In 24 hours’ time my plane should be in the air, whisking me away to Copenhagen with an end destination of Washington D.C. It must not sound so shocking to other people (after all, I’ve been counting this down for weeks) but I’m still adjusting to the idea that I’m moving yet again to a new and unusual place. Alex Brey left on Saturday morning, and I received word that afternoon that he’d made it safely to Paris. Since then I’ve been packing frantically, stuffing boxes, unloading my room of accumulated stuff. Norway Alex has helped a ton, driving my junk to the post office and helping to clean out my room. By the end of today we should have everything in my shoebox of a dorm room removed, scrubbed down, and locked up.

Having Alex visit was so nice. The timing was unfortunate in that I was packing frantically and at least a little distracted, but it was good to have him here. Not only did his visit force me out of my room, it let me re-explore the city the way I did back in August, wandering through neighborhoods and observing Norwegians in their natural habitat. We even got to see some places that were new to me, like the little beach in Nesoddtangen where we swam with the Fulbrighters and the cabin in Lillehammer. It meant a lot that he came, too, because sharing a little bit of my Norway with old friends life helps to preserve it. Now I have one more person to remind me of the details that I’ll inevitably forget, to laugh at my Norway jokes, and to back up (or call out) accounts of ridiculous escapades. Yes, we did have a 2am Polish vodka fest on the campus lawn overlooking the city. Yes, we swam in the fjord and climbed the opera house and watched the sun not-really set. And yeah, for all my distractions and irritability I think we had fun.

But now he’s gone and I have to do responsible things. Like pack. Mailing things from Norway is (shocker) very expensive. It’s approximately $100 for a 10 kilo box. I’m not very good at the metric system, but 10kg is not very much stuff. I have enough room in my luggage for the hats, scarves, coats, and books that I can’t fit in the two boxes I’m mailing, but I’m not thrilled at having snow boots and ski pants taking up closet room in D.C. all summer. I think it’s supposed to be 94 degrees with some ungodly percent humidity tomorrow in our nation’s capital, and that doesn’t seem unusual. It may in fact be pleasant compared to the usual. Remind me again why I’m moving here?

The weather here in Norway, on the other hand, has been idyllic for a couple weeks now. Last night Norway Alex and I climbed up on his roof, which should really be made into the most amazing patio in Oslo. Lounging on a cushion and sipping cold apple cider, I could see everything: the fjord, Frognerparken, the ski jump, campus, Bygdøy…it felt like I spent all year trying to get here, to this beautiful, comfortable place, and that I’ve just attained it as I’m leaving. But who knows. Maybe it’s only this beautiful because I’m leaving? I vaguely recall everything being euphoria and sunshine when I first arrived; it’s probably a summer-in-Norway thing. I do know that I’m leaving this place on a high, which means that all the bitterness of this winter has burned off and I’ll be able to come back some day with all these happy memories and enthusiastic expectations. That’s a good thing.

A my imminent departure sorts itself out here, summer plans are also lining up. I’ve booked a ticket to come home in August, and it’s a round-trip, which means I’ll be returning to D.C. at the end of the summer, too. I don’t have a job or an apartment or a plan yet for September, but I’m sure I’ll figure something out before then. The plan right now (crossing my fingers that my airplane, at least, stays in the air / on the schedule) is to take a United nonstop from DC to PDX on Saturday night, August 2nd. I have to miss the first two days of beach week, which is too bad, but I am working all through that last week and couldn’t really leave sooner. I’m super excited about beach week and grateful that I’ll be with my family for most of it. I get to stay in Oregon for over three weeks, which is so exciting! I don’t know when again in life I’ll have the freedom to just visit with family and friends, and August is the Oregon Coast’s most beautiful month. Brendan is even rumored to be visiting our lovely state some time in the middle of the month, and I do love playing tour guide.

I feel like my posts, infrequent as they are, are still sounding like broken records at this point. Norway is beautiful. Norway is expensive. DC will be hot. I’m excited for a lot of things. I’m nervous. Leaving Oslo will be bittersweet. I’m packing but not quite done. I’m rambling. As often as I repeat myself, I guess, just reflects how intensely this transition is consuming me. Twenty-four hours from now all this obsessive energy will have burned itself up and I’ll be sitting on a plane, reading or sleeping, focused on a new place and a fresh routine that I will inevitably take for granted and then be forced to transition out of. For now the quicker I pack, the sooner I can clamor back up on that roof and crack open a can of cider and toast my last Norwegian not-quite-sunset.

Another sunny day in Oslo and we’re off to waffles and then the fjord islands. Alex woke up very early in the morning, but he’s back asleep now (nearing noon) so that’s strange. Taking the opportunity to write a quick post. Lillehammer was really fun. Norway Alex’s cabin was lovely (as was probably to be expected) and perched far enough up the little mountain to afford a lovely view of tree-covered hills and strangely ice-covered lakes for miles. The sunlight extended even further into the evening up there; its just barely ducked below the horizon and the glow didn’t seem to fade. I have four days left in Norway now and I’m mostly packed, I just need to fetch one more box from the post office. It is $100 for a not-very-big box and I’ll have to do two of them for basic necessities (winter coats and the like, which are worth more than even the exorbitant shipping costs). I’m leaving behind what seems like a lot of things, but there’s no reason to break the bank carting junk back across the ocean. How many ratty old clothes do I have piled up in Astoria that I never, ever wear? Don’t answer that.

I suddenly realized there are half a million things I need to do here. Close out my Norwegian bank account (not that there’s tons of money left in it), attempt to sell my couch and tv, drop by the Fulbright office, change my address at the post office, wash laundry, bid farewells, print my plane ticket, charge my American cell phone…the list goes on. Silly little errands, many of which need to be accomplished before the weekend. Gah. The beautiful weather doesn’t help, it makes me want to hike out to pretty Norwegian places and fall asleep in the sun. I’ll get moving now so that maybe I can accomplish both, just wanted to check in and let certain mothers know that they don’t need to worry (so much) about the packing status. It’s coming along…might even be done by Monday!

Alex Brey is here now. The first night he arrived we went to a ballet called “Worlds Beyond” at the new opera house. He was a very good, if exhausted, little sport. Since then we have been whirling through the incredibly sunny streets of Oslo. We haven’t been aggressively touristy — no museums yet — but we’ve walked through campus and the sculpture park and down Karl Johans and to the docks. Today we adventured to a distant peninsula where Abbey is moving for the summer and frolicked on a charming little beach that looked back at the city. We swam in the fjord and grilled vegetables and hotdogs with my Fulbright crew. Tomorrow we will set off for Lillehammer for hiking and such. I’m so grateful that Norway Alex will be driving us because train tickets are $100 each way. Each! I haven’t packed (for Lillehammer or leaving Norway) at all and I’m still in vague denial at my imminent departure, but I have so many helpful hands surrounding me at the moment. It will work out.

First, I can’t quite describe how beautiful the opera house is. I’m not often so charmed by modern architecture, let alone architectural gimmicks. I feel like a series of slanting roofs and triangular windows that let people ascend the roof and hover in strange intermediate spaces to gaze down into the wood-paneled lobby qualifies as a gimmick, but it is also compelling and fresh. Even the jagged strangeness of the structure works in its favor, lending its white and silver framework a kind of glacial aura. The hordes of people climbing all over it look like little black specs from out on the fjord, like lost little penguins. It’s pretty now, but the whole complex will be stunning when the billion lanes of traffic surrounding it are scooped into tunnels, the industrial shipping platforms are leveled, grassy parks are installed, and the various waterfronts are united by a common pedestrian thoroughfare. That will be amazing.

The ballet was just as captivating, if a little odder, than the opera house itself. It began with a tour of the theater’s nether and backstage regions, which Alex and I explored alongside Jonathan, Lauren, and Kirsten. Interspersed with the stage equipment and random stairwells were bizarre vignettes involving children, dancers, and musicians. These interpretive manifestations suggested themes of cooperation, harmony/discord, nature…but they were mostly just strange. The coolest part was walking underneath the stage and then across it. They projected looped clips of the dancers rehearsing the pieces they would later perform onto the wall behind the stage as we wandered, awed, across it. This was actually a valuable experience that gave me a sense of continuity and expectation as the show went on, as I recognized individual dancers from the preview and was able to anticipate jumps and turns that had particularly intrigued me on screen. The show started out slowly and with unfortunately soporific music, but Alex and I were sufficiently gripped after the first piece to stop nodding off. Some of the more shocking elements included a duet in which both the man and woman danced topless (”oh yeah,” Jonathan said afterwards, “I forgot this was Europe”) and a finale in which everybody (men and women) wore hugely fluffy golden skirts. It ended in fireworks. There were about ten too many curtain calls, which some of our company took to be ironic but most of the audience just awkwardly and half-heartedly clapped at.

The picnic today out at the beach across the fjord was wonderful. The water was really refreshing, cold at first but easily acclimated to. Alex and I stuffed some small tomatoes with rice and tomato bits and curry and then grilled them, and they turned out pretty edible. I can’t claim credit for this innovation in any way shape or form as we totally ripped the idea off of Jonathan’s last potluck contribution (grilled tomatoes stuffed with onions). The weather couldn’t have been prettier and I am sunkissed but not burnt. We almost missed the bus coming back (there are only ferries leaving every hour, so this would have been dire), but instead we were all able to bond over a frenzied rush up the hill from the waterfront. Our parting was bittersweet, as I won’t see Lauren or Liz again before I leave next week. It’s really pretty close to over.

The Norwegian Alex and I had a few hours to kill a few days ago so we strolled down to Vigeland park with a tub of Haagen Dazs cookies & cream and a six-pack of Tuborg’s summer beer. Norway is a lot like Astoria in that it can be gray, but when the sun comes out everything glows. Sitting in the sun amidst the sculptures and trees and giggling little Norwegian girls was painfully ideal, and it’s moments like those that I’ll take away from Norway with me when I leave in *ten* days. I know that Alex is upset about me leaving, and the fact that I’m excited to go must be difficult. But it’s not that I’m jazzed about quitting Norway or that life in D.C. will be significantly better (cheaper and easier, yes, not necessarily better). I’m just jittery about this transition and eager to have this transcontinental flight over with. I’m looking forward to seeing my friends from Vassar and, in August, my dear loves in Oregon. All these things are true, but still, I’m not sure I’ll be able to improve on a sunny afternoon with beer and ice cream in a place like this. You never know quite how wonderful something is until you lose it. I know that I’m blessed to have so many experiences to cherish and places to love, but who doesn’t wish they could have them all and all at once?

Not much time to write, am still dripping from a shower and when Alex is finished with his he’ll expect me to be ready to go. We’re off to Versailles this morning, which I’m very excited about as I’ve never been. The past few days have been up and down but mostly good. The weather has been almost too nice, and my shoulders burned within 20 minutes of going outside on Sunday. We’ve done a ton of walking, and my feet have taken a beating in every combination of shoes and socks I’ve tried. Shopping was pretty much a failure yesterday; we neglected to eat lunch ahead of time, which is always a mistake and usually results in my throwing a temper tantrum mid-shop. This was no exception. L’arc de Triomphe (yesterday post-shopping) was awesome, I hadn’t climbed before and it was so need to stand at the center of the roundabout with boulevards radiating out in all directions. We’ve also eaten a fair amount of good affordable food (2 drinks and a dessert in Oslo before we left was $50, and that’s a fine dinner here). And we’ve still got a million fun things on the list of things to do!
Sunday was pleasant, even though we were both exhausted. Our hotel, the Hotel de Tour Maubourg, is right next to Invalides so it is super easy to walk places. We walked down the Seine to the Louvre and then south through the Latin Quarter and past St. Germaine des Pres and back to the hotel. We stopped for lunch at some random place and also at Pierre Hermé for macarons. PH was a zoo, but I squeezed out with 7 of the little delicate hamburger-shaped little sugar things. For dinner we ate at Breizh, a crepe place that Alex recommended. So good. I had a smoked salmon crepe followed by a strawberry-rhubarb crepe with ice cream, and we shared a bottle of cider. They had a hard cider list that took up an entire page; I didn’t realize there was such an array of cider makers and vintages.

Yesterday was a little less put together. We tried to go to the flea market in Clignancourt but I didn’t write down the directions well and we ended up walking the wrong direction out of the metro. By the time we realized our mistake we decided to just keep walking, and came up on Sacre Coeur from behind. We took a quick sweep of the cathedral and then wound our way down the hill the front way, which involved huge crowds of people and the requisite beggars and everything. We weren’t quite hungry yet, so we skipped over the lunch place I had chosen (which, in retrospect, was a mistake) and headed straight downtown to check out Le Printemps and Galleries Lafayette.

Speaking of zoos, these would both qualify. LP was terrible. The women’s sections were all divided between different floors by designer and all the dresses were wacky colors and abstract shapes. I just wanted a plain summer dress. GL was more interesting; at least it had the pretty central dome. I found the l’Artisan Parfumeur booth and sprayed myself with the lovely scent that I fell in love with last year (this clung to my wrist throughout the day and served to cheer me up). They had some Asian theme going on, and they had all these garishly dressed Asian-eyed mannequins wearing giant pink wigs with chop sticks in their hair. While it was amusing, I felt really bad for the Asian tourists who had to brave an entire sea of these things just to escape the building. While we were there they did some show in the middle on a big platform, with glittered and hyper-made-up Asian models spinning paper umbrellas and flipping about and swishing their gaudy dresses. Totally bizarre. I didn’t end up buying anything, as the dresses here were also kind of ugly. I think this must be the season of “floral in shades of puke” so I might try to find a retailer with stock a little further from the cutting edge. Maybe a used clothing store.

The lady at the front desk of the hotel chose a restaurant for us for dinner, and it was a nice enough place just down the street. We ate out in a courtyard. I picked something randomly from the menu and ended up with veal tongue, which was really good as long as I pretended it was real meat. I had to stop when I got to the pointy part at the end. I’ve been speaking a lot of French; there is less English going on than I remembered, maybe because Alex Brey was on translator duty last time around. I know I must have a terrible accent and I forget all kinds of simple words, but nobody has said “what?” in that slightly disdainful tone that my attempts at Norwegian seem to dredge up. Everybody I’ve spoken French with has actually been very supportive, and the majority of the time people seem to prefer my broken French to their own broken English. And even more often than I expected English is not an option at all.

After dinner last night we walked to the Eiffel Tower, and my feet took an even greater beating since I was wearing those heeled brown shoes with the flowers. Cute shoes I never get to wear. Anyway, we missed the last ascent by about 5 minutes, which was disappointing, but the tower was pretty as per usual and periodically burst into sparkles. I need to prep for another day of walking as we’re off to Versailles, and I’m without the pretty sun dress I wanted to buy and wear. Sigh. At any rate, it’s beautiful here and we’re having a great time, but I’m excited to actually buy some souvenirs (perhaps that perfume? a not-ugly dress?) and haul my loot back to Oslo. The soles of my feet miss my lazy Norwegian ways.

We landed safely in Paris this morning and were immediately confronted by crowds and confusing queues for train tickets and other things. I was in my normal resigned-to-delay travel mode, but I think Alex was a little anxious. We were both exhausted. Getting up at 4am for a 6:30 flight was really difficult when we both have a habit of going to sleep around that time. Alex was again anxious about navigating the metro, but I’m a pro at this crowded, smelly, poorly marked business. We landed at 9am and it was already warm. It’s a gorgeous day. Our hotel room is small, but it’s lovely by Paris standards. The walls are a warm red red color, there’s nice art on the walls, a full bathroom, and a pretty view of a park. It’s right across from Invalides, which is a great location. Plus there’s free wireless! What more could I ask for?!

Unfortunately I’m not done with my paper. I’ve filled in most of the gaps by hand, but I still need to type up the new draft and stamp it with my seal of approval. There will be plenty of time for that during afternoon nap time as well as after we get home Wednesday afternoon. I’m more concerned about a traumatic experience I had two days ago at the mall. I spontaneously decided to get my hair cut, and while the results were not terrible — it’s a pretty, natural blonde color and the cut, although short, isn’t wacky — the price was about twice as much as the girl predicted. I just had more hair than she expected and it took extra time and…I’m not even going to say how much it was because it disturbs me just to think about it. I just keep telling myself that it’s nice to have short hair in the sunshine and I’ll cut out some of the items from my Paris shopping list.

Alex hasn’t been here since he was a kid, so I made up an itinerary that includes the best of the touristy stuff (stuff I haven’t done + the stuff I enjoy) as well as the best of the foody / shopping / walking around stuff. I’m pretty excited, although Alex has been poking fun at my detailed itinerary. I don’t have to do any of the things on there, but it’s nice to have plans and contingency plans and to know where some of the good food is hiding. Ok, enough of this Internet business, I’m going to go enjoy the afternoon!