Mike takes Oslo- "Victory- US"

Homecoming: Day 4, Part 2-

Previously on “MTO!” …

· Christian and Mike arrived in Oslo, the capital city;

· They bought Oslo Passes, which allow them to see a lot more than they could have originally;

· Mike bitched about the difference in public transit systems.

Now, the continued adventures of “Mike takes Oslo!”

Destination #1: Akershus

Akershus is Oslo’s reining fortress and the most castle-like building I’ve seen in Norway thus-far. Now, if any of you know me, you’ll know that castles give me the biggest and hardest “history-boner” of them all. Castles hold such a huge place in my intrigue because of their architecture, their (typical) grandeur, and their past that it is really hard to contain myself from swearing under my breath at their magnificence. Askershus is not as grand or elaborate as the English and the Welsh because it was a fortress- it was meant to protect and provide for its inhabitants; it is, however, very practical. Scandinavians are productive to the core and their architecture illustrates this very well. The fortress, placed Cliffside, doesn’t have walls nearly as tall as English and its perimeter is jagged and bent, parallel to the cliff’s edges.

[Editor’s Note: I understand the English and Welsh are very much different in history and culture, etc, but I will be abbreviating “the English and the welsh” with simply “English”, unless I feel the need to discern the two]

While walking around the courtyard, we came across what would have been the detention rooms for bad guys. Let’s just say this: hell no. Those containment areas were completely open to the elements and only gave minor protection from on-lookers. Most English dungeons were at least in the basement (of-shorts) so it was most likely damp and cold, but the Akershus rooms were outside, surrounded by open air and enough holes to allow sufficient precipitation to RUIN.YOUR. LIFE. Vikings were vicious, hands-down, to foreigners and traitors all the same.

[Editor’s Note: To be historically accurate, by the time this castle was constructed, history had moved out of the Viking Age; any mention of “Vikings” would be historically ignorant, however, because Norwegian’s were bad-ass in all areas of life, I will refer to them in all bad-ass contexts as “Vikings”.]

Sadly enough, the main part of the fortress is closed during the week, which means we were not able to walk through the main body of Akershus; sad day, indeed. Seriously, we were pissed. But, onto better things, ikke sant?

Or so we thought….

Norway’s Wartime Museum

[Editor’s Note: this museum is absolutely free, Oslo Pass or not.]

Christian and I like Vikings; we like guns; we play Call of Duty more than we should; we like Norwegian history. Ultimately, this museum should have tickled every fancy possible, and it some respects it absolutely did; other aspects proved quite opposite. Being an absolutely free museum, the exhibits don’t quite get the attention and financing as they should. I mean, the museum takes you on a course through the militaristic history of one of the world’s most renowned violent peoples, it should have HEAPS of kroner tossed its way! But sadly, it doesn’t. Examples:

1. Poorly translated captions (with an awful lot of English being misspelled);

2. Misspelled NORWEGIAN names [I.e. Krisiansand. Missing a “t”, anyone?]

3. Exhibits that look like grade-school projects (probably were);

4. Video and Audio displays not working;

5. Gaudy attention grabbers.

I don’t really like being a Debbie-downer, but dude- this place was supposed to be awesome. And to turn it around, I will say this: for the funding it (most likely) receives, the museum makes an ample attempt to create a true tourist destination. With the amount of artifacts and their history, the wartime museum was pretty cool.

And that is all true- it was pretty cool for what it was- a collection of violence that begins with the Viking Age. It’s just too bad that the institution doesn’t seem to get the funding to make a higher-grade exhibit for its patrons. Upside: the museum had tanks outside the building!

The Norwegian National Art Gallery [Norges Najonalgaleritet]

There were a lot of paintings.

I saw them.

Moreover, there were a bunch that I remember from my Norwegian studies.

So that was cool.

The Palace

It’s eerily similar to the Whitehouse in design, but taller, and though I’m in Norway, I’m going to say it- I think the white house is better. Why? Because it has a lawn; Palace= No lawn. But seriously, the palace is a pretty legit building and one of the neat things about it is it is not blocked off like a lot of ‘royalty’ places, such as the White House. You can virtually walk up to the front stairs! As Christian said, Norway is just more relaxed and not as socially dangerous as the US is.

Sad face for America.

University of Oslo [Universitet i Oslo]

It’s a college campus and thus didn’t warrant much time sightseeing, but it was a virtual diamond-in-the-rough because there is no official entry to campus- one minute you’re walking on the street looking for beer and the next you’re standing outside of the campus registrar.

We ended the night with some drinks and pizza. The pizza was a fiasco because we got into Peppe’s Pizza 30 minutes before they closed, had a Swedish waitress (so even Christian couldn’t really understand her) and we were tipsy. This meant that despite her passive attempts to urge us not to have a large Rio Grande pizza and to be content with one beer, we were aggressive in our attempts to feast; we won.

Victory: Team Norway.

Mike takes Oslo, to be continued...

Ødderøy, falling into the Atlantic, and Max Manus

Homecoming: Day 3-

"Waffle Island"

Today could be considered the first official day of tourist activity, for yours truly. Christian had been talking non-stop about this place –Ødderøya- which has spectacular waffler (“waffles”). Unbeknownst to me, this waffle-house of Norwegianess stood halfway up a small mountain. But you know what? Eff it. I’m Norwegian and Norwegians, when they want something, they do what it takes and by God, I raised my hands unto the sky and screamed at the top of my lungs- “BRING IT!”

[Editor’s Note: I more or less stated, “Alright, I’m down” and it’s not so much a matter of willpower to conquer this small mountain, rather it’s just a relatively small hike and as we all know, Norwegians like the outdoors and like to walk around. So, when the walking gets tough, the tough get walking, right?]

So we began out hike and it was not bad at all. For a country of fjords and ginormous hills and valleys, it turns out Ødderøya is quite small in comparison, and since the waffle house sits roughly at the halfway point, it was a good morning’s outing. The waffles, though, were mondo overpriced for what they were - store bought pancake batter slapped onto a do-it-yourself waffle iron.

EH, it’s all about the experience, ikke sant?

[Editor’s note: saying “ikke sant” at the end of a sentence like I did means essentially “am I right?” or “don’t you think”. Try saying it sometime, it feels much more….international and suave.]

Interesting thing, though: I’ve been trying hard to use my Norwegian the entire trip and I don’t know what it was (either my backwards UW cap, red flannel shirt, touristy-looking camera, s.v.) but the moment my sentence didn’t make sense, I apologized and said I was from the USA and it was my first trip to Norway (said like this: Unnskyld, men Jeg kommer fra USA og dette er min første tur til Norge) and guess what the dude says?

“Oh, I know.”

If he weren’t such a tall, built, and very strong looking Norwegian man, I’d probably have slapped in the face with my white-glove and challenged him to a duel. But instead, I laughed and said “hahah yeah.” Whatever, you’d have done the same thing if you were called out like that….

After waffles, we decided to listen to the big-Norwegian behind the cash register and follow some trails up Ødderøya because there was a good chance of seeing some wild-life [dyr]. This ended up being a very long hike up the mountain with no animal, or its tracks, in sight. Luckily for us, Christian and I were wearing tennis shoes and were able to trek the mountainside like we owned the fool (though to be honest, we slipped and fell a lot and had soaking feet by the end of the trip from all of the off-roading we did). Even though we didn’t see any animals, we say a lot of coolness that was the WWII bunkers and remnant buildings that the Kristiansand military was nice enough to leave behind for us. See, during the Nazi invasion of 1940, Kristiansand was one of the main oppositions because it is a large port city. And yes, if you know your Scandinavian countries, you’ll have said to yourself- “Wait Mike, most of Norway is port cities”- and you’d be correct, which is why the Nazi’s attacked ALL of the major cities (all ports) and began its occupation in one fell swoop in April of 1940.As you will eventually see when I get around to posting my pictures, I took a TON of photos. See, I only go to countries that are rich with history and give me an inquisitive and awe-inspired history boner; Norway fills the “history-boner” shoes quite well.

SO, boners all of varieties aside, we made it down the mountain just fine, even with a couple of ice-related falls. Once down, Christian whips into a sweet-looking dock spot where the ice had been broken leading up to the shore from the obscure warm weather Kristiansand had just received. And this is where I, Michael Snowden, fell into the Atlantic Ocean.

Short story short: I took an unlucky step between two rocks that were hidden under the snow and slipped right down into the frigid water. It really wasn’t that bad and only my calf was soaked but to be honest- it was hilarious. Had I been walking by and seen it, I would have been that dude you hear in the background that sounds like Nelson from The Simpsons- “HA-HA!”

After wringing some Atlantic from my jeans [bukser, pronounced “book-sir”, with a long ‘O’], we toured downtown Kristiansand. By the way, the city center for a Norwegian town is simply referred to as sentrum [pronounced like the multivitamin “cen-trum”]. Everything was closed because it was Sunday [Sønndag, “sun-dog”, long ‘U’] but it had a really nice feel to it and I felt instantly that if it came to it and someone said “Mike, you’re moving to a city in Norway- where shall it be?” My answer would be Kristiansand. Flat-out. Inflation is still high, but it’s not as bad as Oslo (which I’ll get to in a bit).

At the end of the day, we watched a movie called Max Manus, which chronicles the WWII hero of the same name. Basically, Manus becomes one of the most lethal and successful saboteurs for Norway and unlike movies about famous people- he isn’t a martyr; he doesn’t die in the war! I know, right?!

In any case, this is long enough. I’ve included a link to a (hopefully) subtitled trailer for the movie. Check it out and Netflix the real thing later.

Fra Norge med kjærlighet.

JULTREFESTEN!!

Homecoming: Day 2, Part 3

After we showered and changed from working, we walked down the street to the old school house where the Jultrefest was. Don’t worry, I was just as confused about it when I realized we were going to a Christmas tree party in January. Here’s what I gathered about the celebration:

1. It’s an annual event that basically retains all the goodwill of Christmas for one final celebration held in the small, retired school house;

2. It’s not elitist by any means, but it seemed that only those who were relatively familiar with the Wathne family knew about it [there’s no way it’d fit the whole town];

3. It felt as if this was the Christmas party for families and friends, the ones we all have before Christmas;

4. Santa Claus comes after they sing a song to “call him out”;

5. Songs of the season are sung while everyone gathers around the Christmas tree [I’ll talk more about this in a second].

I’ll tell you this much, it was a damn comfortable and friendly little school house. We had gotten their late and didn’t have a place to sit, but the place was just filled with happiness and joy. It almost felt as if it were Christmas Eve, truly. I saw Farfar being a pimp with the other elder men against one of the walls; Farmor was sneaking into hidden seats to talk with everyone; and I met a nice man and his kid who were sitting at the table with us (this happened after people brought out another small table). As we drank coffee and ate cookies, fruit, and bread, this man (whom I can’t remember) talked to me about my trip so far and how long I was here, where I studied, etc and it was nice to meet such friendly people. I tried my best to keep up the language, but in my attempts to be clear, I spoke really quietly and repeating things too often forced my hand to use language. As it turns out, the young snowboarder/skateboarder clothing line in America is alive and well in Norway. The guy’s son was wearing an LA Dodgers cap to complete his outfit and I asked him if he’s ever been to LA – low and behold- he has not. He just likes the team, but there is nothing wrong that! I used to where an NC Tarheels cap and I didn’t even like the team, I just liked the colors- they went well with most of the clothes I wore.

After the Santa song was sung and a very skinny Santa came out to give candy to the kids, we played trivia. They had a round of trivia for the kids and there was this one girl who kept saying she got the answer but I didn’t see her answer one-yet she had almost 12 pieces of candy! She’s a sneaky little devil! When the kids had had their fun, the adult round began. I was proud because I only had Christian translate a few of the questions for me, and right when I was getting the hang of it- the Ringleader of the Night calls out- “we have a visitor from America with us tonight- this question is for you!”

So naturlig, everyone turn around to see me in my red flannel shirt, Seattle-style glasses, and me looking around at everyone-because-they-were-all-looking-at-me; I was made. I was put on the spot and kind of nervous about the question ‘cause I mean, what if I got it wrong? I’d be the worst American to visit this small and beautiful town!

The question: Who is the Governor of California?

I know, right?! Perfekt question! BUT right before I answer, Christian speaks up and calls “Arnold Schwarzenegger!” What a douche! He had all night to answer and get candy, yet he takes mine! OH MAN I WAS ‘PISSED’! We started laughing and I brought it up to him, saying, “You know, Arnold isn’t the governor anymore, right? He was done in office on Monday”. Christian quickly turns to quiet me and says, “Shhh! They don’t know that yet!” Retaliation: Complete- I almost had his candy taken away. Boom! Don’t mess with me, yo!

When trivia was done, they wrapped up the night singing songs around a Christmas tree, but in a traditional manner, where the youngens hold hands and make a small, inner circle around the tree and the adults hold hands to make up the larger, outer circle. When they sing, they move around the tree, but in different directions. Usually it started out with the kids moving clockwise and the adults moving counter-clockwise, but at stopping points in the song, they would halt, sing, and change directions. Christian at first seemed embarrassed but quickly got over it as he remembered the words to the songs from when he was a kid. I also remembered one of the songs from class and joined in from the sidelines, tapped my boot a bit, and clapped my hands together.

After 8-9ish songs, they Ringleader of the Evening concluded with a “thanks for coming, it was a fun night and we are so lucky you came” kind of thing and they sang a final song and that was that.

EXCEPT afterwards, I had a TON of Norwegians flank me to talk to me about being from America and how my trip was going, if I had family, if I could speak Norwegian, and so on. I tried to use my Norwegian for a while but after a bit I couldn’t think of the words so I allowed them to practice their English.

We came home to a homemade-from-scratch pizza that Berit (my host-mother) had prepared, which was DELICIOUS! OH.EM.GEE! SO good! The crust was perfect! I don’t even know what flavor it technically was but I definitely ate too much of it to be comfortable!

The night was ended with going to Christian’s sister’s place just down the street to use her wifi and plan out our trip to the capital city of Oslo. Just saying- I’ve been having these weird dreams where I’ve been getting into a bit of trouble…I’m hoping this isn’t a premonition for my upcoming trips….

Fra Norge med Kjærlighet

Work all Day, Party all Night

Homecoming: Day 2, Part 2-

"Klæver vi ved og drikker noe kaffe med Farmor! [We chop wood and drink coffee with Grandma!]"

I managed to get a couple more hours of rest and it was good, because it was my first day of wood chopping and I didn’t want to be that guy that got his fingers chopped off from being too tired to pay attention.

[Editor’s Note: this is not a jab at Christian’s grandpa’s brother who actually had this happen to him- I’m just saying I didn’t want it to happen to me]

It all started with a quick tractor ride to the CHOPPING ZONE i.e . the area where we worked. And yes, I rode in the bucket of the tractor, which I will say, will always tickle my fancy since it is one of those things you just don’t do very often. After we got p the property a little ways, Christian cleared some of the piled up snow out of our way and then lowered the klævermaskin into place.

“Wait? Klævermaskin? Woahwoahwoah! What happened to lumberjacking, yo?”

(or so I would think someone would say)

Today, we didn’t technically “chop” wood how most westerners, myself included, would think to chop wood. The wood was already chopped in smaller pieces from an earlier trip to the tree farm and what we did was essentially chop it up even further by setting it on a guiding track and having a very powerful metal arm push it towards an industrial strength axe-head. And I when I say industrial, I mean, it really wasn’t that sharp, but with the torque of the extendo-matic robot arm, this thing was splitting big-ass frozen pieces of wood. Even though I only lifted the handle to being the arm-moving-process, I still felt like a badass when that wood seemed to cry out to the world. Unfortunately, it fell on deaf ears because it was just SO AWESOME! I did have a small part to do with it, seeing as I would lift the heavy, ice covered pieces of wood onto the tracks. It gets to be quite a workout not because all of the pieces were massive, but they are frozen, which means that maybe a 3olb piece of wood could easily now weight 35-40lbs. Do that for a couple of hours and you got yourself some MUSS-KULLS! Christian and I switched jobs after an hour or so. My new task was to break the ice on the wood that was frozen together and stack it next to the chopper dude (which was now Christian) and then stack the wood he cut. In between all that, I would do small things like shovel some snow from around the stacks, or axe small pieces of wood that were a waste of time on the machine, etc.

After a couple hours, we walked down to Farmor’s house to dry-off and warm up over some coffee and cookies- and some good conversation. Once again, Farmor was a champ and slowed down her speech for a little bit, but thanks to the easier Kristiansand dialect, I was able to pick up more than before. I contribute this partially to being rested, but also to the fact I pick up on things quickly. In any case, we mostly talked about how the weather was going to take a turn and it wasn’t a good thing, but then Farmor remembered she had shown me an olddddddd school perfume bottle from 1742 and this set her off on a history tangent, which, I thought was absolutely amazing!

Farmor showed us:

1. A pair of scissors that were probably, if not certainly, used by the tailor-trade Wathnes back in the old days;

2. A busted up flint, that we eventually also said could have been a fishing weight;

3. A HUGE ass pipe one of their relatives used (remind me to tell you this story as a follow-up post);

4. Pictures of said guy who used the pipe;

5. A Flint-lock from a rifle that was found in the ground;

6. Small, horn-looking things that Christian and his brother had found as small children;

7. A powder-tobacco horn;

8. And her families collection of generation-spoons [every generation imbibes a silver spoon as a sort of commemoration. This has been going on for thousands of years. The earliest I can remember was 1718).

Of course, there was probably more, but these were the ones that stuck out the most. Seriously, people pay butt-loads of cash to go in a museum and see an item with a caption that says something like “Found on Wathne, 1718” and here I am –ON Wathne (the property is their family name)- and talking to the family historian about all of this cool stuff that is hardcore history…AMAZING!

Eventually we went back out to work for another hour or so, but then we left to get ready for….

JULTREFESTEN!!!!

Home for the Holidays: Let the Good Times Roll

And by rolling, I mean me.

Because I am eating a lot. And I can't stop. I recently did a 3-week low-carb challenge with a buddy and let me tell you what- there is no room for a low-carb diet during Christmas. Grandma makes her bacon-wrapped water chestnuts and her fudge, her marshmellow/pretzel/chocolate things, and Mom makes her eggnog french toast with german sausage, and Dad...oh, man...DAD goes and makes his prime rib, butter-rosemary red potatoes...YOU CANNOT TURN IT DOWN. All of the hardcore discipline I had during the weeks prior to Christmas, you think I'd be able to watch my self. But here it is: I can't.

And I love it.

This incredible. I can't stop eating, drinking, sleeping....I am rolling all over the place.

Worth it.

Worth it.

Happy Holidays, everyone!!