Long story (not made short)

Ok, let's go Tarantino here.

My  Norwegian bank called, I didn't answer, and they left me a cryptic message that there had been some suspicious activity on my debit card and that I should call them back right away!

And now, let's rewind to summer 2011 when Lars and I were in the U.S. having a jolly old time. 

 

Right? That looks like a lot of fun. And it was.
We also did some serious shopping while we were there. If I haven't made this clear enough already, basically everything is cheaper in the US than it is in Norway.

Both of us bought iPads from Target, and when we were going to pay in the electronics section, we totally got duped into opening a Target credit card by the Scottish sales representative on shift. Somehow I was thinking that she said we would save 25% on our purchase if we opened the card, which is a significant chunk of change on a such a large purchase. But the deal is 5% of course--if only she would have spoken a language I can understand (like Norwegian)!

But alas, I was confused and went for it. But whatever, 5% is still money saved. And the plan was just to pay it off immediately at customer service before we left the store, so at that point it didn't really matter. But do you think I was able to do that?

Now, remember this story is delivered to you Tarantino style--
My  Norwegian bank called, I didn't answer, and they left me a cryptic message that there had been some suspicious activity on my debit card and that I should call them back right away!

Ok, so Lars and I roll up to the customer service counter after purchasing out iPads to pay off the card. But they don't accept Norwegian cards. Oh no, of course not! Plus, you actually have to have the credit card to be able to pay it off. They are wondering what my credit card number is... How the hell would I know? I just opened it. Maybe the Scottish lady said that we couldn't pay it that day, who knows, she was speaking English after all, and I obviously couldn't understand a damn word of it.

The card never came before our vacation was over (of course), which was by no means the end of the world. All I needed was to get my parents to send over my credit card when it came in the mail (Target does not send to international addresses) so I could pay it online. After the mail monster that lives in my parents' office had regurgitated that envelope a couple months later, I was ready to get that debt (plus interest of course) paid off right away! But of course, the online system at good ol Target does not support international cards. No, no, of course not. So I couldn't pay then either.

I called Target and they had no solution. I was so irritated (and busy!) at this point that I naively decided to ignore it and pay it next time I was in the US. Target doesn't support international cards, I couldn't pay over the phone because I didn't get my account number until 7 months later and yeah, a big cluster fuck.

SO... (we're getting close to the end now) when I sneak-attack visited my family this March I physically visited Target, with my account information and desperately explained that I just wanted to pay this bill! It was no problem to pay with my Norwegian card the representative told me, and I said that was a relief that they finally got that figured out! But do you think it worked that time? No, of course not, it was rejected then as well. I believe that American machines read my Norwegian debit card as credit, and I get that--that you can't pay off credit with credit. But come on, it's not a credit card! (insert tantrum here)

Her best solution was to transfer money to my American account (thank god I still have one of those btw) and pay with my American card. I agreed that that would work just fine, but it takes a couple days to transfer money internationally and I would be on my way back to Norway by then. So I skipped that option and decided to take out about 800$ in cash, pay the bill in person and to put the mess behind me that same day. They conveniently have an ATM right next to the customer service desk (maybe I'm not the only one experiencing these frustrations?)...but of course it ate my card and froze. I had to wait a half an hour to get my card out and was pretty sick of the entire situation by then.

Yesterday I called my Norwegian bank back as soon as I saw I had a missed call, and she explained that there was some suspicious activity in the USA this year. I said that I had been in the US and that I was in fact American, and that I spent quite a bit of money while I was there. She insisted that it was something more than that but never really said concretely what it was, I could barely hear her, wasn't at home so couldn't check for myself, so I just trusted her and said she should cancel my card. It wasn't until later that evening when I got online and saw four withdrawals of 1.182kr (200$) from the same ATM machine in Silverdale, WA that I realized what was fishy.

Yeah, that was me, in a money-withdrawal frenzy in the middle of the Silverdale Mall. I withdrew the same sum four times in a row from the same machine to get enough cash to pay off that damn Target credit card. Apparently that's "suspicious activity". Isn't that totally normal? ;)

So yeah. I have probably canceled my card unnecessarily, but better safe than sorry right?

But wait a second, that was early in March...are they just notifying me of that now? Late in May?
I am guessing that all my money would have been long gone by now if my numbers had been swiped while I was in the US!

Maybe there wasn't a lot of blood and guts, or intrigue in the least, but it was still a twisted, complicated story. À la Tarantino.
The end.

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Oslo in my thoughts.

"Om én mann kan vise så mye hat, tenk hvor mye kjærlighet vi alle kan vise sammen."
If one man can show so much hate, think how much love we can show together♥
Stine Renate Håheim

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Sleepy legs

You must not feel sorry for me, this is honestly a hilarious story.

Today when I woke up I had one of those "ACK-I've-overslept!!" feelings and tried to hop right out of bed.
Little did I know I had no feeling in my left leg....it was totally dead asleep.
Slept in a funny position I guess.
And I ate it hard.
And then laughed. Also hard.

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Me no speak English good.

Last summer my family gave me a bit of a hard time--apparently I sounded more like a Norwegian than an American when speaking English. I remember even after I had only lived in Norway for 7-8 months and went home and worked for the summer as a waitress there were a few different customers that refused to believe I was born in the US.

One of my sisters commented that it always sounded like I was asking a question. This must be thanks to the sing-songy-ness of Scandinavian language. I totally blank on English words and format my sentences with Norwegian structures. Do you think this has gotten better after being here even longer? And especially now that I have added Norwegian sleep-talking to the mix?? Doubtful. And kinda embarrassing.

To make it even worse, when my boss Hai and Frank (Victoriahaven's manager's husband) were renovating the restaurant, there were understandably some delirious late nights. And the boys thought it was a kick to speak stereotypically bad norsk/engelsk or Norwish or Englwegian or whatever you want to call it. And everything at that time of night with those dudes was hilarious. So of course, I joined them. And am now terrified that I will never break the habit. ;)

Frank building the bar

Hai getting his paint on

Luckily we've got quite a few English speaking employees in the kitchen so I get to practice a little before we visit WA this summer (JULY 26th-AUG 15th!!!).

Me screwing together the outdoor furniture

Strange to feel like a tourist in your own country.
Ya sure ya betcha.

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Workaholic

You know you've been working a lot (too much?) when you start sleep talking about wrong orders and other frustrations--
in Norwegian!

Uff da. ;)

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Bad luck

A week or so ago, a customer ordered a mushroom burger and thought it was pretty good but commented that it was fairly strange that it was missing mushrooms.
Imagine that: a mushroom burger without mushrooms!

The same customer came in tonight with her family and ordered EXTRA mushrooms on her mushroom burger to cover her bases. And she got some extra mushrooms. Another family member however was also missing the mushrooms on her mushroom burger.

I have worked almost every hour since we opened June 3rd and these are the only two incidents of mushroom madness that I have witnessed. How is it possible that it happened to the same people?

And to put the cherry on the ridiculous, professionally embarrassing sundae, the little dish with mushrooms that we sent out to Poor Lady #2 had a hair in it.

Seriously?
Skikkelig uflaks!
This makes me say uff da!

Needless to say, these people did not pay for their burgers!
The worst part is that they were really nice about the whole thing--both times. Why couldn't they just have been total assholes?!

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Good thing I have 10!

As you all have read and\or inferred, I have honestly not done anything but work since we opened. Nothing.

But lot's happened since I've been there-time goes incredibly fast. It is insane how many guests we have served since Friday at 4pm.

I am exhausted but so invested in what I'm doing that I almost don't even feel it. Until I sit down of course (hehe). I also feel my patience is running thin; I have to try extra extra hard to be Nice Nancy\your friendly local waitress when normally that comes natural for me.

Even typing has become a challenge for me now! Not necessarily because I am so tired but because I managed to slice off nearly the entire tip of my left index finger yesterday. Good times! It bled like crazy and I actually got nauseous! I have never experienced that before--have no problems looking at blood at all--and have lost a ton more blood without getting dizzy at all (combined ca 20 stitches in my head due to basketball collisions!). So this was a new and unwelcome feeling.

So yeah. Just know that almost every time I've tried to type a 't' it's been a 'g' and every time I've gone for a 'g' it's been a 'b'. Gauze is in the way!
Ghag's all folks!

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Letting the monsters win.

I have copied and pasted because David Sirota took the words right off my tongue.

There is ample reason to feel relief that Osama bin Laden is no longer a threat to the world, and I say that not just because I was among the many congressional staffers told to flee the U.S. Capitol on 9/11. I say that because he was clearly an evil person who celebrated violence against all whom he deemed "enemies" -- and the world needs less of such zealotry, not more.

However, somber relief was not the dominant emotion presented to America when bin Laden’s death was announced. Instead, the Washington press corps -- helped by a wild-eyed throng outside the White House -- insisted that unbridled euphoria is the appropriate response. And in this we see bin Laden’s more enduring victory -- a victory that will unfortunately last far beyond his passing.

For decades, we have held in contempt those who actively celebrate death. When we’ve seen video footage of foreigners cheering terrorist attacks against America, we have ignored their insistence that they are celebrating merely because we have occupied their nations and killed their people. Instead, we have been rightly disgusted -- not only because they are lauding the death of our innocents, but because, more fundamentally, they are celebrating death itself. That latter part had been anathema to a nation built on the presumption that life is an "unalienable right."

But in the years since 9/11, we have begun vaguely mimicking those we say we despise, sometimes celebrating bloodshed against those we see as Bad Guys just as vigorously as our enemies celebrate bloodshed against innocent Americans they (wrongly) deem as Bad Guys. Indeed, an America that once carefully refrained from flaunting gruesome pictures of our victims for fear of engaging in ugly death euphoria now ogles pictures of Uday and Qusay’s corpses, rejoices over images of Saddam Hussein’s hanging and throws a party at news that bin Laden was shot in the head.

This is bin Laden’s lamentable victory: He has changed America’s psyche from one that saw violence as a regrettable-if-sometimes-necessary act into one that finds orgasmic euphoria in news of bloodshed. In other words, he’s helped drag us down into his sick nihilism by making us like too many other bellicose societies in history -- the ones that aggressively cheer on killing, as long as it is the Bad Guy that is being killed.

Again, this isn’t in any way to equate Americans who cheer on bin Laden’s death with, say, those who cheered after 9/11. Bin Laden was a mass murderer who had punishment coming to him, while the 9/11 victims were innocent civilians whose deaths are an unspeakable tragedy. Likewise, this isn’t to say that we should feel nothing at bin Laden’s neutralization, or that the announcement last night isn't cause for any positive feeling at all -- it most certainly is.

But it is to say that our reaction to the news last night should be the kind often exhibited by victims’ families at a perpetrator’s lethal injection -- a reaction typically marked by both muted relief but also by sadness over the fact that the perpetrators’ innocent victims are gone forever, the fact that the perpetrator's death cannot change the past, and the fact that our world continues to produce such monstrous perpetrators in the first place.

When we lose the sadness part -- when all we do is happily scream "USA! USA! USA!” at news of yet more killing in a now unending back-and-forth war -- it’s a sign we may be inadvertently letting the monsters win.

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Rough start.

Our season officially started on Sunday. We hopped on a huge bus, commuted about an hour and half down to Røa (Oslo area) and got our asses handed to us.

I was just poking around on their website to see how to better explain what kind of a team they are and I came across an interesting tidbit: Røa as a club has recently signed Abby Wambach! If you are like most of the world and women's soccer is not one of your first interests, you should know that Wambach is an American professional soccer player and Olympic gold medalist.

Wambach of course will play on their first team. Their second team is in our division. However, they started the game with nine players from the first team, that is to say players that will soon be teammates with Wambach. That can probably give you a good idea of how out of our league we were. Read more about the game in Norwegian here.

Basically our keeper spent the entire game doing this:

And what was maybe even worse was they they subbed them all out in the second half and put in almost an entire fresh team! It was exhausting. But all in all, under the circumstances I feel like we did okay.

Also, I might have broken the last bone in my big toe. Not quite sure, but it's swollen and nasty.

*All these pictures were sent to our coach from Røa's photographer. Hello? They have their own photographer?! Ha!

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US of Shame

Then again, maybe it's not so bad that I moved away... bestiality? Really WA?

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On hold.

I am on hold, waiting for a customer service representative with the Department of Motor Vehicles in Washington State. There's relatively decent music and I have a delicious peanut butter\chocolate\banana smoothie to keep me company so I'm not that grumpy about it.

I am, however, a bit grumpy about the bigger picture. I am in the process of exchanging in my American driver's license for a Norwegian one. Up front I have to say that this is waaay overdue and totally my fault in that sense; the rule is as such: when moving to Norway if you are from a long list of countries including the U.S., you need to take a driving test and turn in your old license within one year of your official existence in the country. Or at least that was the rule...I am pretty sure that as of July 1st this time period has now been crunched down to three months, so keep that in mind if you are reading this blog for practical purposes.

My year is up as of March 1st (please don't ask me what I have been doing all year, I promise I have done...stuff). So that means I have a little over a month to get it together. Which I thought was do-able, but after getting the run-around at the Norwegian DMV, I'm not so sure.

So I walked to the DMV (mind you, it's cold, it was relatively early in the morning and kinda far away), waited my turn in line and spoke with a woman (who we will call Lady One) who supposedly told me everything I needed to know. I should have known that Lady One didn't really have a clue when I had to remind Lady One of some of the rules and suggest what the answers to my own questions might be. However, I am slightly naive and just believed Lady One. And made the trip again a day later with the paperwork she told me was necessary.

Then I waited my turn again. And I waited a fairly long time. And I had to get to work. And the place is a long ways away. And it was cold. And I started sweating. And they had three windows open, with three employees and only one was accepting customers! Finally, it was my turn and I approached the desk, ready to get this over with. But I found out I didn't have the papers I needed. OF COURSE! I need to trust my gut more often, obviously! But Lady Two was helpful and we navigated the rules together and found out what I really needed. There's a book btw, and a huge ass folder that explain everything. I understand that it's probably a pain in the ass to leaf through all that junk, but HELLO, it's your job Lady One, be better at it. I should definitely not know more than you when you are the one sitting behind the counter!

Btw, I'm still on hold and my smoothie's gone. I would much rather be playing Xbox Kinect with Lars (his birthday present from moi).

Lady Two was good, but not perfect. She let me use the customer phone and gave me a number to call to get this proof of residence form they must have. Her plan was to have them fax it on over so we could get this show on the road! I like the way Lady Two was thinking, but too bad she gave me the wrong number. I got redirected three times before someone realized I had called the entirely wrong place. So then I got a new number, and talked to someone else who could actually help me with what I needed. Yay. However, she almost laughed when I mentioned faxing it over. That is NOT allowed. They can only send it in the mail. DUH I should've known.

But at least it's in the mail, right? Strange that I haven't gotten it before today really, since this was on Friday. So I went back to the desk, gave Lady Two the appropriate number in case she came across any more Americans. But it didn't stop there--while I was on the phone she found out that I needed something else too. Typical American licenses are just that--typical. At least in WA State there is no description of what types of cars you can drive--it's just assumed that you can drive normal-ish cars. If you are going to do something more intense then you get a commerical license and so on. Well that's not that way it works in Norway; in Norway every license has information on the back detailing what you are approved to drive:

I found this picture and this person online. I did not take it nor do I know him.

It's actually a pretty smart system; WA could look into something similar if you ask me. But regardless I have to somehow get some proof of what I can drive from the DMV in WA. They are not going to have any clue what the hell I am talking about. It's going to be fun. Once I get that from the States and the proof of residence in the mail then I can head back down to another one of my favorite buildings in Hamar, register my application and THEN I can schedule a driving test. I also have to rent a certified driving school car from a traffic school, which can apparently also take weeks. And it's not cheap either. And I have to find an automatic. Uff da, I say, uff da!

And not completely off topic, but definitely random--I just noticed that I actually weigh how much it says on my license! Ha!

Oh yeah! I forgot to mention that it's also not allowed to have two licenses. So I have to turn in my American one...for good. Lady One (if we can believe anything she says) also mentioned they have to send it back to the US. Super weird.

Anyway, here's hoping I can somehow manage to get all my chickens in a row before March 1st. Otherwise I have to take a first aid class, night driving, ice\snow driving and the theoretical test in addition to the driving test.

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Harder than it looks.

I'm just gonna say it: I'm fairly athletic. I played softball, basketball and soccer growing up, skied a bit and ran around like a chicken with my head cut off in our backyard trying to keep up with my older brother--throwing around a football, pretending I was an Olympic gymnast, kayaking, swimming, climbing trees--you name it. I played softball and softball in college and don't really know what life would be like without some sort of athletic outlet. I'm not trying to toot my own horn here, I am only trying to give you some perspective on my most recent athletic endeavor: tennis.

I kinda suck!
Lars and I reserved a court at one of the centers around town one night last week and played for about an hour. Or should I say, chased balls for about an hour. I have played a little tennis before but have never really gotten the hang of it; I think my baseball instincts always take over (too bad there's no homeruns in tennis!)!

But I must say, towards the end of the hour I did manage to hit the ball over the net and within the proper lines. And even though I wasn't a super star, I did have a good time.

So, just so you know: tennis is way harder that it looks!

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Some practical information.

I have been contacted numerous times by other Americans that are in similar situations to where I was when I first came to Norway and started navigating the labyrinth of immigration bureaucracy. I am more than happy to help in any way I can because I so desperately needed advice and support myself and just didn't know where to find it. I remember so well how many dead ends and frustrated hours I spent trying to find a solution for me and Lars and a life for us here.

Not only has this been a time consuming and exhausting process, it has also been expensive. The first application I submitted cost me a little under 2.000,- kroner, the one that ended up going through cost a bit over 3.000,- kr; I have taken numerous trips to Oslo (train travel is not cheap, let me tell you) to the American Embassy and been charged all kinds of different fees. And today I had to shell out some more cash.

The permit that I was issued last March is only good for a year. So that means I have to renew it. And in turn, that means I have to take a trip to visit one of my favorite buildings in Hamar (drum roll please): the police station.


I sat and waited patiently, like the nice foreigner I am, and made sure all my paperwork was in order. When my turn came I approached the desk, explained my case and was reassured that I had done everything correctly.

All that was left was to pay up... a fee of 1.100,- kr! As of right now that's $186.41! Ugh, killer. I don't understand why it is that expensive just to renew a permit. I do understand that it costs money for the government to employ people to sit there and sift through application after application and make decisions on people's lives, I get that, I really do. But my application is as cut and dry as it gets--they have already issued me the permit! All they have to do is just print out a new sticker and slap it in my passport! Why the heck does that cost so much?

But whatevs. What's one to do really? It's a necessary evil. And to be honest, I would much rather be in my shoes paying a chunk of change every year than where I was in 2008 trying to find a loophole in the system. That's a tough spot to be in. This, believe it or not, is much better.

PLUS, my day could not be ruined. I was so pleased with myself for making the correct decision to wear long underwear, a hat, a scarf and my awesome Norwegian mittens (it was cold today!) that nothing was going to stop me. I have at an age of 24 finally learned how to dress myself properly!

Good luck to all of you trying to work the system, both here in Norway and elsewhere!

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Adjusting.

Jet lag SUCKS. Ugh.

Lars and I made it home around 6pm Wednesday evening, tired of course, but feeling pretty darn good when you consider we had been traveling for 27 hours. I thought I was going to conquer jet lag completely and not really have much of a problem at all...boy was I wrong.

We went to bed around 10.30 and Lars got up to go to work at his normal time. I, however, got up only when my boss called me, 16 hours later at 3.30 (I hadn't missed work or anything, she was just calling to let me know when to come in the next day). Oops.

Then I went to practice, came home and then stayed up all night. Awesome. I went to work at 3 and didn't sleep until around 2.30am. That was painful. What was even more painful was Lars waking me up the next morning (even though it was a reasonable hour). My eyes seriously would not open and I was super deep in REM sleep. Ouch.

I tried the work thing again Saturday night and crashed afterwards. Painfully crawled out of bed Sunday morning, slept on the bus on our way to our away game, played 90 minutes of soccer (we won), slept on the bus on the way home, and slept some more. Until 1pm today. UGH. What is wrong with me? Breaking this cycle is hard.

Was it worth it to see Mt. Rainer from the plane?

Maybe. Just maybe.

I suppose I have to force myself to sleep.
God natt!

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Arrested.

It's never exciting to come home to police cars parked outside your apartment. I was of course a bit used to cop cars while living in Parkland, WA while I was a college student (which we see seriously every time COPS is on tv) but in Norway (or at least Hamar) police cars are just so much less visible. It is not so often that you see them at all really; Norwegians have set up photo boxes here and there to catch you if you are speeding and really it is a relatively safe place.

But Thursday after practice I came home to two police cars parked along the street right under our apartment. As I got out of the car I saw the police officers escorting a big group of men into their cop vans. There was a bit of a scramble and I overheard that they missed one man in a yellow shirt. One of the police officers took off to look for him.

I heard that the suspects were speaking Arabic so I speculated that maybe they had been living here illegally. Not that I know anything about what that might potentially be like...But a few or maybe all of them had to be Norwegians as well based on the Norwegian I also heard spoken. So I had no idea what they might have been in trouble for...all I knew was that it stunk like booze and smoke and that as much as just walking by quickly and getting home was the best idea, I really was curious to know what was going on in our "'hood".

Luckily for me, the superintendant was standing outside the entrance and had some information for my curious ears. Apparently this was the second time there had been some trouble with these guys and now they were getting kicked out. He informed me that they were suspected for being halliker, which is of course the Norwegian word for pimps. So basically there was a mini brothel across the apartment building. In the same apartment complex. Awesome.

I don't know if this is strange, but I don't feel the least bit less safe living here. I don't feel threatened by a group of pimps, strangely enough.

I am on the other hand, super irritated. I mean seriously--there was such a business going on right under my nose and I had no idea? Seriously, that information could have really come in some months ago handy before I got my work permit. After all, selling is not illegal in Norway. Only buying is, and a girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do.

Uff da.
Also, not my pictures. I borrowed them from Google.

P.S. Am I going to hell for making jokes about prostitution?

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Misunderestimations.

It's June!?

And before I say anything else, I just typed "misunderestimate" in a message to a friend. Isn't that a "word" that Bush made famous? HELP! Friends, family--please call me, type to me, send me emails, letters, whatever! Force me to engage my mother tongue! My Norwegian must be getting stronger by the day, but apparently my English skills are sadly diminishing. Seriously--a Bushism in my everyday thought process? I am happy that I caught it, but still: what a disgrace.

I finally got access to my bank account! I am officially set up with online access to my very own, official Norwegian bank account! Yipee! So today I logged in to check out how much money I got for my first norsk paycheck ever only to see that my balance was 0,00 kr. Apparently my boss didn't go out of his way to pay me (I didn't have my tax card and account number in order until after my first payday). I hadn't really expected him to in the first place but got my hopes up after a conversation we had. Must have misunderstood him. Such is the life of an immigrant navigating the work world in a foreign language. It's not the first time there's been such an occurence either--today he said that he was nauseous and I thought he said he was warm. He definitely looked at me funny when I said "me too".

To be honest the zeros in my account don't matter that much right this moment; it would of course have been fabulous to see the kroner of my hard work in my digital piggybank but I don't even have my debit card yet (coming soon in the mail near me). I feel like June 10th is going to be a pretty lucrative day in my future...

We lost our first soccer game of the season. We played against a ghetto\tough\dirty team from the other side of the lake (think Willamette or Pacific if you know me from PLU or South or CK if you're a high school bud) . We definitely played like crap, I definitely played like crap; all of our star players played like crap; I may have lost the starting position I finally earned back; it was hot, sweaty AND we had a ridiculous crappy ref. It was just one of those days. The tides were against us, I guess. Or more honestly: we basically lost it for ourselves before the game even started and never mustered up the guts to get back on top.

We will beat them next time. For sure. And we are pumped to make up for that crappy game and get out some agression Friday night against Lillehammer. It should be fun. :) If I am benched, I am hoping to take some rad pictures.

The weather has really turned up. Looks like summer finally arrived. I have been enjoying it as much as I can through large windows, shorts walks to and from work and while wiping sweat off my face and gasping for breath at soccer practice.

Hopefully some day soon I will be able to really enjoy it with a day off, some ice cream, a bike ride--maybe even a dip in the lake!

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Daily grind

Even though I work at a pretty cool place, the daily grind definitely still catches up with me. Today actually went pretty well but the last few days I have been tired and groggy. Probably residual from the marathon I worked on Monday. Who knows.

But what I know for sure is that I was more grateful than ever that I have soccer to get out some of my aggressions. Today was a muggy day, I moved a lot of tables around at work preparing for a big dinner tonight and I was sweaty, hot and bothered. I came home, ate a nice dinner with Lars and then got to play soccer in the rain. It was refreshing. It was delightful. It was exactly what the doctor ordered.

I don't mean to complain either. I really did find a job that works well for me. Restaurant Valuta where I have been working for the most part is in a rad old building that used to be a national bank. The building is called Kunstbanken (Kunst=art, bank=bank)and you can read some more info about it here in English.

This is the main entrance to the restaurant. Below is the official entrance to Kunstbanken, which is up the street to the left there. I borrowed these two shots, btw.

The old bank has been converted into an art center\museum and of course restaurant. Art exhibitions from Norway and abroad are on display year round. There is always something going on around the place even if all of my tables are empty!

And there is art sprinkled around everywhere--on the windowsills, on the walls--seriously, everywhere!

Unfortunately we don't have the best outdoor seating so if the weather is nice we are typically slow. This is our outdoor seating arrangement:

I have yet to serve a single guest out here which is really fine with me. The building is complicated and definitely not easy to explain via blog, but let's just suffice it to say that I have to walk way around a corner, down a long hall and up some stairs before reaching the outdoor tables. It's a bit of a labriynth. really looking forward to that space being full to be honest.

I am a lot more used to serving people in the main areas of the restaurant. Like here:


And here:

And here:

I think there's room for about 50 guests, which is more than enough, since I am almost always the only waitress on shift. There are usually two cooks. Here is the kitchen manager, Wolfgang:

He's from Austria. We get along great--similar senses of humor and the same work ethic goes a long way. I just wish he didn't smoke so much. Sick, man.

We do a lot of our conversing through this "window":

Wolfgang's also realllly good at making desserts...so we're basically BFF's. We sell his homemade candies and chocolates for 10,- kr each.

The more I think about it, I really am happy with my job so far. I need to try to be a bit more positive at work. I feel like I've been so easily irritated lately. Yes of course it's no fun mopping the floor and doing all the undesireable chores, and yes of course it's irritating when communication goes bad or when I have to work holidays and weekends or even when the weather is nice and I'm stuck inside. But that's the way it is.

And I sure am thankful to have a job.

Hungry? Did I mention the food is BOMB?

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Pooped after 17. mai.

Yesterday was 17. mai, or Norway's Constitution Day. It's a big deal here. I mean, huge. Somewhere along the line however, I'm pretty sure I blinked and missed it.

The day began just as it did last year, and just how I expect it to go for many years to come: marching band wake-up call around 7:15am. Wonderful. Luckily we both managed to fall back asleep until around 9. Then Lars prepared a big 17. mai worthy breakfast spread and we enjoyed a precious half hour together before we hopped into our respective uniforms for the day. Lars got to wear his beautiful Norwegian bunad while I was stuck with black pants, a black Polo and a black apron. Lars got to walk around and relax and eat hot dogs and ice cream while I had to run around, deal with stress and serve people food. Lars got to drink beer and hang out with our friends while I had to serve people beer and bite my tongue to not make enemies. Bum deal, right?

But he is Norwegian after all, and I am well...not. Plus since it is such a special day in Norwegian culture, I got paid double. So I worked. And worked. And worked some more...all day until midnight. I am still groggy.

And thus my second 17. mai was worked away. My feet hurt, I have no fun pictures to share and I didn't get any ice cream. *Whine*. I also didn't have an excuse to wear my 17. mai dress that I got so many compliments on the first go around.

If things would have been different, I would have got to walk around town with my handsome Lars in his rad bunad. It would have been a lot like this:

Last year it was magical. This year, at least for me, it kinda sucked.

And I do mean that in the least negative way possible. And I am of course absolutely ecstatic and grateful (now that it is all over) that I made so much money. That's a good thing. Also, I turned in my tax card to my boss today so it is probable that I will actually be getting a m.f. paycheck sometime in the near future. This will be good.

Hip. Hip. Hurra.

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6-0, not bad

Here is Brumunddal 3rd division women's team that won the league opener 6-0 yesterday. Not bad right?

I think we played pretty well, but definitely not our best. We were a bit lucky that our opponent wasn't that impressive.

However, for it being the first real game of the season, I think we were all pretty pleased with the result, regardless of the means. It was in many ways a great game to build on.

Strangely, and irritatingly enough, I have started every single game up to this point. I am a bit bewildered as to why I only played the last ten minutes of this particular game (when it actually counts!) but I guess that's just the way the cookie crumbles. Back to the drawing board, right?

But since I have been named co-captain and am mature and put the team first and all that jazz, of course I am beyond satisfied that we won regardless of whether I got to play or not. Right? RIGHT?!

Yay.

But seriously, being undefeated just plain 'ol feels good.

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Just kidding!

Turns out I WON'T be working at the place I previously described. I traded in my pizza discount for more\better hours and better pay. Who can blame me? It won't really be much of a change either, more like an upgrade: I will still be serving food, just the food will be a little fancier. I will still have a ridiculously cool, laid-back legit boss, but instead of working for him in the evenings I will be working lunches (to start). And I will still use less than a minute to get to work, I'll just be walking a different direction. It is essentially an upgrade on all possible levels!

BUT my new boss didn't want me two-timing him understandably. So I had to give up my other job offer. Just when you thought I didn't have anything to complain about, right? Ugh, it was PAINFUL to look into my ex-boss of four days' eyes and say that I had got a better offer and would not be starting for him after Easter. I had just hit it off so well with him--he seemed like such a nice guy and I really did want to work for him. And to make it even worse, he was really nice and understanding about the situation! Uff! But that's just the way the cookie crumbles I suppose. If someone would have told me some weeks ago that I would be turning down a job offer before Easter I would have never believed them!

By the way, I am writing from Tynset where we are already enjoying Easter à la norvégien. Today it was a bit over 10km on skis, some down time and lots of good food. Easter in Norway is essentially that, four or five times over. Also, I sure am grateful that I have a job to come home to early next week...that leaves nothing in my way to stop me from really enjoying the next few days. Hope the sun comes out so we can enjoy Påske like we did last year!

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