What does Christmas mean to me?

What does Christmas mean to me? As a kid in Fresno, Christmas was one of my favorite days of the year. It was the day when my brother and sister and I would wake up at the crack of dawn and go jump in our parents bed, eager to open stockings and presents. Of course in our family, my parents liked to see us children squirm a bit...so they would draw out the waking up process for ages (or well...to my parents credit, it seemed like ages). First they would pretend that we were not there and keep “sleeping” (how you can pretend to sleep with three kids jumping in and out of bed I do not know...)...then they would acknowledge our presence by making small talk, but of course not get out of bed...eventually they would get out from under the covers and claim they needed to get dressed (who needs proper clothing for opening presents!?)...and just as we thought it was time to go open stockings, my lovely father would insist on playing Bruce Springsteen's live version of Santa Clause is Coming to Town (which mind you, is a good version....but not when you have a pile of loot waiting to be opened...)...finally after all of the stalling shenanigans were over we were allowed into the living room to find our stockings filled so full they were set on the chairs or couch instead of hanging (usually the present opening process is very orderly in my family as it is closely overseen and regulated by my parents, one child at a time with a rotating order of who goes first each “round”...but when it came to stockings, anything went...so mayhem often ensued). After the stockings had been emptied and double checked for “hiding” presents, we would head to the kitchen to make breakfast...a hearty meal of pancakes or waffles with bacon and sausages and fruit. And it was not until breakfast was eaten, the dishes done, and the table reset for lunch were we allowed back into the living room to begin the big present opening ceremony.

When we first moved to Madison the traditions remained mostly the same...the one addition was a little sign strung across the top of the stairs forbidding us children (usually in clever riddle form) from going downstairs to the living room before our parents were awake (which was still the unrealistically slow process described above).

As we have gotten older the sign and traditions continued to remain similar , except that now the house is “pleasantly woken up” by the “melodious serenade” of my brother, Rein, on his tuba.

This is the tradition of Christmas morning in my family and it's evolution over the years....for me, it is the way I celebrate Christmas....it always has been for the most part probably will be. However for the first time in my 20 years of life, I am spending Christmas away from home and tradition. Currently I am in Berlin, Germany at the house of the Otto Family and am/will be taking part in their family Christmas traditions (a good friend, Tim, who I met in Oslo is also with us for the holiday). So far it has been wonderful (today we cut down the Christmas tree from their backyard and decorated....there are even real candles on it...) and I am quite excited to partake in the remainder of the holiday traditions (meals, gift exchanges, church, family, etc). But in this new new Christmas experience, I started thinking about what Christmas actually meant to me....is it the traditions? Is it the time with family? Is it the presents? Is it church? Is it snow? Is it particular food? What does Christmas mean to me? And while I do not think that I can answer that in full...I do think that I have realized this Christmas season, that it is the people you are with....be that family or good friends. Don't get me wrong, I cherish the Christmas traditions, the food, church, snow, etc that I have at home with my family and the fond memories of Christmas' past...but I am becoming keenly aware that those extra things are not the be-all-end-all of Christmas. Will I miss not being at home with my family? Of course....but right now, I am in Berlin, I am finishing out a wonderful and memorable semester in Norway, I am thoroughly enjoying this new and different experience, and I am with dear friends that are as close to family as it gets...and I am discovering what Christmas means to me.

The Permanence of Goodbye

At 6:15 AM on Tuesday morning December 15, 2008, the Norwegian part of my Norwegian Adventure officially came to an end as I left Oslo for the semester. To be completely honest, the reality of me leaving has not really set in yet and I suspect it wont for a few weeks yet. My last week in Oslo was an incredible whirlwind of activity and emotion that I think has left me in a bit of a haze...while all of my friends were finished with exams and beginning to relax and celebrate another semester gone, I still had to remain focused as I had an exam on Monday morning...I had two choir concerts on Sunday night after a full day of rehearsal on Saturday (*ed note* I did not know until I arrived on Sunday night that we actually had two concerts...I had been under the assumption we had only one...I suppose those details got lost somewhere in translation...ha hah!)...I had to pack up my belongings and check out of my room on Monday afternoon...and on top of all that I had the strangely difficult and foreign task of saying potentially lifelong goodbyes all week. I would argue though, that it was more than just a country or city I was leaving or saying goodbye to, but a home, friends, routine, and a life that I have come to know and love over the last 5 months. Am I ready to leave?...I am not sure. Am I sad?...of course. Am I excited to return home?...yes. Will I return to Norway?...someday definitely. These, however, are not the questions and answers that I have been and am struggling with...rather, it is my inability to explain why I have to live so far from all of the people and friends of this past semester? Why do some of my closest friends have to live in Australia or Norway or Ireland or Canada (ok, so Canada isnt so far, but its still a flight away), while I live in the US? Despite what I might like to think, oceans, continents, and hemispheres now separate me from very close friends...yet it is not simply the physical distance that I struggle with, but the permanence of that distance. Sure we can visit each other or vacation together somewhere...and the internet will provide us with a very effective way to stay connected...but the life, the atmosphere, the community that we have formed in just 5 short months is something that cannot and will not be recreated. Never again will I be able to just pop into U1 and grab a coffee with any number of good friends. Never again will I sing in Angelos Koret with a huge number of amazing and welcoming Norwegians. Never again will I be able to run around Lake Sognsvann with a friend. Never again will I sit around playing Risk in a student apartment at Sogn Studentby. Those routines, activities, and highlights are nothing more than just great memories now...and that thought, that permanent separation, is by far the hardest part about this semester ending.

Tusen Takk

This semester has been a semester of firsts for me when it comes to cooking. Until this semester I have been living either at home or in a University of Minnesota Residence Hall, both of which provided food. And while I liked to think that I could cook, that was a grave misconception. Sure I could cook a pre-packaged frozen pizza, or barbecue some pre-cooked brats, or stir up a pre-boxed macaroni and cheese...but if you notice, each of those menu items includes the word "pre-" before it, which implies and signifies that no creativity or culinary know-how involved in the making of said foods. Essentially I was following simple instructions on how to heat up the pre-packaged food (most of which include pictures with those instructions). So in coming to Norway and living on my own, I was forced to expand my cooking horizons. I learned how to make rice. I learned the importance of boiling potatoes before using for culinary purposes. I learned the difference in the Norwegian language between "ranch salad dressing" and "tartar sauce". I learned the value in finding sales at the grocery store. And the difference between olive oil and soy oil (and why you should have both around). Basically I was taking Cooking 101, on the fly, in a different language. And while it was difficult at first (the ranch dressing/tartar sauce mix up was a rude mistake), I have done just fine and not gone hungary yet. In fact, I have learned quite bit and look forward to continuing cooking when I return stateside where I will have an english-language grocery store and a full kitchen (my kitchen here is lacking some crucial cooking utensils and tools).

Thanksgiving, as you all know, is a traditional American holiday. It is my favorite one (not because the food is good, which it is) because it is the one holiday in my familiy where the entire family (or at least my Dad's side) comes together from around the country to celebrate. There are so many relatives (Poppy, aunts, uncles, cousins, etc) all in the same place, and I love, truly love the time together. I think I am very lucky in that our family is so close and we have such a good time together. So when I realized that I would be out of the country this Thanksgiving and miss all of the festivities that were happening in Madison, I was a bit bummed...in fact, the only time this semester that I have been a bit homesick and wanted to be home, was last Thursday on Thanksgiving when I knew all of my relatives were there. But being bummed and moping would have accomplished nothing, so as I had been planning to do all semester, I decided to put everything I have learned, all my acquired knowledge, my full cooking abilities, to the ultimate test as I attempted to make the traditional-very elaborate-often messed up-cooking equivalent of a marathon, Thanksgiving Feast. I decided that it should be, and was my duty as an American studying abroad to attempt at bringing at least one tradition with me, and that was to be Thanksgiving. The funny and ironic thing about that idea, was that I had never cooked any of the parts to a Thanksgiving meal, much less the entire spread at once. All I knew about it, was that my Mom (and many relatives) would spend the better part of a day preparing, chopping, mixing, stirring, mashing, basting, and cooking our annual Thanksgiving feast. So how, in the name of traditional American holidays, was I supposed to make such a meal?...well it was a good question, and I wasnt so sure of the answer...

The funny thing about a Thanksgiving menu, is that every household does it a bit differently, and every household thinks their way is the best way. So while I was keen to get the main recipes from my mother, I had about 3 other "mothers" telling me how they did it, or how their mothers did it, and how that was how I might want to do it. I was gracious for any and all tips, after all I needed all the help I could get...they were all very valid and legit tips, and were telling of the household from which they origniated. Yet upon recieving 4 different suggestions on how best to cook a turkey, I realized there were many ways to do this, and I was going to have to make the executive decision and choose one (Mom, you will be happy to know that your recipes prevailed more often than not when facing competition).

My Norwegian Thanksgiving took place last weekend on Saturday. A friend was gracious enough to lend me her wonderful apartment with a huge kitchen for the cooking and the subsequent meal. I had invited a few of my Oslo-"family" to come and take part in the celebration, and so 12 people were going to be eating...thus requiring a grocery list of a 6 kg turkey (which I had to order a week ahead of time because eating turkey is more common around Christmas, so it was not guaranteed there would be one in), 8 kg of potatoes (which we ended up eating about 5 of), 2 loaves of bread, 5 cans of cranberries (which I was not expecting to find, but did and it made my Thanksgiving...ha hah!), and many other veggies and fixings necessary for a fantastic feast. (*ed note: to get the number of lbs, just multiply the kg X 2....so 6 kg = ~12 lbs). After acquiring all the necessary grocery items, I spent almost all day Saturday at my friends, cooking and preparing the meal. She was gracious enough to lend a helping hand if needed, as coincidentally she had cooked a Thanksgiving meal before. But I am proud to report, that at no time did she have to jump in and stop something catastrophic from happening...in fact, I would say that everything I made I actually made.

After hours of cooking, all my pals showed up, and we had a feast that included a turkey, mashed potatoes, stuffing, two salads, a green bean casserole-ish salad (that a friend brought), carrot jello (that the same friend also brought), cranberries, biscuits, two kinds of gravy, as well as a plethora of wine from around the world, and two pumpkin pies for desert. It was a feast. And while you may not believe my word, I would say that it all went off really well. The food definitely exceeded my expectations, and while they may not admit it, I think it exceeded those of my friends as well. However, while the food was good, it was also wonderful to sit around a huge table with some of my closest new friends and share some food, some wine, and some good times. The bit of homesickness and disappointment I had felt about missing Thanksgiving at home, was forgotten as I had a spectacular time at our Norwegian equivalent. It is a Thanksgiving that I will remember for the rest of my life...the smiling faces, the conversations, the jokes, the laughter. I was and am and I will be, giving thanks for the people, the experiences, the fun, the memories, and the wonderful semester that I have spent in Oslo, Norway. It has been truly remarkable and I cannot accurately articulate it all....so I will leave at a common Norwegian phrase for one-thousand thanks, "tusen takk".

I love snow.

I love snow. I cant decide if I love it for its beauty, or the sound it makes as it crunches under your step, or the fearlessness it gives me...whatever it is, when I am in snow I instantly become a kid again (6 feet 4.5 inches of me). I cant describe what it is about snow that causes me to literally dive in any direction, fully layed out, for no good reason. I cannot explain why snow incites the undeniable urge to tackle anything that moves (usually my brother). I dont know why snow causes a lack in judgement of personal safety as I barrel down a sledding hill towards a jump. If you think about it, its a bit nuts. A small cover of crystallized water should not cause such uncitely or spontaneous behavior...but it does...and I love it.

It is funny though, something that is so normal to me, something that I have grown up with, spent hours and hours tromping through...is also something that for many people around the world, is completely foreign. I have been reminded about this fact since coming to Norway. A few weeks back we had "the first snow" here in Oslo. To be honest it wasnt really much of a "snow", an inch or two at most, of wet, slushy snow. In fact it all melted away within a few days...however, its initial presence set off a plethora of excitement through the ranks of my Australian friends. They went nuts....they were taking pictures, they were reminding me every 3 minutes that there was snow outside, and they were running around like little kids throwing snow balls and making snowmen..

How, might you ask, are their reactions different then my own actions I descbribed earlier? Well they arent really...in fact their excitement around snow is identical to mine (with the slight exception that in this case I insisted they not get all hyped up, as more and better snow is yet to come). The difference being that my excitement comes from experience and expectations, and theirs comes from complete unknown.

This difference in excitement was highlighted again this past weekend as I and some pals spent the weekend in a cabin, in the mountains...where there was snow. The Aussies (in their newly purchased snow boots and snow pants) had overflowing excitement as we made our way from the car to the cabin, through a foot of snow. All they wanted to do for the first few minutes was romp around and experience the beauty (after those first few minutes however, they realized that snow is more than just beauty, and is in fact cold, thus requiring gloves, hats, jackets, etc...). I, on the other hand, could not wait to gear up and start tackling things. When we did finally put on all of our snow gear and get outside, it became very apparent, very quickly, that I had spent time in the snow and they had not. There was no question that I had had experience running, tackling, and then whitewashing people in the snow. Sure I abused my advantage a bit at the beginning, but over time (albeit the weekend) they learned how to carry themselves in this new, snowy environment. Whether it was learning how to turn the tackler into the tackled or learning the importance of not eating yellow snow, an unknown became a known. The excitement based upon the idea of snow became an excitement based upon reality and experience of snow. And while I will not be here when most of the snow comes to Oslo (in January and February and March and most likely April) and thus wont be able to share in that snow and snow activities....I was able to share a bit of my own excitement towards snow. I was able to expose these relative "winter climate newcomers" to a bit of the wonderful world that is snow.

International Implications

Over the course of the semester I have made a concerted effort to refrain from any overly political discussion on this blog. I have done so because I realize that not everyone has the same views and I feel that it is not my place to spout political opinion to an audience of people who are merely trying to follow my study abroad experience. It has been a bit difficult at times I will admit, in part because I do have strong political opinions, but mostly because the discussion of politics has played such an major role in my study abroad experience.

There is no hiding the fact that I am American, my accent is a dead give away...and when people (non-US citizens) figure that out, politics will almost always be brought up within the first 5 minutes of the discussion. Up until a week ago the questions were always about whether I supported Obama/if I thought he could win, and how/why President Bush was elected for a second term (now the questions/discussions usually involve a congratulations followed by a question of whether I think President-Elect Obama will be able to get anything done). Yet despite the biased question roots, I find them to be fair and non-aggressive...sure, in asking them the questioner is assuming that I share their liberal opinions, but I always feel as if the questions are coming from genuine curiosity and innocence....simply put, many non-Americans do not understand how Americans make the political choices we do. And I can see how if you are not from the US you would wonder a bit...so I have tried to explain the American political landscape in a bit more depth. It is through these questions, explinations, and ensuing discussions that I think I have come to realize, whether I like it or not, how influential and important the US really is...now this is not meant to be an ego-centric or self-centered statement, rather a realization of a truth that I cannot ignore. For the past three months I have had the unique opportunity to observe Europeans (and the World for that matter) as they dutifully and intensely follow the US Election like it were there own. I have watched the election unfold from a place where I am usually the only American and thus techincally the only person who should care about the results...but I am most definitely not the only person who cares about the results. Every newspaper for the last three months has had some sort of election coverage (usually on the front page) everyday. There have been all sorts of guest speakers and lectures about US politics all over campus here in Oslo. On election night I had invites to attend 6 different election parties....SIX! (For the record I attended only one and stayed up until 6:30 AM local time to get the results and see both candidates give there respective concession and victory speeches). Every person young and old is extremely well informed, every person young and old has an opinion, and every person young and old wants to share that opinion. It has been a truly spectacular experience watching the entire world as they watch my country and it's elections. And while the election itself is incredibly historic and monumental and would have been amazing to watch unfold from within the US, seeing it from outside the US as I have has really given me a new perspective on world affairs and politics. It has shown me that while my country is the barometer for almost every issue worldwide, we are not the only country on Earth. There are so many other countries and people worldwide who look to us and depend on us for things, and we as a nation cannot forget that. So as our country moves forward after the historic events of November 4th, 2008, as our country deals with issues both domestically and internationally...it is imperitive we remember that the world is watching.

Exceptional Exceptions to the Norm

My parents are some of the coolest parents around. Now I know that most people are biased in thier opinions of their parents and I am not trying to put down anyone elses parents, but I would legitmately say that if there was some sort of "parent-coolness rating" my parents would get the top one. I think the thing that makes them so exceptional is that they are just normal people. My Dad for example...he has a Masters in Divinity, he is a man of faith, a pastor, but on top of all that he is just a normal dude. When I tell people who dont know my Dad that he is a pastor, their first thought of him and my home life is that I live in a real-life version of 7th Heaven, the WB show about a pastor and his seven kids and their unrealisitically complicated, life lesson laden, slightly corny lives. But its not at all, in fact I am willing to wager money (mind you, I am not a betting man...usually) that most people when they meet my Dad (unless they meet him at his church) would not guess or know that he is a pastor. Its not because he doesnt do his job well either, because he does, in fact I have a hard time going to any other church because in my opinion my Dad gives the best sermons...its simply because he is just a normal guy who happens to be a man of faith as well and he balances it all very well. Or take my Mom, she is an elementary school teacher (well, techincally now she is a reading specialist, but she still works with elementary school children). Stereotypically she should be an overly excited, ubber bubbly woman who may or may not talk to adults as if they are 1st graders...but of course she is not (also for the record, I dont know many teachers like the one I just described, but for the purpose of this post you can imagine the stereotype), she is a normal woman who is not overly bubbly or socially inept. And because my parents are so normal, they are able to relate to people of all ages, cultures, and disciplines...which is awesome. If I have a friends over and I have to step out of the room for a minute, I have no problem leaving my parents there with them to chat or hang out (now maybe my friends have a problem with it and have never told me, but I dont think so)...it doesnt appear to be awkward or weird, it just seems normal.

So when I found out a month or so ago that my parents, my cool normal parents, would be coming to Norway for a visit, I was thrilled. Sure I would make sure that we saw some of the sights of Oslo and saw some of the Norwegian countryside, but the part of Norway that I wanted to expose them to, the part that cannot be replicated, was my everyday life and friendships. I was so excited to be able to share with the dinners, the cups of tea, the conversations, the living, and the friends with my parents. I knew that my parents and my friends would get along great, and that we would all have a great time...and so as was expected, it was. On two different nights I had a plethora of my pals up to my apartment for dinner (prepared by my mother) and we sat around eating, laughing, talking and having a good time. One day we spent a few hours in the cafe that I work at just sitting around drinking coffee or tea and conversing with friends of mine as they wandered in and out of the cafe. They were all activities that I do on a very regular basis, and are the activites that make living in Norway so fun...so having my parents around to experience my normal everyday life was exactly how I wanted it.

The other part of my parents visit that was quite special was being able to watch my Dad interact and reconnect with people and places from his past. As many of you know, my Dad studied in Norway 30 years ago. And while his Norwegian is not as fluent as it once was, and most of his contacts in the country are lost, he still had some friends (Kjersti and her family) and of course lots of memories. So being able to share in his resurfacing memories and the rekindling of friendships was special. It was special in that a lot of what he experienced 30 years ago as an American studying in Norway, I am experiencing today as an American studying in Norway. I am finding that we both set out to study abroad for similar reasons, and so being able to see what he experienced helps me to understand his time here as well as my own. I suspect that when he studied here 30 years ago, he didnt think he would be returning some day with his wife of 25 years and 20 year old son...but he did, and I was honored and thrilled to be a part of it.

So my parents have come and gone...their brief personal interlude into my study abroad experience is over. And while it all seemed so normal to have them in Norway, it seemed so normal to travel with them, it seemed so normal to share my life here with them...it wasnt. Their coming all the way across the Atlantic for a long weekend was a truly exceptional event that was far above normalcy, and something that I will always remember.

Wandering the West Coast

Ok...before I get any further behind in my blogging, I thought I should enlighten the blog-o-sphere of my weekend in Bergen. As can be seen in some pictures (they are not all up yet on Flickr) just over a week ago I went with 4 buddies of mine to Bergen, Norway's second largest city situated on the western coast of the country. It is a city with spectacular beauty known for its location among the mountains (7 mountain tops surround the city), the fjords (it is just south of Norways largest fjord, Sognefjorden), and the ocean (the North Sea). And despite getting rain almost 300 days a year, it is a wonderful old city full of surprises, and somewhere that I think everyone should visit.

In order to fully experience and appreciate the western coast, we decided to take the night train from Oslo on a Thursday night and then home again on Sunday night....by doing so we would get into Bergen early Friday morning and then have 3 full days to wander around the city and surrounding areas to see everything it had to offer.

One of the ways we decided to see the surrounding area was to go on what is called the Norway in a Nutshell tour. Basically the tour takes you through the typical Norwegian landscapes (mountains, fjords, etc) via typical Norwegian transport (train, bus, and boat). We started the tour by taking a train from Bergen to Myrdal (located at 886 meters above sea level), going through magnificent mountain filled landscapes. Upon arrival in Myrdal we had about 30 minutes to throw snowballs (much to the delight of my Australian friends) at each other before taking another train, the Flåmsbana, down the mountain to the small town of Flåm located on Sognefjorden (*note: the Flåmsbana train line is the steepest normal, or un-assisted train line in the world...). Now some of you may remember me taking about Flåm from my week long geology excursion in September. This was my second time visiting this tiny fjord-surrounded town, and I must say that it is one of my favorite places in the world. The sheer beauty leaves one in awe and searching for adjectives. After rucking around Flåm for about an hour, we hopped onto a small cruise boat and headed out into the fjord on the water. For me this was especially fun, for I had seen this part of the Sognefjorden from the ground (in Flåm) and from the adjacent mountain top (at a lookout point above the village of Aurland), but never from within. So being able to take the boat out and through the fjord was a highlight of the weekend...it was two of the most beautiful and magnificent hours one could ask for...we even saw where a rainbow came down and ended in the water (at which point we tried to convince our Irish friend to go and talk to the leprechaun that would be guarding the pot of gold found at the end of rainbows...but he wouldnt have it and thus we remain poor college students). After the boat we boarded a bus that wound back up and over the mountains to the city of Voss where we got on another train and returned to Bergen. This part of the trip was presumably beautiful too, but seeing as it was late October it was fairly dark so we couldnt see a whole lot...but I think by that point we had seen so much beauty that anymore might have caused sensory overload.

After a full day of beautiful weather and landscape on Friday, Saturday showed us a bit more of the true Bergen. From when we woke up until we went to sleep it was raining, it was cold, and it was not pleasant....but we did not travel so far to sit cooped up in a hostel all day, so we put on our rain jackets, grabbed our already broken umbrellas and headed out to wander the city. And while it was miserable weather, Bergen is a city that gets such weather frequently, so they (the city infrastructure and the citizens) are prepared. What we found as we wandered along the historic warf, was a system of small, covered, wooden alley-ways between the buildings that very effectively protected shops, residences, and people from the elements and wind that were battering the main warf. It is a system that was obviously developed back in the 18th or 19th century that was so effective, they just never bothered to change or update it. After palling around the alley-ways for quite some time with stops along the way for coffee and lunch, we headed back to the hostel for a quick nap and dinner before more wandering (this time in the pub/club/bar area of the city).

On Sunday morning we were lucky to get a bit of sunshine, which we utilized by taking a shuttle up to the top of a near-by mountain top. From the top we had a spectacular view of the surrounding mountains, the fjord, and the city. Additionally there were all sorts of hiking trails and paths that wove across the mountain top...which we readily explored. While looking out over this magnificent setting however, it was easy to see why people live in Bergen....when the weather is nice it is an absolutely beautiful place. But being Bergen, it was raining by the afternoon so we headed to a local pub where we watched a bit of English Premier League football and played some billiards for the rest of the afternoon before heading back to Oslo on the night train.

As I have said, the beauty of the trip was unbelievable and awe-inspiring...but I think for me the best part of the weekend was watching my friends as they were exposed to the natural beauty of Norway's western coast. It is something that I had, luckily, seen a bit of before thanks to my geology excursion...and through various mediums I tried desperately to convey that experience to them. And while they were all respectful and impressed with my pictures and stories from before, it truly is something that words and pictures do not do justice...it is something that must be shared in person...I have mentioned before (if I havent, I am now) that the one thing I wish I could do is share my experiences with my friends and family. And while this trip and it's beauty was with only 4 of my pals, for them to experience it and for me to share in it with them, was the true highlight that no mountain or fjord or rainbow could match.