The A4 Envelope

I received another A4 envelope in the mail last Friday.

A4 is the European "standard" size paper, the Euro 8.5"x11". As my Norwegian class read about the "typisk Norsk" who goes skiing, eats brown cheese and lefse, and only dresses in wool, my teacher referred to the "A4 Norwegians"--the standard family with 2 kids, a Volvo station wagon, a labrador retriever and a "rekkehus" (row house). I was secretly pleased to have caught the cultural reference to the standard "A4" Norwegian, but then also rather struck by the similarities between the American Dream and the A4 Norwegian dream. (Although the typical American would probably consider the average Norwegian row house to be a little small.)

So, I received my A4 envelope. From SAFH. Informing me that, again, I do not meet Norwegian standards for nursing or midwife education, and that both applications would be sent on to the independent appeals board for review. I was not surprised by this response, at least not for the nursing application. Erik and I felt I had submitted a very thorough response to the deficiencies SAFH stated I hadn't addressed on my midwife application, but apparently not so. Their complete refusal to acknowledge that any of my points had any validity at all was rather stunning. Enough to get my thoughts swimming back across the Atlantic, back to where the grass is greener.

But the roller-coaster ride continued. . . In tears after reading through the double refusal letter from SAFH, I  "got my shit together", so to speak, and went to my first job interview that afternoon. Maihaugen is hiring summer employees: ticket sales, museum store employees, tour guides, "actors" in the exhibitions. If I understood the interviewers correctly, they had over 250 applicants, and our group of 7 interviewees were the "cream of the crop". I did it all in Norwegian, and apparently well enough that one of the interviewers said, "you are speaking Norwegian very well for only having lived here 18 months". Her comment, combined with my nervous adrenaline, elevated my mood for the rest of the evening.

I rode that high through Saturday, a beautiful sunny spring day, which also happened to be my birthday. Home with my family the whole day in our nearly completed living room, Skype calls with loved ones, out for a sunny walk to a cafe for lunch, and home again for homemade chocolate cake, were more high points on the roller-coaster.

On Sunday, my mood came crashing down again. Still sunny and warm, but the reality of more waiting--the appeals board says the average waiting time is 3-4 months--combined with the realities of a job search in Norway and the slightly depressing reality of another birthday, made for a difficult day.

I long for the days when I knew what the day would hold, what my life would hold, or at least felt like I had the emotional capacity to handle what was thrown my way. That A4 envelope sat on my dining room table, and I thought "do I dare open it, and have it ruin my weekend?" But then again, could I really let it sit there all weekend long, taunting me with its contents? The roller-coaster was inevitable.

Quick update. . .

Life is getting busy here, and my computer is on the fritz. Seeing that the nearest Apple repair shop is in Oslo, it might be a while before I am fully back "on line".

Quick update, on things I really intended to write entire blog entries about, but can't seem to find the time. . .

1) uhhhh. . . so, this kind of delayed news, but. . . we bought a house! We took possession about a month ago, and immediately tore down walls, ceilings, floors, and 50 years of bad wallpaper choices. Will definitely write more on this later.

2) am beginning to pack for the upcoming move. We must be out of our rented house at the end of June, but our "new" house will in no-way-imagineable be inhabitable. So, we'll spend 3 weeks in a friends house while they are on vacation, and then hopefully move half-way into Our House.

3) it has been exactly one year to the day that the international movers pulled into our driveway and began to pack up our every belonging. It was a much anticipated, exciting, exhausting, nerve-wracking, incredibly stressful, sad, bittersweet day. It truly seems much longer than a year ago.

4) have heard that a letter from SAFH (regarding my nursing license) is on its way! Erik has been calling their office for literally months trying to reach the person handling my case, and was told today (the first time he has spoken to someone since before Easter--yes, two months ago) that a letter is in the mail, and they are requesting. . . verification of the hours that I worked as a nurse. We are crossing our fingers that this is all they need, and that I am now at the top of their "to-do" list.

5) summer seems to have arrived, along with torrential downpours and glorious evenings. Greta is excited about wearing shorts and has new sandals that arrived along with her Great Aunt Martha and Great Uncle Gary from Boston. We had a short, but very sweet visit with our favorite Jewish uncle and Greta's #2 producer of handknit gifts.

6) as of today, the sun sets at 10:51pm and will rise tomorrow at 3:45am. It essentially never gets dark. This makes it very difficult to convince oneself that it is actually time to sleep. Thankfully, Greta has only once asked why she was going to bed when "it's still daylight out". Tika, on the other hand, begins wandering around the house around 4am, wondering why the rest of us aren't stirring yet.

And that's the news from Lillehammer. Where all of the women are blonde, all the men are good-looking, and all the children are even blonder.

Norway's version of (insert big box store name): Where are you???

Okay Americans. . . play a little game with me.
Let's say your shopping list consists of the following items:

• tennis balls for the dog
• toddler underwear
• picture frame
• crayons
• toothpaste
• contact solution

Where do you go? That's right: Target* (or any large big box store, i.e. KMart, shudder Wal-Mart, etc.).


Where do you go when you live in Norway? First a sports store (making sure it's one that actually sells tennis rackets, and not just skis),  then a children's or family clothing store, then a photo store or maybe a catch-all kind of store (which doesn't catch all, as this is the point of this essay), next a toystore/bookstore, then the grocery store or pharmacy and finally the eyeglasses/contact/optometrist store. 

My point? It's a pain in the ass. 

But the thing is, being new to Norway, you don't know all of these stores right away. You don't know if they exist, you don't know where they are, what their crazy name is, or if they actually carry what you're looking for anyway. It took me five different stores to find ruled 4x6 index cards. And when you find the store, you don't have 20 options of toothpaste, you have 5. You can find 1 can of tennis balls, but it's going to cost you about $20. 

On the other hand (and you know this is true), when you go to Target to buy the above 6 items, you actually leave with those items plus a new chew toy for the dog, a couple cute pairs of tights and t-shirts for the toddler, hand lotion and a new lip gloss, and a seasonal item of some sort. So, on that other hand, I'm actually saving a lot of money by not having Target.

But the other thing is, I really am not a fan of big box stores (except Target). I used to avoid driving down 12A in West Lebanon, past KMart, Pier1, Wal-Mart, iParty, Kohl's, JoAnn Fabrics, Best Buy, Staples, etc. for one because it was such a traffic nightmare, but also because the sheer consumerism of it all made me a little sick. It was part of what we added to the "pro" list of Norway: less focus on consuming.


But all I hear from other transplanted Americans here is. . . oh how they miss Target**. And I am only slightly ashamed to admit I am one of them. It's the "one stop shopping" that I miss. Quaintness can only get you so far when it comes to shopping, and when all you need is a few basic necessities all you really want is to get in and out as quickly as possible.

*I write "Target" even though for the last 7 years I lived an hour away from the nearest Target. I lived in the only state in the nation that did not have a Target: Vermont. Can you believe it? 


**Do you hear that Target Corporation? Norway needs you!

Frisør for Greta

Crazy morning hair.

Well, if nothing else gets done on this vinter ferie, at least Greta got a cute haircut.  The morning snarls were becoming a bit unbearable, and she has a cowlick in the middle of what would be bangs that make actual bangs a little difficult. She's also not entirely agreeable to pigtails or hairclips every morning, so. . . what's a mamma to do?

Greta got one Norwegian haircut back in October that set us back 320Kr ($57). (Are you kidding me? I hadn't remembered that, but my reconciled Quicken account doesn't lie). Trust me, it was not a $57 haircut, even with the 25% tax. I was considering cutting it myself this time, but. . .

Quite pleased to be sitting on a hest at the frisør.

oh. . . so nervous. . .

Our landlady recommended a little frisør (hairstylist) in Lillehammer who cut her own toddler's hair, a nice bestemor (grandmother) type, who did a nice job. Off we went, and Greta sat quite happily on the antique horse while the bestemor frisør clipped and chatted and layered and worked with those curls. And, I must tell you, I explained to her på norsk (in Norwegian), how we were hoping to grow out the bangs, what a mess her hair is in the back in the morning, maybe cut to here, some layers to bring out the curls and lighten it up. . .

End result? Darling.

And as somber as she looks, she's really quite
pleased with the results (as am I).

Cost? Just 190Kr ($34). Well worth it. Actually, when she said to me, "190 Kroner," I thought to myself "Really? Wow. That can't be right. I probably didn't understand her (entirely possible). I'll wait for the receipt to double check. Wow! I was right!"  (I know, still utterly ridiculous for a 2 year-olds haircut, but this is Norway prices I'm dealing with here, and you just have to trust me.)

Just a little catch-up

It is "vinter ferie" in Norway, several week chunks of time when Norwegian school shut down for a week (staggered around the country) so families can use up their generous vacation time and/or scramble for childcare for those not in barnehage. My own Adult Learning Center is also on Vinter Ferie, so I have the week off as well. I have been looking forward to it for a loooong time, as I feel like my norsk kurs organization has gone to the pits. All I've been able to do is keep up with the material from class, and not actually do any catch-up from my alternative learning material.

And now it's nearly noon on my first day off, and all I've managed to do is 1) sleep in (that was nice)  2) let Greta sleep in (also nice)   3) get Greta to barnehage by the 9:30am cut-off   4) catch-up on Oscar winners and Natalie Portman baby bump gossip   5) minimal Facebook time-suck, I swear   6) start our US Federal Taxes. Seriously! Proving to be a big pain, as I expected them to be.  7) a teeny bit of laundry.

I have big goals for vinter ferie which include 1) a few days off with Greta  2) haircuts for me and Greta  3) possibly traveling to Oslo with Erik to watch a World Championship ski race???  4) taxes   5) transforming the yarn room into a guest room for March guests  6) finishing two sweaters that just need to be blocked and seamed  7) photo albums updated for the last year   8) BLOG UPDATES, on, like, Norwegian class. And last but not least, 9) mastering the Norwegian language, one verb at a time.

Stay tuned!

Super Duper Truse!

Super Duper Truse!

Not only is this blog an account of our life as ex-pats in Norway, it's also a blog of regular day to day developments in our family life. And lately we've been. . .  (drum roll please). . .


POTTY TRAINING!!!


Hurray for Greta!!! After a few half-hearted attempts over the last, oh, 11 months, I think we actually may be doing this for real. In the fall, when I mentioned to her teacher at the barnehage that she was occasionally using the potty, she responded, "oh, we don't usually do that until they're potty trained at home." I thought that was a bit of a cop-out, since she's at the barnehage 5 days a week. . . are we just going to potty train on weekends???


But her teacher noticed when the kids went outside to play after lunch, Greta would eventually, ahem, fill her diaper and then ask for a change. A bit of a hassle for the teacher, seeing that Greta was wearing about 5 layers of clothing. So she suggested to Greta that she sit on the potty before going outside, and lo and behold, Greta produced! This went on for a full week, and in the meantime she began wearing "Big Girl Pants"at home in the afternoons and evenings. Last Saturday we made a family shopping trip to the local mall to buy Big Girl Pants, just like Elmo did with Baby David and his Pappa. (Ok, Elmo bought Big Kid Underpants, but you can see why we used a little literary license with that one). These are also known around our household as Super Duper Truse, also borrowed from a new favorite Norwegian potty book, which heavily utilizes pink, purple, stars and stickers to reinforce the Great Fun of using a potte. 


And one week into it, with a full week at the barnehage wearing Super Duper Truse, she's only had one accident on Day 1. Granted, she's in a diaper for outdoor play and naps but is generally dry after those, too. We've been told, quite proudly by our little one, that not only is she staying dry in her Truse, she's also using the big Doen (pronounced doo-ehn) at barnehage--the Big Toilet--just like the Big Kids. 


And honestly, there is nothing cuter than seeing that little bum running around in little pink polka dot underwear. 

Just another day overlooking Lillehammer. . .

The later setting sun has been providing us with some gorgeous sunsets lately. Sunsets are hard to capture, but I think this shot actually did the colors justice. 

And the full moon last week also provided us with a spectacular moon-set around 8am, illuminating the whole valley. We've each had fantastic moonlit skis this past week.

What we do when Pappa's gone

Erik is in Trondheim for two days worth of meetings. Here is how Greta and I entertain ourselves while he's gone.

Greta watches ballerina videos on YouTube
(you can't see it, but she's wearing a ballerina skirt).

Yummy British beer and camembert for Mamma,
and Mac&Cheese for Greta
(it's called "Mississippi Belle"--how can it be bad?)

I repot new plants into boring white containers.
BTW: the upper left is not a "Christmas
cactus," but a "høst cactus" (fall cactus)

Pioneer Woman, in Fahrenheit

Anyone who knew me between the ages of, oh, 7 and 15, knows I was completely obsessed with Little House on the Prairie. I would have given anything to be Laura Ingalls, and I even wrote a letter to Michael Landon proposing that he remake the Little House TV series starring. . . me. (Although I'm not sure I ever sent the letter).


Stick with me. . .


I returned home on Sunday evening from our week away in southern Norway, on solo parenting duty, with a crabby, hungry 2 year old child, and a hyper, hungry 5.9 year old dog (she is nearly 6, you see). It was 6 pm, we had been traveling since 9 am, and I entered the house to find that it was 53 degrees!!!


This usually would not be a big problem, however, we have not yet turned on our heat. A few weeks ago, I asked Erik if turning on the heat was a quick flick of a switch, and he said "no, not really. It's a little more involved than that." But there was no urgent need for heat at that time, so we didn't do it.


At 6 pm on Sunday evening, there was urgent need for heat. So, I did what any self-respecting Laura Ingalls Wilder wannabe would do: I hauled a load of wood up from the basement, and built us a fire in our fireplace. And at 7 am this morning, with the house back down into the mid 50s, I did the same thing. By 9 am, the house was toasty warm. At 10 pm, I am proud to report that the house is. . . 72 degrees! As Erik put it (as he is still down in southern Norway), I essentially "chain-smoked" the fireplace all day. That I did, and I'm rather proud of it.


This morning, as I struggled to get the initial flames to take (despite the use of the technological wonder that is a highly flammable fire-starter packet), I had a brief vision of Laura bent over her fire with a cold, hungry Baby Rose behind her. As self-sufficient as I may have felt at that moment, I also realized how very glad I was to be living in the 21st century.


And then I drank my cappuccino. Dressed in fleece.

Four Weeks: The Day to Day (part to)

It is really hard to believe that four full weeks have passed since Greta and I arrived in Norway. The sun sets at a noticeably earlier hour than it did a month ago, and it also seems considerably cooler. However, we did see 70 degrees today, which was delightful. It was 35 degrees this morning. I don’t believe there has been a day that I have woken up and immediately put on shorts or a skirt. I rather sadly packed away Greta’s summer clothes a few weeks ago; sad both because it meant the end of summer for us—a little too early, in my opinion, but also because I won’t see my little Greta wearing those sweet things again.

Greta is settling in well at her barnehage, and her Norwegian is coming along. She said her first full Norwegian sentence after just 3 weeks there: “Jeg skal leke litt til.” (I want to play a little more). Since then, she’s been combining half Norwegian/half English sentences, and reportedly adopting some of the regional dialect when it comes to slight differences in the word for “they”. She also is rather fond of the word “bæsje”, or “poop”, which is only appropriate, as we are spending a lot of time talking about--and making--poop in the potty. Rather successfully, I might add.

My Norwegian is not coming along quite as easily or naturally, no thanks to the local adult learning center. After registering for a beginner class, I was told the class had started 2 weeks earlier and was completely full, as was the 2 nights/week evening class, and I would have to wait until November. This doesn’t really work so well with my Grand Plan to immediately immerse myself in language courses. But to be honest, I don’t feel “immersed”. My exposure to people speaking Norwegian is actually rather limited. I bring Greta to the barnehage, where her teachers will kindly speak in English (perhaps this need to change), and aside from a few trips to the grocery store or post office, and one Norwegian work party, I can lean very heavily on Erik. 

As I wrote to a friend, at times it's a little overwhelming when I give it a moment to sink in, and I realize "we're actually in NORWAY and this is my Reality for the foreseeable future!" It's the No End Date in sight that can be a little nerve-wracking. I can't understand a lick of what the children's cartoon characters are saying, but my plan it so eventually get a job here?? What was I thinking??

The Day to Day Challenges: part "en"

What this doesn't tell you is that a "normal
bomull" wash cycle takes 2 hrs and 20
minutes!

One of the challenging parts of this move, in relation to non-mastery of the Norwegian language, is my resulting dependance on Erik for very mundane, everyday activities. Reading the mail, signing permission slips for the barnehage (daycare), setting up the cell phone service, fixing the iPod,  having ownership of the only activated bank card in the family (mine is coming, I hope), and reading the owners manual to the Norwegian  washer.

OMG OMG OMG!! It's ENGLISH!!

So imagine my utter delight when (after our washing machine broke this morning--not so delightful) Erik discovered that underneath the Norwegian washing icons were ENGLISH icons! I was one happy husmor (housewife). 

It still doesn't explain why our washing machine broke, or why it takes so utterly long to do a normal cold wash. Today we are grateful for landlords, and that the diapers were washed before the machine broke, and for English words on our appliances.