Tranquility in the midst of Chaos

Greta wanted a picture with Tika--how
can I resist?

We are about to launch ourselves into full-blown chaos of home renovation and living like gypsies for the next month, or likely more. We have 50+ boxes of stuff in the basement of the new house, and tomorrow a friend will help Erik move some of the more major pieces of furniture to the house. Our landlord has been generous enough to allow us to keep a few of the bulkier items in the barn for the summer--sofa, mattress--and the piano in the house (thanks Thorstein!).

Damn, she's a good-lookin' dog.

Someone's been working hard.

We'll spend a few night this week in the home of one of Erik's vacationing colleagues, and then 3 weeks in the home of another vacationing colleague. Hopefully this will allow us enough time to get some walls up, maybe some electrical work done, and a bathroom roughed in. It is eerily reminiscent of last summer--1 night in East Thetford, 2 nights in Burlington, 2 nights in Princeton, 4 weeks in Shoreview, 4 nights in Texas, 4 nights in Washington DC, 2 weeks in Minneapolis. . . .

But notice I said his colleagues were "vacationing". This is a strangely Norwegian, or more probably European, phenomenon. Definitely not American. It is summer, thus, workers vacation. They do not seem to stagger their vacations, as all of my previous jobs have urged and demanded that we do (granted, I worked in more life-threatening/dependent workplaces). Instead, everyone seems to go on vacation in July. Regularly scheduled meetings are cancelled; the gym classes at the gym are cut back significantly; the barnehage closes for 3 weeks--sorry parents, you need daycare? you're on your own;  and we've been warned that the staff at city hall are at a bare minimum, so good luck in getting a building permit quickly. 

So if my blog posts are spotty, you'll understand. We're "vacationing", as I keep telling Greta. . . "We're going to stay in vacation houses! Right here in Lillehammer."

Enjoying the tranquility for one last weekend.

The views haven't been half bad

There could be far worse places in the world to be right now.

St. Hans Dag

Summer solstice has come and gone, with the official sunrise at 3:40am and sunset a mere 19 hours and 19 minutes later at 10:59pm, 13 hours and 49 minutes longer than at winter solstice. In other words. . . it's all downhill from here.

We celebrated St. Hans Dag--the (un?)official marking of summer solstice in Norway--by joining the throngs and Erik's colleagues who have children at Maihaugen, drinking champagne to celebrate my kicking ass on my Norwegian test, huddling under an umbrella as a quick summer storm raced through, watching an abbreviated children's version of Peer Gynt (which I didn't understand at all), sneaking a 3-year old into the men's single-stall outdoor bathroom because there was no line and the women's line was ridiculous, eliciting disapproving looks from all the orderly Norwegian women, listening to Norwegian oompah-oompah music, eating a requisite ice cream cone while wearing jeans, wool socks, long sleeves and a fleece jacket, and eventually watching a bonfire burn on a very small island (recently inhabited by a mother duck and her 9 goslings). Whew. Busy night.We all tumbled into bed around 10:30. . . Greta included.

The whole evening had kind of a Fourth of July feel to it: summer celebration, families with picnics, music, games and ice cream, and gathering on a hillside waiting for a fire-inspired extravaganza. I may have sounded a little sarcastic, but it really was a very pleasant, lovely night. I enjoyed recognizing the true start of summer, and acknowledgement of our position in the universe for just that day. Yes, I would have appreciated a little more warmth, but I was Officially Not Cold.

Daisy wreaths were a popular accessory

Some revelers, whooping it up on the hillside

And then there were these two crazy cats,
who wished they had marshmallows (or Peeps)
and a really long stick.

Inga-Låmi (warning: i get a little babbly)

Today marked my triumphant return to ski racing, which has been mourning my absence for the last 18 years. Hard to believe my last ski race was when I was 5 years old, but it's true. . .


The Inga-Låmi ski race was held in Lillehammer today, and is Norway's largest women-only ski race, with generally around 4,000 women competing. There are two distances, 15km and 30km, both classic style. I opted for the slightly shorter 15km route.


The Inga-Låmi is the female version of the Birkebeiner ski race*, which I wrote about on August 28. Briefly, Inga was the single mother to Norway's infant King Håkon, who gave birth to her son in 1205 after his father, King Håkon Sverresson, had already died. The Birkebeiner ski, running and bike races commemorate the trip that the birkebeiner loyalists skied in 1206, as they rescued the infant King Håkon from the bad guys. Presumably, Inga skied much of the route along with the loyalists, because what mother would trust a bunch of cross-country skiers with her only child? The Inga-Låmi race was started in 1993 in order to celebrate and recognize Inga's role in Norwegian history. Want a not so brief history? Try here.

As I said, I haven't been in a cross country ski race for a number of years, the last time when I was a senior in high school. And since I had just learned to ski that year (joined the team, then learned to ski, in that order), I really only remember participating in one race. I've skied more this season than I've skied in probably the last 5 years combined, what with working full time, pregnancy, young baby, long drives to trails and shitty snow conditions. So, let's see this year: no job, not pregnant, child in nursery school, walk 3 minutes to the trails and best snow conditions EVER. I really have no excuse, other than sheer laziness and sometimes feeling like "I've had my fill of skiing for the year" (a feeling that could get me shot in Norway if I were to utter it out loud in March).

Erik waxing at the start.

So the day before the race, I decided to "race" the Inga-Låmi, if only for the cultural experience of skiing with 2,509 other Norwegian women. Turns out it was really fun.


While my race didn't begin until 11am, Erik had been volunteered (as part of his Lillehammer Ski Club duty) to wax skis at the race starting at 7:30am (the 30km race started at 9am). He reported being so busy that at one point each of the 30 waxers had 15 women in line, prompting Erik's table-mate to ask, "don't any women wax their own skis?" Other women, when asked by Erik what wax they currently had on their skis, would shrug and say, "whatever was on for last year's race," indicating that they hadn't skied since. . . last year's race.


This was, in part, why I felt comfortable deciding to do this race the night before. For many women, for most of the women I dare say, this was not a Race. This was an well-organized, popular ski tur. 


I walked to the race from our house, pushing Greta in her jogging stroller, feeling very norsk walking to a ski race, with my kiddo's own mini-skis sticking out of the stroller pocket. I arrived about 20 minutes before the race, found Erik frantically waxing a few skis, changed into ski boots, stripped off a few layers of clothing as the temps were quickly rising to high-20s (F), and decided to run to the porta-pottys.


Rookie mistake! I missed my 11am wave start (the first of the 15km timed-racers), and unnskyld-ed "sorry" my way towards the front of several hundred women waiting for their 11:10, 11:20, 11:30 start. A little unsure of what I should do, and who or how to even ask, I just told an official at the front, "Jeg er klokka 11!" (I'm 11 o'clock!) and since it was by then 11:05. . . I took off. . . by myself. Probably looking like a complete dork.


I had been getting a little nervous that morning as I gathered things together for the race, but then I thought, "what's the worse that could happen?" Aside from breaking a leg (highly unlikely), it was really just sheer exhaustion, and what's so bad about that? And I didn't think it was really all that possible in just a 15km race. So, my goal was to have fun and not be afraid to get a little tired; and about mid-way through the race I added a goal of "not falling".


Dumb. Shortly after that thought crossed my mind, I headed down a steep hill, gaining speed. I was also gaining on the woman in front of me, yet not able to move to either the left or the right due to other skiers. I attempted to snowplow, not terribly easy with one ski in a set track, and as soon as possible moved to the left-most track once it was clear, but didn't quite make it cleaning into the tracks, and crashed into the snow bank, a clearly American English expletive escaping my lips. I wanted to declare as I hopped back up, "Sorry, but I'm American! I don't know what the hell I'm doing!" Thankfully, I managed to avoid any other skiers, quite unlike another woman I saw 10 minutes later, who took out two women--one on either side of her--as she grabbed them to stabilize herself, heading down a hill.


By 13km I was feeling a little wobbly, hoping I could stay upright on the few short downhills we had left, because I wasn't sure I could correct and catch myself should I start to fall again. I pulled it off, and also managed to sprint to the finish, which I'm sure was a very impressive sight. . . 46 minutes after the race had been won. One hour, 29 minutes. 75th out of 160 in my age group. Not too shabby considering that at the beginning of the ski season I didn't even recognize my classic skis as being my own.

This kid's already so Euro: When told Mamma was going
to be in a ski race today, Greta asked, "On TV?"
Because every kid watches ski-racing on Saturday
mornings with their Pappas, right?

It was one of the more beautiful late winter days we've had--bright blue sunny skies--and Erik announced when I was finished "in all my years of ski racing, 99% of the races did not have weather like this." Next weekend is the Birkebeiner, a race in which Greta announced, "the pappas put the numbers on their legs and ski and the mammas stay home with the kids." We then decided that actually the mammas don't stay home, "they go to the race and hi-ya, hi-ya** the pappas."


So, sign me up for next year. It was great fun. And if I do it for 10 years, I get a cool statue of Inga herself.


* Yes, women are allowed to compete in the Birkebeiner races.


**Hi-ya! Hi-ya! is the most popular of Norwegian race chants, and is actually
used as a verb, as I was once asked--in English--"Did you hi-ya for Norway or USA?"


August 28

Sparker (aka "kick sleds")

There is a lovely and quaint method of winter transportation in Norway, and I'm not talking about skiing. These are not nearly as ubiquitous as skis, but everyday I see at least a few sparker, or kick sleds, being used to get around town on the not terribly well shoveled sidewalks. The sleds have a wooden seat and handle and two long metal runners. The runners have foot rests where you can stand and ride the sled once you get up enough speed, or balance on one side while you kick with your other foot. 


I usually see them being used by older women running errands, which makes sense: they provide great stability on icy sidewalks and a seat to accumulate packages. They are left outside of shops, sometimes locked, sometimes not. I've seen them left at bus stops, presumably waiting for a kid on their way back home. Occasionally we see notices in the paper for lost/stolen sparks. What is most entertaining is seeing a dozen of them parked outside a local school. (What would probably be even more entertaining is seeing what happens once school is out, and watching a couple dozen kids take off towards home on their sparks!)

Daily Commute

On Storgata in Lillehammer

Saturday errands

Trusting owner

They are not cheap, but then again, I'm in Norway, so that goes without saying.
The children's model is about $240 and the adult model about $265. 

Erik and I are kicking ourselves (ha ha hah--totally did not intend that pun!) for not having bought two local sleds when they came up for sale on Norway's version of Craig's List/ebay, aka www.finn.no. Luckily, we are able to borrow our landlord's spark for the winter, which has been great fun.

Godt Nytt År!

We were invited to spend New Year's Eve with our Norwegian friends, Roger and Merete, and their two boys who are in Greta's barnehage. Erik's parents are visiting us for a week or so over New Years, so they joined us as well. Apparently their 5-year-old, while very excited that Greta was coming to visit, was not so excited that she was bringing her English speaking grandparents, and disappointedly asked his mother before we arrived, "Do we have to speak English tonight?" Not that he was doing much speaking, but having his mother speak it limits his own understanding of our conversation. I know how you feel, kid!

Since I didn't see a TV in their living room, and I have no idea if there is a Norwegian equivalent of Dick Clark or the Times Square ball, I asked, "How will we know it's officially the New Year?" They responded that there would be fireworks set off around the neighborhood.

This was an understatement. About 10-15 minutes before the New Year, individual homes began setting off their fireworks. Roger and Merete live on in a hillside that looks over much of southern Lillehammer and Lake Mjøsa: the view is quite spectacular. We all gathered out on their deck, in jackets and blankets, and a little champagne and watched probably no fewer than 50 homes set off thousands of kroner-worth of fireworks. It was amazing!

Photo by Stian Furuseth, from http://hagenigutua.blogspot.com/

Incidentally, their 5 year-old, who was so excited to watch the raketter (rockets) at midnight, fell asleep around 11:15pm. He was an absolute noodle at midnight, and impossible to rouse for the fireworks display. Greta, on the other hand, was too wound up from playing with her friends and sleeping in a strange new environment was out of the question. She rang in the New Year in her jammies, wrapped up in several blankets in our arms, out on the porch with the rest of us.

I hope you all had a festive New Years, and have caught up on sleep in the meantime. I am looking forward to the new adventures this new year will bring: first of all, my language classes starting on January 3rd!

Let the Christmas festivities begin!

Christmas Tree at Maihaugen
resplendent in hand-knit ornaments

Pappa and Greta by the tree,
ready to brave the brisk outdoors

Saturday seemed to be the official kick-off of the Christmas season in Lillehammer. Maihaugen, the open-air museum, hosted a Christmas market as well as several activities for children around the grounds. In the late afternoon/early evening was the opening of Christmas Street, the main pedestrian shopping district in downtown Lillehammer, complete with a nisse parade, led by the Nisse Far, a small brass band, and a variety of festive oversized dancing animal heads, not unlike Chinese dragons. It was a brisk day, around 10F/-12C, for most of the day, but we were well prepared. The events at Maihaugen were scheduled both in and out of doors, and we stopped inside for several snack breaks throughout the day.

Julenisse spotted outdoors!

Lunching on grøt (rice porridge)

Our day began around 11:30am, with the Maihaugen parking lot already filled to capacity. We visited a few of the historic cabins, decorated to celebrate a 1700s Christmas and a 1890s Christmas, and then spotted a small gathering of julenisser among the rocks, where baby goats had been leaping only a few months earlier.  We then headed indoors for a quick lunch of risengrynsgrøt (rice porridge with butter, cinnamon, and sugar) and waffles. That sat pretty well with the kiddo, and if it hadn’t, the next event on the agenda would have improved any sour mood: pepperkaker baking (gingerbread cookies). A long table was filled with more children in hand-knit sweaters than I have ever seen, and the women running the event kept an efficient schedule of doling out chunks of dough, rolling pins, cookie cutters, onto a cookie sheet, into the oven, quickly cool on the racks, and into a little wax paper bag. Afterwards I thought we could likely skip that event next year, as making gingerbread cookies at home will be a far less hurried and thus more enjoyable event. But, I must admit that having that bag of cookies on hand was rather nice to have as the day progressed.

Cutting out pepperkaker cookies

The day at Maihaugen concluded with visits to the animals in the barn and a fair amount of time in the 1930s village where a number of artists were selling their wares. I had high hopes for the Christmas market, as some friends spoke very highly of it, but I was a little disappointed. New England had its fair share of “craft fairs” that my craft-minded friends and I dubbed instead “crap fairs”, and this market was not without its share of that (although a smaller share, to be fair). Still, Norwegians love their Christmas elves and decorating with hearts this time of year, two holiday themes I have not, and will not likely, entirely embrace. So, after one last snack to warm up our insides, we headed downtown for the Christmas parade.

Mmmm, waiting for the cookies to cool

We timed our arrival to Storgate well. The nisse parade was about to start, and we only had to wait a few minutes before a parade of body-less decorative horse-heads and people dressed in elf-like costumes came spinning and twirling down the street. They were followed by a throng of people, many of whom were carrying lit torches--even rather young children! Mixed into this throng of people was a small brass band playing Christmas carols--"Joy to the World", if my memory serves me correct. We followed the parade down the street to a large Christmas tree which seemed to be already lit upon our arrival. At that point, the two adults voted that we were hungry (while the lone child was nearly asleep) and it was time to ditch the festivities and go get pizza. We believe the parade marched around downtown and lit two more Christmas trees, although I think it will be another year before we find out for certain. 


All in all, a fun-filled, exhausting day, and we all arrived home toasty warm.

Riding the tractor

Shopping in the 1930s village

Downtown Lillehammer in pre-parade excitement

The parade: a blur of people, lights,  and song

As if we needed an additional reminder that
we are living in a foreign country: small
children are trusted to carry flaming torches
in large crowds of people

The post-parade blur of people and lights.
Quite the festive scene!

Our own very tired (but warm!) nisse

Tour of our (rented) house

Living room #1 and #2

And now for a tour of our home. 


I want you to make note of a few things before we get started here. 

1. We are renting this home for one year. We have not bought it. We could not afford to buy it. We can barely afford to rent it!
2. This is not a typical "rental", nor, in my limited experience, is it a typical Norwegian home. 
3. Whatever home we buy will in no way be able to match this home in space, view, bedrooms, storage, etc.

aka "playroom" or "TV room"

As we were making our preparations to move to Norway, finding suitable housing was a huge challenge. Erik’s employer doesn’t typically hire ex-pats, so they were not accustomed to finding housing for their new employees. We were on our own.

We didn’t feel like our housing needs were that unreasonable: minimum 2 bedrooms, storage for outdoor gear, and dog-friendly. As it turns out, Lillehammer has a very tight rental market, in part due to the college in town and students filling every available rental. Or what is left is college-student grade rentals. In other words: bleech.

View from playroom into living room

In May we had verbally committed to renting a 2 bedroom home across the river/lake in Vingnes that we had found on the internet. It was very clean, modern, efficient, dog friendly. . . with NO storage. Not even a covered parking spot to store bikes. As the contents of our home were loaded into a 40ft. shipping container, we became more and more nervous about where our belongings would actually go once they arrived in Norway.

Fireplace room, where pioneer action happens

The day after our life’s possessions disappeared in the shipping container we saw THIS house on the internet. We knew we had to rent it. Erik immediately called the owner, and within 10 minutes it was “ours”. 

We feel soooo fortunate for so many reasons.

1.        FIVE bedrooms. We use two. But have room for guests!
2.          Owners are lending us their spare car! We didn’t have to buy a car when we arrived!
3.          Our dog has space to run and sniff and explore and lounge and survey.
4.          So much storage—closets galore, two barns and a garage, a basement.
5.         Tremendous views of the valley and Lillehammer.
6.          Darling home, cozy, warm, inviting. Feels homey. Our stuff blends in perfectly.
7.      Can walk/run/bike to Greta’s barnehage on maintained dirt roads in under 10 minutes. And we randomly got placed at this barnehage before we knew where we were living—and it’s the closest one. Amazing luck.
8.         Property backs up against the lighted ski trails, which connect to the Olympic Birkebeiner ski trails.
9.     The owners had apparently had inquiries from dozens and dozens of people wanting to rent it, and he turned them away (college students, athletes). But we were a family, with a kid going to his kids’ school, and he knew people who worked with Erik, and. . .  here we are!

Dining room (with landlord's hutch  

Hallway of doors and mirrors
(and closets)

View of kitchen from dining room

Kitchen, with enormous fridge in the corner

Greta's cozy room

Lovely bathroom (with
heated floors)

Our bedroom, with door to back deck

Heavenly walk-in closet
and view into hallway

Stairs to upstairs, door to right into
front hall, door to left into kitchen

Front hall (also with heated floors) and too many
hooks for people like us who have too many coats

Front hall, view into laundry room

Finally Fall, Lillehammer style

View from our kitchen of 
Birkebeinervegen (our road)

The "must have" flower
of Norway's fall

 It's been rainy and overcast for the past few weeks, it seems. But finally, the rain and clouds have cleared, and we have beautiful weather forecasted for the next week. We are looking forward to it.

Our humble home!

A bird's humble home!

View of Lillehammer
from our driveway

Greta, age 2.5 years, and
Tika the Noble One, newly 6 years

Such beautiful weather, we just
had to eat outside