Friday, January 31, 2014

So this is winter...

Eighteen days.  Eighteen, straight days.

It's been eighteen, straight days of snow here in Oslo.

That's 1 followed by an 8 (I just want to make sure you understand, sorry for the overkill).

I no longer live in a city in Norway.  I live on a mound of snow where walking down the street has become a human version of Mouse Trap.  Yes, if a building has a red sign out in front that says "takrasfare" (Roof landslides), then it's your own fault if you get hit/hurt from said "roof landslides'.  No litigation, no recourse.  They did put the sign out.


So, now, the first, obvious question.

"Why are you surprised that it's snowing so much?"

I'm surprised because that's a lot of snow.  I didn't even think it snowed this much in Greenland (which, contrary to my belief isn't full of a bunch of broke, white people listening to John Mellencamp records, but with like Inuits… who knew?) or Antarctica, let alone a major city hundreds of miles from the arctic circle (I bring up "major city" because the concentration of all the things that make a city a city tend to make cities warmer and, in case you're scoring at home, Oslo is 600 km/327 miles south of the arctic circle.  The same latitude as Anchorage, Alaska).

The second, less-obvious question.

"So, uh, what's that like?"

It's what I'd imagine living in a snow globe (sans the shaking) or being stuck in "Frozen" must be like.  The snow is constantly falling but, judging by the picnic table in our back garden, doesn't seem to be accumulating as much as one would imagine.  On the sidewalks, which are constantly shovelled (the plow business in Oslo is like the sun tan lotion business in Miami), there is about 8 inches (20 centimetres) and the roads tend to just be a finely, compact layer of snow with worn to the surface tire marks.  In some spots, the drifts are over 6 feet deep (1.83 meters), but you're not going to be walking and just disappear from view (take relief, mothers).  Though, the ice (which, surprisingly isn't that bad) claims victims on the regular.


The thing that makes the snow the worst is the weekend.

You have to really, REALLY want to go outside because it's such an elaborate process.  "Do I have warm enough clothes on?", "Do I have the right shoes on that won't leave my feet wet and cold?", "Will I flip out if these pants are damaged by salt, barnevogn wheels, old man shoe spikes?"

Important questions of our time.

But, when you're sitting inside and the fireplace is roaring and you found that perfect Spotify playlist from the Browse feature, it's pretty beautiful.

Well, until you have to go outside again.

Then it just sucks.

ALT FOR NORGE


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Tuesday, January 21, 2014

Major Minority at Minor Majority

The Norwegian band, Minor Majority, had their first concert in two years on Saturday to commemorate the tenth anniversary of their breakthrough album Up for You and I.  


Naturally, I went.

For anyone who didn't click the link above, Minor Majority sounds like a less self-serious, Norwegian (with english lyrics) answer to The Decemberists with the fan base of a Dave Matthews Band.

So, yes, the show was packed and plenty of fun.

Full Disclosure.  They're my second, favorite Norwegian musical act only behind Kings of Convenience so I'm a little biased.

However, despite a cold, lead singer Pål Angelskår brought all the melancholy and longing to every song off the 2004 effort, including my second, favorite song by them (Ok, here's my favorite).  The others played their instruments with a type of passion and care that is present in well-studied bandmates who enjoy each other.  Some old dude even stumbled up on stage and played a helluva harmonica solo.

It was the kind of performance that reminds you why you fell in love with the band and would leave a new listener wondering why the 8,000 people around them were so turnt up.



Speaking of the 8,000 people, just as I've noted in the past and one would expect, I was like the only spot of color in the crowd.

(Btw, I'm not picking on Norway with the whole race thing… Nothing will ever compare to attending a 96.3% white campus during the height of The Chapelle Show.  I haven't gotten to a place where I can talk about that yet)

Anyway, yeah… It wasn't that awkward at first, because, it's dark and not everyone could see what I could see (or would notice until they stared at me long enough).  But, soon after we had gotten there, the house lights came on as the opening act was shuffling off-stage.

Then, the stares came.


We were in the general admission area which meant we were amongst about half of the capacity crowd packed tightly in a standing room only open space.  So, there was a decent cluster of people around us.  Again, nothing that happened bothered me (not even getting hit with two, empty wine juice boxes… I was actually more impressed that people were able to sneak that in.  Speaking of sneaking in, this group in front of us smuggled a bottle of champagne.  Impressive stuff), its just that I'm aware of it.

In a way, it was a microcosm of my whole life.  I've always been one of a few black people in every, non-family setting (except for my seasons playing and coaching basketball).  I'm use to it and it feels normal to me, which I'm sure is due to some, sub-conscious coping mechanism (If you think I'm exaggerating, imagine if, for every day of your life, the majority of people you interact with are of a different race or ethnic background).  In fact, I'm so cool with it, I live in a country where I'm like a vast minority (Black American Males in Norway: Approx. 10) and I've stopped ticking off the places where I'm the only black person (this blog post, notwithstanding).

I totally and whole heartedly enjoy my life, it's just that some times, I can become painfully, self-aware and it can be a disjointing view.

ALT FOR NORGE

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Tuesday, January 7, 2014

Holidays, Later Days, Always

A turkey carrying a turkey...

When you're an expat, there are three, different ways you can spend a holiday:

1) You go back to your home native country.  This is, in most cases, the preferable route.  You go back to the place where you grew up, eat familiar foods, see familiar people, and pretend like everything isn't awkward.

2) You make the best of it in your current new home country.  You can scour the internets for recipes and/or beg your mom to mail you possibly customs violating goodies.  If your new land also celebrates the holiday (Thanksgiving, Hanukkah, Kwanzaa… no) you can try to incorporate their traditions into your own (If your partner is from said country, "can try to" is replaced with "will"… Compromise is the spice of life!)

3) You can pretend like it's just another day even though it's not and nothing is open.  You can't even order Chinese food here on certain days.

Anyway, I tried doing #3 during the time I was in Belgium, it's not much fun (I remember subsisting on  cheese, bread, and jam on Good Friday… Ok.  There wasn't much cheese.  Or bread).  Since that experience, I've decided to only do #1 or #2.

As funds are tight and both Thanksgiving and the Christmas were over these past, two months, I did both.

THANKSGIVING

I'm not sure what's the best part of the trans-atlantic flight.  The moment the plane lifts off and the journey itself actually hits you or the moment you take your sip from the first, complimentary alcoholic beverage.  Thanks to SAS' draconian law of banning free booze on international flights (Btw, here's a list of airlines that keep their passengers lubed up… If there's not too big of a difference, definitely worth it to fly Lufthuansa), I only had the first option to choose.

Regardless, I landed home for the first time since the Ravens' won the Super Bowl (important to point out as this will be the first, post-season without play-offs in Baltimore since SRB took City Hall).

It was fun.  The food was awesome (Top, three meals I miss:  1) Wings; 2) Maryland Crabs; 3) Korean BBQ; 4) Fish Tacos… I know I said three, but I couldn't limit myself).

Though, the thing that's hardest about traveling home as an expat isn't the time away, it's what changes when you're away.

My parents had gotten older.  My siblings were becoming more like my parents.  I got to see my nephews and nieces.  They're growing up too fast.  I got to see my friends.  They're becoming the adults we thought we'd never be.  I got confused driving around the hometown I'd spent every summer in since 1986 (This was the first summer since then where I didn't spend a single day there).

The worst of all is that I felt behind in all the conversations.  Even if I'd been sitting in the room/car/bar stool for the beginning, I constantly felt myself saying "What?" and "Who?" during stories and talks with the people who'd once been so intricate in my daily life.  I couldn't pretend like it wasn't weird, because, often, the speaker was looking at me in just such a manner.

People asked me how come I hadn't been updating my blog.  I was surprised they were reading (Thanks, nation of 8,000!).  I didn't really have an answer I could tell them.  It feels weird and overdramatic to say what I really felt.  I didn't write because I didn't know what to say anymore.  I was a stranger to a life I had always lived.



CHRISTMAS



I landed back in Norway in early December.  I had to turn in my paper at the dreaded UDI to renew my residence permit.  I passed the weeks in labor disputes about some work I had performed (tl;dr) and unsuccessfully hiding the Christmas gift I'd purchased for my wife.

It also gave me time to savor/miss all the things I'd experienced when I was home.  Riding the metro.  Neighborhood bars.  Brunch.  Watching sports at normal hours.  The list goes on.

Though, soon it was time for the season.  We got a Christmas tree and were soon on our way across the mountains to her hometown.

And so we spent Christmas.

I got to celebrate many of the Norwegian traditions, like dancing around the Christmas Tree and drinking a lot of champagne (the picture on the website is from my first, Norwegian Christmas) and aquavit.

I enjoyed it.  The food was good (Pinnkjøtt and Ribbe!), I already said the drinks were good, but, the most important thing was that it was a home.  My wife's family and friends made me feel like I was apart of the group and not an outsider.

Which is an important thing.  As an expat, you're constantly straddling with one foot in both your native and present worlds.  It's not so much a balancing act (I realize the term "straddle" can intimate a need for balance), but one of a willingness to adapt and amend.

I've come to learn over this journey of being an expatriate that it's not about stripping anything away, but what one can add.

The life I live may not be one I set out to lead or one I'm fully comfortable in yet, but it's one that I'm happy to own.  It's not about what I don't have or am not anymore, but the things I'm building.  Stay with me.

I'm still building.

Thanks for reading and now a word from our sponsors…


ALT FOR NORGE


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