A Car Hit Me

I do stuff like … get hit by a Norwegian vehicle.

My lovely American friend Rachel (from Idaho) and I were just walking home from our exceptional American Studies class (yes I’m taking American Studies in Norway); we are having a very deep intellectual discussion about Dark Romanticism and True National Literature (yeah right, we were probably talking about boys) but anyway we get to the road that doesn’t have a sidewalk so we stay to the very edge and just keep trekking. Now this is more difficult than one would think because of the massive snowdrifts the road is already very narrow and cars are zooming past going both directions. But we aren’t too worried about it, that is until we both heard a popping noise and I felt like I just got hit by a car. Oh that’s because I did. The cars usually get pretty close and apparently this driver had poor depth perception because they got a little too close. My water bottle (compliments of Shan) popped out of my bag, by the way the ones that say virtually unbreakable really are unbreakable. Thankfully the car just sideswiped me and I had on plenty of layers and my backpack took most of the impact. I would post a picture of my sweet bruise but its location is not exactly blog appropriate. I turned to Rachel and she asked if I was ok and then started laughing uncontrollably and I must have looked confused because she assured me between bouts of laughter, “you just got hit by a car”. We both spun around to see if the driver would stop but they were long gone. Due to my astonishment and disbelief I started laughing too as Rach and I continued our much more cautious walk home. As we approached our destination we must have asked each other a hundred times if that really just happened, sure enough it did. I got hit by a car.

The Trek

I do stuff like … go skiing in Norway.

But that’s not what I’m going to tell you about right now. This is going to be an attempt to give you a visual of what I experience on my walk to school. I’ve become fond of bundling up like a child going out to play in the snow; that is until I get into the snow. Scanning the parking lot from the front door in the morning after a night of endless snowfall is like looking out onto a white desert. Even with my spectacles on I can’t distinguish between drifts of snow or actual objects such as bikes and cars. I push the little green button and the door mechanically swings open. With my first step out my glasses are overcome with fog and I have to take them off to be able to see anything, the astronomical snowflakes hit my face and immediately melt causing my skin to be wet and therefore even more cold than it already is.

By the time I reach the corner I have already seen the “primary school” (that’s what Norwegians call Elementary) children making their way to class. By ‘making their way’ to class I don’t mean walking or running or getting off the bus. The children, all of the children regardless of age or size, are cross country skiing to school; hence the reason they don’t have snow days here. There is no need to cancel school due to snow because everyone can just clip on their skis, grab their poles and slide to school. Many of the Norwegians I have questioned about this have said they received their first set of skis when they were two and three years old. (A valid reason I decided why the ten year old that was skiing with me the other day was gliding circles around me as I attempted to climb up the hill with my skis on, but that is another story for another day.)

I get past the school and continue down a path towards the University, I have to stay to the right because on my left are mothers pulling their infants. I have seen strollers here, but they are like strollers with monster wheels, like I’m pretty sure the strollers have an option to flip on four-wheel drive. But most of the mothers I have seen pull their toddlers behind them on sleds. How is this possible on the sidewalk you ask? Great question. They don’t exactly shovel the sidewalk like we would expect in the States. They move some snow around and get quite close to the pavement but there remains a decent layer of snow and ice between your feet and the ground making it more of a glide than an actual walk.

After gigging to myself about the form of child transportation around here I glance up and peer out from under the brim of my frozen hat to see the school off in the distance. My icicle eyelashes become glued to each other every time I blink and the ends (split ends may I add, Haley I need a haircut!) that are sticking out from under my snow covered hat have become pin straight and iced over. At this point my thunder thighs are frosted and numb, that is my cue that I am almost there. When I finally reach my destination and remove a few layers I find that my skin feels like the inside wall of a freezer yet somehow at the same time its perspiring. I obviously have to make a trip to the “toilets” before scampering up to class and being filled with new knowledge. It is a refreshing start to a hectic day.

Holiday to London

I do stuff like… Take holiday to London for the weekend!

To preface this entry I would like to notify you that there is really no way for me to clearly explain what I have witnessed and experienced this past weekend, but nevertheless I’m going to try. I apologize now for how contorted this may come out I realize it may just be rubbish.

We left Thursday morning and walked down to the train station, which is coincidentally right next to the Central Bus Station. Walking past the area brought back a flood of memories of my first night here in Norway being stranded at the bus station in a strange country, at night, freezing; not that I’m bitter in any way it was quite the learning experience actually. Back to the point, this is the first time (correct me if I’m wrong Kathy) that I have been on an actual train. My expectations, like usual, were very far off. The trains we were on had cars in which the seats in one car would be facing one direction and the seats in the next car faced the opposite, ergo if you had to sit in the car facing backwards you were in for quite a ride of motion sickness traveling backwards for five hours. As you may have guessed I indeed had the privilege of experiencing this situation. We were fortunately able to move though and get seats all together; there weren’t a gaggle of people on our first train so we ended up sitting in the seats that faced each other, lovely. I won’t go on about the train other than to say that I think I like trains more than airplanes. Which brings us to the little Oslo Torp airport where we enjoyed the company of each other for the next six hours until our flight to England departed. A few random fun facts to point out: traveling lightly does not mean having outfits with options, it means taking your backpack with only what you will absolutely need; this makes for a less painful back ache, easier security passing, and less risk of being mugged while having carrying everything you brought with you everywhere you go.

To make an entirely too long story short I have come to the conclusion that most people working in airports, especially passport inspectors are often unable to smile and hate their lives, therefore they attempt to make everyone else hate their own lives by interrogating you with as many questions as possible and then doubting your honesty when you answer. This tactic however, did not work on me and I purposefully held my enthusiastic smile while thanking them and telling them to have a wonderful day. I was excited, probably over excited actually, to be able to read all of the signs and understand people around me in the England airport where everything was in the great English language! Cheers.

Lets skip ahead to after our incredibly late and loud plane ride, to the hotel which was actually just reserved for three adults so incidentally Rachel and Fana happened to be some ways behind us when we checked in. I now know why they have a three adult max rule, the room was quite small and having five of us in there made it all the more cozy (this was the beginning of the end of my personal bubble for the weekend). The highlight of the hotel stay was for sure the English breakfast in the morning (don’t get me wrong girls I enjoyed squeezing three of us onto that not so queen sized bed) but breakfast had fruit, yogurt, cheese, little pastry things that I can’t pronounce, cereal, toast and jam, an assortment of beverages from tea, to juice, coffee, hot chocolate, milk. Great way to start off the first day in the UK (haha that rhymed).

(Going to have to finish later I have to go further my education)