ABBA

A few of you loyal readers (and "friends" who I don't think actually read this blog) have asked me, "Good-Looking, I know you're in Norway, not Sweden, but all of Scandinavia loves Abba, right? Tell me more about this 70's and 80's pop sensation!"

Well, poopsie, I'll tell you one thing: I rung in 2009 singing "Happy new year! Happy new year! May we all have a vision now and then / of a world where every neighbor is a friend." My Norwegian celebrators played it enough times that I was able to memorize the chorus and thus absorb the message into my formerly cold, cold heart.

I think Abba's success stems largely from five things.
1. Their commitment to sing a New Year's song,
2. The frequency of which their tunes are blasted around a skating rink in Trondheim's town square.
3. Their music's delicate balance of sing-alongableness and booty shakability.
4. In junior high, this boy named Kevin gave me a toy that danced to "Dancing Queen" because he said it reminded him of me.
And little known #5. Bjorn doesn't know geography. This greatly appeals to Americans.

I love Mr. W.

This always makes me laugh out loud - LOL, if you will - and because of this, my roommates probably think I'm creepy.

Finances and art come together.

I have decided to write a poem while I'm hold with Bank of America.

I do not want my body to freeze at the bus stop
So I wear a scarf, a hat, and convertible gloves.

I do not want my debit card to freeze at the minibank
So I press 1, and 2, and 5.

snap snap snap snap snap snap

I tasted my own medicine, and it was sweet.

Background information:

1. Sara and I are having a blog-off. (It's like a dance-off for nerds.)

2. It is common knowledge among geniuses that all great posts mention me.

With these facts in mind, I humbly admit that Sara jumped ahead in the competition. That monster!

Conversations

Takk = Thanks
Tak = Roof

That's tricky. Sometimes I have this conversation:

Cashier: Here is your bag.
Me: Roof.

Week o' Productivity

When I really get down to business, I set goals to classical music. Today, it is this:

I will finish my curriculum development analysis by the time I listen to Dvorák's "New World Symphony."

When I am done, I will reward myself with a sing-along to "The Lonely Goatherd."

Wanted: Black Beans

I want to talk to you about black beans.

I miss them. I know, I only got into them in late 2007, but they had become an important of my life. And they're not here.

A few different people have responded to my woes by exclaiming, "I have black beans! I got them at the store." My hopes rise. Then they open the cupboard and bring out a can of... kidney beans. Kidney beans! Every single time, it's kidney beans.

Not only is Norway depriving me of black beans, but it's making me resentful of kidney beans. This may call for lots of bean therapy when I get back to the U.S.

Commute confusion

I think I met a friendly bus driver today. Can't be sure. The bus was packed and I was squished up front with the spikey-haired college kids and middle-aged bus driver. The latter kept making comments and smiling at me in a non-creepy manner. I would nod and then return my gaze toward the ice piled up on the side of the road.

Bus driver, there is not ice piled around my heart. I just don't understand your joke, because I don't understand your language. Except "kalkun." That means "turkey." Next time, let's talk about fowl.

My Undying Love

Even though Obama has been president for DAYS, I am still going to watch videos about him on Youtube. Even the bad ones.

("Him" is the funniest. Of these videos, I mean. If we're talking about funniest PEOPLE, well, that's an easy question. So easy I could sit here talking about the ease.)

Obama!

If I have grandkids, they probably won't ask, "G-ma Cool, where were you when Obama became president?" But if they do, I'll say this:

"Young Person Whose Lack of Wrinkles I Envy, I was squished in my bedroom with an Italian, Netherlander, Austrian, and six Americans. We were in Trondheim, Norway, and it was cold outside, but we didn't care. What's a little chill when you have Obama masks, flag bandannas, and champagne? It's nothing, that's what. But you wouldn't understand the concept of 'chill' because my generation drove too much and caused global climate change. Sorry about that, darling."

Then I would step on my hoverboard, float into my bedroom, and retrieve these pictures from my titanium closet:



I would force Hypothetical Grandkid to sit down on the couch and look at my pictures, even though they'd rather play 3D skateboard games on the Game Wall. ("More like LAME Wall!" I'd joke.) And one day, they would appreciate these pictures. They really would.

Obama Day!

It is 6:30 AM on OBAMA DAY for me.

It is around 9:30 PM, the day before OBAMA DAY for you Seattle folks.

It must suuuuuck not to be in the midst of Obama Day. Here, we (and I mean "I") wear red, white, and blue, undies that say "joy to the world", and gaze at the Coke and American Flag popcorn that is all ready for the Obama Day celebration. So fun!

Don't worry. Your Obama Day will get there eveeennntttuallllly. Until then, though, think about me and all my excitement. Let a little envy sneak into your HOPE.

Touristy things

Saturday, I walked up the Hill of Crazy Wind (as named by me, four seconds ago) to explore the Kristiansten Fort. It's practically the only thing protecting Norway from those rowdy Swedes. In fact, an army of Norway's eastern neighbor was about to invade, but they saw me sitting on a cannon in front of this lovely piece of military history and said, "Oh, we better not." They walked back home chanting, "No way, Norway! No way, Norway!"

Heeeeey fort.

Schooling you

I came to Norway for a reason, and that reason was NOT to learn how the bread slicer works, how to walk on ice, or how to break dance in a circle of happy Italians. Those are just the fringe benefits. The real reason I am visiting Norway is to teach - to learn to teach, if you want to get specific. So it's time I tell you about the education.

Schools here are different and wonderful. I am observing/teaching at Heimdal Upper Secondary School in the outskirts of Trondheim. The students tell me the neighborhood is "dodgy", but I am skeptical. A little ski jump gym (I'll get pictures), enormous indoor garden, and music practice rooms are just a few of this 750-student school's facilities.

And the students - oh my God, so precious. For the most part, a group of 22-30 kids stays together all day while teachers move from classroom to classroom. This means that they know each other well, and are therefore more comfortable being hilarious and adorable. And I have two students named Tor. Tor! That is so Norwegian I could burst into a puff of snow!

I'm teaching one class of 16 and 17-year-olds and another class of 18 and 19-year-olds. From what I've seen so far, they are more mature, independent, and interested in learning than American kids their age, but I haven't spent tons of time in an American high school... besides, you know, when I was a high schooler. (Doesn't count.)

And get this: since both classes are focused on English language and culture (of all English speaking communities, but mostly Britain and the U.S.), I get to talk about Barack Obama! And grocery stores! And baseball! Plus, I have awesome Cooperating Teachers who plan interesting lessons and trust me implementing my own ideas.

In sum, LIFE IS SO EXCITING.

Ski goggles, water, measuring cups

Last night was funny.

A common conversation

Someone: Where in the United States are you from?
Me: Seattle
(Washington makes them think D.C., and when I say "near Seattle" or "the Seattle area" they think they're places, like "Nearseattle" or "Theseattle Area." Best to keep it simple.)
Someone: Seattle, oh... hm. Wait, Grey's Anatomy?
Me: Yep.
Someone and everyone else in room: Ohhhhhh, Seattle!

A beautiful moment for me and for Trondheim

I boinged the bell. THE BELL.

The 6 American and 1 Dutch visiting student-teachers got a private tour of Nidaros Cathedral on Thursday. This place is gorgeous, and it's over 900 years old. Our tour guide, a professor in the education program here, knows the ins and outs of the cathedral, and she is a wonderful human being. That's why, after trekking up an uncomfortably tight stairwell to the bell tower, she turned to me (the first in line behind her) and said, "Would you like to boing the bell?"

Oh my God.

"Really?"

"Yes! Climb up this ladder." So I did. The ladder was rickety and it's possible the beams I walked across weren't totally secure, but I felt fine. I felt GREAT. I was going to boing the bell in the bell tower.

Swing once - miss. (I was trying to be gentle to our ear drums.)
Swing twice - miss. (Again, I cared so deeply about our hearing.)
Swing thrice - BOING! YEAH, BELL! YEAH!

Watch it on video!

When I climbed down from the rickety ladder - lower in elevation but high on the bell-ringing thrill - our tour guide looked at me and said, "You're like a little goat, aren't you?" (Because of all the climbing!) I laughed until I coughed up phlegm.

I love Saint Olav, bells, and my cathedral excitement that inspired me be first in line of the tour.

Washlet site

There's this device, The Washlet, that cleans your bum. Its mere existence is hilarious. The website, however, is probably the best and most ridiculous thing you have ever seen.

I want you to spend some quality time at that website and then tell me how much someone would have to pay you to be one of the Washlet spokespersons.

Ringo

The furriest one in this picture is named Ringo.



Ringo reminds me of Tiger, especially those first 45 seconds.

There's a Magpie outside my window, but I'm not going to write about it.

Want to know whether it's light outside without having to look out your window? Check out the Daylight Map.

Want to check to see whether I'm wasting the few hours of daylight I have by blogging instead of frolicking in the new inch of snow? Check out the Daylight Map.

Want to fulfill your fascination for the the earth's tilt and rotation and whatnot by saying, "Wowee wow wowowoweewow," at a great website? Check out the Daylight Map.



And holla' for these marketing skills. Is it obvious that I am the daughter of a business teacher? It is, isn't it?

Small Victory

I figured out how to remove my watch! Kelly Genius!

(Like Einstein, except that, as far as I know, his middle name did not lend itself to such convenient wordplay.)

Shooo'

I want to go to bed, but I can't get my watch off. It's stressing me out.

Will I never sleep again?

Ignorance is not bliss.

I am listening to Norwegian hip-hop. It's fine - I could dance some vegetable impressions to it - but it's frustrating not to know what the heck these rappers are saying.

Here are some words I might have heard:
-Gonad
-Playa
-Santa
-Nasty

Sure, I don't always know what rappers are saying in American rap, either, but I could if I tried. It's reassuring to have that option.

Thanks, Trondheim Public Library. Thanks for putting me at unease.

Goodbye voice. Hello fever.

Much of my communication in Norway is conveyed through nodding and smiling. Everyone knows English, but sometimes it's not worth the effort to let cashiers/bus drivers/laundry people know that I don't speak Norwegian. Now my reasons for nodding and smiling, though, are twofold.

1. I don't speak Norwegian, and...
2. I LOST MY VOICE!

This is the first time I have ever lost my voice. I don't like it. I'm a talker. And tomorrow is my first day of teaching. Plus, it hurts! It's possible that clearing my throat intensely would help me emit some squeaks, but that's sends little spikes of pain down my poor, poor trachea, or esophagus, or whatever body part is acting up.

If I could speak, I would curse this situation.

I will try to use this in the United States.

My school tour guide called the teachers' mailboxes "pigeon holes."

Hoooow cute. We could learn a lot from the Norwegians.

Sore Thoat (intentional misspelling that only a certain DWH will understand)

Yesterday, I felt a little coughy. This morning, I felt a lot sore throaty. Nooo!

So, after painfully conversing with the following people:
-Luis, last roommate to move in
-Devin, fellow American on bus
-Teachers mentioned in the last post
...I decided to buy cough drops. Fortunately for me, I remember things from high school, like when my German teacher said that in Germany, you had to buy medicine at the pharmacy, which was called the "apoteka" or something.

Germany is like Norway, right? Right. So I moseyed into the "Apotek" downtown and purchased some Ricola. Riiiiiicolaaaa. And my throat feels a tiny bit better.

You're welcome for telling you this awesome story.

Edit: I just saw cough drops at the grocery store. Still, I rule for knowing about the Apotek.

School

This morning, I navigated the Trondheim bus system to find the school I'm teaching, waaaay out in the 'burbs. (By this I mean a 15 minute drive or 40 minute bus ride.)

After getting help from one of the high schoolers - excuse me, upper secondary schoolers - I found the office and met with the two teachers I'll be working with. Yes, two! Which means I'll be teaching twice as much as I expected. Which means I'll still be teaching a third of what I taught in the fall. Which means I'll be doing juuuust enough to keep me out trouble.

The teachers are wonderful. One reminds me of my Aunt Becky. That's good. I like Aunt Becky. And the other one offered me a few slices of moose meat! Great first impressions.

Now I am going to do laundry. By 3:00 today, I will have done more productive things than the entire last week. Holla' fo' Monday.

Moose Post

This list may or may not continue in future entries

Here are some things that, as far as I can tell, are the same in Norway and the United States:

1. Fire. Fire here - candles, wood stoves, etc. - looks just like fire at home.

2. Asphalt. Still dark, still hard, still often driven and walked upon.

3. My inability to find wild bears. It seems that the U.S. and Norway are in cahoots to prevent me from seeing a wild bear. As a guest in this country, I should be polite and say, "It's ok. I don't need to see a bear." But you know what? I do. I do need to see a bear.

4. Feeling cold/warm. In both countries, humans feel cold and warm, depending on the temperature.

More insightful observations to come.

Sidewalk Drama

The past two days, I have been walking daintily. The world is covered in ice, you see, and it's tough to reach the mini-bank* without slipping. With the help of others (advice and the occasional arm-balance), I had been doing all right - better than the bus, at least, who took about fifty hours to get through the roundabout.

That is, until two hours ago. Sara and I were returning from the grand Moholt Storesenter experience when WHOOSH! I am on the ground. The purse was flown inches, INCHES!, away form my body. Very dramatic.

I consider it a precious form of Weather Hazing, and now I'm officially a (quite temporary) resident of Norway.

*Mini-bank = ATM. HOW CUTE IS THAT.

How I was a typical American

Last night, I met three gentlemen from Azerbaijan. I didn't know anything about Azerbaijan, and it was embarrassing. My caring soul decided to research and present you with some information about Azerbaijan so you won't have to go through what I went through. You're welcome.

Azerbaijan
Population: 8,177,717
Literacy rate: 98.8%
Government type: Republic (some say this is debatable)
Year formed: 1991 (became independent of the Soviet Union)
Big money-maker: Oil
Predominant Religion: Muslim (93.4%)
Silly factor of the three Azerbaijanians I met: High

The Azerbaijanians tell me that there are lots of Americans in Azerbaijan, and that they are awesome. So, Americans in Azerbaijan, thanks for canceling out my appalling lack of knowledge about the country you're working/studying in.

I will try not to shame myself and country again. I'm off to study more world geography.

Eins, Zwei, Die: The Blog Off is On

And I am already in the lead with a picture of Norwegian bathroom graffiti:

If I judged the 4.6 million Norwegians based on this graffiti, I'd say they were kind of downers, but I know there is more to a country than one stall in the the third largest municipality's library's public bathroom.

(Sorry ahead of time for shaming you with my mad blogging skills, Sara.)

I freaking love the grocery store.

I realize that I'm looking at everything here in a comparey/contrasty way, but as the differences fill me with joy and excitement instead of disgust and superiority, I feel OK about this skewed world view. On that note...

EGGS ARE SOLD IN CARTONS OF 10! WOW!!!

They are not as giant as the egg pictured above.

Juicy gossip

Magpies hop around all over Scandinavia. They're like crows, kind of, in that they're everywhere and kind of annoying. One often sits outside my window on a branchy tree.

INTERESTING FACT: Magpies are the only non-mammal (tested so far) that can recognize their own reflection in a mirror.

You're welcome for the bird information.

Foreigners

Last night, I met a bunch of friendly foreigners. (Yes, I am a foreigner, too). They all spoke English. Every single one of them. Even before they knew I was American, they'd introduce themselves to me in English with their German, French, Pakistani, Spanish, or cadaver* accent.

Even foreign couples speak English to each other! Like, if a Russian girl is dating a French guy, they probably speak English to each other. All this English language makes me feel fortunate... and guilty for not being fluent in anything else. I did show off my German counting skills, though. I am brilliant when it comes to counting to twenty in German. Eins, zwei, drei, vier...

I was talking to a German guy about it and he said, "But we hear a lot in English, like music and movies. I can't imagine if everything I heard was in my language. Can you?"

"Yes," I answered, "because just about everything I hear is in English. Every song, pretty much every movie, every TV show...." (I finished this quote just so I could include the links.)

And surprisingly, he was a little surprised.

That English. What a language.

*If you haven't figured out what "cadaver" means because you have been living on the former-planet Pluto or something, one uses "cadaver" or "cadav" to mean "whatever" or "whatev", respectively. This word is all the rage with me and about two of my friends.

It is the light.

I slept in until 1 again. It's like I am a middle school kid in the throes of adolescence, except that I WANT to do something productive.

Here are the things I would have done if I would have woken up at a more godly hour:
-Found and introduced myself to the local bears
-Had a lunch AND breakfast, instead of just a lunch with breakfast foods
-Wrote a power ballad about the holes in Kroners
-Read lots and lots of my book, instead of just lots of my book (it's Swedish! translated into English!)
-Other things

Instead, I will pass on the 1:30 trip to downtown (stores are closed anyway), clean myself in the shower that has two closey doors so when you're not showering you can make more room in the bathroom, and wait for more snow flurries to add to the 14+ inches of snow. This sounds lovely, too.

This is how fun I am.

Last night, I dreamed I was Rachel from Friends, and I saw Ross (also from Friends) go into a public women's restroom. I, Rachel, laughed until I fell on the floor. Then Monica came in and laughed, too.

Then I, Kelly, woke up laughing.

Oops

I had an informal meeting at noon today with the student assistant and one of my fellow student teachers. I went to bed at 11, assuming I'd wake up in pleeeenty of time to make a delicious breakfast of eggs, sausage, and toast, and then mosey out the door.

Instead, I woke up at 1. One! In the afternoon! How did this happen?

So, I wrote an apologetic email, forgave myself for all the sleep, and moved onto breakfast. However, it turns out that the "sausage" I bought is not sausage at all. The dictionary says it's some kind of compound word meaning "serve lazy." Bad sign. Judging by the texture, I think it is some kind of liverwurst. In case it actually does need to be cooked, though, I'm not going to eat it until a Norwegian confirms what is in that red tube of meat.

Now I am watching ski jumping and researching places to buy an alarm clock. The sun is hovering over the horizon. Thus is life today.