Done with class

Today was my last day of Norwegian class. Not because school is done, or because I finished the course or took some exit test, but just because I decided I was done-zo.

Of course I have mixed feelings. I am stoked to not be paying for class anymore, especially since my income is minute to non-existent. Not having to be at school at 9 a.m. every morning is also a plus, in my opinion. But mostly, it feels good to know that I made a decision and that I have at least some kind of control over my current situation.

Like I have explained a few times before, all the students at my school are very different, from various educational backgrounds and with widely differing motivations for learning the language (or none whatsoever). This made it really hard to learn at the pace I was hoping for--some students are always trying to extend the breaks, distract the teacher and barely anyone wants to be there. Frustrating when you're paying, right?

At the same time I think I will be missing the camaraderie that I had with my classmates, namely Jean Claude and Ahmed. I will miss drinking tea, eating waffles and shooting the breeze with them in our breaks, and writing funny things about each other in Norwegian during class. But paying for social time is just about the dumbest thing I have ever heard, and in my current economical situation, just not allowed.

I am also a bit concerned that I will not be disciplined enough to study on my own, and that not having to get up at nine every morning will turn me into a bump on a log. However, since I have quit class, I am officially going to switch the 80-20 English to Norwegian ratio that Lars and I maintain now in the opposite direction. Maybe since I have written it down now it will come true. :D

Today I had a talk with my teacher Marte to let her know that I was officially done and to thank her for her work (she really is a fun teacher). She said that it was disappointing that I wasn't able to continue and that she had really enjoyed having me in class. She also mentioned that if I wanted to, it was no big deal to just show up once in awhile, even though I am not registered. I had explained to her a long time ago that I wouldn't be able to continue bc. of money but this was the first time she had ever said anything about 'just showing up anyway' (it was also the only time we were alone).

Too bad I didn't just quit two months ago and keep showing up! ;)

Read more...

The Long Way Home

What do you do when you have entire days at your exposal? Oh I can think of a lot of things...but when you are also broke, adventuring seems to be a bit more challenging.

Once in awhile, I am known to have a good idea. The most recent one was a LONG walk in the opposite direction than I usually go. So long that I got a blister and my camera battery died.

The first stop of my adventure was a tall, teetering tower with lots of interesting graffiti and not a bad view either.

(View from the tower)

I made the journey back down the rickety stairs, and continued out to explore the half-frozen, half-filled lake. Because the water levels are low, there is a huge mud bank extending out farther than half way across this part of Mjøsa. The plan was, of course, to make it all the way out to the end.

What I didn't account for was that the mud was no where near as hard as I thought. I had seen people sitting out here on chairs days previous when we drove past. But this day, my white sneakers were getting sucked into no man's land. So I ditched my shoes. As gross as you may or may not think that was, I will insist that mud feels cool between my toes.

I did make it out to the end, and met a lot of interesting things along my way. I think I counted thirteen abandoned golf balls and made some friends with a few different species of birds. I even got to dip my toes into the icy water! (It was COLD!).

Did I mention the whole time I had a rockin' view of Vikingskipet?

Finally, it was time to attempt to get the mud off my feet and slip them back into my white (now dingy gray) socks. Luckily the weather was so nice that my feet dried quickly on the walk back along the shore of the lake.

I took the long way home.

Read more...

Hooked on Hookah?

Lars and I visited Ahmed's apartment last weekend and had an awesome Arabic lunch with almost all of my best buds from school: Jean Claude, Laith, Ijhad, an older Iraqi whose name I seriously can never remember (I tend to refer to him as the guy that just had appendicitis) and of course Ahmed. We ate bariany, a typical Arabic food. It was a lot of rice, chicken, peas, boiled eggs, sauces and spices...pretty darn good--and SO much food. I didn't even come close to finishing my plate!

After lunch, Ahmed served some tea and coffee and some women's arms for dessert. Of course, he didn't actually serve real woman's arms! The pastry shown below is apparently called that in Arabic. No one really knew why, although we had a pretty good timing fabricating potential origins. Apparently women's arms are flaky, warm in the middle and sprinkled with pistachio crumbs on top!

We also smoked some hookah after lunch.

Ok STOP right now all of you who don't know what a hookah is and let me explain. It is by no means illegal and it has nothing to do with drugs (well it can have something to do with drugs, but it didn't this day, and it doesn't when it comes to these friends)! A hookah is an Indian water pipe (vannpipe på norsk) that is very common and cultural in the Middle East. It can be used for smoking marijuana (again, I repeat: we didn't do that), herbal fruits or tobacco. We smoked some lemon-mint business and it was actually nothing like what I expected smoking to be like...it was actually quite pleasant...but don't worry I am no where near being hooked on hookah and generally look down on smokers in general (mostly joking).

(Laith and Ijhad)

(Jean Claude)

Hookah smoking is very popular in Spain as well, and when I lived there in 2006 I was absolutely set against it. I had no desire to try; I didn't know what they hell it was, what was going into it or if I could trust the hookah bars that offer various fruits and tobaccos for relatively decent prices (I ate their delicious crêpes instead). So I never tried. Basically I was scared of it, and still was fairly skeptical this day as well. However, I was in trusted company and thought I might as well try.

After more research I decided I would never, ever do it again (ok maybe not never ever, but I am certainly not making a habit of smoking). Despite rumors, smoking hookah is not healthier than cigarettes and can arguably be worse (since you inhale a lot more smoke). Of course, if you are not smoking tobacco I suppose that is a whole 'nother ball game.

(Ahmed)

Well ladies and gents, one fear faced, one 'I've never' checked off the list. I survived. And why the heck not try anyway? Life is short.

Read more...

New Perspective

As usual, I have processed my feelings quickly.

I realized last night that no matter what happens with my work permit situation, I will have to stay in the U.S. between weddings anyway (I am in two wedding parties July 18th and Oct. 10th). Magically having a work permit at this stage in the game is not going to change the fact that I can in no way afford jet-setting across the world twice this summer\fall.

In this light, not being allowed to play soccer offers me a crutch--It allows me to not feel like I am ditching my teammates and abandoning my commitments. If I had been allowed to play, I presume that I would have started and played in all the games before I left for the wedding in July, and my teammates would have been accustomed to my style of play and having me there as right back. They would have begun to rely on me and need me more than they do now! Then I would have really left my team in a bit of a bind when I didn't show up for the second half of the season (games continue late into October)!

So maybe this is for the best. My team will be able to work someone new into the line-up now and will not suffer from my absence. I will not feel guilty for leaving them behind. That works out relatively nicely compared to the other whirlwind of confusion that is my battle between the U.S. and Norway. Now all I have to deal with is the twinge of sadness and nostalgia that absolutely accompanies leaving a team, a place, something (and someones) you love.

This conclusion and the fact that today is a beautiful, sunny day is giving me a needed emotional boost. So glad the realist inside of me is winning the battle against the drama queen inside me today!

Read more...

The hits just keep on coming...

So I think I have may have mentioned before that is was possible that I might not be able to officially play soccer for Brumunddal. Today my worst suspicions were confirmed, and NO I will not be allowed to play soccer just yet.

So here's the breakdown: to play soccer in Norway, everyone (including Norwegians) have to pay for a license, or lisens. This only costs a couple hundred kroner and it serves as some sort of insurance. Brumunddal Fotbal was even going to pay for it themselves, which I was pretty stoked on. That was of course, until I saw the form that accompanied the international player's request for said lisens; it required a copy of both my passport and my work or residence permit. Oh. Shit.

So that's it folks--I can't play in games (which just happened to start this weekend). Basically if I do and someone finds out that I didn't have a license my team would have to forfeit the games I played in...which at this stage in the season looked like it was going to be every game. I have been starting every game at right back.

I am really disappointed. Soccer was one thing I could always count on to release some stress. I didn't have to look good, remember my textbooks or really speak that much Norwegian if I didn't feel like it. I could just show up, tackle some people and kick the ball around. And even if I didn't perform well it still felt so good to compete, to sweat, to run. Of course I can still practice, and that will serve some purpose (to keep me in shape for one)...but I want to continue being part of a team! I want to compete! I want to wear a jersey proudly on my back and feel the game-day knot in my stomach during warm ups!

Let me repeat: I am really disappointed. Now the real world has officially crept into every aspect of my life. I just want it to go away and leave me this one little thing to enjoy! Okay I give--I can't work, I can't travel out of the country...I have no money, no job, no concrete plans for the future, I am far away from almost all of my loved ones and friends--but can't I at least be allowed to play soccer? Is that so much to ask?

Read more...