Sunday on Mjøsa

The sky has been full of clouds lately. Clouds that have been constantly dumping snow down on us. Constantly. Don't get me wrong, I love the snow (it really is gorgeous here) and am really enjoying the winter. But it can get pretty gray after awhile with all those clouds hovering over your head. Today, however, was a huge exception. The sun was brilliant! So out we went!

And so did everyone else! We saw people all over the place--skiing, walking, running, sledding, ice skating, ice fishing and more! And all right on top of Mjøsa, the biggest (and now mostly frozen) lake in Norway!

(Ice fishing!)(Lars took this picture!)

I love to see so many people out being active and enjoying each others' company. I really dig this about the Norwegian lifestyle. Makes me warm and fuzzy inside, even though I sometimes am not so warm on the outside. Like today for example--it was really pretty, but also pretty dang cold. When the better part of my hair that was peeking out of my hat was in danger of breaking in half and I couldn't feel my legs anymore we headed back home. And then made some nummy soup.

Also of note--Lars and I really wanted a dog today. It just would have been the cherry on top of the already kick ass winter sundae. We actually considered stealing one. Problem was we didn't see any that we believed made the moral transgression worth it. How come so many people like tiny little yappy dogs?

Maybe we'll find a better candidate next Sunday. ;)

*Some time ago, I came across a blog from another American woman who has also made the move to Norway. A couple times she has posted some of her Sunday adventures in line with a proposal from another blogger (from San Francisco I believe) called "Sundays In My City".

Today I joined the club!

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Yankees

Not a single Norwegian I have met since coming to Norway knows much about baseball. This is not to say that there aren't Norwegians that understand the game or that they as a culture are ignorant for not doing so; I am simply stating that from my experience thus far, the game of baseball is in no way appreciated or even acknowledged in Norway the way it is in many other parts of the world, including little 'ol Washington State where I grew up. They instead dedicate their sport efforts to soccer, skiing in many different forms and handball, the latter of the which I must admit I had extremely little knowledge of before moving here.

Baseball, on the other hand, is in my blood. I have played since I was very young, drooled over 13 year old hotties on my brother's teams and watched countless games on TV with my Dad. Baseball was just all around me, and I dug it. I even continued to play four seasons of collegiate softball at PLU. It seemed like every year I learned something new about the game; it is just one of those sports that has some many subtleties and layers that you can go your whole life learning and relearning how to play the game.

This could be a darn good reason as to why Norwegians shy away from the game, or why it has never taken on here. It is flat out a hard sport to learn from scratch if you haven't been raised on it (props to Lars by the way, who commands the basics of the game, can really slug the ball and is a better Mariner's fan than I am). Plus, Norway doesn't offer the ideal climate for a sport such as baseball either.

The point that I will finally make here is that despite the lack of baseball fever among Norwegians, I see a good chunk of people donning Yankees beanies and hats. Ouch. The Yankees, of all teams? Why?! The best part? I knew a handful of these people and I asked them if they knew what that symbol on their hat meant. No one knew. Aha, ok, so they are at least partially forgiven.

But then I felt of course obligated to explain the Yankee stigma (whether it is fair or not and whether I completely agree with it or not!!). I felt it was my moral responsibility to detail all the reasons why people hate them. Like Derek Jeter in general for one, or the long list of their players rumored or proven to have been taking steroids, the rule that all players have to have short hair (what is this, the army?), their excessive payroll, and let's not forget the general belief that in many different ways the Yanks are ruining baseball. Add to that the fact that everyone likes to root for the underdog and that the 1.5 billion dollar Yankee stadium is rumored to have the worst burgers in American baseball, and well, I guess it's easy to understand why everyone hates the Yankees.

Beware Norwegians, that's more than just a beanie you are wearing--that truly is a fashion statement!

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People saw me naked.

I vividly remember when I was about 11 years old that a group of naked Asian women changed me forever.

It was summer time, school was out and we were on a family vacation at Sol Duc Hot Springs in the Olympic National Park in Washington. My cousin Gitta and I spent most of our days swimming in the pool looking fashionable with our matching goggles and nose plugs while attempting to realize our dream of being scouted for the U.S. Olympic women's synchronized swimming team. It was all fun and games until it was time to hit the showers. That's when the group of older Asian women were butt ass naked in the communal shower crouched down scrubbing each other's backs--and that's when I was scarred for life.

Ever since (and most likely before as well) I have been a bit nervous with the locker room culture. My private parts have remained private. As long as underwear was involved I was feeling okay. Girls at my high school rarely showered together and I can count the times I knowingly exposed my own breasts or vagina on one hand.

I don't think it is or was just me that is made a bit uncomfortable in these situations, and I don't think I can lay all the blame on the naked Asian teamwork that struck me as so odd as a pre-teen. I have noticed a trend in American culture that especially girls and women are very shy when it comes to changing and showering in front of each other. Honestly, no girls that I was friends with growing up showered in the locker room, unless it was behind a curtain. However, I remember hearing countless stories of how boys stole each other's towels, whipped each other with said towels and or made ridiculous scrotum shapes at each other and then called each other gay afterwards.

Why is this that men flash themselves and we hide? What a strange fear, phobia, or whatever you can call it. It doesn't quite seem to make sense; all us women have the same parts and I don't believe that we are so ashamed of our bodies that we fear exposing them. I know that is not the case with me, not at all. So why the cover-up? Why the awkward putting on your underwear under the towel routine? Why can't we make vagina shapes at each other and get a good laugh out of it and then call each other lesbians afterwards (heavy sarcasm)?!

My experiences with the Vagina Monologues in college give me some insight into this issue; I think in general women are indeed very shy about their vaginas. I would also like to point out that I have made some generalizations here about men and women and I am the last person to insist that men are alike because they are men and women are alike because they are women. Some girls let it all hang out and some guys change in the stall.

But the point is I am challenging myself to get over this. I showered in my complete birthday suit last night after a kick ass soccer training at the gym in Brumunddal.

People (even people that I knew!) saw me naked and I only minded a little bit.

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Grandma's Cheese Pie

As per requested, I will indulge my Grandma's Cheese Pie recipe. However, be careful with its powers. It is technically one of those secret family recipes that should only be handed down from generation to generation, and should be treated with the due respect it deserves.

By the way, my grandma's name is Patricia...so it you feel like jacking the recipe but aren't quite comfortable saying it's Grandma's Cheese Pie, then go for Patrica's Cheese Pie or something similar. :)

Grandma Pat's Cheese Pie

CRUST:

10 rectangular graham crackers, crushed.
3/4 cube butter, melted.

Mix together and line a 10" pie tin.

FILLING:

1lb soft cream cheese (go ahead, splurge on Philadelphia, you won't regret it).
2 eggs, beaten.
3/4 sugar.
1/2 tsp. vanilla.

Beat together with a mixer until smooth. Pour into crust.
Bake 15 minutes at 350° F.

TOPPING:

1 small container (8 ounces) sour cream.
2 tbsp. sugar.
1/2 tsp. vanilla.

Mix gently, pour and spread over warm pie.
Return to oven at 375° F for 5 more minutes.

When cool refrigerate for 8-12 hours.
Devour.

This pie here has a bit too thick of a crust, or not enough topping--however you want to look at it. The proportion is off a bit because I used a dish that was a bit too wide and only increased the amount of cookies for the crust ( I needed more butter in my crust too but that's what I get for not following Gma's recipe!).

The good news is that it is not so finicky. You can have a thicker or thinner crust based on your taste, or more or less sugar, butter, vanilla etc. I have not bombed on this pie yet! I have also always made the pie the night before I plan on serving it which helps. If you do end up screwing it up then you have time to come up with something else! I think that is generally a good rule. I also try to make sure there will be lots of other people invited to help me eat the pie. Also a good rule.

I haven't been able to find graham crackers in Norway. I suspect they don't exist. So when making the pie on this side of the Atlantic, I use some oat-y cookies called Bixit and I think that might make the pie EVEN BETTER (I never thought that would be possible).

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Park Inn

Earlier this month, I hopped the train to an interview at a new hotel in Oslo called Park Inn. I made it there, found the place on time, didn't freeze to death, managed to charm the interviewer and found out she wanted to hire me (even before I showed up just based on my resume!). She said that she thought I was absolutely the best candidate for the job and someone they would really like to have on their team.

That's great...right? Don't get too excited--I wasn't either. No work permit = no work. Or at least not this kind of job (waiting on tables). The real kicker is that she wanted me to start when the hotel was having it's grand opening, just a week after the interview! First of all, I would bet all the few dollars that I have that this job offer would NOT result in a work permit, and secondly, even if it could, I know that it could never ever have been processed in a week. So the conclusion was--it was a dead end.

The worst thing is though is that I knew that before I went. I knew they would probably want to hire me and I knew that I wouldn't be able to take the job. But for some reason I went anyway. It seems strange to turn down an interview when you are desperate for work, even if you know it is just going to result in you wasting your time and money. Good practice, right? Well, I think I could have done without that experience and could absolutely have the 238,- kr (~$40) back in my wallet.

To tell the truth, I don't feel that sorry for myself. I am not sure the job would have worked out anyway. Of course I know I can wait tables like a champ and that I enjoy it a lot, but I am not sure if I want to commute an hour and a half (one way) to do so, especially when a hotel needs people crazy early and crazy late. Plus, the Norwegian train system hasn't been my best friend lately; every time I have traveled to Oslo as of late the trains have been delayed because of the weather. I even had to take a bus instead once!

Probably wasn't really meant to be. If I am going to have a job in Oslo it better be a job that lights my soul on fire! The interviewer did mention that she wants me to let her know as soon as I get something figured out. She said I always have a job there waiting for me if I am interested. I could foresee myself working there two mornings a week for example, and maybe staying the night with Stine or someone else that I know that lives in Oslo. At least it's an idea.

So I bundled back up and left the hotel happy that they liked me and frustrated with this immigration/work permit situation. Mixed feelings seems to be the story of my life these days.

Then I took pictures.

And it made me hopeful that something will work out. And soon.

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