An American's guide to napping your baby outdoors in the winter in Norway*

*Alternate title (according to my sister-in-law): "How to Raise a Viking"

Step 1

 Locate a pile of wool and fleece. 

Step Two

Locate a sleepy baby. 

Make sure he is dressed in a wool onesie (aka "body") and wool tights. 

Yes, even if baby is a boy baby, dress baby in tights. 

According to Norwegian folklore, it is of utmost importance that wool be the closest layer to the skin.

Fleece elf booties complete the look.

 Step Three

Dress the sleepy baby in a wool sweater and fleece overalls.

 Step Four

Dress baby in a wool hat that ties under his chin and 

a painstakingly knit over-sized wool bunting that is too cute for words.

Binky is optional.

Step Five

Wrap baby in a wool blanket. 

You now have a burrito baby.

Step Six

Place the burrito baby in a baby-sized sleeping baby.

Most Norwegian mothers will insist on a down bag.

Our baby has survived with fleece and polyfil. 

Step Seven

Baby is sleepy and ready for a nap!

(Trust me).

Step Eight

Place baby into the dark and cozy confines of his stroller.

Baby should lie on a stroller liner made of. . . 

you guessed it! Fleece and wool. 

Cover the baby burrito/sleeping unit with a windproof-fleece-lined cover.

 

Step Nine

If is is snowing/raining/sleeting, you may opt to cover your stroller with a rain cover. 

Ours has the zippers open for good air circulation. 

Take note of the baby monitor located in the basket under the stroller.

This ensures that the baby's happy gurgles of delight are heard once he awakens in several hours.

Note:

It seems that the general consensus is that babies not sleep outdoors in temperatures that are below -10C/10F. 

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.

Moonlit ski

A few weeks ago (this has taken awhile to write) we had a beautiful full moon, coming out on a crisp night when there were no clouds in the sky to obstruct it. It was quite breathtaking, especially as it appeared over the horizon, an enormous glowing globe, and then disappeared again the next morning over the valley below around 8:30am, as I drove to my Norwegian class.

It was a full moon on a Tuesday night, which is the night that I  try to join a group of women for a workout. An interval workout, 4x 4 minutes, to be exact. In the fall we ran (ok, I did that once) or power walk with hiking poles, and once we get a decent amount of snow, we ski.

It is hard to be motivated to get out of the house at 7:30PM to meet the group in the dead of winter, when temps are hovering around zero, and it's been dark for 3 hours, and all one wants is to stay wrapped up in a blanket in front of the fireplace with a nice glass of wine, child sleeping, knitting in hand. But, that's kind of the point of the group: knowing that there are others meeting, and wondering where the heck you might be if you don't show up.

The night of the full moon was chilly, and my motivation to get out quite low, as usual. In addition to the above reasons, was the fact that this was my first workout on skis (which I was very nervous about--I mean, these are Norwegians I'm going to ski with! They are born on skis. I didn't strap on a pair of cross-country skis until I was 17 years old, not 17 months. Thanks to pregnancy, a nursing infant, and a few years of bad snow in New England, I can count the number of times I skied in the last 3+ years on two hands). Anyway. . . rather than driving to the start of the workout as I did all fall, I was going to ski there--on unlit tracks, downhill, on paths I had never skied on before, only to turn around and ski back up the hill with the group. Erik strapped a powerful headlight onto my head, waxed my skis (dear man), and sent me out the door.

The headlamp was bright, but at times hardly necessary (although quite valuable for the downhills), as the light from the moon was so bright reflecting off of the snow. I whisked down the groomed paths to the group, not exactly sure where I was supposed to meet them, until I passed a train of women coming up the hill (on their first of four intervals), and one shouted out to me, "Emily??"

I took the place of caboose, a good place for an American to be in a line of Norwegian skiers, and my goal was not to even do any intervals, per se, but to simply not be skiing alone by the end of the night. I managed to keep up with the last two women, and we skied most of the evening with our headlamps completely off, just skiing by the light of the moon. The snow sparkled, like diamonds had been thrown everywhere. There was something very magical about the combination of the adrenaline of the workout, the beauty of the woods in the moonlight, the shared experience with others, and the crisp cold night air that was absolutely thrilling.

We skied until we joined the lighted ski trails, and eventually met up with others from the group. Everyone was beaming from the night, and I was struck by what a uniquely Norwegian experience this was, and how this was why we moved here. Not simply the skiing experience, but the experience of a place--a community--a culture--that values fresh air, outdoor life, and nature to the extent that they make hundreds of kilometers of woods accessible to the community, for free. And we were not alone on the trails that night. We passed mothers skiing with their school-aged kids, 80 year-old men shuffling along with their little dogs, and of course the die-hard wannabe or has-been professionals. I lived in New England for 6 years and struggled to get more than one other woman to go out for a simple hike with me. And here the woods was teeming with them.

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.

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

Honestly, this is quite ridiculous

This is not going to win me any winter-time visitors, but I feel I must report on the current goings on in Lillehammer. There is a cold snap in central and southern Norway that I am being reassured is highly abnormal for late November/early December. This morning it was -6F, and at 1pm this afternoon it is now a balmy +5F. Forecasts for Friday have temps around -25C, which according to my handy converter is about -13F.

Now before anyone thinks, "Well, Emily, you moved to Norway. . . what did you expect?" I will say I was expecting it to get cold, just not this soon! Minnesota and Vermont have their fair share of bitterly cold weather, usually deep into January, so I am well accustomed to cold cold weather. But I was led to believe that Lillehammer had winters not unlike Minnesota, not like, oh I don't know, somewhere really really cold.

Tika begged and pleaded with her big brown eyes to be let out last night around 10pm, but once the door opened and that cold air hit her, she backed up out of the door, turned around, and went straight to her bed.

I read in the paper today (really I did!) that Storbrittania (can you guess where that is?), okay, Great Britain is also experiencing record breaking cold temperatures, also around -15C. On the other hand, in northern Norway, where one might expect it to be colder, it is actually above freezing! To which I say in my best childlike-taunting voice, "Welllllll. . . . . I've got Sunshine, Yes I do! I've got Sunshine, How about You?"