Norway, Scotland... Scotland, Norway

HAPPY 50th POST, OSLOst in SPACE!!!!!

Party time!!

Uhmm... Anyway, I apologize for my absence last week, but it was for a good reason.

I forgot.

But it's not like I forgot because I was watching an episode of "Boardwalk Empire", I forgot because I was getting ready to go to Scotland.

So yeah, I went to the northern part of the UK.  It was not an easy trip.  1 hour to Stavanger.  Switch flights.  2 hours to Aberdeen.  But it was pretty neat.

And it went like this:

We landed in the Aberdeen International Airport and, to my surprise, the Stavanger to Aberdeen flight had two people on it that were non-EU/EEA citizens.  Me and some other schmuck.  The reason I know this is that, upon entering into the airport and customs, there were two, distinct lines.  One for the EEA people and one for us "others".  

It was like landing in Dulles or JFK and smiling at all the doe-eyed, europeans as I breezed through my line to the front.

Simple problem.  I had to fill out a Landing Card.

Half the information, all the tediousness

As further testament to the irregularity that non-EU/EEA people (I'm tired of writing that, but it's an important distinction to make... If I were Albanian, I'd be in the same boat... well, no, that would probably be a much worse, and probably leaky boat because it's Albania... Jokes!  Calm down, readers in Tirana) make said flight, not a single stewardess had asked me if I needed a card nor were they readily available on the aircraft.  

No matter.  I had to fill it out (not like I had to get in the back of the line... I was the line) and then was on my way.  But not without this stamp:

Do not give him any money... But, like, we're not endorsing slavery.  You know, just don't let him preform any type of labor to be safe

UK wanted to make sure, under no circumstances, would anyone give me money.  My trip was to be a purely, one-sided fiscal relationship.  Which is strangely how I'd characterize my romantic relationships in my early to mid-20s.

So.

I'm in Aberdeen now.

Apparently, business takes of here

There's power and wealth and then there's the kind of power and wealth when you're on the money used in your own country.  Not sure what's going on with my hair here 

I'm an idiot because the funniest thing about the area where this picture was taken is that there were a dozen Scottish Flags (St. Andrew's Cross), one EU flag, and one Union Jack... They love England!

 Eventually, we left the airport.

To do so, we hired a driver that we shared with another couple also going to our destination.  As he was driving a sedan, there was only space for three in the back seat and I was left to get in the front.  As I moved to the front of the car, I noticed our driver opened the right, front door.  In my head I was thinking, What a cheeky lad (because I put on airs when I'm in Scotland, apparently), he's angling for a fat, nice tip he is.  As I attempted to get in, he stopped me and gave me a really funny look.

"Fixin' to drive, are ya, lad?"  He asked in a thick, Scottish accent (that probably goes without mentioning)

Taken aback, I looked in the car and saw that the steering wheel was, in fact, on the right hand side of the car.  Laughing, I went over and got in on the other side.  As I did so, I looked around and, it seemed, every other car was like this, too.  

Now, I realize that the UK and other British subsidiaries drive on the left-hand side of the road and their steering wheels are on the right-hand side of the car, but I just didn't really think about it until I saw it.  Also, even if you know you're going to see it.  It's still very disorienting.  I spent most of the trip in wonderment about the location of the steering wheel and the cars on the street (especially on two lane roads, when cars were whizzing by our right hand side, in the opposite direction, and in traffic circles/round-a-bouts).

I kept trying to step on the gas/break throughout the trip, too.  It really felt like I was supposed to be driving!

As for the rest of it, I was blown away by the number of rugby fields/pitches (there were a lot) and how they outnumbered soccer/football fields/pitches.  Also, I was surprised by the handful of field hockey fields/pitches and how, in the three days of our trip, we only saw boys playing it.  

The landscape was beautiful (especially the coast along the North Sea) and the countless, rolling hills and glens reminded me of Western Maryland/VA/Shenandoah Valley region of Maryland.  The big difference being that there were churches and castles that were hundreds of years older than the United States all over the place.

Sure, it was mostly windy and grey skies (I, jokingly, told a friend from England that the UK was "as green-grey blobby as I expected"), but it was fitting.  I imagine the place must've been divine in Fall when all the foliage was turning colors and the grey/gloom, with streaks of sun, would be more fitting.  

It was a touch warmer than Norway (and a whopping bit cheaper!), but that goes for most of the earth.  

I had fun (minus the 10 hours it took to get back to back to Oslo on Sunday) and would definitely consider living there.  Though, I think that has more to do with my fondness for Anglophone countries (It's such an awesome feeling when everything happening around you is in your native tongue), lower cost of living, and good whisky than any decided advantages over Norway.

But, for now I'm in Norway and I'm glad...

ALT FOR NORGE

Fine, jerks... Here's the pictures of me wearing a kilt

Tough guy picture

Playful picture

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Culture/Human Experience (aka the blog post where I wear a Bunad)

I created a mini-stir with a status message I put up on Facebook the other day(by "mini-stir" I mean I induced a few people to "like" it).  In said post, I lamented that the worst type of ex-pats (and/or people, depending on your view) are those that use their life experiences to look down on others.

To clarify, I'm not saying people who choose to leave their country for any reason, regardless of whether its logical (love, work, cost of alcohol, etc.) or "not" (I feel stupid even adding the "not" because, if it makes sense to you, then do it... who cares about the social norm?), aren't extraordinary people (they should even write blogs!).  What I meant is that there is no life choice that gives anyone the right to look down on anyone else (well, perhaps organ donation... if you give me your kidney, you have the right to harp if I'm doing a keg stand).

Why bring this up?

A re-occuring sentiment I have noticed amongst other Americans here in Norway (and other parts of Europe) is one of disassociation.  

Not only a rejection of America as a place to live, but as a culture (I can't believe you call it soccer!  Personally, I don't know why anyone would be interested in American Football...), as an idea (Oh my God, you're following the U.S. Presidential Elections?), or as an identity (Look, I really insist that we stop speaking English and only speak <insert language here>).  In addition, this extreme aversion causes the person to view their approach as superior to anyone living differently (whether that means less assimilated ex-pats or those still living back in the USA).

Different paths work for different people...

I understand the need for immersion (even if I don't practice it the best) and agree that is the best way to learn/understand/ingratiate oneself into a different culture.  Its respectful to try and create as small of a cultural footprint as a foreigner in a new country (religious zealots, I'm looking in your direction).  However, that sense of embracing the new, native land does not, and should not, come at the expense of your old identity.

In an attempt to find the balance, I wanted to wear a bunad.

Much in how I wanted to try whale, pinnekjott, and reindeer (I had Reindeer pizza again on Tuesday... delicious!), I felt that the bunad was an important part of the culture that I wanted to experience.  If I'm going to have half-Norwegian children someday (maybe), I want to be able to at least be semi-knowledgable in case they have questions and mom isn't around.  

However, these experiences are for me, too.  

Norway is an amazing place, rich in tradition and heritage that is alien to my own life (no Bjorns or Anders in my family lineage).  The variation in foods, dialect, and customs between regions separated by a few miles (albeit, those miles may be a Fjord or mountain) can be vast.  I can't possibly sum the amount or respect and awe I have for landet.  So much that I almost didn't post this picture!

Seriously, though, I know that if I am to be successful in all aspects of life here, I have to do my part to learn as much as I can about the customs and people as I can.  Norge doesn't have to meet me halfway, I must cross the distance as much as possible.  It is the burden/journey/duty of being an ex-pat.  However, the other part of the pact is to not forget from where one came.  The saying shouldn't be "When in Rome, do as the Romans" it should be "When in Rome, become as Roman as possible.  However, don't forget home because, in the end, you will never, truly, be Roman."

Alt for Norge

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Russ...

Attention American, High School Seniors (and those that were high school seniors at one point, even if it was way back in '99), congratulations on graduating!  However, as you embark on Senior Week, know that while you might think your week-long, dalliance at the beach or having crazy house parties with Matt Damon are the ultimate, you're mistaken.

Norwegians go harder than you... Yeah?  Oh Yeah...

It all starts with the magical time of Russ.

I don't even think this needs a caption...

The Basics.
The period of celebration for graduating Norwegians is referred to as Russefeiring and those that participate in it are Russ (not to be confused with Rus, which means intoxication from drugs...).  The word Russ derives from the latin cornua depositurus, which means "bound to put aside one's horns" and is synonymous with many Scandinavian University Acceptance ceremonies (sinister legend suggests that during the time of "union" with Denmark, when Norwegian students attended The University of Copenhagen, snarky Danish students made them wear horns to denote their more "rural roots".  The Danes are mean).  Either way, there have been Russ, in some form or another, for a couple hundred years.


That sounds kinda gangster, but how can that compete with beer bonging and party hopping on the beach?


For starters, the period last longer than a week as it stretches from May 1 (May Day) to the National Constitution Day on the 17th.  Secondly, since the school structure is different here (Norwegian "middle school" is four years long), most Seniors are 19 when they graduate or, if they're precocious or born in the back half of the year, 18.  The drinking age in Norway is 18 (for beer and wine, 20 for hard liquor... but whoever waits?).  No fake I.D. needed.   


But they don't even have beer pong, how much fun can it even be?


It looks like a blast.  For starters, the whole "rural roots" thing gains traction here.  The customary clothing are overalls (yes, everyone and yes, they wear them for the duration of the 17 day period... it's frowned upon to wash them... in fact, if you get caught, they make you caught off a leg of the overalls), for everyone.  Boys and Girls.  They also have different colors depending on the course of study going forward.  Blue are for the Business kids, Black for Engineers, Green for Agriculture (the most rare of the Russ), and, for everyone else, Red.  Additionally, to discourage drunk driving, its customary for Russ to pay for transportation.  Not just any kind of transportation, but a tricked out bus.  You think your prom limo was fly, these busses can cost upwards of a quarter million US Dollars (think part RV, part tour bus).  

Where does the money come from?  You get sponsors, of course!

LEGO man gotta beer!

Or, your parents are just Oslo Ballerz and you and your friends just pool your allowances for it.

Either way, kids race around after school (that's right, these kids party and bomb out of their mind WHILE SCHOOL IS STILL GOING ON... they haven't even graduated yet.  They still have to take exams, which is in mid-June) going from party to party (The first weekend in May, there's a huge party in Stavanger) or creating their own.

Ringnes and Hansa for all

There are actually prizes for having the best bus.  The whole thing isn't a complete loss because most Russ recoup a sizable portion of their investment by reselling the bus the following year to the next set of Russ.

Aww, crap... I give up.  Are there anything else that they do that should make me hate my life or try to pose as an exchange student?

Instead of getting those wallet-size graduation pictures to hand out (There's a drawer at my parent's house that contains about a dozen of them along with my junior prom pictures... poor investment), Russ have mock business cards that they hand out to anyone that, if you clink the link you will see, contain a picture and a whole bunch of zany tidbits.  I think when I found out about this, I spent a few days trying to figure out what my cards would say.

So yeah... I won't say this often, but Norway wins.  Hands Down.

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Alt for Norge

The 'Vanger and a good-bye

I know I usually make new posts on Friday, but, due to traveling we're going to pretend like today is Friday (I'm sure many of you wish that was the case).  So what's new?  Oh, I spent the weekend in Stavanger (or, as I like to call it, the 'Vanger).

That may be the entire population of the 'Vanger in this picture!

It was a pleasant flight (around an hour) in which I learned that "Never Let Me Down" is the best Kanye West song (Spotify!!!).  Very important information.

Anyway, the 'Vanger is a sleepy, coastal town (The most reoccurring, apt description of it that came to me was "a beach town without a beach", but, as it was later pointed out, there were small beaches all around... so there's that).  It also has a lot of diversity (by Norwegian standards), and its reflected all throughout the city.  Despite the fact that it has over 100,000 people, it never felt like more than a few hundred, but it didn't take an inordinate amount of time to go to any point in town.  Unfortunately, bad weather kept me from going out to Pulpit Rock, which is a real shame as I'm told that its better than the Grand Canyon (strangely, none of the Norwegians who told me this had been to the Grand Canyon, but, since I didn't make it to the PR, I can't weigh in, either).

Cannonballs are strongly discouraged

That's pretty much all there is to say about... oh, right.  They have a bit of oil.   Ok.  A lot of oil.  So much, in fact, that its drawn a lot of international companies (most notably, Haliburton and ConocoPhillips) as well as "international, sister cities" (which, I think is akin to having followers on Twitter).

However, it wasn't all ballerific.  As I previously mentioned, the hundred thousand or so 'vangerians are spread out, but, unlike in Oslo, there wasn't much in the way of public transportation to connect them.  Which meant a lot of driving and taxis (which escalated in price quite quickly).  Also, as previously mentioned in this space, the North Sea goes hammer and that means unseasonable weather... How unseasonable? you may ask...

It snowed.

Multiple times.

It wasn't a rarity, either.

All I could think about was my last post (how's this for irony, almost the entirety of last week here in Oslo had 70+ fahrenheit temperature... seems my blog questions get answered!) and realize that I never had it so well...

Remember to "like" me on Facebook (Facebook.com/OSLOst).

Sorry to turn my previously lighthearted spot into more sadness, but this past week, Norwegian swimmer, Alexander Dale Oen, died at the unfairly young age of 26.  While, it is unfortunate when anyone dies, especially someone at such an early age, it is even more disheartening as Oen's win at last year's World Championships in the 100 m breaststroke came only three days after the terrorist attack.  It was a glimmer of the beauty that this country is possible of producing in the face of its most ugly, vile capabilities.  Just a brief tour of Youtube/Google/Facebook will show just what he meant to this country.  Oen's accomplishment will, and should, never be forgotten.

Alt for Norge

Westward, young man... westward

From sea to shin... I mean, Alt for NORGE!!

Well, I survived the mountains and football (read about that experience on my other blog.) and I'm here to tell the tales.

Easter was swell...

Things I've learned about the west coast of Norway:

• It is perpetually cold... even when the sun is shining and the skies are clear (not mutually inclusive items, mind you), it still feels pretty frigid.  The North Sea is unkind, my friend... Though, I hear Vancouver is the same way.
• Before the oil, there were a ton of smith-working there.  In fact, the copper used in the statue of liberty came from mines in this region.
• Winter tires are no joke.  They're heavy and are necessary... 

Blinding snow is no match for winterized tires!

It was great to eat some of the traditional, Norwegian Easter food (Lamb!) and see some of the nice statues along the beautiful harbors here.

I'm trying to help him lift the fish... I know, it looks weird

And, here are some of the other pictures of the beautiful, Norwegian landscape from the 7-hour cross country driving extravaganza!

Over the mountains and through the tundra...

My favorite picture of the whole trip... You can literally see where the tree line ends and where Winter is winning the war with Spring

Lonely cabin... I'm going to wager that there isn't indoor plumbing there

The car's thermometer read -2 C... which is "quite cold" in Fahrenheit.   Check out the frozen, natural spring to the left

Up in the clouds like Darwin Deez (obscure musical reference alert!)

your humble host...

While I got the point right, I wasn't able to erase the goofy expression on my face.  Oh well...

And that's that... Otherwise, its nothing that hasn't been told before.  Awkward reunions of friends with new (or added) significant others where everyone makes small talk or plays "remember when..." or gossips.  I find these times are vital for drinking beer and practicing my understanding Norwegian skills... one of those went really well and one of those went not as well.  I'll let you guess on that one...

Alt for Norge

the early morning hustle

So... I thought I'd write about once a week, sharing all the witty things in my head analyzing the world I now live in.

Though, the one thing I've come to realize is that, like life anywhere, once you get in a routine, its hard to recognize what is noteworthy from just happenstance.  Plus, how interesting would it be to read about me waking up, eating breakfast, and trying to get to class through all the snow?

That being said, I was just going to write about not watching the Super Bowl.  Until a girl passed out on my morning tram ride.

While I don't know what happened to her (she seriously just fell) and would never make light of the situation (while she seemed to be ok when the EMTs took her away, people have died from less), it was interesting to note the radical differences in "reactions" from the passer-bys.

(You would not believe how easy it is to get distracted, I was trying to find a picture of people responding crazy to someone falling down and I ended up here... good song *NSFW*, but weird way to find it)

When the girl first fell/fainted/lost consciousness, there was a visible response of at least a few people issuing "hey, she's not moving and she should be moving and not standing and that would be a very advisable thing to do at this juncture of time and place" concern, followed by a quick response of kneeling to help the person in distress.

This is in complete contrast, generally speaking, to how it would've been perceived back home (we have more of a "laugh and point and film" approach to people in distress... no, seriously *NSFW*).  I probably shouldn't judge because I laugh at silly things.

Though, it was nice to see that the Norwegian spirit of helping their fellow man isn't just reserved to paying a lot in taxes, but actually doing something on a personal level... (I know, right?!?).  Though, on the flip side, two several stops from the fainting location, was a scheduled stop at a hospital (like, the hospital was about 70 40 meters, 225 135 feet, from the tram doors).  It doesn't take a master detective to figure out what might've been a better solution to the situation.  Sure, that may not have been a viable solution (who would stabilize the prone person for the herky jerky ride?  who would prevent passengers from accidentally stepping on the person? etc.), but all I know is that my morning was delayed for forty twenty minutes (did I mention the close proximity of the hospital?  It was roughly a mile, 1.3 km, away... slightly more reassuring than this) due to the whole incident.

Just saying, Oslo... let's try to be problem solvers here...

Rap lyric I'd incorporate into a song if I were a rapper:
Never tested, competition softer than Jergen/We in the clubs makin' it rain like Stavanger or Bergen