We escape!

A foggy view up the Tower

 Still no internet access at the new house, so I try to squeeze in an hour or so at the library cafe, with a cappuccino to keep me company. 


Many friends have remarked how fun it must have been to spend Christmas in our new house, but the truth is we celebrated a very different Christmas this year. . . by escaping to Paris!


My in-laws wanted to spend Christmas with us, and luckily we came to our senses early enough in the remodeling process to realize that our home would not be very welcoming to guests by Christmas, even though we ourselves would be living there. Instead we opted to meet in Paris, joined by Erik's sister and her friends. It was perhaps my first Christmas ever without snow, aside from my first year of life in sunny Santa Barbara, California. But I must say, 45-50 degrees and sunny was a welcome breath of fresh air. 


We had a 9 hour layover in Copenhagen, which we took full advantage of, taking a 10 minute train ride into the center of town to take in the pre-Christmas atmosphere of a bustling Scandinavian city. We spent six days in Paris, and while it wasn't exactly relaxing in the poolside-vacation sense of the word, it was a welcomed break from the chaos of remodeling and moving that we've been immersed in for the past 7 months. 


I found it incredibly difficult to even utter simple French words like "merci" or "au revoir" or even "non". As I opened my mouth to respond, Norwegian words came out--not English--Norwegian! If I bumped into a person in a store, I wouldn't say "excusez-moi", I'd say "Unnskyld!" A waiter in a restaurant asked us (in English) what "other" language we spoke, after I responded "nei" to one of his English questions. It was quite amusing, actually, and even rather reassuring. I am so deeply immersed in Norwegian it is, in many cases, the first language that comes to my brain. I would read French signs, or rather see signs in French, and realize that had they been in Norwegian--I could understand them. My confidence in my language skills was boosted, and all it took was a trip to France to do so. 


We spent our New Year's Eve with the same friends that we celebrated with a year ago. It was very comforting to feel that we have established such good friendships in just 16 months that we have now spent two consecutive holidays with one another. And after spending the entire evening speaking--and understanding--Norwegian with each other, I realized once again how far I have come in the last year. 

A Norwegian tradition: Kristoffer smashes the
gingerbread house on New Year's Eve,
while Greta and Sebastian duck!

A year ago I was just beginning my formal Norwegian classes; classes that would prove to be both challenging and disappointing in their level and quality of instruction. On Thursday I will resume my classes again, meeting two days a week as we did throughout the fall. I was incredibly distracted and busy this fall, and felt like I neglected my studies like I have never done before in my life. I'm hoping that I can recommit myself to mastering this language this semester. The trip to France, in some ways, gave me extra motivation and encouragement to do so. 


I am also assembling material and letters to bring to SAFH (nursing license organization) in regards to both my midwife and nursing licenses. After the newspaper article, SAFH kicked their efforts into full gear, and responded to my midwife application within 3 weeks. Their judgement/assessment was not entirely satisfactory (in my humble opinion), but after some clarification about my experiences and qualification from my student midwife education, I am hopeful the application will be viewed more favorably. Ever hopeful, I am. 

A Royal Nut

I did something kind of crazy two weeks ago, only because I could. . . only because I live in Europe and I can, and it was a once-in-a-lifetime-opportunity, and because my parents offered me a free place to stay, because I believe in the power of love and college sweethearts marrying after 8 years of dating, and because I was (am) a big Princess Diana fan. 

Yes, I did. I flew to London to witness Prince William marry his sweetie, Kate.

My mom, me and Big Ben

As I mentioned before, my parents are vacationing in England this summer in their RV. They had planned their trip to ensure they would be in a campground outside of London on the days surrounding April 29. I flew to Heathrow a few days before The Wedding, announcing to border control that I was in town for The Wedding (well, they asked, so. . . ), and met my parents in downtown London at a predetermined Tube stop. My parents have been to London something like 12 times, so to say they know the city is an understatement. They were like, "We need to take the 36 bus to Dorchester Road, because the Tube only goes to Dorchester Court, and then we have to walk the extra two blocks in the wrong direction, but the bus puts us on the right side of the street, and you don't have to deal with the roundabout there. . . " I am generally the navigator in my own little family, but in London I just sat back and let my parents be, well, my parents. And enjoyed the ride.


Enough about family dynamics. Our campground did not have easy access to London. We started out the morning with a 10-15 minute walk along a rather treacherous, narrow footpath to the bus stop. Then a 30 minute bus ride to the Tube, where we would spend the next 45 minutes or so until we arrived in central London. To spend 3 hours a day just "commuting" on vacation was exhausting.

Did I mention we had awesome seats?

We spent Thursday walking around London, walking the route of the wedding procession, scoping out potential good spots, gawking at the people who pitched tents outside Westminster Abbey and along St. James Park. There was palpable energy in the air already, with thousands of others doing exactly what we were doing. I had a slight pang of disappointment that I hadn't brought my own tent and sleeping bag, although I can honestly say I don't know of anyone who would have been crazy enough to sleep out with me (Alyssa maybe? If she hadn't been 35 weeks pregnant?).

Who is that, you ask? Oh. . . only the Queen.

The order of the day was printed on every newspaper and magazine available, so it was very clear that at 10am on Friday morning Prince William and Prince Harry would be leaving Buckingham Palace in a car and driving to the Abbey. The wedding started at 11am. So. . . when to arrive? Or more accurately, how early can I pull my willing-but-retired parents out of their comfy king sized bed in the RV, and get them to start the 1.5 hour journey into London? Answer: 6am, with departure scheduled for 6:30am. I admit, I was nervous about what kind of crappy seat/views we would get, arriving into London at 8am.


Answer: AWESOME SEATS!!!


(Editorial note: I do have to laugh at my use of the word "awesome", because it is not one I use regularly in my day to day speech. More so, in October a British B&B owner said to me, "oh, I have Americans coming? I've been told I'll hear the word awesome a lot.")

Kate and Wills wave from the balcony, as seen
on the huge screen at Trafalgar Sq.

All modes of transportation into London were surprisingly underused. We walked past Trafalgar Square towards Westminster Abbey, down Whitehall, and noticed a few legs dangling from above. A few people were sitting on wide stone windowsills, just kitty-corner from the Horse Guards Arch--through which the cars and carriages would drive to and from the Palace and the Abbey. We spotted an open windowsill about 6 ft. high, and I scrambled up. The sill was amazing: enough room for the 3 of us, with extra room for our bags and jackets. But the view: even better! The route would take a 90 degree turn essentially right in front of us, slowing down to make it through the narrow Horse Guards arch. Had we been 5 minutes later, the spot would have been snatched up. We couldn't believe our luck. Tents be damned.


At 10am, the procession started with William and Harry riding by in a car, William very visible in his red uniform. I heard someone screaming, "yeaaaaaaaah William! Whoooo-hooooo Harry!" only to realize--it was me. I honestly was not expecting that! But there was just something about the crowd's excitement, the band, the flags, the cheering--I couldn't help myself! Although as the Queen drove by, yes--it was exciting--she is the Queen--but even silly-American me knew not to yell, "yeeeeeahhh Queenie!!!" 

The crows in front of us had grown from 4 people deep when we arrived at 8am, to 11-12 people deep at 10am. Fathers were holding daughters on their shoulders for hours, boyfriends giving up years of life in their backs by supporting girlfriends on their shoulders, smart people were sitting on ladders, and the lucky people were sitting on window sills (us!). We could see over the heads of all of those sad saps, 12 people back. 


As Kate and her father drove by, the 13-year old girl in me emerged again, and I heard myself screaming, "Kaaaate! Kaaaaate! Yeaaaaaaa!" Even 50 meters away, through the blurred window of a steadily moving car, she looked radiant--but even more importantly--calm and happy. What also struck me (and this will sound a bit lame) was how real these people looked. After years of seeing pictures of William and Harry, the Queen, Charles and Camilla--here they were in front of me! Moving, waving, smiling, humans, simply excited about the day like the rest of us!

The day after, at Kensington Palace. One of
few regrets of the trip is not having brought
flowers to Kensington in honor of Diana.
I know. . . I'm a sap.

Although there were speakers lining the street, we were really only able to hear singing and organ music. Any speaking was lost. The hour passed quickly, although the cappuccino that my parents had fetched me at 8am was really beginning to take effect. . . .


Shortly after 11am, we could spot the beginning of the parade down Whitehall (was it a parade? I don't know what else to call it. . . ). Strangely enough, a rider-less horse galloped down Whitehall in front of the entire procession, took the tight 90 degree turn into the Horse Guards Arch, and disappeared into the safety of its stable. It had apparently bucked its rider quite a ways back up the road, spooked by the crowds (Youtube has a gazillion videos, if you're curious). But nearly immediately after the horse ran past us, Kate and William were approaching, and the crowds went wild. Yours truly included. Harry (looking impish even at 50m away and a few of the kids were next, Pippa and a few bridesmaids, and as the Queen rolled by, the military band next to us struck up "God Save the Queen," to which the entire crowd sang along. Yours truly included, again. (I think I learned it in 1985, when I thought it might come in handy when I married Prince Edward).

Check out the ring!

After the procession was finished, we made our way up to Trafalgar Square, not in any big hurry, found a clean, indoor bathroom, and waited for "the balcony scene," with military jet flyover, scheduled for 1pm. It was rather impressive, WW2 planes and modern jets, in two separate flyovers directly up The Mall over Buckingham Palace. After Kate and William kissed--two short, little proper British pecks--we headed out into the streets of London in search of discounted theater tickets, coffee, and an internet cafe.


I spent the next two days in London seeing the sites with my parents: a trip to Kensington Palace, Victoria and Albert museum (kind of), National Gallery, a show, Covent Garden, Camden Market, and plenty of double-decker bus riding. At 9pm on Sunday night I took the Tube to Healthrow, and spent the next 7 hours sitting in a Costa Coffee shop at the airport, waiting for Security to open (never would have guessed that it closes). By 1pm the next day, I was back in Lillehammer, to a bemused husband and daughter who was very excited to have a Union Jack flag with the faces of Will and Kate plastered on it. 


All in all: totally worth it, incredibly fun. I will sleep in a tent with Greta in 30 years when William and Kate's firstborn get married. You can count me in. 

Quick jaunt to England

Victoria Memorial

About 3 weeks ago, I took a quick “mini-break” trip to England for a friend’s wedding! It seemed so close, so easy, so doable back in May, when I was still in Vermont. That was before the 6am train ride from Lillehammer to Oslo, the flight to Amsterdam, the second flight to London, the hour long tube ride from Heathrow to Victoria Station, and then the next afternoon the two hour train ride to Sussex.

No, it wasn’t easy. But it was a lot of fun.

Zipped up to Buckingham Palace

Yes, they really wrote "easyHotel" 
on their walls.

British efficiency bathroom: hey, it's
clean, cheap. I can't complain.

My travel companions for most of this trip were my Dartmouth midwife colleague/buddy Auben and her new beau, Rob. Auben and I both work(ed) with the bride, our Social Worker Super Star, Catriona, back in New Hampshire. Catriona is English; her husband-to-be is a New Hampshire native. I arrived Wednesday evening in London, and seeing that I had 45 minutes until I had to meet Auben for dinner, I dumped off my gear in my orange-themed “Easy Hotel” basement-level-windows-cost-extra hotel room, and buzzed up to see Buckingham Palace. Kind of my “pinch me I’m in London” moment. I then proceeded to get thoroughly and completely lost on my way back to the hotel, when I opted to take a “more direct” route. Thankfully, Auben and her beau were waiting patiently in the spacious lobby of Easy Hotel (you think I’m kidding about their name?), and we enjoyed an unremarkable dinner at a local Indian restaurant before we parted ways to see the London theatre of our choice. My choice, based solely on the recommendation of my parents, was “War Horse”. That performance might be the highlight of the trip. http://www.nationaltheatre.org.uk/warhorse  I opted to walk back from the New London Theatre to my hotel near Victoria Station, nearly a 30-40 minute walk, so I could take in the sights of Big Ben, Parliament, Westminster Abbey and the buildings along the Thames. My time in London was going to be limited to that night and a half-day on Thursday, so I wanted to make the most of it. My morning had started around 5am in Lillehammer, and I collapsed in bed around midnight London time, 1am in Lillehammer.

Art at the Tate. I know the feeling.

Thursday morning I met up with Auben and Rob, and we spent much of our late morning/early afternoon touring the Tate Modern. The first notable Language-Learning-Moment of the weekend was when I correctly determined that the woman sitting next to me at lunch was actually speaking Swedish, and not Norwegian. (I asked her, she verified). I was quite proud of myself. The fact that I’m putting it in this blog should drive that point home.

Anyway. . . Thursday afternoon we hopped on board a train bound for Bognor Regis, Sussex, (on the shores of the English Channel) where we took a short taxi ride to our lovely B&B in Felpham, and joined the out of town guests for a very tasty dinner at a seaside restaurant. We were quite an international crowd: there were the expected American and British contingencies, and myself unofficially from Norway, but also guests from Spain, Portugal, France and Italy.

Charming Sussex church

Friday was a bright, sunny day, although perhaps around 50 degrees F. Around 12:45, church bells began ringing through the village, beckoning us to make haste, and get ye to the church! My dear friend Catriona is a rather private person, so I won’t say much more than the bride looked amazing and the ceremony was a perfectly English experience. (Some Proper British women even wore Proper Hats!) We followed the wedding party to the seashore, where a group photo was taken of the 80+ guests with the English Channel behind us. 

On Saturday, I decided to take full advantage of my time in southern England, and hopped on a bus to Chichester, about 20 minutes inland. It had a bustling shopping district, with clothes stores far more tempting than what I’ve found in Norway. There’s also a large cathedral with lovely gardens surrounding it which were still appealing, even in late October.

Second Language-Learning-Moment of the Weekend:  Saturday evening the remaining crowd met up at a local pub for dinner. I had called home to wish Greta goodnight, and she asked what I was going to do. I told her, “I’m going to get something to eat. I’m going to a pub.” As any new-language learner might ask upon hearing an unfamiliar word, my two-year-old asked me: “What’s ‘pub’ in English, mamma?” Erik didn't miss a beat and responded, "You can't get more English than 'pub'!"

Charming bride and groom

Charmed wedding guests

And it is true. It was a great way to wrap up a great English weekend. Obviously, spending a weekend with good friends was a huge treat. It was so nice to reconnect and be with people with whom you share a past. It was such a treat to be able to travel and read menus, understand signs, feel confident about which direction I’m going on the Tube. . . . or not, as the case might be.  I found myself talking more to people just because I could, because I knew they could understand me. But it was a strange experience to hand my passport to the agents in Amsterdam and tell them, “I live in Norway.” And just 16 hours after I left Felpham, Sussex, England I was in my bed in Lillehammer. Just 16 hours.

Chichester on a busy Saturday at the shoppes

Chichester Cathedral

Auben on a chilly but sunny Saturday

Early October: Week in Lillesand (i.e. southern Norway)

View from Lillesand, Norway

Erik's job as a forest researcher sent him down to southern Norway to hunt down old oak trees in the area surrounding Lillesand, about 4 hours south of Oslo. Since his work would have to pay for his lodging anyway, his boss suggested "take the whole family and rent a hytte". Well, OK then!

Happy 8th Anniversary to Us!

We have limited pictures from that week, as we actually thought Erik's lovely Nikon SLR camera had been stolen (we later found it in a side pocket of our luggage). How we overlooked a large SLR camera is beyond us. . . . Anyway, we were limited to our small pocket sized digital camera for the week, which Erik had to take in the field with him to document the oak trees.

When I told one of Greta’s teachers that we were traveling to Lillesand, she said “Oh it’s beautiful there in the summer.” Hmmm. We were going to be there the first week of October, so I wasn’t quite sure what to expect.

Norwegian dream house. . . 

It was still incredibly lovely and charming, despite the off-season. Lillesand is a small, coastal village, with nearly every building and home whitewashed. Our “little hytte” (that could sleep nine and had cable TV) was about a 10 minute drive from Lillesand. The weather was beautiful and sunny the first few days, although still easily in the 50s. Greta and I spent one day at the Kristiansand Dyreparken (zoo), which had a rather impressive collection of animals. We also spent a good deal of time simply playing outside, collecting acorns to toss into the sea, and meandering around the village.

Erik and I also celebrated our 8^th anniversary while we were there, and marked the occasion by buying a bløtkake (a cream and white layered cake with a marzipan fondant), which I have been coveting since the day I walked into a Norwegian grocery store.

The week was exhausting for Erik, as he was putting in long hours bush-whacking through the woods in search of oaks. It was evident he wouldn’t be finished with his work by the time Greta and I had planned on leaving on Saturday via train, and he returned home late Monday night.

I had planned on returning separately from Erik anyway, as we didn’t want to make the 6 hour drive from Lillesand to Lillehammer with Greta in the car. Instead, we took a 4 hour train ride from Kristiansand to Oslo, and then transferred to a second train from Oslo to Lillehammer--another 2 hour trip. The train ride was the perfect way to travel with a 2 year old. Now, I have solo-parented my two-year-old on an 11 hour Vermont/New Jersey Amtrak ride, and an 8 hour trans-Atlantic overnight flight on which she did not sleep, so I was prepared for a measley 6 hour train trip. But get this: Norwegian trains have “family cars” that have PLAY ROOMS in them, complete with little kid-sized benches, cushions, chairs, books, DVD player and a little loft accessible by two ladders.

Piece of cake. Yummy bløtkake.

Early September: Weekend in Rondane

View of our hytte (the one with 
the thatched roof)

In early September, we drove 2 hours northwest of Lillehammer to Rondane National Park to spend the weekend in a rented hytte (cabin) with some Trondheim based American friends that we first met about 5 years ago. The Strimbeck/Bazilchuk family is originally from Vermont, but moved to Trondheim nearly 8 years ago when Rick took a job teaching biology at the University where Erik was once a student 15 years ago! We stayed with them in Trondheim for a few days during our first visit to Norway in 2006, having only corresponded with them via phone and email. We enjoyed their company, and that of their two adorable little girls, and they inspired us to “keep the dream alive” of moving to Norway. In the months leading up to our move, we contacted them frequently for advice on our upcoming move.

See Grandma? She is warm and happy.

Our weekend in Rondane National Park was a way to meet up again with their family (minus their eldest daughter, now off to college!), and reunite them with their beloved bentwood rocker, that we moved with us from Vermont. Nancy and Rick also accurately guessed that we might appreciate a little English conversation, as well.

Our Saturday hike in the mist

The hytte was a delight. And a few words about Norwegian hyttes, if I may pluralize them that way. Many Norwegian families own a small cabin somewhere in the country. It may be a mountain cabin, or a coastal cabin, and are varying degrees of “rustic-ness”. Some have outhouses, other have flushing toilets, warm water, showers, even saunas. Some are very isolated, and others are in little cabin communities. Many of these privately owned cabins are available to rent, but there are also DNT huts (the national hiking organization) scattered all across Norway available for members and non-members to use. Some of these huts are small and require that you pack in your own food. Others are full staffed and equipped—essentially a wilderness hotel, where all you need is your own sleep sack—the down comforters are provided.

Family hike on Sunday

So, anyway, our rented hytte was a delight. The Strimbeck/Bazilchuk family had stayed there before on several occasions, including a Christmas week. To get there, we drove north out of Lillehammer on E-6 to Otta, and then headed up some very steep roads and eventually above tree line, to a rather expansive hytte community. It was misty and overcast, which was unfortunate, as we could tell the fall colors were at their peak (which, remember we’re above tree line, so the colors are limited to mostly heather and lichen).

We arrived Friday evening, prepared a warm dinner, let the two dogs get acquainted, settled Greta down into her crib, and enjoyed the warm fireplace, a bottle of wine, and “settling into Norway” conversation. In English!

Sunday's destination: fully serviced
DNT hut with hot chocolate

Saturday we braved the misty weather, and headed out for a hike into a nearby valley. The rain held until the last few minutes of our hike, and Greta was happy as a clam in her backpack through the entire 3-hour hike.  Sunday’s weather looked more promising, and we opted for a hike along a gravel road that would take us to a large DNT hut where we could eat our lunch and get a cup of coffee. Again, the rain held off, and the dogs were allowed to run off-leash (a big treat in Norway). Greta enjoyed the hike (and the destination) so much that she didn’t want to go inside once we arrived!

All in all, it was a very fun and relaxing weekend. It was great to see Nancy and Rick again, and be able to share our Norwegian moving stories with people who definitely knew what we were going through.

Happy hiker who
doesn't want to go inside yet!

Wrapping up the day with
a little sunshine and smiles