The Monkey Brain

I am beginning to see what writers mean when they say they have a block.  Perhaps it is not for lack of something to say, but because of a lack of salient organization of what one cannot stop saying in one's head.  My thoughts lately resemble any one of the following things: John's desk, our kitchen junk drawer, my underwear drawer, our compost pile, Pebbles' and Rosceaux's toybox, everyone's front yard in Bergen.  I have actually attempted to put a stop to all thinking about why I am here, in order to be truly happy for at least half of my time.  And it has been working so well, that I have nearly ceased to be aware of what I am experiencing anymore.  


I came here under the auspices of deciding whether or not John and I could make a go of living here.  Of working for awhile, and actually creating some sort of life here.  You cannot imagine how difficult that decision can be, when faced with trying to interpret EVERYTHING you encounter against this backdrop: "Oh, look at THIS view!  Look at THIS house!  Wonder what it would be like living in THIS neighborhood?  Where is the bus-stop?  Where is the grocery store?  How much IS a car?  How much IS gas?  What will I be doing for work?  Where will we walk our dogs?  HOW will we get our animals here?  How much does it rain, again?  Can we live without a garage?  How much $$ can we earn?  What kind of house can we afford to rent on that?"   Blah blah blah

I think THIS house has a STELLAR view!

...don'tcha think?

Basically, none of my thinking amounts to much because it is ALL out of context.  None of my feelings are complete, because I am here alone (sans husband), not working, not having my pets here, etc.  It is all out of context.  

Vacationing is not what I thought I came here for, but in reality, it seems to be what this has become.  And for that, I am beginning to feel VERY guilty.  Context is the root of my problem, it appears.  I am here, but I am not really "here".  I felt this the other day on the bus, and it was truly weird.  Does this "here/not here" show up on my face as some kind of leprosy or something?  Because during all 4 rides I took, NO-ONE sat next to me.  It actually felt strange.  

Ok, so everyone says to make 2 lists of pro's and con's....as if that's what will help me.  Little do they know what trivial things I can put on a list.  Here's one for the "Pro's":

MY kind of hand-held shopping basket....the kind you don't have to HOLD!

And the follow-up "Con"?:  Your unemployment check is taxed at the lower 35% income tax.    That seems like a reasonable comparison, right?  How about this one in the "Pro's":  

Spring has Sprung!  On Skrudderdalen, just MOMENTS from downtown Bergen

Let's see......what's a follow-up "Con"?.....Oh, I signed up for an on-line Norwegian class because all their live classes are full with a 1 month waiting list, and I had to register in person with my passport, then was told the instructor would contact me (which she did 1 week later, which was wow-fast! according to everyone), and then we set up an appt. for the first meeting for the following week, and I finally got the bill in the mail a week later, and I need to go in person to pay it, and then email a scanned copy of the receipt back to the instructor to show it has been paid.  Hm.  I wonder if they'll take Visa?  Ok, one more:

Stellar city bike paths EVERYWHERE

Con:  Not being able to figure out where the hell I'm going....

What it boils down to is this:  Experiencing a culture and learning to LIVE in it are 2 completely different things.  When I wake in the morning, I am making breakfast....and eating no differently than I would at home.  I am listening to Radio-Norge, which is playing mainly British and American hits.  When I hike, I could be hiking in Olympic National Park, it looks almost the same.  It is only when I attempt to "do" things when it hits me.   Like, where ARE the bathrooms in the shopping mall, and do I have to pay to use them?  How DO I ask for a bag at the grocery store?  Shit, what was that word again?  I need to add money to my bus card.....how DO I do that again, and what buttons do I push on the bus-card-reader when I board in order to not look like the stupid, let's-face-it tourist, that I am?  How will I look for a job?  How will I get around if I can't get to where I need to go by bus?  

See what I mean?  The monkey brain takes over, and I've just missed the sheer wonder of half of what is going on around me....the language; the old old old old man who can barely make it onto the bus, but he finally does and the bus driver is polite and waits for him to find a seat before taking off; the fact that no-one is wearing a hat and it's raining; the children who go to the year-round all-outdoor barnehaugen (kindergarten) where the only thing that gets to be inside is their outerclothes when they go home....

I suppose I should get back to my list, but it is just so very difficult to compare things when I am here just completely out of context.  Experiences in our lives should be in some sort of context, shouldn't they?  Yet, my happiest moments here, so far, are when they aren't.

....Like this, at Munkebotn

and this roadside view today from our bike ride, of the King's  quarters when he stays in Bergen