a bunch of states that don't border an ocean, that get snow in the winter, where average people live in modest houses and drive modest cars.

14 year old: I really like to watch "America's Funniest Home Videos"--is that what it is like in America?

Me: *blink, blink* Um, yeah, actually, that's pretty much how it is in America.

14 year old: Awesome!

Dead Inside

Yesterday I went to an art gallery with a friend. The gallery is housed inside the oldest building in Gjøvik which was originally a glass blowing factory. Is it wrong that I found the old building (and the gorgeous red tree outside the building) more moving than the art inside? Seriously, I don't know what's wrong with me, but art galleries generally leave me cold. I love Van Gogh (but only his later work, the early paintings which imitate the Dutch masters do nothing for me) but that's kind of where my list of art that I appreciate ends. I have been to the National Gallery in Oslo several times because everyone who has visited us has wanted to go, but other than one Solberg painting, my favorite part of the National Gallery is the architecture of the building itself. Art brings such joy and inspiration to so many people, yet I'm all "meh" when I look at it...I'm dead inside, I tell you!

Woo Hoo!

I started blogging about a year ago, and my first entry was about closing on the sale of our former house in New York. 12 months have passed and we have come full circle--we just closed on the purchase of our new house in New York. (We didn't actually personally close since we're not in the U.S. right now, but our attorney signed the paperwork for us.) Anyway, it's official--the house is ours! We have a guy lined up to rip out the carpeting and replace it all with porcelain tiles, we have another guy scheduled to install a wrought iron fence to contain the dogs, we have all kinds of crazy plans to blast the back wall out of the lower level and put in glass doors and a patio. It's very stressful but so exciting too. I keep telling the dogs in a manic, high pitched voice that they will have their very own lake to swim in...they just tilt their heads and look worried that I have gone a bit mad and may forget to feed them!

(Sorry about the crappy house picture--we mostly took photos of things like the furnace and the fuse box when we were house hunting. This was one of the only exterior shots I got...oh well, as you can see it is made of brick and there is a big lake behind it. Again, woo hoo!)

A Random Question

What's with all the bunnies in Norway? Granted, my sample size is pretty small, but among the tiny circle of people I know here, 2 have cats, 1 has a dog, 1 has a cat and a dog, and 6 have pet rabbits. I think that the whole time I lived in the U.S., I only ever met 3 people who had bunnies. Why is there such a difference in my completely non-scientifically gathered samples? Do Norwegians know something about rabbits that Americans don't know? Does anyone have any insight?

Nostalgia

I'm still in Norway, but I'm not, in psychobabble terms, "fully present." My mind is already in November, in the new house, in my new car, with my old friends, back in my "real life." Every day I tick one more task off the massive list of things to do before we move--today I went to the vet clinic and got the pets' rabies certificates to add to their growing folders of health records. Later, I might start shredding all the newspaper to line their crates, or I might try to purge my closets of a few more things I don't want to bring to the U.S. (Or I might hang out on the couch watching DVDs--Kevin bought me the complete "Ally McBeal" set when he was in China last month and I can't wait to watch all the neurosis!) Even though I'm eagerly moving on, every once in a while I feel a twinge of sadness about leaving. There were three magpies hopping around in the yard this afternoon. I love seeing those dapper, glossy, black and white birds, but they are not found in New York. Neither are hedgehogs (not that I have actually ever seen any here, but every evening I know that there is the potential to spot one waddling along). While there are moose in New York, they don't live in the area where we will be living--I could see one if we go up into the Adirondacks, but I'm never going to look out my window and see one (or three) munching on the trees in my back yard like I was able to here. There are so many other little things about life in Norway which I will miss--the candles that appear outside of open businesses as the daylight wanes, the fresh waffle stands in the streets, the tiny, sweet, juicy Norwegian strawberries, the lit ski trail that winds past our house, the white bark of all the birch trees (even though I'm crazy-allergic to them, they are really pretty). Anyway, I'm definitely elated to be moving back home, but among the feelings of joy and anticipation there are daily reminders of everything I will miss.

Monkey See, Monkey Brew!

I laughed out loud when I read this article in the paper today:
http://www.aftenposten.no/english/local/article2054876.ece
I've never actually had this soda before, but I am definitely going to buy some now!

Søsterkirkene

I dropped Kevin and his coworkers off at the airport on Monday, and on the way back I noticed a sign pointing to "Søsterkirkene." I have seen this sign many times before and always thought that I should check it out one day. Since I'm running out of days here in Norway, I finally made the detour on Monday to see these 12th century churches in Gran. The popular explanation of why the two ancient stone churches were built so close together is that a pair of sisters had a feud and each had her own church built. Who knows if there is any truth to the rumor--it's kind of hard to track down credible 900 year witnesses! The smaller church is called Mariakirke and the larger church is Nikolaikirke. There is a runestone from approximately 1050 A.D. behind Nikolaikirke which reads, "Aun R.'s sons raised (this stone) in memory of Aufi their brother. God help Aufi's soul." (I wonder if rune translation classes are offered at the university in Oslo? If so, that would be a much more interesting way to obtain foreign language credits than taking French or German classes!) There is a little dairy farm right next to the churchyard--the cows didn't seem overly impressed being surrounded by all that history. I can't imagine going about my daily business in the shadow of these medieval churches, but such is life in Norway...there are ancient smelting pits, burial mounds, runestones and church ruins around every corner.

Woof

In Norway, it is perfectly legal to wander on to someone else's property as you are going for a walk. Kevin and I enjoy this privilege frequently during our walks with the dogs across the neighboring fields. But something odd has been happening ever since we moved into our house--people will just wander into our yard, stop and stare at our house. We live at the end of a very long driveway, pretty far from any other houses. There is a ski trail which runs through the woods well behind our property, but other than our driveway, there is no path leading to our home. And yet, at least a couple of times a month, I will look out the window to see someone looking back in at me. Most of the time, they stay outside of our fence, but sometimes they will actually come into the fenced in yard. Several times I have gone to the door to say hello, but usually whoever is in our yard mumbles a quick "Hei" and hurries off. One day, two elderly ladies shuffled up to our house pushing walkers. They were the first curious visitors to stay and chat for a while. One of them asked me if I had seen any "spøkelser" yet. I wasn't sure what that word meant, so she made a terrible face, jumped at me and yelled "Roar!" I jumped back, we both laughed, and I told her that no, I hadn't seen any ghosts! Is our house known to be haunted? Is that why so many people wander into our yard and stare at it? It's kind of a creepy idea, but infinitely more reassuring than my other hypotheses that people are curious about the Americans living here and are trying to get a peek at us, or that because we live in such a remote location, criminals are casing the joint! Regardless of the reason, Kevin got annoyed yesterday when he looked out the window to see a man standing against our fence and staring at our house, so he decided to quickly let the dogs out of the door. (This isn't as mean and sadistic as it might sound. First, we do have a fence, so the dogs couldn't actually have gotten to the man. Second, they're ridiculously friendly dogs. They would never hurt anyone, but they are large with big, booming barks, so they definitely startled the man and he immediately left our yard.) Kevin left this morning for a 12 day trip to China, Singapore and the Philippines. He worries about me being on my own at the very edge of town for such a long time, so he advised me, in his most C. Montgomery Burns-esque voice, "If you see anyone lurking in the yard while I'm gone, release the hounds!"

Too Prepared

Back in July 2006, as we were packing up all our wordly possessions for Norway, I had a money-saving idea. I had heard how expensive toiletries were in Norwegian stores, so I decided to stock up in the U.S. and haul it all over. I filled two shopping carts full of shower gel, shampoo, deodorant, toothpaste, toothbrushes, mouthwash, dental floss, shaving cream, razors, lotion, lip balm and sunscreen. As the cashier started to ring up my purchases, the lady waiting behind me asked me if I had lots of daughters? I told her that I had no children. At that point, she started getting a little nervous about why I was stockpiling toiletries and asked me if I knew something that she didn't. Obviously I should have just explained the logic behind my shopping spree, but I was kind of paranoid that perhaps smuggling $400 worth of toiletries into Norway was slightly illegal. (In retrospect, first, the customs officials have their hands full with the gallons of alcohol and tons of meat smuggled over the Norwegian border every day--no one would have cared about my soap! Second, did I really think that the nosy lady in line behind me at the local WalMart was some sort of Norwegian government mole trying to bust an American soap smuggling ring?) Anyway, she didn't seem satisfied by my lame explanation that I really hate going shopping so I just stock up once a year. Suddenly the cashier and a couple of other customers were involved in the conversation and the paranoia and conspiracy theories were running rampant. As I stuffed my bags of toiletries back into the shopping carts, I firmly restated that no, I had no advance knowledge of any reason to stockpile goods, so everyone should just calm down and continue shopping normally! By the time I reached my car, I was cracking up--even if I had some kind of information and was planning to hole up in my bunker, wouldn't it have made more sense for me to buy canned goods and bottled water instead of shower gel and shaving cream? I'm no expert, but I'm pretty sure that smelling nice and getting a close shave are less important to survival than adequate nutrition!
Now that we are moving back to the U.S. in a short month, I am annoyed with myself for buying so many toiletries. We still have unopened bottles and tubes and tubs galore which will now have to be moved back. Oh well, at least I won't be freaking out about smuggling goods back across the border--they're just returning to their rightful home after a lengthy Norwegian vacation!

It Was the Best of Times, It Was the Worst of Times...

Last night, I took the train down to Oslo to have dinner with Victoria of the hilarious http://victoriasguidetonorway.blogspot.com/ . She is even funnier and sweeter in person, if that is possible, and I had such a great time chatting with her over dinner and drinks. I was having so much fun (and perhaps one too many cocktails) that I kind of lost track of the time. When I did finally check a clock, I realized that I had about 15 minutes to get from the bar on Aker Brygge to the central train station. After an evening of drinking cocktails, I really needed a bathroom, but there was just no time so I figured I'd use the facilities on the train. We were able to hail a cab quickly and somehow I did end up at the train station about 2 minutes before my train was scheduled to depart. I barely had a chance to say goodbye to Victoria, and took off running for my train. I reached the platform, panting, red in the face, but extremely grateful that the train to Gjøvik was still there. A lady stopped me and told me that there was no reason to rush, the train had mechanical problems and had been cancelled. She said we would be picked up in about 10 minutes, and I stupidly assumed she meant that we would be picked up by another train. Um, no. We were herded onto a couple of little shuttle buses. Everyone was speaking quickly in Norwegian and I got really confused, but another helpful woman explained that if I was indeed going to Gjøvik, I should get on the bus. At this point I was rather unhappy about the whole situation because I still really had to pee and there was no bathroom on the little bus. Also, I tend to suffer from motion sickness on buses, but luckily I was prepared and had a Dramamine tablet in my purse. Unfortunately, I didn't have anything to drink, but I figured that I could probably swallow it dry. Yeah, that didn't quite happen...instead, the tablet got lodged halfway down my throat. I tried subtly coughing a couple of times to no avail. I decided that since I was already well known among my fellow passengers as the slightly tipsy stupid American who couldn't figure out that I was supposed to get on the bus, I didn't want to also be known as the slightly tipsy stupid American who was making nasty cat-hacking-up-a-hairball sounds, so I gave up. It was a loooonnnngggg ride. I kept my legs tightly crossed while my face turned green, but I did eventually make it home without further incident. Seriously, as bad as the bus ride was, it was totally worth it--I am so glad I got the chance to meet Victoria in person. If we have an opportunity to get together again, though, I think I'll drive!

It's Only October!!!

You know what I said yesterday, about it being so hard to adjust to driving differences? Scratch that. What's really hard to adjust to is going from sunny, 80 degree weather to snow! The dogs are slightly more enthusiastic about our frosty yard than I am--I didn't know it was possible for them to be more cheerful and frisky than they are every day, but today there was an extra bounce in their steps and a twinkle in their eyes as they romped in the snow. As for me, I'm just worried about driving on the slippery, slushy roads. Today is not the day to forget about the "yield to the right" law and have to slam on my brakes!

Travelling Woes

In my opinion, the worst thing about travelling is the adjustment period once you return home. I have never been particularly good at driving in Norway--it's not all that different from driving in the U.S., but with the round abouts, all the signs in kilometers, and a couple of baffling driving laws, I sometimes find myself making stupid and dangerous errors. Especially after spending a couple of weeks in the U.S. with its wide lanes, huge parking spaces, stop signs, traffic lights and high speed limits. To me, the most frustrating and hazardous Norwegian law is yielding to traffic coming from the right. Instead of stop signs, as you approach an intersection you must slow down and if anyone is coming from the right, you must stop for them. This is a tough rule for me to wrap my American brain around, and today, as I was driving back from the grocery store, still a bit jet lagged and stupid, I kind of forgot all about it. Oops! A huge dump truck careened out from a side road right in front of me. I slammed on my brakes, all my groceries tumbled from the back seat of the car to the floor, and I might have released a stream of obscenities. Thankfully, I didn't hit the truck, but I was shaking, my adrenaline was pumping and I broke out in a cold sweat. I have no one to blame but myself and if I had hit the truck it would have been completely my fault. I drove soooooo slowly and cautiously the rest of the way home...hopefully by tomorrow my brain will have caught up with the rest of my body and realize that we aren't in New York any more. On the flip side, whenever I arrive back in the U.S. from Norway and I first pull out onto the thruway, I feel like I am flying...until I look at the speedometer and see that I'm going a paltry 55 m.p.h.

(The photo above is of the Chicago skyline as seen from O'Hare airport.)

Foliage Photos

On Saturday, Kevin, my mom and I joined the masses in the Adirondacks for some Columbus Day weekend "leaf peeping." I'm not sure who coined that term, but it cracks me up, so every autumn I liberally pepper my conversations with it! Anyway, it was a warm, gorgeous day, the leaves were stunning and I took tons of pictures.

We're safely back in Norway now and it is decidedly colder than it was in New York. I am bundled up in layers and feeling pitifully cold, tired and jet lagged. It could be worse--I could be cold, tired and jet lagged and on another plane back to the U.S. right now. Yep, I almost didn't make it through passport control today at Gardemoen. The stern woman stamping passports spent a long time rifling through mine and told me that I have been in Norway too much this year. I was a bit taken aback, as I had understood that as long as I didn't spend more than 3 consecutive months in Norway, I wasn't breaking any rules. Apparently, I was wrong. Luckily when she looked me up in the computer, she saw that my 1 year residency permit is waiting for me at the police station, so she reluctantly let me through with a stern warning.

Even though I wasn't exactly welcomed back to Norway with open arms, our pets have become cherished Norwegian citizens. When we arrived home, there was a note on the kitchen table from the boy who takes care of our cats for us when we're out of town. He wrote about how much he loves our cats and how much he will miss them when we move. It was the sweetest letter, I swear I almost teared up while reading it! Later, we drove out to Randsfjorden to pick the dogs up from the kennel, and the lady who runs the kennel got a little misty eyed saying goodbye to our dogs. She even sent a big bag of chewies with them as a final farewell. I can see why the pets have made such a positive impression on everyone who meets them--they are joyful, friendly and cuddly and I am so glad to be back at home with them now!

Wacky (and Delicious) America

While waiting here at the airport for my flight back to Oslo, I have had a chance to reflect on the last couple of weeks in the U.S. I had a great time and am still very happy and excited to be moving back, but with all due respect, the U.S. is kind of food-crazy! On our Delta flight out to the midwest, our rather eccentric flight attendant made a speech about juvenile diabetes...she then proceeded to hand out sugary candy to further raise awareness about the disease. Isn't that akin to handing out cigarettes to raise lung cancer awareness? I cracked up (as I gobbled down the sweets)! In Iowa, we went to a restaurant that advertised deep fat fried macaroni and cheese nugget appetizers. As I was laughing about the insane amount of saturated fat that must be in each congealed, cheesy morsel, my friend Cathy told me that she had recently seen a Paula Dean cooking show where Paula taught her viewers to whip up deep fat fried pats of butter! Seriously!?!? And I still can't get over how many new candy products have emerged on the market since I first moved to Norway. Mint flavored 3 Musketeers, Take 5 bars, a soft, cakey version of Oreos...the list goes on and on. (No, I didn't actually sample all of these treats, I just noticed them in the grocery store. I swear.) Anyway, I'm off to the land of rakfisk and lutefisk now...hmm, maybe that deep fried butter doesn't sound so weird after all!

Wonderful Weekend

We had the best time in Iowa City this past weekend! Kevin and I met up with one of my best and oldest friends, Jen, and her husband Steve, and we had an amazing time reminiscing and catching up together. I might have had a bit too much to drink (and WAY too much to eat!) but it was seriously the most fun I have had in so long. We're back in New York now, wrapping up a few loose ends with the new house and the new cars before the big move. I guess this is the last visit home, as the next time we're back in New York it will be for good. I'm ready, I'm excited, I'm still freaking out a little...