#weekthirty

Week Thirty/Eight months

On the language front:

During the week I went to the post office to mail my nephew's and my dad's quite belated birthday cards to the states. I had a lovely conversation with ei dame [the lady] who works there. (I think she remembered me because at one point she asked if I was sending them to England.) She spoke entirely in Norwegian. I replied in mostly English with a couple Norwegian words thrown in. We understood each other perfectly well. I paid her (damn postage is expensive these days). Jeg sa takk på norsk. [I said thanks in Norwegian.] And then I left. Now if only I could convince the rest of the country to keep speaking Norwegian even when I answer in English I'll be fluent in no time.

We were in Sweden this weekend and I bumped into someone in Sytembolaget [Vinmonopole på norsk/the Wine Monopoly in English] and automatically said, "Unnskyld!" ["Excuse me!"] then I remembered that I still hadn't learned how to excuse myself in Swedish. Svigerfaren [the father-in-law] pointed out that we were buying alcohol in Sweden so everyone in there was Norwegian anyway.

While in Sweden with the family I took the opportunity to read to the daughter of the fiance's cousin [a male cousin is «fetter» a female cousin «cusina» in Norwegian]. She recently turned one so her books are just about on my reading level and she didn't judge me for my mispronunciations. People keep telling me that I need to work with children or have a kid to advance my language acquition. I did find that the baby toys and books were very educational... It's something to think about.

I talked to my best friend in the UK and he encouraged me to start speaking Norwegian more. He said, "Of course you are going to speak like a child for a while, but it's okay because you won't understand what you're saying. Only the person you're talking to will realise that you are an idiot." Did I mention that this person is one of my best friends in the whole world? Way to be supportive Bestie!

Weather:

Spring is definitely here (even svigermora [the mother-in-law] says so).

The sun has been very bright. It's nice to have it back. It's still a little cold out. I have been wearing the same jacket, scarf, hat and mittens that I wore throughout most of the winter but with less layers underneath and the addition of sunglasses.

Another sign of spring that I took notice of last week was that my American friends were complaining about losing an hour. In Europe the clocks go forward on the last Sunday in March and I for one am looking forward to the longer days. Oslo is too far south to experience the 24-hour summer days that people in the very north of Norway get, but the sun does set quite late at night. My parents visited Oslo this past summer and we were at a party at the in-laws and it wasn't until people started to go home that they noticed that it was around 11pm.

Last week I posted about what to do with the Martenitsa after seeing traditional signs of spring. The signs were seeing a stork (svigermora said that was very unlikely in Norway), seeing swallows (svigermora said that it was too early in the season for that to happen). (To be fair she is an avid bird watcher she would know.) The final sign was seeing a tree that was beginning to blossom. This week I saw one and I happened to be walking to the tube station with the work husband and he's tall so he was able to pull a branch low enough for me to reach it and tie my Martennitsa to it.

At the end of the weekend on the way back from Sweden the temperature dropped and it started to snow! I am personally offended and I will be writing a strongly worded letter to the authorities. This is ridiculous! The snow didn't actually stick, but still, it's supposed to be spring now. *Pouts.*

Culture:

This is not really about culture unless you consider workplace culture, culture: Because of my new duties at work I've been spending more time in the main office. Not only is free lunch provided everyday (a salad bar, brodskiver med pålegg) [slices of bread with sandwich filling type things (cheese, cold cuts, jams, etc)], occasionally there is soup, og hver fredag er vaffeldag! [and every Friday is waffle day!] Norwegian waffles are a bit special. I think the touch of cardamon sets them apart from other waffles that I've had. Norwegians eat them more as a snack or dessert as opposed to the big American waffle breakfast that I'm used to. Of course everyone has their own way of eating them, jeg liker mine med geitost, rømme, og syltetøy (bringebær eller jordbær) [I like mine with Norwegian brown cheese, sour cream, and jam (raspberry or strawberry).] I think it is absolutely brilliant that someone figured out that all it takes is a little waffle mix to promote motivation in the workplace. Earlier in the week one of my co-workers was celebrating being with the company for 40 years. We gathered upstairs where she was presented with a gift and a card and then while still on the clock we all ate cake. I like being paid to eat cake.

I will admit that sometimes I am really funny about talking about my background. If I feel that people are not asking questions in the “right” way I will be difficult on purpose and I actually enjoy it. There is a man in my Norwegian class and he keeps asking me questions about where I'm from and I am currently stringing him along. When he first asked I told him I'm from England. Then he heard me talking to the American guy and asked if we were from the same place. I said I am from England, but I used to live in the same town as this guy. Another day he actually asked me about my passport. I explained that I was born in England. Another guy, who apparently used to live in London explained to us both that you only get a UK passport automatically if your parents are born in the UK too. I have no idea if that is true, but he might be correct as it's natural for native citizens to know little about the immigration laws of their own country, they don't need to. After confirming that my parents must be British too, I could tell he was itching to ask about the generation before that. He didn't. A new girl joined the class and when we separated into smaller groups for dialogue work I learned that she is a third-culture kid, like me. I gave her my list of American states that I've lived in. She gave me hers. I told her where I was born, I told her where I grew up and I told her where my grandparents are from. I was totally happy to give this information to her, I guess because I didn't feel like she was going to stereotype or pigeon-hole me.

As for Instagram... The fiance' is upgrading and I convinced him to give me his old i-Phone! I should be back in the iWorld and back on Instagram this week. In the meantime these are the images I would've Instagrammed. (Also I will try to start a #backlog in the coming weeks.):

A couple more headwrap/hair shots.

The AMAZING earrings my friend made and sent to me.

More sewing projects!