On even more yuki

Last weekend was a cold affair in Tokyo (see previous post if you don't believe me), but it was even colder in Yokohama. See this post if you still don't believe me. I've no idea why you suddenly seem to think I'm a liar. Could it be because I trespassed on a cemetery and briefly considered consuming alcohol in a public place? Surely not. But you might have to check out Burrowers, Books & Balderdash to be on the safe side...

Also, extra points if you can tell me what's happening in the picture below:

Seriously. If there is a giraffe grooming salon somewhere nearby, I want to go there!!!

On yuki

Yuki means "snow" in Japanese (or so I've been told), and it is also a pretty girl's name. I used to know a girl named Yuki. I also knew a Yuka and a Yoko (actually, I now know a new Yoko), but this post is not about anyone of them. It's not even about Yuki. It's all about the snow.

Since Japan stretches from north to south about as far as Norway does (not that this would be a point of reference for many of my readers, but whatever... Get a map!), it means that the climate in the northernmost parts of the country is quite different from that of southern Japan (and I'm not even counting Okinawa, which is a different story altogether). The northern parts of Japan get a considerable amount of snow each winter - many of them being the location for several famous ski resorts.

Not Tokyo, though. Tokyo rarely gets much snow, and thus I didn't plan for snow or cold weather when I packed my bags in frozen Norway more than a month ago (time flies!).

Silly me. Last weekend the forecast said cold weather, and while it was nowhere near Norway's 17 blue at the same time, the slushy snow falling over Tokyo and Yokohama (but the snow in Yokohama is another story. Possibly, probably over at the Burrow blog tomorrow) Friday, Saturday and Monday (Sunday was nice, though) was about as cold as anything I've ever felt.

"Oh, but you're Norwegian, you're used to it!" a French housemate told me. Like being used to it helps! It is still cold right here, right now! Besides, I'm not used to it, not now. One month in sunny Tokyo has more than convinced my body that it is spring, and it is not prepared for (or okay with) snow! And, in Norway I am accustomed to being able to wear warm clothes (again, I didn't pack too much of those), and  most importantly, to go inside in a warm house when it's too chilly outside. I can go inside in Japan too, but my current lodging is pretty freaking cold when the temperatures fall, due to the unfortunate combination of poor insulation and a space heater that malfunctions if the outside air is too cold/humid.

"Why do you think I came here?" I replied to the French(wo)man-en-tromper (oui, je sais. Mon francais n'est pas fraîche. Me poursuivre!). I certainly did not come to have more snow!

That night I heard many cars outside my window having problems staying on the road in the relatively heavy snowfall (for Tokyo; for Norway - this was more like an "October scare"). The next morning the papers reported any number of injuries, broken bones, damaged cars, as a result of the snow.

But when I left the house that day to see remnants of snow on the sidewalk and in the street, I couldn't help but smile. Somewhere inside me, there was a child wanting to throw a snowball.

It seems I am Norwegian after all :)

On fluff, part two

Last time I wrote about snow, was in June. That was metaphorical snow. Summery snow. Candyfloss snow. Dandelion (or otherwise) seeds floating through the air like dust bunnies with parachutes.

Now it's the real thing.

I know it's only October. Not even late October (what do you mean it's late October? It's not! It's late-mid October, thankyouverymuch, and it is still AGES till my thesis deadline...). Even for Norway this is early. We generally can expect snow in October, but it never actually appears until November. And even then, it melts again, before proper winter sets in early December (or so). It's the law of first snow.

Thursday night, though, nature had forgotten about the law of first snow. October-schmoctober. It's snow time!

Early snow always causes problems. The subway was delayed. Cars that had not yet shifted to winter tires slid off the road like Disney on Ice. I was a popsicle in my tennis shoes and thin jacket.

And yet. There is nothing - nothing - as soothing as the first snow. It always fills me with a peace of mind unmatched by anything else I know. The fluff falling from the sky - quietly whirling through a dark, cold night, completely careless of the problems it may cause on ground - somehow manage to calm me down. There is nothing I can do about it. The snow will fall. It will cover everything in a layer of candyfloss that effectively dulls the sounds of the city, that softens every sharp edge, and hides the blemishes humans apply to our surroundings.

It is an inevitable sign that winter is impending. But it doesn't matter. The first snow always make me happy. However, I do hope it will be weeks before we have any more of it...

On fluff

It’s been snowing a lot lately. I know – crazy Norwegian weather, right? Well, actually, it’s not that kind of snow. It’s some sort of cottonish seed falling from the sky; much like someone was sitting in the top of a very tall tree blowing dandelion parachutes down on us. He would need a lot of dandelions to do that, though, since these candyfloss-like specks have been dancing through the air - day and night, unstoppable except when it rains - for about a week.

The dandelion-candyfloss-snowflakes gather on the road like real snow would. They settle down in your hair, but they don’t melt. They enter my apartment through the open window, and land on the floor where they look suspiciously like albino dust bunnies. If you try to catch them they slip away, brushing their soft fur against your fingers.

This summery snow has an annoying sort of beauty to it. I just brushed one of the seeds off my nose because it made me sneeze. But I cannot stop marvel at the way the specks catch the bright sunlight, or how the larger clouds of them are slowly falling, until they are whirled around by a breath of wind. Seconds later they return to gliding lazily through the air like feathers.

I don’t know what kind of seed it is, but it is definitely not dandelion. All I know is that with the rate they are falling we should have candyfloss trees popping up everywhere next summer.

On ski jumping, gender equality and heavy wind

Norway is a country that prides itself with the title “World Champion in gender equality”. This is not just a self-awarded title, but one adopted after a 2008 World Economic Forum report. There is no doubt that women in Norway have a far better position than many of their sisters elsewhere. Historically, there are many milestones in the battle for equal rights that Norway passed a long time before many other countries. Universal suffrage was a reality in 1913. The law for equal rights between the genders was passed in 1978. In 1981 we had our first female prime minister. Today, the amount of men and women with higher education is roughly balanced, as is the amount of men and women in paid employment.


Personally, I’ve never been fighting on the barricades for gender equality or the feminist movement. The reason I haven’t had to do so is because the work put down in the generations before mine has led to a society where there are close to equal rights between men and women.

Don’t get me wrong, there are still miles to go, for instance when it comes to reducing the difference between men and women’s paychecks. While in principle no one is paid less simply because they are female in Norway today, there is still a tendency that professions that are predominantly male have higher wages than those that are predominantly female. However, because we have reached a point where in most cases the differences between men and women are reduced to the choices we make – and everyone is entitled to choose whatever they want – I don’t see gender equality as the main issue in Norway today.

Every now and then, however, there are situations where I feel the red stockings practically growing up my legs. One of these situations has been a prominent news story in Norway the last few weeks.

Another thing about Norway is our interest in winter sports. Ski jumping is a grand old sport that used to be a major attraction. Boys and girls in the 1950s would know the name of every ski jumper there was. They had their own miniature ski jumpers that actually could jump down a miniature hill. Ski jumping even had a linguistic influence – “Jumping after Wirkola” is a common expression in Norway today, describing “the difficulties associated with embarking on a task where one's immediate predecessor has accomplished an unusually good job” (thank you once again, Wikipedia). Bjørn Wirkola, famed Norwegian ski jumper, is the origin of this expression, but in modern use you’ll find it in everything from political speeches to tabloid papers.

Holmenkollsøndag – the Sunday in Holmenkollen – is another expression that sticks even today. It’s my impression that in “the olden days” (when my dad was young – which I wouldn’t have had the guts to call “the olden days” had I not been 100% sure he does not read my blog), everyone was going to Holmenkollen when there was a ski jump competition. Holmenkollen is one of Oslo’s biggest tourist attractions even today. It’s an old ski jump – or rather, it used to be. And with this we are closing in on the core of today’s blog post (yes, I do know where I am going with this – I am not just providing you with random factoids about Norway).

The thing is, the old Holmenkollen was not big enough for modern ski jump standards. Oslo is hosting the 2011 FIS Nordic World Ski Championship, and the ultimatum was clear: either the old Holmenkollen is upgraded, or a new ski jump will have to be built. To make an already long story a little shorter; after a lot of controversies, it was decided to tear down the old Holmenkollen, and rebuild it on the same location.

As it is the second oldest ski jump still in use, with a tower from 1939, there were many complaints about tearing it down. When I went to visit relatives in Minnesota, and told them about the old ski jump being torn down, my cousin Darlene nearly choked in surprise: “But they NEVER tear anything old down there! That’s what we do here!” Well, she was wrong. We do occasionally tear things down. Fortunately.

The new ski jump is just finished, and though I have only seen it from afar (it overlooks the entire city), it looks quite good. To celebrate the opening of the new ski jump an official ceremony was held last week.

As if we hadn’t had enough hullabaloo over the ski jump, another issue was raised: Who would be given the honour of jumping first in the new hill?

(We’re getting even closer to the core now, I swear.)

While ski jumping is a grand, old sport, it is almost exclusively a male sport. And there are strong forces trying to keep it that way.

There are no relevant reasons why women should not be allowed to participate in ski jumping. Arguments such as “they could hurt themselves” have long since been reduced to ridicule as sexism. And yet, for years female ski jumpers have been unsuccessful in their fight to be allowed to participate in international competitions such as the Olympics and the World Championship. The fact that women are excluded from ski jumping brings to mind attitudes that belonged in the Ancient Greek Olympic Games. It is not just a Norwegian problem – no female ski jumpers are allowed. You may not know any, but chances are that if your country has snow, it also has at least one disgruntled female ski jumper who is the victim of discrimination because she is not male.

In Norway, this discrimination has gotten a lot of attention the last few years. It is probably helping that one of the world’s top female ski jumpers is Norwegian. Anette Sagen has become the symbol of everything unfair about the male monopoly. She has received considerable support, but unfortunately it takes more than kind words and Facebook groups to change the mind of the stubborn old farts in charge of this (yes, I called them farts. Deal with it).

When the new hill in Holmenkollen (you thought I’d derailed again, didn’t you?) was to be opened, someone suggested that Anette Sagen was to be the first to jump. And, lo and behold, somehow this was decided. Finally, a victory for female ski jumping!

But. Then. The farts hit again.

How petty do you have to be to not accept this decision, but instead actively sabotage it, by sending out a male test jumper before Sagen had the opportunity to jump? And not just any male, either – it could perhaps have been justified as security measures had it been an actual test jumper (it is common prior to ski jumping competitions to let the semi-good jumpers try the hill. I think the logic is that the really good ones should be spared for the actual competition, while it's not such a big deal if the semi-good ones break a leg or two if the conditions are bad). However, the jumper in question was no other than Bjørn Einar Romøren, another one of Norway’s top ski jumpers, and incidentally the primary male candidate for Sagen’s job as the one to jump first in the new Holmenkollen.

There is no doubt that the decision to let Romøren go first was a deliberate attempt to spoil the symbolic value of Sagen’s jump; and sadly, it was successful. Romøren was duly punished, but in reality, he was only a tool for the old farts. What needs to be changed is not just his attitude, but the attitude of the entire ski jump milieu.

In the end, perhaps something positive can come out of this. The fact that a male jumper went first, despite the decision to allow a female one to do so, might be the final drop. Perhaps it can help trigger a demand that female ski jumpers are allowed to participate in championships. I sincerely hope so. Not because I care so much about ski jump (which I don’t, even though I am Norwegian), but because the treatment of the female ski jumpers represents a society I hoped we had given up on a long time ago.

On this day – the International Women’s Day – I’d like to make an appeal. Let’s change something here. Let’s make sure that from now on, the expression doesn’t have to be “jump after Wirkola”. From now on, it might as well be “jump after Sagen”. And especially not, as has been suggested by certain Norwegian commentators, “jump before Sagen”.




~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


It is somewhat ironic that the new Holmenkollen has been said to look like a woman in labour, where the ski jumpers are gliding down her belly and jumping out between her legs [disturbing image, I know]. From afar, however, it only looks like a giant phallus.

On gingerbread houses

Every Norwegian boy and girl born after 1953 are familiar with Torbjørn Egner’s Klatremus and his friends in the Hakkebakkeskogen. It’s as popular today as it was fifty years ago. One of the familiar songs from this classic children’s book, is the gingerbread song – a song sung by the chief baker, Baker Rabbit [Bakemester Harepus] to his assistant so that the assistant won’t forget the recipe for gingerbread cookies. The problem is, the assistant mixes the lyrics up, and thus he adds 1 teaspoon sugar and one kilo pepper, instead of the other way around. Needless to say, the result isn’t very successful (and Baker Rabbit is forced to make a new batch).


The morale of this story is not to check the recipe properly (as the bad cookies actually come in handy to teach the mean fox a lesson), or not to trust your assistants. As a recipe the song is quite useless (none of the recipes I’ve ever seen actually have pepper in them – even though gingerbread in Norwegian is pepperkaker. If you want proof that the recipe is no good, check out this link where a chef tests both recipes. It’s in Norwegian, but you should be able to get the gist of it even if you don’t speak Norwegian). The best usage for the song, aside from being a very funny part of an altogether wonderful book, is to set the mood for proper gingerbread making [pepperkakebaking].

That is how I spent a Friday night earlier this month. My new roommate and I had decided that we wanted to build a gingerbread house – something we’ve both been doing for years, but usually not together and always at our respective parents’ houses. When I was little, we always made the same basic house each year – we used the same pattern and we decorated it with the same type of frosting and candy every year. As I grew older, however, I took more charge in the process, and the houses gradually became more advanced. We’ve made churches, trains and a fortress to name a few – when I came back from Japan we even made a pagoda. This year, however, we decided that it was time to think even further outside the box. We made the Tower Bridge in London!

It took a lot of work, a lot of dough and a lot of mulled wine [gløgg], and seeing as it is a combined bascule and suspension bridge (ours isn’t really, but it still involves four long structures made of cookie dough, supported only at each end. It felt like defying the laws of physics), it took some hidden wires to keep it from collapsing. After having glued it together with melted sugar, and decorated it (mainly with the Norwegian equivalent of Smarties – NonStops, as is tradition), it looks pretty nice. We even entered in a contest where the winner gets 10 000 kroner (but that’s never gonna happen – after having seen some of the other contributions  I am slightly more down to earth concerning our chances of winning…).

And now for something completely different. Christmas is around the corner. Finally. It’s been a stressful few weeks (as anticipated). Not only have I been working 15 hour days almost constant since the end of November; the 15 hours in question have been fairly crazy too. First I’ve spent a good part of the day at the university, fighting my way through what eventually has become an acceptably solid but hopelessly crappy draft for what will become chapter three of my thesis. When I was in the U.S. I was collecting sources for my thesis. Now I am working with them, trying to figure out what they mean, trying to identify patterns or lack thereof. It’s a whole ‘nother story, and I've been stressing max to get something written, something, before Christmas.

After having spent eight or so hours at the university, I have most days had work afterward too – in the bookshop from h*** (you know the place…). Normally it’s a nice place to work, but add the extra ingredient “Christmas” and people, like the aforementioned gingerbread recipe with extra pepper, go bananas. I don’t like being yelled at. I don’t like being told that I have to wrap presents when this means that the 20 others waiting in line will have to stretch their patience even further. I don't like people grabbing my arm to get a hold of me when they need a recommendation for a "book for someone who doesn't read" (well, then don't give them a book. It's that easy!). Basically, I have done nothing else than work, write my thesis, eat and sleep for weeks. I expected to post another “Conversations in bookshops” blog, but even though I have the stories, I just don’t have the energy when I get home at 11 pm every night.

That is quite enough complaining for today. After all, it’s over now. I've sent the chapter draft to my supervisor. Today is my last day at work before Christmas, and next term I will work next to nothing (which will be tough financially, but it needs to be done if I want my thesis to be finished on time). Tonight or tomorrow morning I leave Oslo to celebrate Christmas with my family in Kongsvinger. And Norway is looking like Norway should at this time of year – Winder Wonderland. It’s been either snowing or freezing for a week or so, so now it’s stuck even downtown Oslo. I expect making snowmen with my nephews in a few days.

I think it’s time for me to declare that this blog will take a Christmas break (it feels like I deserve it, even though I know I haven’t been keeping up the blogging in the midst of all the mania). I will be back in 2010 (or maybe sooner, but I don’t expect so. I intend to spend my time off with my family and friends, plus I have a ton of books I’d like to read).


Merry Christmas, and a Peaceful New Year – or Happy Holidays to those who celebrate otherwise!

Tower in Dough

Smashed hard candy [drops] in the window openings will make glass after baking. Or so the theory goes. It sort of worked, but they tended to either break or get very sticky. But also very cool!

Nudist Tower (yes, Tami, this is for you)

The image might not reveal it entirely, but on the right side of the bridge there has been a jelly man [seimann] massacre seeing as we wanted a Christmas tree and the only thing we had to make it from were the green jelly men... The red ones are happily dancing around the "tree"...

Christmas Night in London

On VIP visits

Dear Mr. President,


A little under two months ago, both you and I woke up in Washington, D.C. (well, technically, I woke up in University Park, Maryland, but it’s pretty close) to a big surprise: the Norwegian Nobel Committee had chosen you to be this year’s laureate of the Nobel Peace Prize. I was astonished, to say the least, and judging from the speech you held a few hours later, so were you. That day I wrote a post on this very blog, where I commented on the committee’s decision, and expressed my views on it. I said then, and I still believe so, that even though I – like many others – wonder if awarding you the prize right now was a little early, there were some good reasons for choosing you at this time.

I also speculated on whether one of the less idealistic reasons was to make you come to Norway. If this at all was a consideration, the committee must be rubbing their hands together in glee, since your visit is scheduled to start tomorrow.

I can assure you that everything seems to be set. Norwegian newspapers have been packed with schedules, speculations and suggestions for weeks. Will he come, or will he prioritize Copenhagen? Will he spend the night? Will he spend more than one night? Will he stay with the royal family, or at a hotel? Will he be here for the concert or not? I’m guessing you have been blissfully unaware of just how much attention your short visit to Norway has gotten here. I’m fairly sure there still are other news stories out there, and they probably earn more space in the newspapers you normally read. Even the really serious Norwegian newspapers have felt like “Obama Social Times” lately.

But don’t worry – we’re thrilled to have you, of course. I went to the Nobel Institute today. I hear this is one of the places you’re scheduled to visit – to meet with the people who got you into this mess in the first place. I don’t know if you have mixed feelings about meeting the committee, but I’m sure you’ll have a good time. At least they seem to have prepared properly. They had lots of decorations up (in your honour, I can imagine), and trust me – the staff there is really friendly. If you get a chance, check out the library. It’s where I get lots of my books, and they let you keep them for the longest time (though they might be hesitant to letting you take them out of the country).

Oslo downtown also looks festive and ready to receive you. I saw them weld all the manhole covers the other day, so you can be assured that there will be no threats from below. I also heard that there will be extra planes stationed around the city, so I wouldn’t worry about threats from above either. Frankly, the biggest danger will probably be when meeting with the committee. I hear Geir Lundestad has a mean handshake.

Also, please don’t take any consideration of the kiosk chain (Narvesen) that exploits your visit in their newest advertisement campaign. Even though they have – for your convenience, no doubt – put the price of a cup of coffee in dollars on their posters and referred to how Clinton had a cup of coffee when he visited, this is not the coffee you want to buy (and it’s definitely not the coffee Clinton got). Trust me, it’s not good. We’ve a name for coffee like that in Norwegian – skvip – and there is better to be found. (From what I recall, Clinton got his coffee from Pascal – go there. They have wonderful cakes too.) Besides, when seeing it in dollars, it makes me realize that coffee (like everything else here) is ridiculously expensive. Not even the coffee places in your neighbourhood (and I should know, since that was where I got my coffee on my way to the office each morning) are that pricey. Besides, I far prefer that little Caribou on the corner of 17th and Pennsylvania to Narvesen any day!

Finally, I read in the Obama Social Times – sorry, I mean Aftenposten – today that the Oslo police force are sending out recommendations for how people should behave while you are here. I thought I should repeat a few of those points for you – after all, some of them might be useful for you as well (plus it might help explain some potential weird behavior that you otherwise might just think was “typically Norwegian”).

• Don’t close the curtains and make sure to have the light on if you have a view to the President (so if you’re seeing directly into someone’s fully lit, non-curtained bathroom, you’ll know this isn’t necessarily a flasher).

• Don’t look out of windows for longer amounts of time, don’t open windows and don’t take pictures (I’m not entirely sure if this also applies to you, but just in case you might want to make sure not to take any pictures from your hotel room).

• Don’t walk on the roof of any buildings close to the President (this I can’t quite understand why they are including. After all, you’re used to it. Every time I’ve walked by, there have been at least a couple pretty grumpy looking guys on the roof of your own house. Surely you wouldn’t mind a couple of fiddlers on the roof in Oslo too?).

• Don’t act suspiciously (well, this one is a given. The thing, though, is that people that really are up to no good also know this, so often it’s not the ones acting suspiciously that are the real problem. This is almost like having a box in US immigration forms asking whether you are being truthful in your answers. Oh, wait, you already have that box… Never mind…).

• Listen to the police and let them know if you see anything suspicious (but you have people helping you with that, don’t you?).

• Keep an eye on all your own belongings (this one definitely applies to you too. I’d make particularly sure that the medal is safe, seeing as it’s made of pure gold. There will be a lot of people on that award ceremony, and one can never be too careful, right?).

Keeping all this in mind, you should be pretty well prepared for a couple of days in Oslo. Too bad we don’t have any snow downtown yet. It really is much prettier then. Actually, you should consider coming back sometime, perhaps when you’re retired and have a little more time on your hands. You’re not getting a very accurate image of Norway this way. No mountains and only one fjord. You really ought to see the Western and Northern part of the country too. I recommend June.

Welcome to Oslo!

Yours truly,
Cruella Collett

On snow

It’s snowing again. This is early, even for Norway*. Normally, November snow - if we have any - will be gone within hours, or turn into slush as soon as it hits the ground. I’m willing to bet that today’s white prettiness also will disappear again relatively quick – we’re not guaranteed a White Christmas just yet.


Still, knowing that it is temporary does not limit the peacefulness I feel when the ground is covered with a white layer. Anne Grete Preus, a Norwegian singer/songwriter put it this way: “Det snør himmelsk korrekturlakk over feilstavet sommer” [It’s snowing heavenly correction fluid over misspelled summer]. The snow really covers up any blemishes and makes the world look a little prettier. There are few things that make me happier than snow when it first appears in the winter.

After a while, though, the snow starts to wear on me. Usually I am fairly okay with it on this side of Christmas. I can’t imagine anything but a White Christmas (the few times I’ve experiences snow-less Christmas, it has often been cold enough for frost to make it look like there is snow after all). But as soon as we pass New Years Eve, snow isn’t as wonderful anymore. I tolerate it in January. I am getting tired of it, but still realize that it is supposed to be there in February. Come March and I am fed up. If we still have snow in April (or worse, if it’s all gone, and then comes back), I am ready to emigrate. Because, no matter how pretty it looks, snow is impractical. It is also true as Preus continues: “Alt går litt langsommere her på jorden når hele himmelen faller ned” [Everything is slower on Earth when the entire sky falls down]. I don’t understand why Oslo, a city that gets snow EVERY year, still is completely paralyzed with heavy snow falls. It will happen again, the same way it always does. You’d think they’d learned by now.

Instead of dreading the long months ahead with all the problems snow and limited daylight will guarantee, though, tonight I refuse to be anything but happy about it. It looks very pretty with the flakes falling, gliding, dancing towards the ground.

*Keep in mind that Norway is a long and narrow country. There are considerable climatic differences between 71° and 56°, which are the two latitudes between which Norway’s continental territory spans. My idea of November as early for snow might not be shared by people living up north. And they certainly have even less daylight than what we do in the Oslo-area. The benefit of having the Midnight Sun in summer, also means they have almost two months without any sun at all in winter time.


Currently listening to: Anne Grete Preus – “Når himmelen faller ned” and DumDum Boys – ”Stjernesludd”

Currently reading: my own sorry NaNo(Poo)In Progress, even though I know I shouldn’t… Ability to write, what happened to you? Did I kill you?

On with it

From Newark airport you can see Manhattan. Which, apart from my train ride to Boston, was as close as I got...

On Friday I was 23 years old, I was in the United States, and I was preparing to leave after my three months stay. Today, Monday, I’m 24, I’m in (snowy) Norway, I’ve had a great weekend with my family and it hardly feels like I’ve been away at all (except for the unpacked suitcase that I try to ignore). I’m not even all that jetlagged – I don’t think my body ever got used to the East Coast time zone, so adjusting it back wasn’t all that hard. In fact I think it’s harder for me now to adjust to the fact that I am a lot further north – this primarily has two consequences.

First of all, it’s colder. I mentioned we had snow today. It stopped a few hours ago, but it’s still white out (it probably will stay till the morning, then I expect it’ll all melt). Now, I like snow (at least on this side of Christmas), so I’m okay with this. I also have a new coat that I couldn’t use in the US (too warm), so I’m also okay with lower temperatures.

The other result of being further north is that it’s a lot darker here. It started getting dark at 4p.m. this afternoon (“the blue hour” – fall and winter twilight makes the whole world blue), and by 5 p.m. it was pitch dark. I guess this also helps with convincing my body it’s not midday, so perhaps I have winter darkness to thank for lack of jetlag. It also allows nice, cozy evenings in front of the fireplace. Let’s hope it won’t give me too much “darkness depressions” – usually I find spring before actually spring starts worse in that respect so I might be okay for now.

It is also dawning on me that now that I am back, it is time to return to my daily life. I’ve had a ton of greetings from friends, asking me when I’ll be back in Oslo (I’m currently residing with my parents in my hometown, in case I didn’t mention that). It’s very nice to feel so appreciated. The truth is, though, that I haven’t thought that much about when I’ll go back yet. Actually, I don’t even have a place to stay. (I have options, but nothing settled.) Since I ideally ought to get cracking on my thesis again pretty damn soon, there is no time to lose in getting back to Oslo (plus I want to see my friends). However, it is pretty darned comfortable being here, having my meals made, my clothes washed and no rent to pay. Still, I can’t have such luxury forever.

Finally, NaNoWriMo is on. I signed up not really believing I could do it, and I still don’t know if I can. But by now I’ve decided that I do want to make an effort. So far (2460 words) it’s crappy, but I know that it will get better once get further into the actual plot. The problem right now is that my back story doesn’t match the character, which eventually will mean I re-write the back story, but at the moment it’s too integrated in the main action for me to care, and in true NaNo spirit, I’ve decided to limit edits in favour of word count.

The view from my bedroom window this afternoon. I told you there was snow!