Adjustments

My first week here in Norway has been wonderful.   Ingrid and I are as happy as clams being reunited, and our domestic life is pretty much as we imagined it.   The calming rhythmn of everyday life starts to settle in.

The first few days were nice and rainy (which is the way I like it) but now it has turned pretty warmish and the Norwegians are out in droves sunbathing and carrying on outdoors.  As I have mentioned before the Norwegians (probably due to sun deprivation for the other half of the year) are a nation of sun worshippers.   As soon as the weather turns warm and sunny (like 80 F) the masses literally flood into the parks, lawns, and open spaces, lay down a blanket, and shed their clothes, as if solar radiation was life support.   I have never seen so much whitish-pinkish fleshtone laid out like a vast human carpet anywhere (not even at California beaches!).   

 I am just adjusting slowly to the Norwegian life, letting my California city-boy guard down responding appropriately to the new threat level, which is almost nil.  Little crime.  No earthquakes.  No unruly protesters (protesters here are nothing but orderly).  Very little littering.  Polite law abiding motorists.  Heck, I may stop carrying pepper spray around.

Norway is a country of amazing scenery.   Astounding world-class natural beauty, but in startling irony, sometimes it is suddenly and surprisingly interupted by jarring ugliness or the degradations of man.   Like on my recent cruise down the fjord to Brekstad....  lovely blue fjord, charming coniferous trees and noble glacier carved mountainsides punctuated with....  an oil refinery!      This noble and ancient town with a giant thousand year old cathedral spire which is inspiring also has a butt-ugly TV tower and a giant smokestack from the garbage-burning power plant that mark the cities distinctive horizon.  Or the idyllic, majestic snow-capped mountains and rolling hills with lovely centuries old farmers fields at the base laid out like multi-patterned picnic blankets and then a giant earthen scar at one end of the mountain where some kind of open pit mining operation is going on.   This open sore on the earth is visible from 25 kilometres away.  Obviously the Norwegians are not familiar with the concept of "scenic easement".

I am still completely amazed at those little differences, the way things are done here as opposed to the US way.   I encounter them everyday.  Like being able to cross diagonally as a pedestrian at intersections.   Or having your whole loaf of bread sliced and neatly stacked back into the bag at the grocery store.   Oh! I shall write more about this later, because going to the grocery store is a fascinating adventure in itself.   Just trying to figure out what is what in the jars and packages is great fun and it is clear that in Europe the culinary emphasis is on different areas than the US.   Cheese and dairy is very big here.  So is American "barbecue".  More on this later.

The kid's fad du jour seems to be trampolines here.   They are like the equivalent of swimming pools in California.   Private swimming pools BTW are non-existent here.    Every yard with kids seems to have a trampoline of some sort, with a safety net around the perimeter to keep the kids contained within (unlike in the US where the netless trampoline industry provides ample fodder for America's Funniest Home Videos).    I walk through very child safe neighbourhoods where kids are riding bikes at 10pm without adult supervision, and kids are bouncing up and down on their trampolines, burning off energy I suppose.   It's just curious to me what catches on (and how safe Norwegian society seems to be).

Safety vests, reflective safety suits, and reflectors are also big here.  All the young school kids seem to have their own reflective vests and helmets.   And the same way that trade workers wear Carhartt brown in the US, the workers here wear these elaborate one-piece "survival" suits with multiple pockets, harness clips, reflectors, knee pads, and universally coloured a safety lime-green.  It seems to be the standard uniform.  They are easy to spot, and somehow...  they seem to never be caught leaning on a shovel or standing around apparently doing nothing.    I might add, Norway is a booming economy, and there is massive construction everywhere!  roads, tunnels, airports, boat piers, houses, office buildings.   They are just heaping money into their infrastructure and economy, extravagantly.   I found myself laughing out loud when I saw that the teacher's union was on strike this morning and they were out en masse, of course, in nicely printed orange safety vests.

Among the overkill in infrastructure investment is the plethora of seemingly useless or under-used pedestrian underpasses and overpasses.   For example, a street, just a regular street not much different from any other street, somehow catches the attention of the city planners and Lo!!!   they dig a pedestrian tunnel under the street or this elaborate pedestrian bridge over the street, probably at great expense.    But here's the rub, I don't see people actually using these "safe" overcrossings or undercrossings.   With the exception of railroad tracks, they seem completely superfluous.   Why expend the extra time, calories, and risk encountering criminal thugs down in this seldom trafficked tunnel, when you can simply stroll directly across the street when the motor vehicles aren't coming?

I love the rampant use of public transportation here, buses, streetcars, trains, ferries, and the fact that so many people use the system that the conveyances seem to come every 10 minutes in a constant circuit so you rarely have to wait.  It seems that this is what is missing in the US, a certain "critical mass" if you will of usage so that the ridership makes the extra vehicles cost effective which in turn makes riding them convenient which in turn increases usage, and so on.

Hey!  here is a logical idea.   When bars and nightclubs close and people who have been drinking need to go home (at 1, 2, 3am) why not have buses available instead of virtually shutting down the transportation system.   Well, that is what they do here in the interests of public safety.   There is no excuse for drunk driving.    

Not to beat a dead horse.... but... my pet annoyance about the Santa Clara County light rail system is starkly contrasted here.   I've always said (the reason why ridership on the Light Rail has never reached expectations and it continues to hemorrhage money), any public transit system must go to places where people want to go.   DUH.    The transit lays out miles of expensive track to Milpitas and the suburbs of Almaden.... or sleepy Mountain View via the Bay slough... and they scratch their heads, why aren't people riding?  Did they ever think the airport might be a good destination? or how about the major sports venues?  how about the major shopping hubs?  how about connecting to other major transit systems?    but I am digressing into my rant again....  sigh.

The buses here are wonderful.  They are either low emissions or no emissions with huge ominous looking streamlined power plants on the roofs.   They are amply stocked with safety equipment, tv monitors, cctv surveillance, handicap ramps, signals for the blind, three exit doors, and lots of schedules and maps.   The buses accept multiple forms of payment (phone scan, cash, credit, bus passes) and get this...  they even make change!  bus drivers carry a leather satchel with them and deal with cash and coin just like an old time conductor.  The buses seem to be GPS linked and computer coordinated with each stop because lighted screens will tell you when the next bus is arriving down to the minute.  

I had this remarkable experience of riding this rickety old street car up a mountain and into this charming evergreen forest with lakes, vestigial snowdrifts, and charming rustic residences.   Like so many times before, I kept thinking that I was on some ride in Disneyland.    The little shelters at the stations were like mini-log cabins and the narrow gauge track wound its way up the slope to a charming little mountain lake with a nice restaurant with a spectacular view, then wound around  into a loop to head back down the hill.  All that it needed was a little diorama with animatronic dwarves to complete the picture.

Cars (our shortening of the word "carriage") are called "bil" here (shortening of automobile).    They are mostly of the small 5-door variety, like a Ford Focus or Toyota Prius.   Large cars, vans, or even pick up trucks are almost non-existent here in Norway.   They have odd looking mini-trucks that the tradesmen seem to use the way pick-ups and vans are used in the US.  To replace the utility functions of the pick-up truck, they have ingeniously taken up the use of flat trailers (much like wheeled pick up truck beds) so that every car can become a pick-up truck when you need it.   People do not in general drive around large pick up trucks unnecessarily for one's image, nor do they drive SUVs unless they actually use them for rugged terrain (like dirt or non-existent roads).   All the SUVs I have seen here are covered with mud up to the door handles and have ropes, winches, and jerry cans hanging off of them like they just came from UN Peacekeeping Patrol in Serbia.

Another not so innovative solution here seems to be the overhead rack box (what we call Thule boxes in the US).   Almost every car has a roof rack, and about half those have the ubiquitous storage box attached to the roof.   What exactly is in those boxes is not clear to me.   They seem to be too small to carry much except a couple of rucksacks or maybe a snowboard or two.   I have always associated Thule boxes (which come in a dozen different brandnames BTW) with those that wanted to carry sports equipment around.   There are so many of them that I just wonder if that many people could be schlepping that much sporting equipment around.

To get a Norwegian driving license here, one must jump through a dozen bureaucratic hoops and pay fees everytime.   They require that everyone go through a driving school and pass many tests, on a MANUAL transmission car.  I am not sure if it is in the interests of safety or to discourage people from driving .

Gasoline here is fabulously expensive.    Converting from litres to gallons and Kroner to dollars, I estimate that a gallon of gasoline (benzine) costs about $8-$9, so I shall not gripe about US gas prices anymore.   I should mention that the maximum speed limit in Norway is 90 kmh, which is about 60 mph.    So there is really no reason to speed or to have a high performance car which goes racing speeds, which is something that has baffled me about the US also (like, if the speed limit is 70 mph.... why make cars that go 140 mph?  just in case you need to pass someone really fast?).  Also interesting to note, many gasoline/diesel/electricity stations are completely self-serve and completely unstaffed.   I guess it is just like the US except there is no annoying foreigner behind bullet proof glass snoozing.

There are many interesting cars that I have not seen before.   Volvos and Toyotas seem to be very common here as well as the usual Mercedes, Hondas, and Nissans.   The European brands seem to be well represented here also, including VW, Renault, Peugot, Skoda, Opel, Audi, and BMW.   There are a couple of all-electric cars here, the Think which is made in Norway, and this other one, which looks like an absolutely ridiculous wedge of cheese with wheels.

I think it is refreshing and, yes, nostalgic, to see people out and about in their city, and children playing outside (confident that they are safe).     I am reminded of my childhood when I used to go out and play in my neighbourhood with my friends, and our only curfew was "come back at sunset".    

A New Beginning

Hello, gentle readers, and welcome to the premiere edition of my newest travel blog intended to document my adventures and adjustments into Norwegian society.    For those that are not up to date, I am an American of Japanese ancestory who has recently moved from the San Francisco bay area to Trondheim, Norway to marry my dearest life companion, Ingrid.    I guess I shall write more about this back story later for those that may be interested.

Today, in my inaugural post, I wanted to mostly write about my journey to Norway and my impressions here on my return (second viewing of Norway and the city Trondheim).

I had this sense of dread when I purchased my ticket on United Airlines last month.   United once known in the US as the"big" air carrier along with American has in recent fallen on hard times.  With the downturn in the economy and internal re-structuring, one heard these horror stories about the austerity measures imposed mostly on passengers.   Baggage fees.   No more blankets or pillows.   No meals, unless you pay for food.   No entertainment, unless you pay for it.   No magazines.  No seat reclining.  No toilet use, unless you pay for it.

I am relieved (in more ways than one) to report that most of these are not true.   You do get to recline your seat and listen to 8 channels of tinny, crappy music on the headsets.   I picked channel 4, "classical" and listened to 6 hours of classical warhorses and transcripted arrangements of the type that people who really did not like classical music would listen to just to fall asleep.  How many different ways can they play Pachelbel's Canon?

And BTW, we were permitted the use of the restroom free of charge still.  But, that largely did not matter to me because I spent the majority of the United Airlines flight absolutely parched and severely de-hydrated.   Mistake one (my fault) was that I neglected to refill my water bottles post-security.   Secondly, since my flight took off at 7:24am and I must be at the airport 2 hours early for international flights, I had started my day about noon the previous day.   So I was exhausted.   Consequently, I was just dead asleep once the plane took off and I missed the first beverage service entirely.   By the time I awoke, the cart was 20 rows down the plane with an impatient mob waiting to go use the restroom beyond the beverage cart, so I decided it was not worth the trouble to go down and beg for the drink that I was entitled to.   Instead, I mostly slept, faintly hearing Roy Rogers and the Sons of the Pioneers crooning "Cool, Clear Water" and dreaming of crossing the great salt flats of Utah.

My major source of dread was really about my first layover/transfer at Newark; New Jersey.    I know that just entering the greater NYC airspace meant a 30% chance of delays, which as expected occurred.   Due to weather in New Jersey, our flight was delayed an hour and a half to relieve the congestion.  What this meant for those of us whose final destination was not "Joisey" that we would likely miss our connecting flights to Europe or wherever, and be stuck in a hotel in the Garden State overnight.    Oy.  

Luckily, our gallant pilot seemed to have a good service sense, and ignoring the instructions not to stack went ahead and found a flight plan which got us to Newark only about 15 minutes late, making up over an hour of delay.    He even asked the passengers who were not trying to catch an immediate connection to remain seated so that those of us who did had an inkling of a chance to make our planes. 

It just so happened that this little old lady who was seated behind me was also traveling to Stockholm (the next leg of my journey).     So from the moment the captain turned off the seatbelt sign, we became compadres in this limping three-legged race, dragging our hand baggage across the United terminal onto a train to another terminal..... begging our way through the priority security line.....   and then a quarter mile final sprint to the waiting SAS flight.    At one point, the lady's baggage handle twisted and her rolly-bag fell.... and from a dramatic scene right out of a war movie, she says, "Go on!  Go on without me!  YOU can still make it!"  I am happy to say that we both made it with just a minute to spare.

Now, compared to the "steerage" like conditions aboard the United Airlines flight, Scandinavian Airways is the polar opposite.   Hot towels, ample beverages, fantastic FREE meals, snacks in between, blankets, pillows, just exemplary service too.   My first big surprise was as I searched for my seat and 200 angry Scandinavians were giving me the staredown for being so inconsiderate as to delay their flight was that.... 28a, 29a, 30a....    ack!!! there was no 31a!!   (swell.... i thought)   Instead there was a big restroom where the seat should have been.   Beyond the restroom was this rather large void where an emergency exit was, and on the tailward end of this void, was my seat!  a pair of seats really.   But it was like a throne with all the leg room that I could want and compared to the UAL flight that I had been on, it seemed like First Class.  Oh man, it was posh!    Great food, easy access to restrooms, luxuriant leg room.   I started by slamming down 4 cans of Coke.

Do you know how you get that sense when you are around people not of your kind?   It's not just the language, but the mannerisms, the eating habits, the clothing, and the haircuts.    For one thing, this group of people traveling to Sweden appeared to be from some kind of old time rock'n'roll reunion tour.   There was a dude that looked like Sammy Hagar, and another lady that looked like just like Bjorn Ulvaeus from ABBA if he was a woman.   A bunch of big rocker teXens with long hair that looked like roadies.   Looking at them another way, they sort of reminded me of a viking crew, sitting down at their benches to row their long ship.

I don't know if it had to do with the new equipment used by SAS, an Airbus 330, or perhaps technology had changed, but I don't recall flying at 39,000 feet before.   It seemed extremely high.   The exterior air temperature was an unimagineable -73F also.   I was immediately reminded of Chuck Yeager and his test flights in the early days of the space programme.   And thinking of Burt Rutan and his X Prize and what people will be paying Richard Branson for the privelege of reaching the edges of space, I felt like I was about halfway there already.  

I noticed on the little GPS map that my plane flew somewhere between Trondheim and Bergen en route to Stockholm.   It felt like I was backtracking to get to my final destination, which I was.  

Listening to all the conversations and in-flight announcements in Swedish during the flight, I think that I have grasped an important concept in Swedish communication.    One is to fill the lungs at the beginning of a sentence or paragraph... and even as you run out of air....  you sort of gasp or ....  sigh... out the last part of your sentence, no matter how important it  is.   "Please fasten your seatbelts, put all seats and tray tables to their fully upright positions, turn off all electronic devices, please gather any materials that you may have brought with you, and (instead of taking a deep breath).......   fill out the customs form completely or you will be detained and tortured (as one final soft sigh). "   I just noticed they did this over and over.

For those that love a good airport, count Stockholm's Arlanda as one of the best.   It is a beautiful Scandinavian design airport with the building as much a work of art as anything else in the cavernous building.   First of all, Arlanda is like a big shopping mall.... or... more aptly... like a big Ikea.     Nice little shoppes and cafes line this boulevard of warm wood and exposed grey metal beams.   The lines are clean.... cool...   bespeaking efficiency.    There is so much that they did right at this airport.   The security and passport controls are efficient and friendly.    The terminals are ingeniously double-decker so that large amounts of people can move, wait, or queue up without interfering or even seeing each other.   The terminal was impressively a kilometer long with this wonderful hardwood floor.   Even the air vents on the floor were made of wood (instead of a metal grate that one might expect elsewhere), and everything and anything that did not have to be solid was made of glass!   counters, rails, partitions, the purgatory-like "smoking" room.   The smoking area... hehe... was this little glass spheroid with an ash tray stand in the center of it.   It clearly shows what the Swedes thought of smoking.

As much as I enjoyed Arlanda Airport and the shopping there, I must say, I thought that the food offered in Sweden was.....  dreadful.   I tried my best to keep an open mind and went from restaurant to restaurant, but nothing seemed appealing to me.   Shrimp salad...  bagel with tomato and egg....   smoked salmon (which I like!) served with tomatoes, cucumbers, and melon slices... ???   I will look into this further and maybe I hit them on a bad day, but what they had did not seem to be food to me.   

Others seemed to be enjoying it though.   Like I noticed a table of Germans who were enjoying a round of beers at 8:30 in the morning.   There were some kids that were enjoying some pancakes.   I noticed that there was all this really cool modern Swedish furniture in the center that was weirdly shaped and low to the floor, surrounded by "normal" tables and chairs.    I semi-reclined in one of these Swedish chairs to enjoy my orange juice(s), but I was the only one sitting there.  Everyone else was seated in the regular chairs.

When I finally boarded my plane to Trondheim, I was rested and calm.   I felt like I was going back to something familliar.   All the way along I had encountered mishaps but it seemed to work itself out anyway.   Like for example, when I landed, my baggage did not come out of the baggage carousel.    It was apparently lost     But no sooner than I had gone to report it at "arrival service" my bag appeared on another flight (from Oslo) so no net harm done.    I stepped onto the final bus to town, and I was home.