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

"If you can't be with the one you love, honey...."

Looking out from Bjørn & Gro's Living Room on a fine Saturday Morning

That's right, "...Love the One You're With."


Perhaps it was my husband's mention that Crosby, Stills, & Nash were coming to Vegas in April (yes, honey, get tickets because they ain't getting any younger and we've never seen them live, even though Graham's son WAS a student in my French class) or because I was just having another moment of ennui about being here for so long....or maybe it was that poor carnage of a spent blue umbrella that I saw in the ditch today on my way back from teaching Gro's english class, but that song just popped into my head.  It calls to mind the idea of being in the now, of loving where you ARE, and who you are WITH, regardless of, well, anything else.  So WHAT if everyone around me talking and laughing and sharing with each other is as intelligible as the dogs at the dog park at home;  so WHAT if I have to take the bus everywhere (did Jon La Joie know how funny it was for him to rhyme "public transportation" with "destination"?), so WHAT if a nice day here equals ONE day with 3, but not 4 seasons represented, so WHAT .....Immediately, I became able to smile again and to want to drink in all that I can of life here before heading back home in April.  So far, I've been just hiking a lot in the nearby hills and mountains in order to continue to fit into the local fashion here:  skin-tight jeans.  

Yes...even tight around the calves...and pay special attention to those Norwegian socks!

I bought my first pair a couple days ago, and believe me, I would NEVER have considered purchasing a pair of jeans like this back home.  I remember, once upon a time, in high school when a student who came from southern California wore her jeans this tight, and we gave her no END of grief...sliding pencils into the dungareed-covered rolls of skin created at the front of her hips when she sat down....etc. Kids will be kids: brutal.  The fashion, here of course, is NOT bell-bottoms.  The weight of heavily soaked bell-bottoms slinging around as heavy and soiled as a freshly dunked mop from the bucket of the closer at a fast food joint may even be a bit much for a Norwegian to bear....although these kids are in LOVE with MacDonald's...even at $15.00 a BigMac.   But I digress.  Ah yes.  Hiking.  Skin-tight jeans.  Boots.  Rain.  Yes, rain.  Just what I was hoping for.  Waiting for.  My Huldra, Bergenette.


This being the first day of rain, I have nothing to say except to marvel at it.   The rain here is most likely not much different from what my niece in Portland, Oregon deals with daily.  One must remember that I am from the DESERT, so it is a marvel to me to even witness clouds.  An acquaintance of mine posted on her FB the other day that the AVERAGE annual rainfall here in Bergen is 89".  For 2011, it was 106", so....nearly 9 FEET OF RAIN last year!!!!  I'm beginning to think that the blue umbrella carcass I saw in the ditch/stream a couple hours ago MUST have been an umbrella suicide.  It just couldn't TAKE it anymore.  It was dreaming of being one of those umbrellas in Vegas that everyone is beginning to use for shade, now that they are all unemployed, have to walk everywhere, and have no more health insurance with which to visit the dermatologist to check for skin cancer or to buy the cream to cure it.  And who wants to walk around with zinc oxide on their face all day?  Norwegians probably don't even know what that IS.  At any rate, my next foray into the sentrum tomorrow to meet with my on-line Norwegian language instructor will most likely find me in, yes, my skin tight jeans (aka, denim long-johns) covered by my REI rain pants, and a good raincoat.  Umbrellas live in fear of the wind, of having their poor little metal bones pulled backwards like a frail pencil-necked geek encountering Ahnold in Terminator II.  I shielded the eyes of my umbrella as I walked past poor-blue-thing-in-the-ditch.


I've been to Gro's school twice now.  She is an administrator and English teacher at a school with children aged 14 - 16, I believe.  During this time, and even before, the kids kind of go through school the same way grad students in the U.S. go through a co-hort program.  The 22 students that Gro has in her English class take all their classes together, with each other.  They all go to the same english class, math class, language class, science class, etc...There are multitudes of opinions about the advantages and disadvantages to this system which I won't go into here.  Perhaps you may want to respond at the end of the post.  At 16, they take their big exams that determine whether they can go on to school to prepare for University studies, or to prepare for Practical studies.  I don't believe they understand our concept of "Hey, if you don't want to finish high school and have no desire to go to college, just drop out and take your GED."  I asked these students what they possibly saw for their near future, and as expected, most of them had no idea.  I don't think I had any idea at that age either, except that I knew I would be going to college because, well....it was expected and my parents could afford it, and if I needed to, I was intelligent enough to apply for a scholarship.  What to study?  Not sure.  I'll figure it out when I get there.  


It is a bit different here.  Children must find their motivation from a deeper place, I believe.  And this is the trick.  Finding a "deeper place" when asked of a moderately educated 14 year old boy, for instance, can only mean what you think I think he thinks it means....  When I asked where most of them saw themselves living when they turned 18, I kid you not, almost everyone just said, "at home".  Wow.  I painted this picture for them of someday having a nice job, just something they enjoyed....and being married to someone they loved....and having a comfortable home of their own that they loved....and let's say they had some children, and then....boom, their children were 18, and hey, would they want their children hanging around the house?  After they all said "no way".....I just had to laugh, WITH some of them...AT some of them.  At any rate, this idea of motivation has really stuck in my mind  for the past few days when thinking about this system, and what is born from it.  


I suppose it is actually something that I do value in America:  the idea that NOTHING is really handed to you (Paris Hilton, Kim Kardishian, et al. aside).  That you must work for just about everything if you want to live comfortably.  Of course, what has happened in our country over the past 20 years or so, is that you can work your tail off (if you can find work at all), and still be struggling, but that is not the point of my discussion at this level.  I am talking about the stuff that Adam Smith was talking about:  that a person should be able to be rewarded commensurately for his/her efforts.  Period.  I believe these children know and understand this.  But the crisis comes for them with the word "efforts."  And American's problems come from the word "commensurate".  The Norwegian social system of high taxes to pay for a better society for everyone is a noble one and not without its faults.  Americans who love our  system would go CRAZY here with how involved the government is in everything, down to one's cell phone.  But, so far, it is what the government here has decided is necessary in order for as many people as possible to benefit from the taxes that are collected.  Watching the news the other day, however, I found myself coming down a little on the conservative side of things, which shocked even me.  The government normally spends 3% of its income (most of this is from oil exports) on schools, roads, other infrastructure, health care facilities, etc. and it was discovered that 4% had been spent last year, so it is saying that cuts need to be made.  Meanwhile, schools are deteriorating, roads need to be improved, and hospitals are having to buy their instruments and updated equipment on E-Bay.    Here's the irony:  it is the Conservatives that are clamoring for the government to spend MORE money on its people.....while the government, with one of the largest, if not THE largest, sovereign wealth fund, feels afraid to spend its wealth on its own people.  


The other day, a professor lost his job, and rightly so, for talking about looking forward to "hunting season" starting at Utøya soon...in July....Conservatives here are tiring of the Liberal government not willing to spend money on Norwegian schools, roads, bridges, retirements pensions, etc...but perfectly willing to spend it making life more comfortable for immigrants fleeing their countries for political asylum, or for better economic opportunities.  After all, Norway is home to the Nobel Peace Prize.   The children murdered on that island were all there at a camp sponsored by the Liberal party, and the activities there were all political in nature.  This is not new for Americans, at least when looking to our own history books.  We had (and still have) the Statue of Liberty at our eastern gateway, and despite all the wonderful poetry thereupon, there was, and still is, lurking within many "Americans", the same disenfranchised, angry, fearful, xenophobic, mentality that is within Anders Brievik (the radical Conservative perpetrator of the Utøya crime).  When I see it starting to be vocalized more publicly here, as in that professor mentioned above, I am horrified.  I should be so horrified when I hear it at home.


So...full circle, I can see how so very similar we all are, really.  At such a basic level.  In this respect, I suppose it makes "loving the one your with" a little easier, because love is love is love, after all.  Loving Norway has nothing to do with not being able to love America.  In loving Norway, I am able to better see and understand my own country, and for this, I am so very grateful for my affair.


Here are a few more photos from the past week:

Coming down from Fløyen in the brief sun

15 minutes before the photo in the sun

Looking down on the Bergen harbor

My cousin, Elzbieta, with her ENVIABLE new jacket!

Enjoying some mid-day sun on Nukane, a neighborhood hike

Looking North to the glaciers from Nukane

Easterly view from Nukane

Looking over Tertnes, where I'm staying, and Eidsvaagen

Later that night, with a hike up Veten, with the lights of Bergen
in the background.   I was pretty trashed after this
walk, as I had done 2 hikes that day.  I need more city time!

Seriously, folks.

I have been spending quite a bit of time talking about the things I have seen so far, the things I have been doing, and how life here is different, like having to be a sheik to afford food, booze, and gasoline (the 3 staples of any American household), or having to have auditioned for the remake of "Buns of Steel" in order to hike here.  Stay tuned for the sequel to "Fatal Attraction" starring the HOT new actress, moi, and my steamy, drizzly affair with a very stylish, hi-tech waterproof, breathable, rainjacket from Bergen's....Don't worry.  Spoiler alert.  The jacket shunned me, and I'm too much of an animal lover to find any innocent bunnies to boil as revenge....BUT, I digress.


I had a wonderful meeting with an expat whose blog I have been following for almost a year now, I think.  She is a very gifted writer and observer of what she experiences here and how it daily calls her own "being-ness" into question.  I am not nearly as eloquent as she is, but I cannot find a better word right now, and for me, this is what I would like to talk about in this post, because I think it gets to heart of what I experience around me as "different".   Suffice it to say, that meeting her in the local mall-center (cities are laid out like that around here...you have a suburb of sorts, but with a single central mall or two with everything you should need right there....no strip malls!  YAY!....but oy, the traffic...) over tea and coffee and immediately delving into the HEART of what it means to be an immigrant, and what it means to be "of a culture" made me feel right at home and as though I had made my first new friend.  What a blessing during a day of having to be alone with my thoughts so much.  I came to THAT feeling yesterday, when I felt so very alone with my thoughts, because all the sounds and conversations around me were in Norwegian, so...there you have it.   It may as well be static, so I'm alone with all of these ideas racing around in my brain, quite literally feeling like a ball in a pin-ball machine.


What we found ourselves finally coming to was this question, "What makes a life?"  I poked around a bit on the internet to see what other people may have had to say on this topic, and found that very few people actually ask this question.   It is either "What makes a GOOD life?" or "What makes a life WORTHWHILE", or "What makes a FULLFILLED life?", all of which are perfectly good questions, but I'm more interested in what I feel makes a LIFE.  Just that.  The verb "to be".  What IS the looking glass through which I will look at my life tomorrow?  next week? next year? when I am facing my death?  Will I be measuring my life?  Or will I just be taking it all in and smiling at it?  


We, as Americans, are conditioned to measuring our lives, constantly.  Everything we do has to be "worth it"...otherwise, why do something?  In Norway, it is normal for almost everyone to have at least a Master's Degree, with many going on to complete their Ph.D's.  I met someone who was working in a junior high school as a substitute teacher, and she was getting ready to defend her thesis for some sort of biology Ph.D.  When I asked what she plans to do with this degree, what kind of wonderful job she would be able to get (because after all, isn't that why she started it?), she just looked at me like,  "???????....I'm not planning to USE it!  I just figured since I could GET it, it would be a nice thing to have, but I think I'm going to try this substitute teaching for awhile."  She moved to Norway from Brooklyn 16 years ago and has never looked back.  


I tell this story because it is one of the big differences I have found between our cultures.  Americans are driven, having been raised from generation to generation against a backdrop of the Puritan ethic, and values espoused by Horatio Alger through stories like "Ragged Dick, the Matchboy."  With a little luck and LOT of hard work, you will succeed and make your life better over time, and provide a better life for yourself and children.  Is THIS why we toil?  Is this why we constantly search?  Is this why it is called a dream, because it cannot be real?  Is this what I am searching for?  A better life?  What on earth is wrong with the life I HAVE?  I can see that a thorough study of the effects of Capitalism vs. Socialism on personal motivation and one's satisfaction with life is in my near future....


A few years ago, I was visiting my cousin, Malgoszia, who is a farmer in Poland.  We were making the perfunctory visit to the cemetery to pay our respects to our fathers and mothers and relatives, and next to our family's headstone was a barren area.  She started to pull the weeds and told me quite matter-of-factly that this is where she will be.  She wanted to keep it looking nice.  I have come to really value a farmer's perspective on life.  Not a big industrial farmer (doesn't that seem like such an oxymoron?), but a small farmer, who is intimately involved with each plant they harvest, each animal they butcher, each egg they collect, each cow they milk, each raindrop that falls or does not fall, each weather report they watch.  These are people who really do live in the NOW.  There is very little dreaming.  There is only the reality that no matter what you dream and what you create in your life,  you are STILL going to be pulling the weeds on your last resting place.  Everyone is.  

The Huldra named "Bergenette"

Today, we finally had some small drizzling "rain" if you want to call it that. Those around me shake their heads and shush me when I openly hope for some serious rain, because they have been in bliss for this past two and half weeks of drying (freezing) out. But, hey! This is the reason I CAME here in the winter...to see if I can stand the rain, the cold, etc.!!!! How will I ever know how I can love Bergen if I don't see under her skirt? Immediately, I am taken back to a summer a few years ago when I took the cog train from Flam to the top of some mountain in order to then hike for awhile in the mountains, and along the way, we did the touristy stop by this waterfall so the "Huldra" could come out and sing, and we learned the folklore of this creature. Of course, I had to snap a photo (above). Following is a brief description of the story:

"In Norwegian popular belief, „Huldra” is a supernatural female creature with a cow’s tail, known best for her attempts to lure young men travelling through the woods, where she resides. Our conception of Huldra is mostly influenced by the illustrations drawn by sketchers and painters during the years, and that often focus on the erotic Huldra; the woman who seduces and tempts. In the old stories, however, the wood nymphs have several other aspects: They help and punish, set limits, make trouble for people or generously endow valuable gifts. Moreover, they embellish life with dance and music. The wood nymphs are portrayed as supernatural or abnormal creatures; they are „the other”, people’s invisible proponents or opponents. But they can also become visible for those who have the ability to see." (Skjelbred, Ann Helene Bolstad)

Further reading on other sites revealed that often, she would tempt men into the woods, or into the streams, and convince them to marry her, whereupon, she would turn into some ugly woman, and he would be stuck with her forever. All masogynistic references aside, and leaving out the part about the cow's tail (wtf is THAT all about?), it struck me that this is precisely how Bergen is behaving right now.

She is luring me in, deeper and deeper, with her soft, supple snow....the sweet music of her wind through the trees, her temperamental yet endearing weather changes, the way she wears her colorful buildings, the easy-going pace of her life (granted, I'm not working), the way she looks pregnant with the new life to come in the spring...because of all the......RAIN, that we're not having.

I am deeply afraid that she will lure me in completely, and when/if I move here, the rain will start to fall, endlessly, and all her beauty will be washed away along with my dreams of a match made in heaven. People tell me that this will not happen. That she is still beautiful. But....is that a cow's tail I see under their coats? Is that why everyone wears these long coats?

Here are some photos of the Huldra I like to call Bergenette. I am one step on the shore, one step in the water....and she is singing so sweetly....

And She's "Dying on..." The Stairway....To Heaven

Don't let this innocent beginning fool you, folks. This is SERIOUS business here, the Stoltzekleiven. The climb that separates men from boys, dogs from cats, burly wenches from gym-rats....Old Norwegian men from middle-aged American women.

I've been wanting to get out here and do this ever since I got here, but just haven't coordinated the time, bus stop, weather, etc. Finally, a gorgeous balmy day (35F. I think...the song "We're havin' a Heat Wave!" comes to mind) and time on my hands (museums closed, bureaucratic hours at the Nygaardskole...), so why not just do the Stoltzekleiven and then go over the top and hike over to Eidsvaag today...sounds great. And besides, I NEED the exercise if I am to prepare myself for a week at the farm in Poland. I think I should take off a couple kilos at first so I can still fit into my clothes for the trip back home :-)

So, I take off my scarf, and start the trudge. I've been here before, so I know what I'm in for, and welcome the hike. I think I'm doing pretty well, and then this older man (65+?), and I say that in a very literal way, for all my friends who are older...THAN ME....anyway, he allows me to continue to go ahead for a bit, and we strike up a small conversation...."Jeg kan ikke snakke mye norsk....beklagger....jeg snakker engelsk..."...with the usual guilt...like why the hell am I here if I can't learn the language by now? But as with all Norwegians, he is perfectly happy to speak English, and even more overjoyed that I made the EFFORT to speak Norwegian. We make some small talk about Las Vegas, and gambling (of which I know actually very little), and he tells me how Norwegians cannot gamble at some places with certain credit cards, blah blah blah, and he is quite nice, but I can tell, because I, too, get obsessed with how long it takes me to perform stupid feats of physical strength, that he is on a mission. Right about here, in front of these particular steps, he tally-ho's with, "Ok! I think I shall try running now!"

And off he goes. Leaving me to feel like the pathetic wanna-be that I am at that given moment. What IS in the water here?????

Here are some more steps...that he is apparently continuing to run up, SANS ice-grippers, mind you. Yes, that is ICE under that snow....

Oh, hooray....A stretcher!!!! Where is the rescue helicopter? After watching several YouTube movies about this fun, popular, exhilarating hike, I now know that this is the 1/2 way point. Luckily for me, while doing this, I was completely unaware of this fact, just like a child being lured ahead by a parent waving a candy bar calling out that "It's just up around the next corner!" My husband is probably laughing at the sweet revenge I am exacting upon myself on his behalf. How many times have I said those words to him on the death marches I've taken him on? Wiggling my toes as additional counting devices at least warms them up a little.....Nice.

The end is near, the end is near!

I just know it!!! I can feel it...in my legs! in my toes! in my heart! in my (cough, cough, spit, cough) lungs!!! Don't all good hills end with a flight of stairs?

Well, yes, in fact they do. In the distance, one can see some hills above Bergen, and closer in, the beautiful snow-clad trees and if you look really closely, you can see little pieces of my pride laying there on the trail, after I have peeked at my watch to see that I have taken approximately 25 minutes to go up. GRANTED, the conditions were less than optimal AND I stopped to take photos, AND I gabbed with the old Viking, AND.....(searching for more excuses....searching, searching....file not found).

In the end, I bring myself back to the whole point of it all: to breathe in this refreshing moist air, to take in this eye candy, to again commune with my favorite part of this country (its nature), and to check in with my feelings about possibly moving here. One thing is for sure to change: this need to hurry, this need to be the best, this need to maximize every experience I have (whatever those feelings are, wrapped all into one general "thing"). Every once in awhile, I am confronted with a part of myself that I can only surmise is my "culture", that dwells within. There are times I would like to believe that I am NOT a product of my cultural upbringing, that I'm more intelligent than that, that I function at a "higher level" than what has been fed to me over the years masquerading as education and a "way of life". But in the end, when confronted with the reality here that I AM different in the way I think, the way I dress, the way I speak, in these obvious ways, that's when I want to run to the hills, because it is there that I just feel like a human being. A living being that the trees (and dogs I meet along the way), the birds, the trails, the rocks, and streams just experience as another two-legged, creature.....flailing away, huffing and puffing along......for no apparent reason other than to get to some "place", be it a physical or mental one.

Of course, it was all worth it, not because it needed to be, but.....well, there you have it. It never needs to be "worth it", does it? Another Americanism that may just have to be winnowed.

For a more exciting view of someone who does this same hike in apprx. 10 minutes, here is a link. It is only a 6 minute video. Enjoy!

http://youtu.be/_hUQ5W8hIl8

If the link doesn't work, just search for Stoltzekleiven in YouTube and find the one that is just this guy doing it....in just under 10 minutes...it's fun.

Depressed? Take 2 headlamps and call me in the morning....

Today's post will be just a rambling, I'm afraid. So many thoughts running around in my brain, it is difficult for me to keep track of what folder to put them in .

Last night's hike with Gro and her friend who works for NAV...and the 4 dogs...was again exhilarating and exhausting. I would have a difficult time navigating these trails in the DAYlight, let alone in the darkness....with snow...on top of ice....on top of rocks....on super steep hills (can you say Stairmaster? HA!), but these women are hard core! The walk starts off with a very lively discussion of Turid's new headlamp, which is very bright indeed and costs normally hundreds of dollars, but alas, they were out of the less expensive one that she really wanted, so they sold her this one for the cheaper price. There are many discussions about headlamps, and although I used to concern myself with such things in my rock-climbing days, I could never hold a candle to these folks. They take any hint of light very seriously here, almost as seriously as their exercise. Whether it comes from a headlamp or a candle, Norway's lights are a part of that yin-yang in the fabric of the culture here, I think.

Candles are a big part of both households I am visiting. I believe this is the same for most Norwegian homes. Wonderful, warm, soft, quiet light. We try to catch on in the desert of Nevada, but really, our "culture" there, if one wants to call it that, is to crave the darkness...the darker the home, the cooler temperature it is. I wonder if I will start doing as they do here...and light upwards of 10 to 15 candles nightly....Nope. My increasing absentmindedness dictates otherwise. This would not be a good idea!

Speaking of light and the lack of it causing depression, I thought of a wonderful idea for the craziness of the ceiling at the Forum Shops at Caesar's Palace, as well as the St. Marks Square at the Venetian. The ceilings of these two places turn from evening (with a beautiful sunset) to daytime (complete with clouds and blue sky!) on a rotation rate of 1/2 hour or so....This "technology" could be applied to one of the shopping malls here, and I think people would FLOCK to the mall...especially if you also imported the idea of the "indoor" patio seating at the cafes. Funny, both climates pushing one to stay indoors most of the time, but Vegas has the indoor thing PEGGED. Make being inside fabulous, and it won't be so depressing to have to be there!

On Wednesday, I visited my other cousin, Dorota, and as she does not speak English, and I do not speak Polish, we tried to meet in the middle with Norwegian. I think our conversation would have made some GREAT reality TV, no laugh track needed. Somehow, I managed to procure a meal when I was hungry, and not some sort of machinery or painting or something....one never knows with MY Norwegian vocabulary WHAT I will end up saying or asking for. We picked up her daughter, Natasha, from school. She is in the 1st grade, and of course, is already fluent in Norwegian and Polish. She will be just like Ela's son Piotr, who speaks 3 languages fluently as well. That's the standing joke here, I guess. "Of course, we are smart here in Norway! Everyone knows how to speak Norwegian! Even the CHILDREN are speaking Norwegian! What's wrong with you?" The most remarkable thing that I noticed, though, was that when we were at the school to pick her up, there were children just running around and kissing and hugging each other on the playground. They were really PLAYING with each other, and getting along! Even children who were older than she was, were looking out for the smaller ones. I wonder if the concept of the "schoolyard bully" exists here? Those people I have asked tell me that, no, it does not exist. I have seen with my own eyes that perhaps this is true. I will know more when I visit Gro's school on Monday, which is the equivalent of our high school. THAT will be interesting, I'm sure.

Just a couple more photos of interest. At a downtown parking garage, they have an entire row of spaces with outlets for your charging your electric car while you are working or shopping. And parking is free in Bergen for those with electric cars. The second photo is looking down on Ela and Jarle's office building. It is the small, mustard colored "house" next to the huge office building, and right in the middle of the photo.

Ok, that is enough for today. I have nothing profound to say. My brain is all used up from studying Norwegian. I hope to have an eventful weekend, one way or another!