I just returned from my Aunt Anabel's. She invited me to come over, rent chick flicks with her, enjoy her free long distance phone plan, and to eat cake and candy. It took her a while, but in the end she convinced my to drop by.

We watched "Head in the Clouds" and "Wicker Park". I enjoyed them both, the latter more than the former, but the true delight of the evening was the explosive conversation we had afterwards. When the second movie finished we piddled about for two minutes before diving into intriguing dialogue about politics, psychology (She is a therapist), religion, cultural differences, everything I could think of and all that was relevant and interesting.

So many insights were presented to me; The opportunity to pierce into this radically different world view was mine. I would write more, but we chatted until 4:30 in the morning, leaving me quite tired. Suffice it to say, it was fantastic and eye-opening, in a minor sense. The world lies before me like a blood red carpet, how glad I am to travel and get my first glimpse of the beauty that is the foreign.

Bow to the deity of all that is cute and on sale! Yesterday I returned from Narvik with spoils unimagined by even the most seasoned of shoppers. I know it sounds as if I'm overexaggerating, but I am, quite seriously, a very gifted shopper. I'm definitely one who would rather have many cheaper things than one expensive thing. But that's just because the many cheaper things are just as nice as the expensive thing, but on double clearance.

Narvik returned me to the small town of Bardufoss with four dresses, 3 shirts, two silk scarves, and a whole lot of lingerie. 2 of the dresses are sun dresses inspired by the huge, colorful prints of the 60s, the other two are attractive linen slip dresses. The sun dresses were $3.06 a piece (yes, I know), and the slip dresses were $9.30. I also bought a nice black oxford ($15), a black halter ($12), and a burnt-orange knit ($5.50). To match I purchased a polychromatic silk scarf ($10), and a black linen shawl ($6).

No, I did not go shopping at big lots, but rather spent hours upon hours in the very back of various Norwegian Boutiques, racking the clearance lines, buying only the best buys. I look adorable in all of what I purchased, and I can't wait to get back to the warm weather where I can actually wear my new clothing. (It's freezing over here!)

Today we are off to Narvik for some fabulous shopping. I shall recount the spoils upon my return.

I accompanied Mimmi to the town "mall" today, which is nothing more than a small two-story strip mall in the village center. Things are much more expensive over here, but sometimes I let reason get lost in the conversion factors, and toss my necessary frugality into a maze of carried ones and divided eights, knowing it won't soon return. American style is mixed with European trends here to create a sporty, bright flavor that the locals pull off effortlessly. The merchandise is nothing that is limited in America; I could get everything I shop for over here much cheaper there. I see clothing I dislike but know I could pull off, accessories I would sneer at back home, but instead I curiously watch them dangle appealingly from new racks with foreign tags. Everything seems cheaper until I actually do the math and realize I'm a fool to even venture into town.

Luckily, Norway's economy is one that I am more than happy to shovel money into.

Yesterday I made my first batch of bread with Mimmi. All the Norwegian women make their own bread, and it's delicious and extremely healthy. For some reason I feel extremely talented.

The rest of my day will be lax, and very similar to all my other days here. Today I might go up to the polarbadet to lap swim and buy a month membership. Wouldn't it be great if I returned from my trip abroad with great skin and a toned stomach?

 

This picture of Ricky and Dad was taken about a month ago during his stay in Cinci. 

So the mystery has been solved, and my bathroom dilemma is, laughingly informs my father, a very modern bidet. He was kind enough to tell me all about it, and he even provided a very useful website.

Now, I know you're not going to follow that link. It's about bidets, why would you? Because it's hillarious:

"It is truly amazing that although American plumbing manufacturers produce more Bidets than manufacturers in any other country, these same Bidets are exported away from the very people who believe that they lead the world in personal cleanliness and hygiene habits. It appears incredible that the modern American who spends so many billions of dollars on cosmetics, drugs, and various other personal care preparations annually, as compared to similar expenditures for physicians' services, should be so concerned about fastidious daintiness and well being for 98% of his body, when for the better part of each 24 hours he blissfully ignores his invisible but nevertheless soiled derriere."

(*) Song of the Bidet
I'm gonna wash that man right out of my hair...
...Apologies to the South Pacific!"

It is my theory that people are drawn to the energy you expend, regardless the impetus for your focus. Such as: if, or when you are sketching a leather chair in a large room, someone is bound to sit in it. I've quite the database to support my theoretical ponderings; many, many times I'll be sitting in a room of four leather chairs, one lazyboy, a loveseat and two sofas, and if a person is to walk in the room and decide to sit down, they persistently, without fail, sit in whatever it is I am trying to draw. This reinforces my line of thinking, as well as backs another of my flawlessly crafted theories: that I have really, really terrible karma.

I don't know why I'm too shy to say 'would you be so kind as to sit in another chair?'. I don't want to be rude, and somehow I just know the polite request would be lost in translation and my dear grandmother would rush off to the bathroom to get more towels because she'd hate for me to go without.

Do you see why my life is so difficult? I could carve a problem out of anything...

I just returned from the Polarbadet, the worlds northernmost aquatics center. The whole turkish-steam-bath-meets-nice-tile-and-a-water-slide thing works for me, it really does; I swam laps for a good hour before having lunch and playing with the two cousins I brought. I came home, ate half a watermelon, and now I am yours, dearest reader.

One of the things that perturbs me about this foreign world is the toilets. I kid you not: European toilets are cracked out. My grandparents have two bathrooms; one is a small half bath with a semi-regular toilet with a button on the top that you push down to flush and go about your business, and the other is a full bath with the weirdest aquatic contraption I've ever encountered. I've never used it, naturally; I'm not about to go pissing in something that could very well be a minimalist allotment of decor that's there to water the potted plants. It's resembles a toilet, I suppose, but it has a faucet on one end, is unbearably shallow, and is 1 1/2 times longer than it need be. The shape of the mysterious commodity tells me it must be the main lavatory attraction, it must be. There's nothing else it could be, but there's no toilet paper to be seen. Nowhere. It must be a designer fountain and the bathroom is, therefore, toiletless. Ergo my shower routine is somewhat a hassle, a frenzy of bustling from one bathroom to the other, a spell of impatience and simple but thorough confusion. One day I'll build up the nerve to approach my grandparents, take a deep breath, and ask 'why on earth would you pay money for that demented horizontal urinal?'.

Right now the fotbal game is on: Germany vs. Agrentina. I've really become involved in the game, and I'm becoming quite a fotbal junkie. I watched the Mexico-Brazil game the other day, and it was absolutely amazing. I'm going to go watch it, I'll write some more when I return.

Hello, Dearest readers! I suppose it is somewhat arrogant of me to assume that I still have readers left, considering my horrendously long absence and lack of recent, laudable material, but if my suspicion holds true then that means that no one is here to call my bluff. So I shall ramble happily on.

I have been in Norway for two weeks come this Thursday (23.6.05) and I am enjoying the experience thus far. One thing that I have encountered, however, is a copious, almost painful amount of free time, in which I haven`t the luxuries of modern America to remedy. It`s not as if I`ve fallen into an Amish village, don`t get me wrong;they have more english speaking television programming here than I do back home. Their small home is equipped with most niceties when it comes to technology (minus the most boredom-alleviating one, the holy intarweb), but I don`t have acquaintances and work to keep me busy.

I have thus taken up sketching and, though it`s taken me a while to pull out the lap top and start typing away, I think I`ll return to writing regularly. As I said, they haven`t hooked up their dial-up (shudder) quite yet, but when they do I`ll start to post regularly once again. My sketching is actually somewhat impressive. I can draw a really, really nice little sketch given, you know, 5 and a half hours.

I adore it here. Things are simple. Granted, that might just be because my grandparents are retired and they live in a very small town, but I enjoy the slow pace regardless. Most of the time. There are moments when I miss home, and I miss people. I miss people who speak English.

My grandparents are absolutely darling. I can`t believe that I`m related to such hospitable people, I find it somewhat shocking at times, really. They are kind enough to display patience while I stumble through Norwegian, and use their limited but incredibly clear English to help me out when necessary. Everybody here speaks English, but I haven`t had a conversation, a real, we-speak-the-same-language-fluently-and-well conversation with the exception of phone calls (pricey ones, might I add. I plan to limit my spending so that I can leave a couple hundred dollars with my grandparents for the phone bill.)

Things are going well, and it looks as if I'll be posting often, because I just heard we're getting broadband. I'm off for now, though. Take care, darlings.

Tomorrow at 4:15 PM I fly to Newark. At 8:25 I then fly to Oslo. 9:30 the next morning I fly to Bardufoss.

I stay in Norway for 7 weeks.

And, quite frankly, my dearest reader (that is assuming that I have any left, you poor neglected things) that can mean one of two things: 1) I let the isolation of Northern Norway get to me and write all about pine trees for 2 solid months, or 2) enjoy myself and post a couple of times.

I'm sorry I'm lazy. I'm still alive, though. Just lazy. Come now, I have yet to pack. Of course I haven't been writing. I leave the country in 14 hours and I haven't started packing. And I haven't registered for classes. And I still haven't bought a bathing suit for the summer yet.

Honestly, I'm surprised I haven't accidentally starved to death yet.