Gerber Daisies

They are pretty, but mundane. They are found on kitchen tables and bureaus in probably any city with a flower shop, from LA to Tokyo, taking the circuitous route. The number and the gardener's bucket might indicate that this is indeed at a flower shop. Behind me is the glory of Borough Market in Southwark, and more particularly, the bread stand from which I would later buy a tasty hot crossed bun. Given the temperature, it was in fact a rather chilly bun, but still filled with delightful bits of candied fruit, and marked with a frosting cross. It would be my first breakfast in England. In my few days there, I missed out on nearly all the traditional foods excepting beer, though even then I was getting a bit away from the common. I had a Sam Smith cherry ale. Friday was probably my most pleasant day in England, Saturday the most useful, and Sunday the most tiring. The trip was interesting, surprising, and trying. Much walking was involved.

This trip should have been in the company of friends. The only reason that I went at this time was because it would be with the other Americans here. I had already bought my plane and concert tickets for late March and that troubadour of Chi-town Andrew Bird. Is the latest variation on Bird's band worth a trip to London in time and tickets? Well, perhaps if it is your first visit and you can combine it with the joys of exploration. But, I reasoned, traveling with friends can also be worth it, so I'll go for both.* The problem with this arises thusly. Of the American five, three chose to fly through Frankfurt, because the extra time traveling actually allowed them a cheaper flight. I and my traveling companion did not feel that the extended trip was worth it, and paid the slightly higher fare for a direct flight. On Thursday, as the day before, it was snowing. The first flight for the three was delayed. This would not have been so great a problem if it hadn't been delayed by something greater than 6 hours including a bus from the airport from which they were scheduled to depart to the large airport in Oslo. Upon arrival in Frankfurt these thrifty travelers learned that it would cost them $100 to have their tickets changed so that they could take another flight to London as their booked flight had taken off without them.

Cut to my dormmate and I, taking the bus from Bø to Sandfjord. Only then did one of them call us to announce that their flight, which had been scheduled to take off over 12 hours earlier in the day, had been delayed so long that they would not be going on to London and they had canceled our hostel booking.** We arrived at Stansted after 2300, with the kind offer from my companion's cousin that we would sleep at her place. In fact, we were able to do this for two nights, and while my dormmate went up to a quaint small town for Saturday night and Sunday, I was able to find a cheap hostel in the suburbs to see me through the night.

End arrival stress. Stay tuned for the continuation detailing some of what was actually done on the journey.


*I did try to persuade people to go to a non-English speaking country for the group trip, because then one can rely on someone else when they are tired of being confused. Ironic, isn't it?
**Some consideration should be given that the one kind enough to call and inform us of this had run out of minutes on her mobile phone, and made the expensive long distance call to inform us of the happenings.

Fillet

I went to London.

They have cows too.*













*This was the only cow in evidence, but that doesn't mean they weren't hiding others out in pastures or meat pies.

Americans are smart like upholstered furniture

My diminutive blond dorm mate hasn't been baking this semester until yesterday. Her ingenious method of ensuring a good rise for her bread makes me feel soft in the head. I and my fellow American here in the dorm have been trying to warm our dough in proximity to the electric radiator in the room, which has resulted in some dense loaves. However, there isn't a range directly above our oven, but a cabinet. Where did the Norwegian place her dough?

Unfortunately, to warm the cabinet one has to leave the oven on through the entire rising and re-rising process, so it is a little wasteful of energy. But the barley-whole wheat bread that I made today is deilig!*

Also, more pictures of food! I was shopping at the Asian grocery yesterday and found various amazing products. Like ordinary brown sugar. Norwegian brown sugar doesn't quite seem to be the same thing as you can get in America. This hasn't been an issue to me, but some of the other girls are missing it when they try to make chocolate chip cookies. I also found this adorably packaged cream cheese: Puck. It's very soft and kind of shiny, but the dairy monopoly makes the same cream cheese product. I suppose it is available state-side as well, but I haven't ever seen it before. Tastes the same, but the texture is sort of different. It seems like it might be good to use in baking...

The background to the picture is my dorm mate's cookbook from high school home ec. We've been using it a lot for it's metric measures. And it helps with the language practice. See? Multi-tasking in action.

*Yes, I did just make bread a couple days ago. No, this loaf wasn't just about trying out the new method for raising the dough. Dude and I actually needed a new loaf.

mountain goats

A fellow Capricorn friend of mine likes to claim, when we go hiking together, that we climb like mountain goats. I can't say anything against her, but you would be hard pressed to find anything in the mountains less sure-footed than me. Unless it was a mountain goat with a broken leg and a stress disorder after having been attacked by a cougar I suppose. Not that I suffer these ailments. I have no excuse for my unstableness. I generally fall over at least once per trip. Not that I let this stop me. Nay, say I, I shall not be oppressed by this lack of coordination! So I'm going to blame my muscle stiffness this evening on having fallen down about 7 times while trudging through the snow, rather than admit it is probably because I haven't gone hiking in the month than I've been back in Norway until this morning.

I might also have benefited from a bit more planning. Like keeping my matpakke in my pocket instead of in my backpack. Not that a half frozen sandwich was all that bad, and my coffee was still hot, so I wasn't freezing my belly. But it would have been smart to either wear my waterproof socks or my gaiters. Bit of snow melted into my shoes, but I'd already walked enough by that point that my feet were not in danger of freezing. In fact, I took my down vest off shortly after reaching the woods and was just wearing my Taku rain jacket. Insulation? Who needs it when she has an incline and crusty snow that variously holds her weight or doesn't? Really, I wouldn't have had a problem with snow getting into the boots if I didn't also have my steps go down six inches further at unpredictable times. And I was pretty warm until I started walking back down the mountain.

I also should have brought my camera so that it could be made known that snowy mountains in Norway look like snowy pine-covered mountains anywhere. And that the lakes look something less impressive when they appear to be little more than flat, treeless planes of snow.

wry, bacteria

Today was a kitchen day, again. My new Amrcan dorm mate and I are sharing bread and baking it ourselves. The math added up to be roughly equal to the super cheapness of Rema 1000's 4 kr bread and it is fun, if time consuming, to bake. And sometimes we need time consuming. I don't especially, as I should seriously be getting some of my big researchy type papers done. But baking is fun.

The really gross looking pic is the mixture of cultured milk and oil that I used in the bread. The bread is very tangy, probably from the kefir (technically that's the cultured milk that I used), and also because I decided to make a rye bread. I'm thinking next time I might favor barley or maybe barley and oats... yummy, bread...

I also made a stuffed red pepper and orange chicken for my dinner. Tasty. And I've been hitting up the salmon a lot this week. I've noticed that I've become a much less finicky eater since I came to Norway, as well as a more creative cook. For example, I actually create something for dinner nearly every night as opposed to grabbing a quick bowl from Noodles or deciding that cottage cheese and crackers is fine. For like, a week's worth of dinners. This must come from not having to go to school fulltime and work 3/4 time between two jobs... and the lack of cheap places to find a bite to eat. Though Madtown was not always the least expensive place. I think I've paid close to $8 for a burger there before. But is was a tasty burger... yum...

the visit

Yesterday the Americans (minus 1) visited the high school English class subbed this semester by a friend of ours. Our purpose there was to give the students an opportunity to speak English with native speakers and maybe to make the teacher cooler (hey, I got you Americans to talk to, how cool is that?). I'm all for anything that ups her authenticity and legitimacy as a teacher as she is a friend of mine, but because she's only maybe 9 years older or less than her students.

We came in, told a little about ourselves (hi, I'm me, I come from someplace and I go to some university somewhere), then talked to the students in groups of three. We asked them things about themselves, let them ask us things about ourselves and America. I got asked a question about cliques and talked to a football girl, a hip-hop boy who wants to be an actor, and bedroom singer. They were sweet kids, and in someways, I sort of think they were a little better behaved American teenagers, but also a bit more open about the drinking than I think our teens would be. Granted, I tend to avoid spending time with teenagers because of some basic distrust of them that I developed when I was one myself, but now I'm wondering if I've been a little unfair to the age group on the whole.

school are not as stringent as I remember from my time in high school. We didn't have the metal detectors that some schools have, but you had to sign in with the front office if you were not a student there, we had a campus cop (I think), and On the subject of cultural differences... the security at a (rural, admittedly) videregåendefield trips or classroom visitors were a case for paperwork and approval. Not so in Norway. The teacher invited us at her discretion, we didn't check in with anyone, and one of the students who sat in with us is actually in the next grade up, and was just sort of hanging out in the doorway when he was told not to be a disturbance and either get in or get out.

Norway wins 6-1

Today was the big innebandy game between Norway and Denmark. Well, really, it was Norway versus the foreigners because we were there to cheer on the American on the Danish team. I'm not sure, but I think perhaps all of the Danish students were either playing or there to cheer them on wearing the Danish team color. I'm somewhat surprised that I actually got into the game a bit. Innebandy is floor ball, or ice hockey without ice. It lacks the advantages of ice hockey (speed) and has the disadvantages of basketball (squeaky sneakers). The game was, however, reminiscent of watching my Hurricanes. Our boys where out there in red, and they lost. All the same, Heie Denmark!

worth it for the nachspiel

Kroa tends to involve either me working and thus getting home very late and being crank and tired, or else going to a show there and leaving with someone's beer spilled on me. Come to think of it, working a show tends to mean that I go home with several people's beer spilled on me. And then there was the CC Cowboys show last semester where an air duct was having the humidity of a very large crowd condensing on to it and then dripping on me. I had to move my scenevakt stool. Not that all events at Kroa are wet. Or that there are not rewards. I don't generally go to the nachspiel for the night's workers, usually because I'm really tired by then and don't want to try to figure out what these happily tanked Norwegians are trying to tell me about my vibrant hair.* But I walked a friend home after going out tonight, and we had a little nachspiel of our own. What is really good after a night out, especially when one's boyfriend has gone out of town for six weeks, is a friend to walk one home, a toasted cheese sandwich with a glass of milk, and something nice to listen to. Of course, Eric Clapton and a glass of milk mostly made me want to fall asleep on her couch, but we had a lovely little chat, as most chats with a good friend are, and then crawled off to the cozy cocoons of our respective beds. It's nice that there is only a little ice to crunch over between her house and mine.

*None of the other Kroa crew has ever commented my hair, but various drunken Norwegians have felt the need to pet my artfully tousled spikes and even a bartender has asked me if the color was natural. What is one to say? Yes, this atomic fireball red really just grows right out of my head.