Just want to let you all know that I’m home safe and sound and that my hiking trip to Rondane was amazing. My cold is even clearing up (now that the trip is over). I’ll have lots of details to report and pictures to post, but first I need to get some sleep.

A bunch of Fulbrighters are bussing over to Sweden tomorrow to score some cheap groceries, but I’m looking forward to sleeping in, taking a warm shower, and eating a big breakfast.

Cam feeds me more updates than my parents do these days, and he relayed the sad news of the Ducks’ loss to California. After having absorbed that disappointment my family is off to celebrate Kari’s 21st in Las Vegas (a place I’ve still never been). Needless to say I wish I could join the party and wish Kari a happy birthday in person.

I’ve got a big week coming up. Since I had a cold this past week I’m hoping to talk with the anthropology professor I canceled on. I’m also going to meet/interview with some people from Aspiro (a pretty big cell phone services company) to talk about my project and a maybe possible internship, so I’m looking forward to that.

That’s all the news in short — will be sure to write more after I’m a little less sore and sleepy!

News flash: Alaska Airlines is going to begin testing a wireless internet service on their airplanes. Is this cool, or what? Read about Alaska Airlines in-flight wireless for yourself! Figures they go and make flying bearable now that I’ve graduated from the constant New York / Oregon commute.

This development is so exciting, I might even consider flying Alaska again. I’m only 1 or 2 flights short of my freebie, but I’ve been boycotting them ever since 3 awful delay experiences in a row culminated with the Great Birthday Disaster of 2005. I could type that whole rant up, but let’s just say it was the worst 24 hours of solid travel in my whole life. And I’ll probably forgive them for the wireless.

I’m still coming down off the cold, but I’ve been pampering myself excessively and plan to be recovered by tomorrow at 11pm. This is when Kyle, Morgana, and I will board our train bound for Otta and a 3-day hiking adventure in Rodane. We went downtown this afternoon and joined Der Norsk Turistforeningen (DNT), which is Norway’s outdoorsy club. They gave us a bunch of cool books and maps and discounts on nice wool socks and a key that opens all these cabins that are scattered throughout the Norwegian wilderness!

In addition to my lingering illness and the fact that it’s slightly beyond hiking season I’m a little worried about my footwear. I bought these North Face boots a few years back and was lazily delighted with their ease of entry and exit — a little too big and with a zipper instead of laces, I can slip them off with minimal effort. While this was a luxury when my feet were sweaty and cramped in warm Vassar classrooms, it’s probably not the ideal thing to be hiking in. They have good traction and are waterproof, both pluses, but arch and ankle support is lacking. I’ve got all day tomorrow to balance my priorities between my ankles and my pocketbook, but it seems like $400 (the price of boots) could buy way better things…like, almost a whole airplane ticket to the states (round trip nonstop tickets on Continental circa Thanksgiving are only $522 from Newark…you know you want to).

The prospect of getting out and taking pretty pictures and eating peanuts and instant oatmeal on top of mountains is exciting, hiking boots or no. We also went out and bought food today. I have dried mangoes and chocolate and tea and pepperoni sticks and all manner of other delicious things. I’m fully aware of the possibility for rain, sleet, view-obscuring clouds, foot cramps, and other unpleasantries, but I’m still optimistic; I’ve camped on the Oregon Coast my whole life. There was that one time we slogged about 10 miles up to Cape Falcon in a hailstorm with Ryan’s absurd 30-foot tarp dragging through the mud behind us…and that was more or less a blast. Plus, the first lodge we’re stopping at is staffed (as opposed to the other self-service ones, which require my new magical key) and has a liquor license. Worst case scenario, we get wet and cold and grouchy and crash at the bar.

I should make up a new category called “excuses” for all the blog entries that begin “I haven’t written in a while, but…” It would be a large category. It’s difficult to write regularly. I don’t want to this blog to become and/or continue as an exhaustive regurgitation of trivial daily details, but the few noteworthy moments of the past week were too small to merit an entire entry and too disjointed to constitute an epic narrative. I’ll slap them together, anyway, and do better in the future.

Moving Day

The girl at the housing office was accommodating and let me see a room even though check-in wasn’t usually until noon. Norway tends to operate this way — on a set, unpublished routine that everybody is supposed to know and follow. I never get the memo. Morgana and I made two runs before class. That evening I had three big heavy items left and no energy to give them. It’s a good thing I’m stubborn and creative. I borrowed a shopping cart from the Kiwi, loaded it up, and pushed the thing all the way to Vestgrensa. The people on the T-bane gave me funny looks (and this was the first impression my new roommate Frederik had of me, was unloading a bummy shopping card) but it got the job done.

Frederik is very nice. He’s currently writing his Master’s thesis in computer science and he is out doing that all day long. He likes jazz and takes pictures and is pretty relaxed about the kitchen — not gross, but not obsessively clean. I’ve offered to help correct his thesis and he’s offered to help me speak Norwegian. The kitchen and bathroom are tiny, which makes for a pretty intimate living space, so I feel very lucky that our schedules and dispositions are so compatible. Frederik is gone most of the time that I’m in my room, and he’s a great combination of friendly and reserved.

My room is perfect now but for a couch, which it needs desperately. After that I’ll be the happiest girl in the world. My basil plant is even still alive *crosses fingers*.

People Numbers

By some miracle I received my Person Number on Monday (I never did get the temporary person number that Kevin applied for months ago). The timing could not have been better since I moved on Monday and still haven’t figured out how to officially change my address (Norway is required to issue all official documents in both Bokmal and Nynorsk, but nothing important ever seems to be explained in English). If I didn’t get that number before I moved, I might never be considered a real person…

Tuesday featured a grand shopping and errand-running adventure. I picked up knives and green tea and thumb tacks and hand soap (this was the day I posted the last blog entry, so I’m just filling in the middle bit) and actually enjoyed the shopping. I was excited to be stocking my new home with useful things. I was so contented that I started to wander a bit, which ended — as I mentioned before — with getting quasi-trapped in Akershus Castle. Well, before I got trapped I wandered into a post office where a very nice man helped me set up a bank account. We were almost finished with the process when he asked for my picture…which I didn’t have on me. Everything in Norway seems to require a picture. It’s ridiculous.

The only point of this story is that I was very proud of myself for being able to retrace my steps on Wednesday and discover the very same post office and turn in my picture and apply for an account with Postbank! So I could have money as early as this Wednesday! I realize this might seem slightly anticlimactic to some of you, but believe me, it’s terribly exciting.

Sick & Social

Thursday night was trivia night at Amatøren, which is becoming a weekly tradition. They asked 3 different questions about norsk mythology and I really missed Erin a lot.

I went back to Kringsjå to watch some episodes of 30 Rock and It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia with Kyle and I missed the last T-bane back. It’s the first time I’ve done that. Luckily Leslie was in Copenhagen and she left her room unlocked, so I was able to sleep there instead of trudging all the way back in the dark.

On Friday night a bunch of us went out to the humanities bar where Kyle and Leslie volunteer. I signed up to volunteer, which seems like a great way to meet people and get cheap drinks. When you volunteer at the cafe you even get free waffles! We were with Leslie’s UW friend who is studying in Stockholm and another girl from Washington, Marie, whom I really like. She’s bubbly and blond and very funny. She scared the pants off some boys who were talking about us in Norwegian at the T-bane stop by chastising them back in Norwegian. Highlights of the evening included us all reading aloud the silly scribbles on the bathroom walls (”to pee or not to pee”) and dancing a bit — even though Norwegians tend to not dance and the music tends not to encourage it.

We had to run out at midnight so the other kids could catch the T-bane, and as I bounced through the woods on my short walk home I was very happy to be living where I do. I woke up the next morning with a vicious cold.

Corn Salad

Every Sunday the Oslo Fulbrighters have been gathering for a potluck, and this week’s theme was “Tortillas on My Face” (a friend of Lauren’s sent her some amazing fresh tortillas from his restaurant in Santa Fe and last week we delighted in mishmashing social networking names into things like Myface and Spacebook). Mexican corn salad seemed like a perfect fit with the taco theme, but its assembly turned out to be an ordeal.

Ingredients like rice, honey, vinegar, and corn could all be found at the local grocery store (although honey was even more obscenely expensive than the rest of the food). My search for black (turtle) beans, on the other hand, took me to Gronland aka immigrant grocery stores. These “ethnic” stores seem to carry the only fresh, foreign, and/or spicy products in all of Norway. I found some Indian black beans and some Spanish black beans, both dried, and while neither variety really looked like the black beans we’re familiar with I opted for the Spanish ones. At least the language on the packaging was right.

I’ve never prepared dried beans before. Most recipes say to soak them overnight, but the Internet told me to soak them for only 6 hours. These strange beans (I suspect, after browsing pictures of black beans on Wikipedia, that they were urads) turned their soaking water bright purple, and some of them cracked open to reveal white innards. I left them unattended for 5 minutes after putting them on to boil, and they immediately spewed purple and red all over the kitchen. I think it scared Frederik (my roommate) who confirmed my suspicion that Norwegians don’t eat many beans. Luckily they cooked relatively evenly into soft, tasteless little things that happily soaked up salt and garlic powder. After 7.5 hours of preparation they were thoroughly edible. At which point I opened the can of corn…

…Only to discover that it was a can of CORN ON THE COBS! To be fair, the packaging did say “corn on the cob,” but I took it for one of many little translation errors. One often says “on the cob” to mean “fresh” or “crisp and delicious” when referring to corn. One does not often fill a can full of shriveled little kernels still clinging to their ears. How inefficient! It had been the only can of corn I could find, however, so it’s not like I could do any better. I dutifully sliced the corn off the cobs and thought happy thoughts…like how this activity was no longer occasioned by a painful mouthful of braces.

In the end, the salad looked right, even if the corn was a little sadder than usual. Unfortunately (or else luckily?) I couldn’t taste the salad through my cold. I assume it was edible since some people ate it…but I have a lot left over. We’ll see how much I can get through before Kyle and Morgana and I leave for our extended hiking trip on Wednesday.

There’s always more to say. Part of me really wants to detail my observations about my fellow Fulbrighters, because we’re all so full of quirks and charm, but it’s very late here and I’m sick. And I have a meeting in the morning. And describing other people in public forums isn’t always the best idea. And you’ve read enough by now.

I bought a basil plant today and my whole room smells wonderful. I don’t have high hopes for his winter-time survival, especially after Erin and I killed Stinky, but he’s thick and healthy now. My new room is starting to feel like a home: I’ve set up my furniture, unpacked my suitcases, packed my bookshelf with sexy tomes, and filled a cute new candy dish with licorice. My suitemate is friendly, but he takes off early in the morning so we don’t cross paths much. He’s a Norwegian and a computer science major, so I get lots of fridge space to myself; he only really has ketchup and some eggs.

It feels great to get settled after this weekend. Saturday night epitomized rejection and Kringsjå-crappiness. A bunch of us including Victoria, Victoria’s boyfriend Brendan, Chrissie, Marc, Jeff, Jeff’s friend-from-Brown Andrew, and Erin all went out. We were “not on the list” at the first bar we hit. After that trauma we were kicked out of the law pub. Apparently it was a private party. The bouncer even ferreted Jeff and Andrew out in the bathroom, which seemed like pretty aggressive bouncing. The third bar was actually great, with eclectic dance music and decent drinks, but some of our party couldn’t get in because they were under the arbitrary age of 22. At the end of the night 5 of us caught a cab to Kringsjå, which cost 95 kroner each — like $85 total! I’ll be able to walk to Vestgrensa from downtown.

Today has been long. After running everywhere (I made the 30 minute round trip to Kringsjå three times and shopped downtown and got lost and then got trapped in Akershus Castle) I met up with Victoria for frozen pizza. Her friend Ruth came and brought along her replacement. Ruth works as a promoter for Jamison whiskey (which sounds like the sweetest job in the world, too bad it’s only for Irish girls), but she’s been promoted herself and has to move to Sweden so she’s training this new girl. Both Irish girls were very friendly, and I entertained myself by listening to their accents. Ruth is from Cork while her friend was from outside of Dublin. They both sound Irish, but then they speak with slightly different vowels and cadences.

The four of us met up with Victoria’s friend Rune to see the new David Lynch movie INLAND EMPIRE. It was crazy and disjointed and uncomfortable, but the mere fact that I was hypnotized for most of the 3 hours was impressive. Victoria finished our sickeningly huge carton of popcorn, and after the Irish girls walked out she started eating theirs. The movie was full of gorgeous textures. One shot of a plaster wall almost smelled like plaster, as bizarre as that sounds. I tried to pay attention to the music, but the package was so intense that my focus would slip away. It was incomprehensible to begin with, but the Polish scenes were subtitled in Norwegian, which made it even crazier. Norwegians are silent in the theater, they don’t even laugh at funny things. The only thing that got a rise out of the crowd was when a character said one line in Norwegian — everybody cheered and laughed at that. Also, Norwegian theaters have assigned seating.

I hope everybody is healthy and happy in other parts of the world. I’m sending huge beams of positive thought to Grandma Edith post-surgery. I hope her new knee does everything her old one wouldn’t. I am missing so many friends and family, I wish you could all visit my new cozy happy home. Or see me at Christmas. Or meet me in New York for my birthday in January. Maybe all three?