Kirke

I do stuff like… attend kirke (Norwegian for church).

I have been praying for quite some time that I would meet more people here, preferably that know of or even attend a decent church that I could check out. Its been challenging because the only thing I can really say in Norwegian is “jeg snakker ikke norsk” which means, I don’t speak Norwegian. You clearly see the problem. So I was really thinking about what I could do and praying really hard that somehow I would find someone or somewhere or something. The next morning I checked my email and had received a message on facebook from a girl in one of my classes, it said, "I looked at your profile, are you a Christian? I am too :) You must join me to Salem eg. on Sunday, are you interested? That's the church I go to, and its a meeting for young people every Sunday." Seriously? I was, and still am speechless when I think about how quickly the Lord answered me, He was not messin' around.

Of course I messaged her back quite excitedly and told her I would love to join her. We set up a time to meet at her house (which I had walked past once) on Sunday evening. The time came and after a long day I walked over to her apartment and was perplexed when I didn’t remember which one it was (it didn’t help that it was dark) so I just waited thinking she would come out soon; I was mistaken and looked down at my watch seeing that it was indeed 19.00 (7 PM), when the service started. Dang! I began to walk back to my apartment hoping and praying that I would be able to make it next week. Just as I turned the corner to walk up my steps I heard someone holler my name. I spun around to see Miriam standing on the corner waving at me. I ran over to her in amazement yet again of God’s expeditious response. We talked and walked to the church, which happens to be right down the road from my apartment. We were a little bit late so Miriam asked a tech guy if there was a translation to English that night, and there wasn’t. Which I was fine with because I am rather fond of trying to figure out what people are saying. During a whole church service however this task became exceedingly difficult. There were two songs they sung in English and I recognized both of them!

Other than those two songs however there was only one sentence during the service that was quoted in English. The speaker paused and gazed over the audience slowly uttering these words: “40,000 people die of starvation everyday and you people (the church) don’t give a damn. The worst part about it is that all of you are more concerned with me using the word damn than about the 40,000 people starving right now.” I probably looked shocked but found that to be very interesting. Not only because it was the only thing I understood, but also because as I heard it I was astonished to hear “damn” in the church, and then ashamed to be focusing on one word rather than thousands of peoples lives.

Day-"A Period of 24 Hours as a Unit of Time"

I do stuff like… not think of anything clever to write. So I will just give you a little synapse of some of the happenings that occur during my “ordinary” weekdays.

I usually wake up to a little tune from the alarm on my phone and dance around a little bit in my bed before springing down from my bunk bed feeling like a cheerful child throwing open my curtains (which resemble those of a hotels) to discover more snow and further murkiness. Oh well moving on, to fulfill the expectation of being an adult I then sing the old tune…“The best part of waking up is Folgers in your cuuuup” which honestly is a total lie and they don’t even have Folgers here but a fresh pot of Norwegian coffee works just as well. (Although the coffee is not exactly Cherry Bean caliber but it works with a little milk). Then I proceed to get ready for the day, I think you get the point so let us fast-forward to the oh so lovely excursion to la escuela (Spanish for school, thought I’d add a little more culture, met a girl from Spain the other day). J

The walk usually begins with the wind getting knocked out of me (the air is too cold to breath for a few seconds) as I skip down the front stairs into the parking lot; which would be the end of my walk… if I had a car. But considering my preferred form of transportation here is my lower limbs (legs) I trek through the parking lot and get on my way observing in much astonishment how much more snow has accumulated since yesterday. I have now been informed that there are four different routes one could take to end up at school, only two of which I can ever remember so I just stick with the good old hill. As I stroll through town I thoroughly enjoy the fresh air and observing the people and places around. There is a little bakery around the corner that always smells quite delectable but I know if I ever go in there alone I will never come back out.

After trudging through the snow, ice, rocks, and slush for (at a good pace) twenty-five minutes I pass the Spicheren (the exquisite gym) and end up at the University. As you probably already know the education system is MUCH different here, I happen to be taking a class on the Norwegian education system so I’ll let you know here in about four and half months what it actually entails. What I know thus far is that there is usually one or two assignments each “pupil” must complete and turn in by the specified date. If you complete the assignments on time and pass them you are allowed to “sit the exam” at the end of the semester. I would just like to emphasize that you don’t actually receive “marks” for these assignments they are just prerequisites qualifying you to be able to take the excruciating exam, oh why thank you so much. The exams I am potentially to take (considering I pass my “turn ins”) consist of a 30-minute oral presentation on (I have no idea), two four hour written exams, another presentation, and a paper I believe; all of which I am enthusiastically counting down the days to “sit” (take). SARCASM.

Preceding about five hours of class I usually am the first one out the door. I think it might be a European thing, but they usually have just closed their notebooks by the time I’m walking out the door. I don’t mean to rush but its like John Burroughs said, “I still find each day too short for all the thoughts I want to think, all the walks I want to take, all the books I want to read, and all the friends I want to see.” So in other words, I just like to move along with my day. Depending on the time, I usually scurry over to the gym to get in my daily 7.5k run, J and make it home in what should be the fully lit sunny afternoon, but in reality is quite gloomy and dark. I generally check my mailbox on the way to my lovely bungalow anticipating mail… that occasionally ends with me giggling like a little schoolgirl when I actually see a little surprise inside as I skip down the hall.

To sum up the evening, it usually incorporates a long warm shower, checking my email, dinner with Kayla, a lot of reading, drinking tea, an occasional movie (The Holiday is ALWAYS a big hit in my book), and sometimes a little writing. Now I clearly skipped and omitted portions of the day but I think you can perceive the major idea of my daily life here in Europe. J

Frequently Asked Questions...

I do stuff like… answer these few reoccurring questions:

· No I do not have an accent.

· Yes I am American.

· No I am not 21.

· Yes I am sure I am only 19.

· No I cannot legally drink at home.

· Yes I know the drinking age is only 18 here.

· No I am not graduating from college next year.

· Yes I am sure this is only my first year of college.

· No I did not cheat the system to get here.

· Yes I have enough credits to study abroad.

· No my birthday is not in the next five months.

· Yes I just turned 19 a month ago.

· No I do not speak Norwegian.

· Yes I know I look Norwegian but I am positive I do not understand you.

· No I do not live by the ocean (or any body of water for that matter and Linoma beach does not count)

· Yes it gets cold and snows where I am from.

· No I am not married.

· Yes I have had this ring since I was 13.

· No I do not need your help because I am young.

· Yes I am a big girl I’m sure I can figure it out myself.

· No I do not enjoy studying.

· Yes I want to be a mathematics educator.

· No I do not want to comment on my president.

· Yes I know who he is.

· No I have never been to New York or California.

· Yes I have gone skiing even though I’m from NE.

· No I am not scared to live alone.

· Yes I just moved out of my parent’s house a month ago.

· No I am not a twin.

· Yes I have a middle name.

· No I have never crashed my vehicle.

· Yes I can drive I got my license when I was 16.

· No I do not eat McDonalds every day.

· Yes I drink tea at home too.

· No I do not take the bus or walk in the States.

· Yes I have a car.

· No I have never had fresh salmon before this.

· Yes I love steak and corn.

· No I do not want to answer any more of your questions.

· Yes I am sure.

See the Sea

I do stuff like … have an amazingly humbling Sunday afternoon. This morning I was awakened by “The Entertainer” ring tone on my phone and as I laid there stretching and wiggling my body to the song I thought about a Sunday morning at my house back in P-town. After reminiscing for a few minutes I figured I better embrace the day where I was and jumped down from my bunk bed (which seems much higher up when you jump than when you just climb). I got ready for church and went out in the lobby to wait for Heidi and Johanne to pick me. As I waited I read the fire emergency regulations that hung on the wall, would have been nice to have read those a few weeks ago. But nevertheless they picked me up and we drove into town looking for the church. We parked the car and walked around for a little bit searching for the building, eventually we saw some people that Heidi knew so she asked them (I’m assuming where the church was but seeing as I don’t speak Norwegian I don’t exactly know what she said). We walked a little ways further and found it, there was of course a greeter at the door spewing out his Norwegian welcome. I smiled and shook his hand oblivious to what was going on around me. I collected a little ear translator and listened to the message through the woman translating in my ear, it was actually quite amazing how the whole thing worked. It is crazy how humbling such an experience can be, feeling so inadequate not being able to understand even the language they are speaking.

After church we drove up a mountain by the sea and parked the car and got out and hiked up the rest of the way and back down and around. Even though I could barely see due to the screen of fog, it was most definitely one of the most amazing things I have ever witnessed. The waves crashing up against the massive rocks while snow pours into the water. I thought about how frigid the water must be and watched the lighthouse spin looking miniscule in the immeasurable body of water. I was reminded how insignificant I really am.

When we finally made it back to the car after our “walk” we drove to a little café in town and Johanne walked up the street to get McDonalds! While Heidi and I enjoyed Chai lattes and Norwegian nachos. We chatted and stayed at the café awhile before heading back to Lund (where I live). When we pulled into the parking lot of my apartment Heidi pointed down a little road and asked if I had seen the beach there yet, I of course have been praying for a somewhat sunny day to venture out there by myself. She insisted to show me the way so we went on another walk (which is actually what we would categorize as a hike) around the forest and to the sea. Again I was in shock that this incredible creation was minutes from where I live. We walked around the frozen beach and back to my place. It was a fantastic Sunday and I can’t wait to go back to the shore again. It’s liberating to experience such divergent aspects of the same world.

Open Door Policy?

I do stuff like…

Have an open door policy to my room. I mean the door isn’t literally just left open, but you know what I mean. Back at home our house was always open to whoever wanted to come over so I like it to be that way here as well.

The other night Kayla and I were just eating some Dream ice cream and drinking tea when someone just walked into what I like to call my little European cottage. This isn’t an unusual event (note the open door system). However, one could find it peculiar considering I still don’t have a roommate. Nevertheless I don’t mind. It turned out to be Fana (from Romania) and Julia (from Germany). Julia was holding two grocery bags that she just plopped onto my kitchen table, to my disbelief a container of grape kool-aid mix rolled out. Something I could read and recognize! I stood there puzzled not having any idea what was going on, (which I have become accustomed to here in the last couple of weeks.) But where did she get that?!

She began her explanation that her old roommate was American and had left a note with all of this food that Julia could just have it. Well that’s cool Julia just come down here and rub in my face that you have two bags of my home food that I quite desperately miss right now. We began to explain to her what everything was and she just laughed and responded with, “oh that’s nice, but I hate all of this stuff, so you girls can have it.” I stared at her in astonishment and could not stop the uncontrollable giggling and smiling that had seized my body. We thanked her profusely and went through the bags to find everything from cake mix, to canned turkey, to salad dressing, frosting, and I don’t even remember what else. Fana and Julia clearly could not handle our excitement as they made their way out while Kayla and I began to fill my vacant cabinet with the items that occupied the bags. I am convinced that the open door policy has been nothing but beneficial to me so far and the door will remain ajar.

Giving

I do stuff like…

Come home from a long day of class to find a scrap of paper with a note written on it taped to my door. As I read the tiny paper I realized it was from Heidi, the note relayed the message that she stopped by to see if I wanted to come over for dinner that night but would be back at 18.30 to bring me something. Dang it I missed a free meal! But I was thrilled to see that she was coming back later. Time passed and I had some lovely homemade soup (thanks Kayla) and got some essential tasks done. Next thing I know I peek down at my watch (which was an amazing investment Mary and Shan) and its 19.00. Now I’m worried or wondering if I read it wrong or if she couldn’t get it or something. I slid over to look at the note again and before I could even set it down again my doorbell rang (which is the same noise as the fire alarm, not a pleasant sound) but in this case I was overjoyed and leaped over my chair to the door. As I swung it open Heidi was standing in the hall with a jumbo size trash bag. I lunged at her and gave her a big hug and invited her inside.

She sat down and we chatted and she gave me the bag, which contained a big comfy yellow comforter and a sheet for my “loft” bed. Ever since she saw my limited silverware and one Tupperware container last week she was concerned about my food preparation methods. This became even more apparent when she explained that she wanted to take me to someone she knew who had some kitchen supplies to give me. Before she even finished explaining I had my boots and coat on headed to her car (which is confusing). We drove downtown to a big brick building and she called someone who then met us outside and led us up three flights of dully-lit stairs. We entered an office and the man switched the light on to my immediate surprise this man was the replica of Santa himself. He had the long white hair and beard, rosy cheeks; even his jolly laugh resembled the fictional Santa as he pointed to two sizable boxes on the desk. Santa and Heidi spoke in Norwegian for a few minutes as I just tried to read their faces. When the conversation came to a close Heidi turned to me and said that the man packed up these two boxes for me and I could just have them.

I stood there perplexed; I must have missed something. I don’t know this man, I barely know this woman and they are giving me a whole kitchen, comforters, and “rubbish” cans? I hugged Santa’s arm and thanked him in Norwegian. We lugged the boxes down the stairs and as you can imagine my arms were shaking by the time we got to the ground floor, glass dishes are not a lightweight. Heidi went around the corner and got the car and we loaded up and headed back to my apartment. I persistently thanked Heidi for everything and we talked some more. After she had left I unloaded the boxes and felt like Mary Poppins. It seemed like the bottom of the box didn’t exist and I just kept pulling more and more out of the container. There was everything from tea cups, saucers, ladles, forks, spoons, knives, glass cups, a COFFEE POT, coffee grounds, coffee filters, soup bowls, table clothes, candles, decorated plates of all assorted sizes, floral coffee mugs, pans, and the list goes on; lets just say my kitchen cabinets went from bare to brimming in a matter of seconds. (And yes I washed everything Mom, I’ve never been so happy to do dishes in all my life). A day that I thought would be relatively routine turned into a day of humbling grace and gratitude.

Norwegians

I do stuff like…

Notice some intriguing characteristics of the Norwegian society:

o Norwegians are shy… for about seven seconds. Once they acquire the knowledge of you being from America they are very talkative and curious about every aspect of the States, considering they speak English, which the majority of them do.

o I haven’t decided yet if this is just Norway or people in general but you do not need to know the language to communicate and I find it rather enjoyable to pretend to know Norwegian. To further illustrate this idea here are two circumstances I was in just today. The first one occurred at the gym, I swiped my card and checked into the gym and continued to walk through the door but it didn’t unlock. The second time I did this the employee turned to me and said something in Norwegian while looking at the machine, I replied, “ja” which means yes assuming he asked if I checked in. Then he continued to give me further instruction in Norwegian as I smirked and stared at him. I assumed he told me to try again, so I did, and it worked. As I walked away I turned back and said “takk for hjelpen” which means thanks for your help. Now he could have been telling me something completely different because I truly had no idea what he was saying but if he was really saying what I figured he would say than he would probably be unaware that in reality I did not understand anything he just said.

o Another example of this would be on the walk home. An elderly woman was walking with a ski stick (which is common around here) and came to a curb where she stopped. We happened to be walking by at that exact moment. Just as we passed her I heard her say something in Norwegian so I quickly spun around and walked back to her where she held out her hand and I helped her down the snow bank. The woman looked up at me with her little smile, squeezed my hand, uttered “takk “, and continued on her way. The only word I understood was thank you and I’m assuming that’s all she wanted considering she just walked away. Therefore communication is much more than verbal vocabulary.

o Education is not just a task they are expected to complete. Students learning in class are genuinely interested in the topics and intrigued with the subjects they are studying. This in encouraging to me as I may not always be the most enthusiastic about class I do enjoy acquiring knowledge.

o Physical fitness is not a rarity. Norwegians work out frequently and love outdoor sports and activity.

o From what I’ve noticed traffic laws are more of suggestions. This may be because of the icy roads or maybe I’ve just seen the few risky drivers. I’m not familiar with the laws either but from what I’ve observed red lights simply mean slow down and look around you. Also pedestrians don’t stop for cars nor cars for pedestrians but I think I know who would lose that collision so I choose to wait for the light.

o Norwegians do not fear the cold; they embrace it. They go ice-skating, skiing, and sledding daily. I’ve seen infants waddle around in the snow more content than some self bundled adults.

Home

I do stuff like…

Meet a Norwegian family, through a missions’ organization, who happens to live in the same town that I am studying in; Kristiansand, Norway. Coincidence? I don’t think so. I have been emailing the mother, Heidi, and daughter, Julie, of this family for a few months before I left the States. Julie and I planned to meet at the Spicheren bus stop at 14.40 on Thursday afternoon. I got out of class at 14 and took care of a few things to eliminate off of my “Get Done Soon” list and was headed for the bus stop at 14.35, perfect timing. As I meander my way to the bus stop my mind is overloaded with expectations and ideas and plans and suddenly I realize, I don’t actually know what she looks like. I’ve only seen her in pictures, I don’t even have my spectacles on, and since the bus stop is outside everyone I see will be bundled up hiding their real identity anyway. By the time I go through this whole predicament in my head I’m already in the vicinity of the stop so I figure I’ll just wait and see what happens (which has become a large percentage of my everyday life here). I get closer and realize there is someone standing by the bench so of course I get excited thinking its her but as we all know I can’t just run up to the person and start babbling in English about how excited I am to meet him or her, especially if its not actually her. So I nonchalantly walk by peering out of my peripheral vision and out of my best judgment I decide that it is most definitely not her. So now what? I already walked by so I can’t just pull a U turn and go back, I already committed to walking past it. I guess I’ll just keep going, I make my way through the frozen tundra up the corner and pull a quick 360 onto the other sidewalk and go up the little hill above the bus stop. Now I have an exceptional view of the stop so I can scan the region for any newcomers that may look like an 18-year-old Norwegian girl (which is a lot more difficult than you’d think considering everyone has on a plethora of winter apparel and I am watching a bus stop by two schools and a gym).

But on I wait and watch. I notice a few people but thankfully can tell that they are guys so I don’t bother going to pull my whole walk by number. After what seemed like a millennium I glance down at my watch, its only been ten minutes. I start questioning whether or not I’m at the right stop on the right day at the right time and after confirming in my mind I conclude that I will just wait a few more minutes before starting my trek home.

No longer than two minutes later I am aware of a girl standing next to me creepily glaring at my face. So I turn and look at her and she whispers, “Kelsey.” My face bursts into a smile as she hugs me and apologizes for being late. We trudge down to the stop and get on the bus while chatting like we’re old friends. Julie wanted to go downtown and to the city so of course I accompanied her and she informed me a considerable amount about the town, her family, Norway in general, and that her mom is making dinner for us. Well that worked out wonderfully, you don’t have ask me twice. After two hours of bus rides and looking around at all the stores we made our way to the grocery store to pick up some butter and wait for Heidi (her mom) to pick us up.

We arrived to their house and escaped the icy air of the night as we hurried into the front door of what seemed like a fairy tale cottage. The home was just that, a home. I was immediately welcomed and realized the drastic difference in living conditions. A mini, cold, poorly illuminated, lonely room is what I was use to. Walking into a cozy house that smelled of heavenly “mat” (food in Norwegian) with a family and all the ingredients of a home was refreshing. Then the best was yet to come as I sat down at an adorable candlelit table and was served an authentic Norwegian meal: meat cakes, mashed potatoes, and milk. I’m not usually one to just dig in to something called a meat cake, especially when the type of meat is not specified but apparently my appetite took over my habits and before I knew it I was scraping my plate and gulping down the most delicious milk my taste buds have ever encountered. We had a lovely evening and I think they could tell that I hadn’t actually had a meal in awhile because later Julie made us popcorn and we drank Christmas soda while Heidi made “boller” (like cinnamon rolls without cinnamon) and tea for us. When the night came to a close Heidi and Julie dropped me off at my dorm and came in for the grand tour: which took all of four and a half seconds. We said our “ha det” (goodbyes) and I showed them out thanking them persistently for everything. I smiled to myself as I walked back to my room thinking of a quote I once heard in high school, “Home is a place you grow up wanting to leave, and grow old wanting to get back to.” - John Ed Pearc

Immigrant!

I do stuff like….

Wake up in the morning feelin’ like P Diddy (just kidding, it’s a song mom). But really I woke up in the morning and headed out for a morning stroll to downtown. We had yet to get our passports signed so we had to go back to the police station and wait in immigration. One thing I’ve learned here is that you don’t actually really need to understand the language, if you just observe the people around you and their behavior you can catch on pretty quick. So we followed a foreign woman with her stroller up to the fifth floor and into the immigration office where we pushed a blue button and pulled out a little receipt with a number on it. I glanced down at mine, 33, ok great I have no idea what number they are on but they only opened an hour ago so I figured they were speedy. Well I figured wrong, about 45 minutes later Kayla and I went and sat on the floor in the hall because all of the chairs were taken. I’m just slouching on the floor thinking about my day when I feel something hit my foot; I quickly look down and see a little Arab boy just smiling up at me. Oh he’s adorable I thought, and then I realized what hit me. The child is using my foot as a soccer ball! He is just kicking away at my foot as if I’m not even alive and watching him. I couldn’t help but just laugh and how crazy the child was. So it was then I decided that we should find out what number they were actually on. I crept back into the office away from the schoolboy to find a little black electronic board with the number 18 flashing on it, enjoyable system to have the number on the board so everyone knows. So only 15 more people ahead of me perfect. I go back and sit down to thankfully find the little boy missing. Lovely I cannot be abused for a few moments.

We came that early in the morning thinking that we would have plenty of time then for me to get to school for class. We again thought wrong. I began praying and praying that somehow the next fifteen people would need minimal help and go by quickly. We had to be approved by the seventh day of being here and yep yesterday was the seventh, so note to self, self don’t put things at the “politi” off until last minute. Just as I am calculating in my head how much time each person could spend in there still giving me a turn before I had class, the child comes back. Oh joy, he’s running around in his little snow suit eating a Clementine pushing buttons he should not be touching, turning lights off and on, opening the elevator, and putting little boy hand prints on every reachable piece of glass. He runs between Kayla and I and drops one of his wedges right by Kayla’s leg. He came to an abrupt stop and turned around and stared at it for a minute, he slowly started shuffling back to it so I assumed he was going to be a good little boy and pick it up but wouldn’t you know wrong again. The closer he gets to it the more evil his little grin becomes and then before ya know it he recklessly crushed the fruit under his snow boot and giggled as he waddled away. Ok the child was cute the first time but not anymore. Thankfully his mother came over and wiped it up as Kayla is making sure it didn’t get on her pants. Perhaps it is a positive thing that she didn’t speak our language because we had a few things to say to her about watching her destructive infant.

Anyway I just keep praying that my number comes up soon I only have a half hour before I need to leave to make it to class on time. I’m in a Catch 22 because I have to get registered with the police but I also can’t miss this class because my professor stressed how “obligatory” it was to attend. I just lean back against the wall and figure that both of these things are essential so He will handle it. I go back to look at the board and they are on 23. I now only have a little more than twenty minutes and things are not looking up for me, but I realize that there is nothing I can do but wait and pray, so I do. Fifteen minutes goes by and I’m deciding what I should do, leave and not get registered or stay and miss class. While I’m lost in thought Kayla shoves me and whispers, “aren’t you 33?” Sure enough 33 is flashing on the board and I’m up. I get in there and hand in my papers she asks me a few questions, takes my picture, stamps my passport and I’m out in no time. I’m off to class as a legal resident of Norway. Lets all say it together shall we… God is amazing.

God dag! (hello)

I do stuff like…

Take a five-hour course in Language and Didactics. Sounds horrible, and it is. But I got to class today and everyone was really friendly, I was by far the youngest one in the class, which I have noticed, has been true for mostly everything I’ve done here so far. A few people I’ve talked to don’t believe me when I tell them how old I am so I usually just don’t tell anyone unless they ask. Anyway, since this class is basically learning the linguistics of English I had to introduce myself and I thought the professor was going to kiss me when I told her that I was from the US and then she got even more excited when I said Nebraska, apparently no one in the class had ever met anyone from Nebraska (uh Go Big Red).

The rest of that seminar (two hours) I was somehow volunteered to read the majority of the text because of my “accent”. We then had a half hour break for lunch, why thank you. So a Norwegian girl I met in class, Marie, and I ran up to the “IT jhelp” to get my username and password fixed which they still couldn’t figure out, ergo I still can’t technically register for class and get everything I need online (which doesn’t really matter I guess since I can’t get net in my room yet anyway). So Marie was worried about me not being able to register so she took me to a service desk of some sort and started spewing Norwegian at the lady who then asked for my student ID card and did her thing typing on the computer. A few seconds later she handed me my card back with a sticky note where she had written a plethora of numbers. I said “takk” which means thank you, and turned to Marie with a questioning look. She took me over to a computer and helped me register for the class. She was very efficient and helpful, thank you kind stranger Marie. She taught me a few other Norwegian phrases that I might need as we walked back to class. Rely on God and He will provide.

During the second half of class (the next two and half hours) we had to speak with a British accent so that we could speak proper English and transcribe certain words with added stress and specified word class, which was kind of hard since this course is a whole year course and everyone else in the class worked on this last semester. But no big deal I’ll figure it out myself with this Norwegian handout you gave me. I actually was able to catch on I think, the professor told me I could come to her office tomorrow and she would explain a few things to me. Lovely I will see you there then.

I’m starting to get use to my half hour trek to and from university. It gets quite frigid after the first fifteen minutes, that’s usually when my legs go numb and I can’t feel them the rest of the way. I now understand why everyone here has rosy cheeks as well, its not the blush they use, it’s the blistering wind that gives them cherry cheeks. I have discovered however, that just like anything else there are positive aspects to my walk. First of all my water bottle (thank you Shan) always stays nice and cold, J and secondly its nice to get to walk around and see the town and everything. I don’t plan on getting a bus pass so I’m learning to enjoy these little 2 mile hikes. Everything I need is about 2 miles away from my apartment so the other day I had to walk downtown and to school so if I am capable of calculation I think I walked 8 miles. But I don’t mind, it will be lovely I’m sure when it gets nicer out. Ha det (bye).

Fire?!

I do stuff like…

Take a nice relaxing shower in my bathroom that has heated tiles. Blow-dry my hair compliments to Paula and Kim for making this possible. I’m just sitting in my room all by myself, since my roommate hasn’t arrived yet. I’m all curled up with my comfy pants on, my hair is a disarray, just in my chair with my tea and my book when unexpectedly the loudest most obnoxious noise I’ve ever heard started going off! I had no idea what this deafening noise was until I unlocked both of my doors and looked in the hallway to find a little man from Latvia telling me that it was the fire alarm and we should probably go outside. Oh lovely good thing we have a high of 4 this evening and I’m in my PJ’s with no jacket on and my whole life is just lingering in my room ready to be demolished by flames. Well there is no possible way I’m leaving my only source of real communication so I run back into my room to and grab my phone, lock my doors and briskly make my way to the front door. Oh hi everyone in my whole building nice to meet you finally, glad you could see me for the first time like this, yes I’m American. After standing there listening to the ear splitting bell for a few minutes a lady walks up to us, she looks like she has some kind of authority even though I don’t know what kind exactly. She tells us it’s just a test and that we can “carry on”. Oh a test, that’s funny, where I’m from we tell people when it is going to be a test so that the people involved don’t think that they are about to lose all of their belongings to engulfing flames and have cardiac arrest in their early twenties. But no big deal it’s fine we’ll just go ahead and “carry on”. So we make our way back to our rooms making the assumption that the thunderous noise will end soon. I’m still not sure what she expects us to “carry on” with because as I sit here now the alarm remains on full volume and it has been sixteen minutes. Good thing I don’t have to get up early for class tomorrow… oh wait, I do. Whoops. Ha.

FOUR MINUTES LATER…

So thankful the ear piercing TEST is done but now I’ll just have to get use to the constant ringing in my ears. Well I guess I can say that there hasn’t been a quiet boring night yet here in Norway. This whole day has made me so abundantly more thankful for the good old U S of A.

No stable net...

I do stuff like…

Meet random people around my flat that are from Romania, Iran, Oslo, Poland, The Netherlands, and Germany. I could not tell where any of these people were really from but all of them knew right away that I was American. This surprises me however, because everyone I talk to first starts speaking to me in Norwegian until I say, “what?” then they just laugh and say it again in English. I’ve only met one person here in Norway that doesn’t speak English. The other students in my classes are serious scholars; they are taking courses in a language other than their native, which is crazy to me. I can barely understand what our professor is talking about and he is speaking my home language!

I had my first class today, lets just say I had to take a big deep breath and let go of my ideal GPA for the semester. The system here is a lot less organized than back at home. They say to just "look it up look it up" well my dear fellow Norwegian students I don't have access to the world wide web yet, the only reason I can blog is by stealing my Iranian neighbors internet until it quits on me. Also "wireless net" here means, buy a cord and plug it into your wall and your computer, ergo it does not mean wireless they should call it "with cord". I think they obviously understand the education system more and have their ways of doing things; which isn’t necessary bad, its just different from home, and a lot more difficult. We only get sunlight from about ten in the morning until three in the afternoon, and its not like real sunshine you need your sunglasses. It’s more like a hint of light behind a barricade of gloomy clouds. I think that might be one thing that is factoring in to my messed up eating and sleeping habits (other than the fact I’m living seven hours ahead of Omaha), by four in the afternoon it is darker than black outside so I feel like I should be in bed. When actually I should probably be starting to read one of the seven textbooks I need to finish by May. Whoops..haha. I think the education system here is going to be a lot more difficult to slide by in. At home I could rely on little grades to keep me up like quizzes and homework. Here, for my American Literature class I have one grade. In May I have to give a thirty minute oral presentation of who knows what, and then take a four hour written essay exam. Goodbye decent grades, hello studying?!

Flight Frenzy..

I do stuff like…

Have to pay $150 extra for a suitcase that weighs over 50 lbs. Then get informed that I can only take one item, yes one item, AKA no personal item on the flight so there goes my pillow and blanket. I had to SHOVE my purse into my backpack that was already stuffed undoubtedly as full as possible but I realized anything would fit as long as you push hard enough. So thankful that fit. Then while boarding the plane (which had four seats to a row) we were told people would have to go check their carry on bags because the plane was too small to hold everything. I walked prayerfully up to line and smiled at the kind airplane lady who winked at me and just told me to take my bag and enjoy my flight. Kayla and I were not supposed to sit by each other but right before the plane took off a woman with a baby asked if I would mind switching with her so of course I said no problem and shimmied over to her seat to find Kayla in the seat next to my new one so we got to take off and fly together from Omaha to Chicago. God is good.

Now in Chicago looking for terminal 4, unbeknownst to me there is no such thing, the map I had looked at was old and they now had a new international terminal… 5. So after receiving three different sets of directions we just hopped onto an elevator. The two men in the elevator asked us where we were headed, while giggling I told them I didn’t really know. We talked to them and it turned out that they were going to the same terminal we were and just so happened to know exactly where they were going. Again … God is good. Onward to security, the line was massive so we just patiently took our place thankful that we had time to spare. After getting through the metal detector I was directed into a giant clear box in the middle of security where I was unpleasantly patted down. Needless to say they found nothing on me so I was off to gather my belongings, which consisted of my overstuffed backpack, my tennis shoes, my scarf and coat, and my laptop “carefully placed in a tray all by itself”. Then it was off to find my gate and some sort of food to hold me over for the next fourteen hours.

I also do stuff like…

Get my named called over the speaker at the gate, so I go up there thinking I had was going to get patted down again or something. But instead she takes my passport and ticket and does her thing on the computer, then I’m alarmed to see her rip up my ticket!! But before I could ask anything she handed me a new one and said someone requested your seat in Economy so do you mind flying in Business? Do I mind?! Of course I don’t mind, who would mind?! The Lord has already proven that he is taking care of me and that he has a sense of humor; I turned to Kayla and told her what happened and the new seat I was given, 02b Class C. She thought I was joking so I showed her my ticket and she gasped and held up hers… 02d Class C. Shall I say it yet again… God is SO good.

I do other stuff like…

Fly on a plane that runs late so I have to sprint through the Copenhaugen airport in Denmark, which is HUGE, to get to my gate on the other side. Along the way I encountered security twice and a passport verification but was able to get to the gate right as the last few people were boarding. So I told them that Kayla was coming and we both made it on the plane sweaty but on time.