A frozen lake, Farmor, and a ski-shoot biathlon

Homecoming: Day 1, Part 2-

"Hot-Damn it's cold!"

So, back to the flight: I couldn’t sleep, I understood children, yiddyiddyiddy- the most awesome part of the day was when I saw the coast line of Norway.

I couldn’t stop myself from putting on the biggest shit-eating grin of my life.

[editors note: I have no idea to this day what that phrase “shit-eating grin” means, but I had a pretty big effin smile]

I mean, here I was, in Norway! I had done it! I’d dreamed of this moment for so long that I put myself to it and I was moments away from landing in Norway. I was just at the start of a whole new experience and life that I have dreamed of for so long. I recently began believing in a the mantra of living without regrets, right? Well, as opposed to some who say this before eating a “gotta love it” tub of ice-cream from Coldstone, I up and left to Norway. I’m sorry, but this is much better than some f*cking ice cream.

I have studied for years about a language and a people that held so much fascination it’s hard to contain and now I was diving head-first into it. And let me tell you something- it feels absolutley incredible.

The coastline was breathtakingly gorgeous with small islands spotting the last quarter of a mile before the mainland. Each island looked like one of those rocks in a puddle you’d come across on your way to school on a cold morning- that iceberg-esque image where the top half juts from the water and that scant frozen ring of water around it, the ring that is lighter in color from being more shallow that the rest of the puddle; the trees were all frosted like the perfect Christmas morning; the sun was dancing off the snow-laden terrain from the last couple of days of precipitation; and there is not flat land- it’s all beautiful rolling hillsides of trees, lakes, and packed houses.

Speaking of houses, there are three, and only three, colors of houses in Norway:

· White

· Red

· Brown

Granted the brown can have variations of lighter or darker colors, it is still—brown. You don’t see elaborate *cough* ridiculous ‘baby-blue’ houses with its ‘Easter yellow’ trim and ‘teenage-girl pink’ garage door; no, this is Norway; its décor is simple but damn cozy. I likened it to a cottage a family might borrow from a friend for a summer vacation- it has the necessities for living and then a tv, but you feel comfortable in every room. Oh, and out every window in Kristiansand, you see hills covered in snow and lakes buried under snow, and the snow buried under a light mist that literally takes your breath away.

One of the first things I did after I’d dropped off the things in my temporary man-cave was walk onto a frozen lake, with an axe and a shovel, to chop a hole for ice-fishing.

Yes please.

We didn’t actually go ice-fishing, but we’d tested the lake for thickness of ice. See, the best part of ice-fishing- outside of sitting on a frozen lake catching fish- is when you don’t fall in and die of hypothermia. Just saying- it would kind of suck.

After ice-fishing, we went back to Christian’s dad’s place to get some coffee. His Dad came home and we met and upon discovering my college major, his dad began a long and in-depth chat about the state of the economy- of both countries- and it was nice to know that I hadn’t lost all of my college knowledge.

3 o’ clock rolled around and Farmor had dinner waiting at her place, so we drove down and got our food on.

[editor’s note: Farmor means “grandmother”, but on the fathers side. Far means “father” and mor means “mother”, literally translated, but put them together and it means “father’s mother”. Equally, Mormor would mean “mother’s mother”- your maternal grandmother.

And boy… was it good. We ate kjøttkaker med brunsaus [mean-cakes in brownsauce] with steam carrots, broccoli, and potatoes (a staple of the people), with flat-bread. Dessert was small snack-cakes, jørdbær (strawberries) and crem (whipped crème) with kaffe (coffee). Dessert was akin to that of an English tea-time….but better. Because it was Norwegian.

Farmor is a champ because she not only made some bitchin’ food, but as Christian introduced me he made the note that I could speak Norwegian and to only speak in Norwegian to me. What does she do? Just that, but she slowed it down so I could pick it up easier. I used to be able to understand people much better when I was surrounded daily by the language, but graduation I haven’t really been using my Norwegian and even though Christian and I said we were only going to use Norwegian around the house (which lasted a day), I just haven’t gotten enough practice for the country. But as I said, the aforementioned badass Farmor helped give me a launching pad into being able to comprehend the speech and participate in conversations.

Now that we were fed full of delicious, delicious food, what were two Norwegian boys to do the night before lumberjacking? If you answered “drink beer and watch a winter biathlon”, then you must really know your Norwegians!

True story: we got home and busted out the Christiansand Bygger i, the renowned ale of the Kristiansand area, and watched a biathlon which featured skiers from across the globe in a 3-lap cross-country circuit which included skiing downhill and uphill stretches. I’m not going to butter this at all- those guys are CRAZY. Not only were the uphill stretches mega difficult, but even the flat areas demanded intensity! Oh, and in the middle of pushing their bodies to an all-time ‘wtf’ level of athleticism the participants stop to shoot rifles. Intense! One of the guys, Boe, was SO freaking fast! And he did it seemingly without effort! Cuhhh-razy!!!!

The biathlon did two things for me: got me interested in the sport and progressed my jetlag to the point of blackout every few minutes. Even though it was only about 7pmIsh in the House of Wathne, it was far past my bedtime. I think, though, that I stayed up long enough to beat the jetlag effect (hopefully). Even though right now as I typed this initial draft it’s roughly 1am here (4pm back home) and wide awake, I think I can contain this demon that is Jetlag….

[at this point, I decided to try and sleep again].

Fra Norge med Kjærlighet