July 23, 2009
My summer routine involves lots of work and lots of relaxing. Since Geilo, I have had three days off. While I've been working pretty much every day, most days are pretty short, leaving plenty of time for summer lounging. The weather here reminds me of home, rain, chance of rain, sun breaks with rain, and a few really hot days.
I most prefer working at the art gallery; the people here are interesting and the work is not physically exhausting. When someone buys a painting or other piece of art, everyone is happy about it. The transaction, regardless of the amount, is considered a joyous event or at least a positive one by the gallery, the artists, and the purchasers.
It's a little different working at the cafe. People are always happy to get their food, but the stress begins when they pay. Then they stand there and watch while I (or one of my coworkers) engage in the mad rush to try to get all of the hot food hot and the cold food cold and onto the table at the same time. Meanwhile there tends to be a line forming of more people who want more food. Unless there is nothing happening at all in the cafe. And that's no fun either.
On Fridays and Saturdays we have free concerts at the cafe. Free in Norway equals chaos. Everyone wants there coffee and waffles right when the concert starts. This means that the concert starts late, which annoys the people who came twenty minutes early. Then the concert lasts for half an hour and everybody heads back out into the fresh air, leaving behind them a wake of coins (for the musicians), coffee cups, and crumbs. Fortunately, the concerts are pretty good otherwise it wouldn't be worth the exhaustion!
On sunny days, tourists stay outside. They do not visit art galleries and they do not visit cafes in dark timber buildings. As previously mentioned, we have not had so many sunny days, so we have had a lot of tourists. That has meant lots of work to do for those of us who wanted to work. Of course, you can only work so long before it's time for a vacation!
Monday, July 20, 2009
Wednesday, July 8, 2009
The delights of summer
Yesterday, between rain showers, I ate my lunch outside at the tables in front of the coffee shop. I had prepared for myself a salad teeming with the bounty of summer produce. While I sat on the mostly dry chair at a table that was definitely wet, eating my salad that seemed to increase in size as I ate it, I thought of the rainy summers in Seattle.
Perhaps it is global warming or my shady memory, but I don't remember summers in Seattle being long stretches of sunshine. I remember the comfortable rain. Perhaps it is more closely related to my summer habits of retreating into the cool dark basement with a special blend of Ghiradelli dark chocolate chips and walnuts in a Tupperware cup that someday would be taken to the beach and used as a digging implement losing its pleasantly smooth edge and becoming forever relegated to the back of the cupboard. In the hours while my parents were at work, I would watch tv mindlessly - making sure to follow the complicated system of turning on fans and closing hatches and windows to preserve the valued coolness of our stone house.
It must have been hot. It must have been hot because we went swimming in the sun. We all thought that swimming in the rain was the best, but swimming in the sun was necessary. When the weather was hot on the weekends we would pile in the Falcon and drive to Tacoma. Nana and Grandpa Arne always had fabulously delicious food (the broccoli chicken bake, salmon, potato salad, sour cream and onion potato chips, real sandwiches, PIE, ice cream in a variety of flavors, waffles with homemade jam for breakfast). The rest of the family tended to show up. Who wouldn't come for good food, swimming, and laughter?
Grandpa Arne's pool was the perfect place to play and get wet. It was a little short for laps that were more than recreational and diving was not allowed, but those limitations were not particularly bothersome. We floated, played games we'd made up (like Fox and the Eggs), and did tricks (mostly headstands and sommersaults). We'd get out when our fingers and toes looked like the prunes Grandpa and Nana ate every night before going to sleep and there were streaks of teal randomly distrubuted across out bodies where we had bumped into the walls of the pool, the aging paint had come off on our skin.
Sitting at a sidewalk cafe outside an art gallery, eating a bottomless salad, I started thinking about food as art in five dimentions. The fourth and fifth are clearly taste and time, but which is which? According to convention it is time that is the fourth dimention. But isn't taste more important? But perhaps the time to grow the ingredients and select them are as important as the art of the perfect composition of flavors. Taking time to taste the variety of ingredients is critical to the success of the piece. It also creates ample time to remember the delights of summers past.
Yesterday's Salad:
Iceberg lettuce (in Norway it still has a little green color)
Cabbage
Arugula
Onion
Carrot
Tomato
Avocado
Kidney Beans
Feta (marinated in olive oil and herbs)
Red wine vinegar
Oil and herbs from the feta
Chop the things that are choppable and mix together. Enjoy with friends or memories.
Perhaps it is global warming or my shady memory, but I don't remember summers in Seattle being long stretches of sunshine. I remember the comfortable rain. Perhaps it is more closely related to my summer habits of retreating into the cool dark basement with a special blend of Ghiradelli dark chocolate chips and walnuts in a Tupperware cup that someday would be taken to the beach and used as a digging implement losing its pleasantly smooth edge and becoming forever relegated to the back of the cupboard. In the hours while my parents were at work, I would watch tv mindlessly - making sure to follow the complicated system of turning on fans and closing hatches and windows to preserve the valued coolness of our stone house.
It must have been hot. It must have been hot because we went swimming in the sun. We all thought that swimming in the rain was the best, but swimming in the sun was necessary. When the weather was hot on the weekends we would pile in the Falcon and drive to Tacoma. Nana and Grandpa Arne always had fabulously delicious food (the broccoli chicken bake, salmon, potato salad, sour cream and onion potato chips, real sandwiches, PIE, ice cream in a variety of flavors, waffles with homemade jam for breakfast). The rest of the family tended to show up. Who wouldn't come for good food, swimming, and laughter?
Grandpa Arne's pool was the perfect place to play and get wet. It was a little short for laps that were more than recreational and diving was not allowed, but those limitations were not particularly bothersome. We floated, played games we'd made up (like Fox and the Eggs), and did tricks (mostly headstands and sommersaults). We'd get out when our fingers and toes looked like the prunes Grandpa and Nana ate every night before going to sleep and there were streaks of teal randomly distrubuted across out bodies where we had bumped into the walls of the pool, the aging paint had come off on our skin.
Sitting at a sidewalk cafe outside an art gallery, eating a bottomless salad, I started thinking about food as art in five dimentions. The fourth and fifth are clearly taste and time, but which is which? According to convention it is time that is the fourth dimention. But isn't taste more important? But perhaps the time to grow the ingredients and select them are as important as the art of the perfect composition of flavors. Taking time to taste the variety of ingredients is critical to the success of the piece. It also creates ample time to remember the delights of summers past.
Yesterday's Salad:
Iceberg lettuce (in Norway it still has a little green color)
Cabbage
Arugula
Onion
Carrot
Tomato
Avocado
Kidney Beans
Feta (marinated in olive oil and herbs)
Red wine vinegar
Oil and herbs from the feta
Chop the things that are choppable and mix together. Enjoy with friends or memories.
Sunday, July 5, 2009
Det er kunst vi vil ha
We spent a long day on Sunday packing David's apartment. We didn't finish. He decided that it would be better to drive all day Tuesday and keep packing on Monday than stress to get it finished on Sunday night.This was fine with me. It was going to be hard to say good-bye and I was happy to put it off for another day.
Monday I also started working at the art gallery (www.raulandkunstforening.no). This is a perfect summer job. I am surrounded by art and people interested in art. We share the building with the local coffee shop. When we're not busy, I get to check the internet for exciting developments. Sometimes I even get to clean the floors, something which has come to give me great joy after a year of washing at the dentist's office. Mostly, the job gives me a purpose for five hours a day; I pendle between feeling incredibly useful and phenomenally ignorant. Fortunately, in those slow times, I get to read art catalogs and artists' websites to help me build a little knowledge.
On Tuesday, David tried to leave. Tried, as in he packed the car and drove off, but his brakes gave out an hour down the road. Working at the art gallery also affords me the luxury of being both conveniently located to the local gas station and the flexibility to run out the door when he called to ask them if they had time to check out his car. In the end he drove to another town, had the brakes checked and then back up here to have them fixed. We got our extra night after all!
On Wednesday he left for real, leaving me to entertain myself by waiting for text messages from the road and washing the enormous pile of dishes we had steadily ignored since returning from Geilo. My apartment seemed lonely and somehow empty without David, in spite of the impressive volume of things we had managed to pack into it. It's a good thing we have found a larger place to live in the fall, even if it's not that much larger.
Since Wednesday I have beat the heat by avoiding it. Mostly by sitting calmly in the art gallery, guiding visitors to the send floor exhibition and film room. Generally hoping that they would be inspired by the calmness in the gallery to purchase something off our walls. I've also spent a fair amount of time lounging on my couch, too hot to do anything but lay there and think about the boy who had driven off. He sends me beautiful messages and I reply haltingly; language barriers are no fun.
Even the weekend was dedicated to the kunstforening. My alternatives were cleaning the house, so it seemed like an obvious choice. On Sunday we got some rain and a little thunder storm. I took a walk up to our new apartment - only five more minutes up the hill! Before I slept, I was struck by the deliciousness of the cold water from the tap here in the mountains. Even in the hot summer months, it is crisp and sweet, like I remember the water in Seattle tasting when I was a child.
Monday I also started working at the art gallery (www.raulandkunstforening.no). This is a perfect summer job. I am surrounded by art and people interested in art. We share the building with the local coffee shop. When we're not busy, I get to check the internet for exciting developments. Sometimes I even get to clean the floors, something which has come to give me great joy after a year of washing at the dentist's office. Mostly, the job gives me a purpose for five hours a day; I pendle between feeling incredibly useful and phenomenally ignorant. Fortunately, in those slow times, I get to read art catalogs and artists' websites to help me build a little knowledge.
On Tuesday, David tried to leave. Tried, as in he packed the car and drove off, but his brakes gave out an hour down the road. Working at the art gallery also affords me the luxury of being both conveniently located to the local gas station and the flexibility to run out the door when he called to ask them if they had time to check out his car. In the end he drove to another town, had the brakes checked and then back up here to have them fixed. We got our extra night after all!
On Wednesday he left for real, leaving me to entertain myself by waiting for text messages from the road and washing the enormous pile of dishes we had steadily ignored since returning from Geilo. My apartment seemed lonely and somehow empty without David, in spite of the impressive volume of things we had managed to pack into it. It's a good thing we have found a larger place to live in the fall, even if it's not that much larger.
Since Wednesday I have beat the heat by avoiding it. Mostly by sitting calmly in the art gallery, guiding visitors to the send floor exhibition and film room. Generally hoping that they would be inspired by the calmness in the gallery to purchase something off our walls. I've also spent a fair amount of time lounging on my couch, too hot to do anything but lay there and think about the boy who had driven off. He sends me beautiful messages and I reply haltingly; language barriers are no fun.
Even the weekend was dedicated to the kunstforening. My alternatives were cleaning the house, so it seemed like an obvious choice. On Sunday we got some rain and a little thunder storm. I took a walk up to our new apartment - only five more minutes up the hill! Before I slept, I was struck by the deliciousness of the cold water from the tap here in the mountains. Even in the hot summer months, it is crisp and sweet, like I remember the water in Seattle tasting when I was a child.
Thursday, July 2, 2009
NM i folkemusikk og folkedans
We were sleeping in a classroom with eleven people, most of whom we'd never met before; that is, I'd met one of them before and David had never met any of them. Since we were the last two to show up, we got the spot right by the door and the sink that everyone had to walk by. Needless to say, it was not comfortable. Fortunately that was the only real downside the event.
The other downside was that I had too many friends competing at the same time. I managed to see very few of them dancing. I did however get to see and hear lots of very good competition. The results of the week's competition were exciting - especially in dance! As usual with such a competition, there is now some debate about the criteria the judges used, especially in the vocal categories. As a spectator, the event was a success - lots to see and hear during the day and lots to dance to in the evening. As usual in Norway, going to a dance with a steady partner is a lot more fun.
We left early to get back to Rauland in time for the opening of the summer art exhibition. We drove the short way over the mountains and took lots of photos from the car. We stopped at a mountain stream for lunch. David played on a rock out in the stream; I was too chicken to jump out there and the rocks were too slippery to wade out on. We made it home just in time to take a shower, eat dinner and drive to the gallery opening.
The other downside was that I had too many friends competing at the same time. I managed to see very few of them dancing. I did however get to see and hear lots of very good competition. The results of the week's competition were exciting - especially in dance! As usual with such a competition, there is now some debate about the criteria the judges used, especially in the vocal categories. As a spectator, the event was a success - lots to see and hear during the day and lots to dance to in the evening. As usual in Norway, going to a dance with a steady partner is a lot more fun.
We left early to get back to Rauland in time for the opening of the summer art exhibition. We drove the short way over the mountains and took lots of photos from the car. We stopped at a mountain stream for lunch. David played on a rock out in the stream; I was too chicken to jump out there and the rocks were too slippery to wade out on. We made it home just in time to take a shower, eat dinner and drive to the gallery opening.
New beginnings
The night before our final concert, when most people were busy packing and saying goodbye, I took a deep breath and leapt down a new path. Having had my own heart broken more often than I'd like, I have a tendency to be overly cautious both with my own emotional well being and that of others. The feelings I'd been having for David (a classmate) kept getting stronger the more time I spent with him; the more I thought about it, the more sure I was that I wanted to spend even more time with him. We are both very aware of the potential for negative ramifications if things go poorly next year, however things are going very well and I haven't been happier in a very long time.
Our first adventure as a couple was a cross-country tour. We took off from Rauland on a Saturday afternoon by bus. The plan was to catch the night bus to Uppsala (yippee!), but that plan fell through when the bus was full. I called everyone we knew in Oslo. A classmate of ours came through with his mother's apartment in a very nice neighborhood in Oslo. His mother was moving so, we got the place to ourselves for the few hours we were there.
Early the next morning we found our way back out of the courtyard (we were very nearly locked in) and back to the bus station. After nine long hours on the bus, we arrived at the central station in Stockholm where we met David's mother, Nina. We were very happy that she was in the city and driving up to Uppsala, because we were very hungry and had run into some money trouble (my bank card had stopped working and David was broke). She made good time and we arrived at his home outside the city and met his brother, Thomas, and father, Anders. Everyone was very welcoming - it was fantastic to be home.
After dinner we went for a walk in the forest, then took a shower, and played some music. We were generally exhausted from our journey, but it was good to move, good to play, and phenomenal to be clean. I could have slept through the whole following day, but it was Thomas' birthday so we got up early and woke him up with cake, song, and presents. It was very festive.
In the afternoon, David took me on an Uppsala sightseeing tour. We met a couple friends of his for coffee and sat outside at a cafe in the almost too warm sunshine. We did some shopping (cough drops and a new tooth brush), visited David's high school, the cathedral, and the salvation army. Before leaving town we stopped at the concert hall, both to admire the building and the view from the top floor.
Hot and tired, we headed back to the cozy valley David grew up in, stopping only for Swedish summer essentials (soft serve and dill chips). Back at the Rönnlund ranch (which is not a ranch in the slightest), Anders was preparing Thomas' birthday dinner (steak!). The brothers worked together to produce homemade pasta. As if all that weren't enough, the meal was rounded out with a caprice salad and a second round of birthday cake. David took me sightseeing in the neighboring valley afterward; the pleasant drive and long walk gave us ample time to talk about all kinds of things - and test the temperature of the water. I ended the evening having a somewhat involved conversation with Nina about my thoughts on Judaism; her mother was jewish, so it was an interesting discussion for both of us.
The next day we packed Thomas' car with our things and headed back toward Norway. We spent the evening with Peter, David's uncle, in Karlstad. Well rested we took off toward Geilo and the first NM in folkemusikk (formerly Landskappleiken). Our journey was slowed by a very punctured tire that we limped along on from Kongsberg to Geilo; we filled it once with air and once with foam. Upon arriving in Geilo ten hours later, we changed to the mini tire to be certain that we could drive to the gas station in the morning. In the morning we found out that the tire had four holes in it and we didn't manage to leave before replacing two tires (they wouldn't let us fix just the one).
Our first adventure as a couple was a cross-country tour. We took off from Rauland on a Saturday afternoon by bus. The plan was to catch the night bus to Uppsala (yippee!), but that plan fell through when the bus was full. I called everyone we knew in Oslo. A classmate of ours came through with his mother's apartment in a very nice neighborhood in Oslo. His mother was moving so, we got the place to ourselves for the few hours we were there.
Early the next morning we found our way back out of the courtyard (we were very nearly locked in) and back to the bus station. After nine long hours on the bus, we arrived at the central station in Stockholm where we met David's mother, Nina. We were very happy that she was in the city and driving up to Uppsala, because we were very hungry and had run into some money trouble (my bank card had stopped working and David was broke). She made good time and we arrived at his home outside the city and met his brother, Thomas, and father, Anders. Everyone was very welcoming - it was fantastic to be home.
After dinner we went for a walk in the forest, then took a shower, and played some music. We were generally exhausted from our journey, but it was good to move, good to play, and phenomenal to be clean. I could have slept through the whole following day, but it was Thomas' birthday so we got up early and woke him up with cake, song, and presents. It was very festive.
In the afternoon, David took me on an Uppsala sightseeing tour. We met a couple friends of his for coffee and sat outside at a cafe in the almost too warm sunshine. We did some shopping (cough drops and a new tooth brush), visited David's high school, the cathedral, and the salvation army. Before leaving town we stopped at the concert hall, both to admire the building and the view from the top floor.
Hot and tired, we headed back to the cozy valley David grew up in, stopping only for Swedish summer essentials (soft serve and dill chips). Back at the Rönnlund ranch (which is not a ranch in the slightest), Anders was preparing Thomas' birthday dinner (steak!). The brothers worked together to produce homemade pasta. As if all that weren't enough, the meal was rounded out with a caprice salad and a second round of birthday cake. David took me sightseeing in the neighboring valley afterward; the pleasant drive and long walk gave us ample time to talk about all kinds of things - and test the temperature of the water. I ended the evening having a somewhat involved conversation with Nina about my thoughts on Judaism; her mother was jewish, so it was an interesting discussion for both of us.
The next day we packed Thomas' car with our things and headed back toward Norway. We spent the evening with Peter, David's uncle, in Karlstad. Well rested we took off toward Geilo and the first NM in folkemusikk (formerly Landskappleiken). Our journey was slowed by a very punctured tire that we limped along on from Kongsberg to Geilo; we filled it once with air and once with foam. Upon arriving in Geilo ten hours later, we changed to the mini tire to be certain that we could drive to the gas station in the morning. In the morning we found out that the tire had four holes in it and we didn't manage to leave before replacing two tires (they wouldn't let us fix just the one).
Avsluttning
Our last week of school was filled with playing exams, getting our final grades, and many hours of rehearsals for our final concert. My playing exams went as well as can be expected, that is poorly. I get so nervous playing for judges. They were very kind when they gave me their feedback; I have come to the conclusion that while Scandinavians are not particularly great at giving positive encouragement along the way, the are exceptionally talented in giving advice after the fact.
Our rehearsals for the final concert were long and exhausting. Ånon jumped in and helped us with arrangments and tune selection. He both gently and not-so-gently stripped away the parts that were unworkable and pointed us in the direction he thought would work. We didn't always agree with him, but we managed to make some good music. The concert itsself couldn't have gone better; we played our hearts out in the shadows of Dyre Vaa's enormous sculptures cast by the hot summer sun to an audience of locals and relatives. And then we were finished!
Our rehearsals for the final concert were long and exhausting. Ånon jumped in and helped us with arrangments and tune selection. He both gently and not-so-gently stripped away the parts that were unworkable and pointed us in the direction he thought would work. We didn't always agree with him, but we managed to make some good music. The concert itsself couldn't have gone better; we played our hearts out in the shadows of Dyre Vaa's enormous sculptures cast by the hot summer sun to an audience of locals and relatives. And then we were finished!
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