By:Larm 2014

Music is the closest we're ever going to get to speaking in pictures no matter how many emojis and Snapchats come along.

This is just an irrefutable fact of life.

But these pictures, alone, don't really mean anything without a deeper context.  Anyone with even a bit of talent can tell you a story, but it only matters if it helps you recognize your own.

It's the reason why, every year, countless acts like Ace of Base and Imagine Dragons (I couldn't help myself) cycle through the cultural spectrum, washing out some time shortly after their arrival.  While other bands can survive years, even decades (How this explains The Offspring is unclear).

That's not to say that pop music is without merit (I love many pop songs!  There are times one just wants to dance) or that it can't take on a deeper meaning, but that, in and of itself, isn't its inherent purpose.

Most of my life is sought seeking music that helps define how I view myself/life/memories/existence.

Which is a slightly pretentious way of saying that attending a musical festival can provide both experiences.

Last week, I attended By:Larm, a week-long mixture of conferences and concerts that's billed as the Nordic answer to South by Southwest.

Saturday, I found myself en route to Youngstorget, the epicentre of the scene.  Here's a retro running diary of the experience.

7:15 - Walking through the drizzling rain I had the sinking feeling that I should've probably gotten to the festival sooner

7:40 - Sure enough, upon arriving at the main entry, I'm instructed by a grinning, security guard that the two block long line that I was trying to avoid is, in fact, the line to turn my ticket into an all-access wristband

7:48 - To my (and mostly everyone's chagrin), the people looking to purchase wristbands are fast-tracked into a shorter queue (with an overhang to protect them from the rain!) while us pre-purchasers are left to wait

7:55 - I meet a group of girls who travelled all the way from Kristiansand to attend the festival and they share their whiskey and beer with me because music festival.

7:59 - I get my wristband.  The first act I want to see (First Aid Kit) starts in one minute at Senstrum Scene, about five minutes away :(

8:03 - My running was totally unnecessary as the Swedish sister duo hadn't come on yet.  The place was full, which felt even more packed as the upper gallery area was closed, and ready for the music.  However, this was the time for which the Nordic Music Prize was being presented.  I'd seen the words "Nordic Music Prize" on the schedule, but assumed it was part of the billing and that the breakthrough artists had won an award previously awarded.

They hadn't.

The award presentation was happening now.  It was one award and the presenter was already in mid-speech (being done in Norwegian because Swedes and Danes can mostly understand and no one cares about the Finnish).

8:10 - The award is handed to a motley crew of guys who look both confused and high.  The crowd applauds in a purely "Good job, now get the hell off the stage!" way.  First Aid Kit time!

8:11 - Apparently, there's more awards as another presenter saunters on stage.  The crowd is has moved from "unsettled anticipation" to "outright derision".  This guy, with a haircut that screams "BBC extra" and an outfit that's trying too hard to be anti-establishment and just looks cheap, better be funny or they'll devour him

8:15 - He's not funny.  Bad.  He's rambling and isn't speaking in Norwegian (broken english?).  Really Bad.  He's trying to start-up a powerpoint presentation and is experiencing technical difficulties.  A riot may break out.

8:24 - I'm outside and on my way to Revolver because a)  I didn't want to be a witness/involved in a melee caused by the deprivation of pop indie folk and b) One of the more talked about bands (Dråpe) was starting at 8:30 at a venue that was slightly larger than my apartment and I wanted to make sure I was in before they started.

8:27 - Just in and without any time to spare as they're already on stage and  finished their warm-ups.  I think I'll get a beer.  74 kroners/$12.33/9€!?!?  I'm sipping this very slowly.

8:29 - They start their set

8:31 - They're amazing

8:43 - Like, really, really amazing

8:50 - When you hear something that is amazing, it usually knocks you on your butt due to: its talent (think to the first time you heard a great diva's voice), its depth (this album!!!), or just being beyond anything you ever heard before that moment.

These are examples of life-changing music.

You judge other things by the standard they set.

However, there's another type of amazing that doesn't blow you away, but draws you in.  It's like a huge vacuum and it transports you into a world, the world the artist is creating, and it holds up a mirror where you can see your own memories even though they've already happened and this experience is presently happening.  Dråpe transplanted me back to the first, two summer vacations of my college years.  It was wonderful, and chilling, and sad all at the same time (bittersweet, I suppose).  It made me long for and miss memories that never occurred.

9:15 - Their set had ended about ten minutes earlier, but I was still buzzing.  The next group (Lint) was setting up, which mostly just consisted of the guitarists shuffling around on stage, awkwardly, and strumming a few chords on their guitars and the keyboardists shooting dirty looks to the engineer behind me at the back of the room.

9:18 - Now, alone on stage, the keyboardists is signalling what seems to be "turn my microphone up" (the engineer shares this sentiment with a person standing next to him who I assume is the band's personal sound man).  Knobs are turned, sliders slid, and lights flicker.  More dirty looks ensue

9:23 - After the previous cycle repeats itself numerous times with more frowning and head shaking, the engineer leaves the "booth" and goes up to the stage.  The personal sound guy makes a handful of minor tweaks  to the various sound modules in his steed.  On stage, I watch as the keyboardists and the engineer go through a litany of everything that could possibly be out of whack.  I hate to prejudge a group, but these dudes better be amazing with this guy acting like Scott Stapp.

9:31 - The rest of the group has come back out, except for the keyboardists because of course.

9:36 - The place is PACKED!!  Their set has just started.

9:41 - They're pretty good, but make me miss the late 90s post/alt rock.  I had the overwhelming desire to go home and listen to Clarity

9:53 - I didn't go home, but to Rockfeller to listen to Zhala who, it sounds like is finishing up as I'm in line to get in because every venue now has block long lines.

I ended the night listening to Ine Hoem at my original stop (Sentrum) because it still had space (which is a loose way to describe standing outside the main area and listening to music without seeing the stage).  Honestly, it might not have mattered where I was or who was on stage as my head was still ringing from Dråpe.

In fact, it still is.

ALT FOR NORGE

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SMAK 2014

Last Friday, I went to a food festival trade-show in nearby Lillestrom.

I boarded the train and was off.

A ticket that makes sense only to NSB employees

Taking the train in Norway is like an adventure within an adventure, especially if you take the local (which I did) as opposed to the express (the express stops at Lillestrom and then the Airport).  

Picturesque Lillestrom 

Said adventure results from the number of stops required to reach the destination.  While the Express goes straight to Lillestrom, the local makes somewhere between 9 and 2034983298575 stops before arriving in the neighboring "kommune", a couple dozen of miles/kilometers away.

Some of the stops were quaint suburbs and some had motorcycle clubs associated with violence and death.  Fun times.

Now, the festival.

As a condition of my admission to the festival for free (sans the $45 entrance fee!), I have to blog about it.  

I'm not a food blogger so I'll just talk about all the funny things that happened accompanied by pictures!

"Find your booth"!  (Sadly, this was only meant literally and not figuratively)

 After leaving the train station, I was presented with two options.  Take a left and end up in "Downtown" (I did this after the trade-show… the less said, the better) or take a right and go to the "trade-show" area.  I imagined SMAK 2014 was probably to the right and, after seeing the area's goofiest looking Steak House and THON hotel, I was right!

The above picture was what greeted me outside the facility where the Trade Shows were held.  I'd described the outside facade as "reappropriated warehouse chic".

Inside, I got my "credentials" and started walking around.  My broken Norwegian didn't really play and I wasn't getting any headway at the first, two booths I stopped (I started in the trade-show area for kitchen appliances to test out my method of interaction to determine what would be most effective… i.e. get me the most free things).

After a few, more booths, I realized that if I portrayed myself as an American blogger writing about scandinavian culture who knew nothing about the nordics, I was believed, not asked any follow-up questions (like "Where can I read what you write?", "How can the failing newspaper industry afford to send someone galavanting through Europe?", "Why are you using an iPad as a camera?"), and offered more items than the rest of the public.

I have this guy to thank.

Anyway, I decided to start with dessert.

Here are the highlights:

This was like Strawberry whipped cream with strawberry sauce!

These are the guys that committed the strawberry-on-strawberry food porn

Stabburet was awesome.  In addition to that Strawberry^2 dessert, I also tried some Orange sherbet and their new vanilla… Meh.

But that Strawberry was the truth!

I didn't try these because they looked like they tasted like plastic, but they were pretty!

Soooooooooooooooo goooooooooooooooood

 The next stop was Kulinar Is (which I'd been calling Kolboton Is because, as you can see, that's where it's made).

They got my attention now.

I literally hijacked their booth by eating about a dozen, different samplings of their ice cream (all was magical and delicious, but, as previously stated, I have a special affinity for Strawberry).

Confession time.  Food-wise, America does a lot of things great, in fact, better than any place I have been.  However, ice cream isn't one of them.  I discovered that sad truth when I lived in Belgium.

So is true in Norway.  Kulinar Is, like countless places in France and Belgium, is better than Baskin-Robbins, DQ, Friendly's, Haagen Dais, Ben & Jerry's, Good Humor, or the countless mom and pop shops I've been, too (yes, even you, Sugarland).

But don't get it twisted.  I'd still rather have the Apple Pie from Cold Stone Cremery any day of the week.

Moving on, I started eating animals like a vegetarian breaking bad.

Here are some of the highlights of that tour de force:

As I've said countless times in other posts, the standards for meat production and animal living conditions are significantly higher in Norway as not only compared to the US, but the rest of the world.

Does that make the meat taste better?  Some times.  The best tools in the hands of someone not prepared to use them the best aren't going to make great work.  Seasoning is still a new concept in my new home and so, the results can be hit or miss.

No place evidenced this better than the awful, panini booth that I stopped at first.  I don't want to put them on blast, but I'd advise against any non-Norwegian ethnic food here unless tripadvisor.com or yelp said otherwise.

That poor taste was quickly rectified with Røroskjøtt AS.

Their meat was tender, tasty, and, surprisingly, large in size (one always assumes that the food here is smaller).  Quite the pleasure to enjoy.

The next booth I stopped at was surprisingly empty.  They were a whole seller that provided whole chicken breasts and nuggets to restaurants and airlines in the area.  As part of a new campaign, they were offering chicken sausage.

And boy, was it delicious!

The guy running the booth nervously watched me munching on the sausage which made me feel kind of weird, but didn't stop me from eating seconds, thirds, fourths, and fifths.  Finally, he asked if I enjoyed it and I was like "uh, yeah."

Then, he said "I have a confession to make about it"

I was quietly preparing myself for the following revelations:

• It was made from people
• It was actually cows that failed out of Bovine University
• It was vegetarian

"It is made from halal meat"

"Oh." I replied.  Then asked for sixths.  As-salamu alaykum

Before I finished, I decided to go to the beer, wine, and liquor section.  I was denied entry because my credentials weren't VIP.  My attempts at charming my way in fell flat as the security guard didn't understand english (or was very good at pretending she didn't understand english).

Fortunately, there were a few places that served intoxicants that were outside the designated area.  Why?  Because Norwegians like talking alcohol (like Jay-Z likes talking money).

This was something blue and tasty, but mainly cool looking!  The actual booth was an advert for dry ice cooling elements that didn't leak deadly gasses into your drink.  

Then came the highlight, my stop at Nogne Ø.  There I not only got two try litters of their awesome beer (Brown Ale and Global Pale Ale), but they also had some dried, reindeer with cranberry syrup that went excellent with the Pale Ale.

Highlight of the trip.

Confession Time #2:  For the past year, Nogne ø has been my third, favorite brewery in the world (Behind - Anchor Steam and Heavy Seas)

ALT FOR NORGE

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So this is winter...

Eighteen days.  Eighteen, straight days.

It's been eighteen, straight days of snow here in Oslo.

That's 1 followed by an 8 (I just want to make sure you understand, sorry for the overkill).

I no longer live in a city in Norway.  I live on a mound of snow where walking down the street has become a human version of Mouse Trap.  Yes, if a building has a red sign out in front that says "takrasfare" (Roof landslides), then it's your own fault if you get hit/hurt from said "roof landslides'.  No litigation, no recourse.  They did put the sign out.

So, now, the first, obvious question.

"Why are you surprised that it's snowing so much?"

I'm surprised because that's a lot of snow.  I didn't even think it snowed this much in Greenland (which, contrary to my belief isn't full of a bunch of broke, white people listening to John Mellencamp records, but with like Inuits… who knew?) or Antarctica, let alone a major city hundreds of miles from the arctic circle (I bring up "major city" because the concentration of all the things that make a city a city tend to make cities warmer and, in case you're scoring at home, Oslo is 600 km/327 miles south of the arctic circle.  The same latitude as Anchorage, Alaska).

The second, less-obvious question.

"So, uh, what's that like?"

It's what I'd imagine living in a snow globe (sans the shaking) or being stuck in "Frozen" must be like.  The snow is constantly falling but, judging by the picnic table in our back garden, doesn't seem to be accumulating as much as one would imagine.  On the sidewalks, which are constantly shovelled (the plow business in Oslo is like the sun tan lotion business in Miami), there is about 8 inches (20 centimetres) and the roads tend to just be a finely, compact layer of snow with worn to the surface tire marks.  In some spots, the drifts are over 6 feet deep (1.83 meters), but you're not going to be walking and just disappear from view (take relief, mothers).  Though, the ice (which, surprisingly isn't that bad) claims victims on the regular.

The thing that makes the snow the worst is the weekend.

You have to really, REALLY want to go outside because it's such an elaborate process.  "Do I have warm enough clothes on?", "Do I have the right shoes on that won't leave my feet wet and cold?", "Will I flip out if these pants are damaged by salt, barnevogn wheels, old man shoe spikes?"…

Important questions of our time.

But, when you're sitting inside and the fireplace is roaring and you found that perfect Spotify playlist from the Browse feature, it's pretty beautiful.

Well, until you have to go outside again.

Then it just sucks.

ALT FOR NORGE

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Major Minority at Minor Majority

The Norwegian band, Minor Majority, had their first concert in two years on Saturday to commemorate the tenth anniversary of their breakthrough album Up for You and I.  

Naturally, I went.

For anyone who didn't click the link above, Minor Majority sounds like a less self-serious, Norwegian (with english lyrics) answer to The Decemberists with the fan base of a Dave Matthews Band.

So, yes, the show was packed and plenty of fun.

Full Disclosure.  They're my second, favorite Norwegian musical act only behind Kings of Convenience so I'm a little biased.

However, despite a cold, lead singer Pål Angelskår brought all the melancholy and longing to every song off the 2004 effort, including my second, favorite song by them (Ok, here's my favorite).  The others played their instruments with a type of passion and care that is present in well-studied bandmates who enjoy each other.  Some old dude even stumbled up on stage and played a helluva harmonica solo.

It was the kind of performance that reminds you why you fell in love with the band and would leave a new listener wondering why the 8,000 people around them were so turnt up.

Speaking of the 8,000 people, just as I've noted in the past and one would expect, I was like the only spot of color in the crowd.

(Btw, I'm not picking on Norway with the whole race thing… Nothing will ever compare to attending a 96.3% white campus during the height of The Chapelle Show.  I haven't gotten to a place where I can talk about that yet)

Anyway, yeah… It wasn't that awkward at first, because, it's dark and not everyone could see what I could see (or would notice until they stared at me long enough).  But, soon after we had gotten there, the house lights came on as the opening act was shuffling off-stage.

Then, the stares came.

We were in the general admission area which meant we were amongst about half of the capacity crowd packed tightly in a standing room only open space.  So, there was a decent cluster of people around us.  Again, nothing that happened bothered me (not even getting hit with two, empty wine juice boxes… I was actually more impressed that people were able to sneak that in.  Speaking of sneaking in, this group in front of us smuggled a bottle of champagne.  Impressive stuff), its just that I'm aware of it.

In a way, it was a microcosm of my whole life.  I've always been one of a few black people in every, non-family setting (except for my seasons playing and coaching basketball).  I'm use to it and it feels normal to me, which I'm sure is due to some, sub-conscious coping mechanism (If you think I'm exaggerating, imagine if, for every day of your life, the majority of people you interact with are of a different race or ethnic background).  In fact, I'm so cool with it, I live in a country where I'm like a vast minority (Black American Males in Norway: Approx. 10) and I've stopped ticking off the places where I'm the only black person (this blog post, notwithstanding).

I totally and whole heartedly enjoy my life, it's just that some times, I can become painfully, self-aware and it can be a disjointing view.

ALT FOR NORGE

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Holidays, Later Days, Always

A turkey carrying a turkey...

When you're an expat, there are three, different ways you can spend a holiday:

1) You go back to your home native country.  This is, in most cases, the preferable route.  You go back to the place where you grew up, eat familiar foods, see familiar people, and pretend like everything isn't awkward.

2) You make the best of it in your current new home country.  You can scour the internets for recipes and/or beg your mom to mail you possibly customs violating goodies.  If your new land also celebrates the holiday (Thanksgiving, Hanukkah, Kwanzaa… no) you can try to incorporate their traditions into your own (If your partner is from said country, "can try to" is replaced with "will"… Compromise is the spice of life!)

3) You can pretend like it's just another day even though it's not and nothing is open.  You can't even order Chinese food here on certain days.

Anyway, I tried doing #3 during the time I was in Belgium, it's not much fun (I remember subsisting on  cheese, bread, and jam on Good Friday… Ok.  There wasn't much cheese.  Or bread).  Since that experience, I've decided to only do #1 or #2.

As funds are tight and both Thanksgiving and the Christmas were over these past, two months, I did both.

THANKSGIVING

I'm not sure what's the best part of the trans-atlantic flight.  The moment the plane lifts off and the journey itself actually hits you or the moment you take your sip from the first, complimentary alcoholic beverage.  Thanks to SAS' draconian law of banning free booze on international flights (Btw, here's a list of airlines that keep their passengers lubed up… If there's not too big of a difference, definitely worth it to fly Lufthuansa), I only had the first option to choose.

Regardless, I landed home for the first time since the Ravens' won the Super Bowl (important to point out as this will be the first, post-season without play-offs in Baltimore since SRB took City Hall).

It was fun.  The food was awesome (Top, three meals I miss:  1) Wings; 2) Maryland Crabs; 3) Korean BBQ; 4) Fish Tacos… I know I said three, but I couldn't limit myself).

Though, the thing that's hardest about traveling home as an expat isn't the time away, it's what changes when you're away.

My parents had gotten older.  My siblings were becoming more like my parents.  I got to see my nephews and nieces.  They're growing up too fast.  I got to see my friends.  They're becoming the adults we thought we'd never be.  I got confused driving around the hometown I'd spent every summer in since 1986 (This was the first summer since then where I didn't spend a single day there).

The worst of all is that I felt behind in all the conversations.  Even if I'd been sitting in the room/car/bar stool for the beginning, I constantly felt myself saying "What?" and "Who?" during stories and talks with the people who'd once been so intricate in my daily life.  I couldn't pretend like it wasn't weird, because, often, the speaker was looking at me in just such a manner.

People asked me how come I hadn't been updating my blog.  I was surprised they were reading (Thanks, nation of 8,000!).  I didn't really have an answer I could tell them.  It feels weird and overdramatic to say what I really felt.  I didn't write because I didn't know what to say anymore.  I was a stranger to a life I had always lived.

CHRISTMAS

I landed back in Norway in early December.  I had to turn in my paper at the dreaded UDI to renew my residence permit.  I passed the weeks in labor disputes about some work I had performed (tl;dr) and unsuccessfully hiding the Christmas gift I'd purchased for my wife.

It also gave me time to savor/miss all the things I'd experienced when I was home.  Riding the metro.  Neighborhood bars.  Brunch.  Watching sports at normal hours.  The list goes on.

Though, soon it was time for the season.  We got a Christmas tree and were soon on our way across the mountains to her hometown.

And so we spent Christmas.

I got to celebrate many of the Norwegian traditions, like dancing around the Christmas Tree and drinking a lot of champagne (the picture on the website is from my first, Norwegian Christmas) and aquavit.

I enjoyed it.  The food was good (Pinnkjøtt and Ribbe!), I already said the drinks were good, but, the most important thing was that it was a home.  My wife's family and friends made me feel like I was apart of the group and not an outsider.

Which is an important thing.  As an expat, you're constantly straddling with one foot in both your native and present worlds.  It's not so much a balancing act (I realize the term "straddle" can intimate a need for balance), but one of a willingness to adapt and amend.

I've come to learn over this journey of being an expatriate that it's not about stripping anything away, but what one can add.

The life I live may not be one I set out to lead or one I'm fully comfortable in yet, but it's one that I'm happy to own.  It's not about what I don't have or am not anymore, but the things I'm building.  Stay with me.

I'm still building.

Thanks for reading and now a word from our sponsors…

ALT FOR NORGE

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HAPPY HALLOWEEN!!!

Did I dress warm enough? No? Crap :(

NorTHUG LIFE!

There's a Norwegian maxim that goes: "There is no bad weather, only bad clothes"

It's a lie.

By my American, Mid-Atlantic sensibilities, bad weather happens in Norway in every month that doesn't end in July.  I'm not kidding.  There has been either snow, or the threat of snow, in every other month of the year in my two years here.  However, this fact doesn't really deter or affect the Norwegian outlook.  When the weather heads south, they just throw on a boblejakka, a pair of votter and keep it moving.

It is what it is.

(It should be noted, that, as far as proverbs go, Norwegians are pragmatic and don't espouse the most charitable or heart-warming sentiments... For example, here's another proverb: Alder er ikkje å skryte av; ein får den for ingenting... Age is nothing to boast of, you get it for nothing)

I say all of this to say that October is the official end of the plesantries with regards to the meteorological happenings.  August can flirt and even give some "flip flops and shorts" weather, September might even delay packing your summer clothes away, but October... October don't play

Snowmen come to life in October and leave... well, whenever they choose

The above photo is from a week ago.

A friend of mine, a few hours north of Oslo, created the first, snowmen of the season (amongst my friends... further north, they'd been in the snow for two months now).  For perspective, it's already snowed twice in Oslo and is flurrying as I type this.

Please note that I'm not saying that snow is bad weather.  Surely, in December and January, this is the norm.  However, in September and October, this isn't ideal

Anyway, with winter being so 'bout that life here in Norway, it is understandable that some of the biggest stars are the people that make their work in the snow.  

One of those people is Petter Northug.  Not only is he a champion skier, he also is a entrepreneur (he isn't a businessman, he's a business, man!).  His goal is to make sure that we all can live that norTHUG LIFE!

Winter isn't coming... It's already here.

ALT FOR NORGE

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