Norwegian Saga

A Birthday Party

Let me tell you about the birthday party I went to. It was on the same day as my residence permit application submission (23 August). It was the birthday party of Anne Marit’s aunt. She had turned seventy sometime a few months ago but for some complicated reason was celebrating her birthday now. It took place at a church hall where alcohol was forbidden. This is one of the interesting facts about Norway, the people here, or at least the society has a very puritanical approach to alcohol. Things such as alcohol sale times are strictly monitored (can’t sell alcohol after 20:00, can’t sell alcohol on the day before a holiday after 13:00 etc.). Anyway, I ended up drinking “alkohol-fritt” beer.

The evening was very enjoyable for me despite the strong feeling that I was an outsider (which I was). I wasn’t made to feel so by the people though. In fact, after the initial amazement that Canadians eat at a table with forks and knives as Norwegians do (I jest of course), they were very nice to me and quite conversational. Everyone made and effort and attempted to include me in discussions and so on. No, I didn’t feel out of place because of the language but because of the customs. This birthday party had a birthday song, but it wasn’t a drunken shanty as I’m used to, it was a melodic and reserved tune.

They had speeches about and for the guest of honour. I couldn’t quite say what the speeches were about, because I don’t speak Norwegian, but the lady’s son, sister-in-law, brother (Anne Marit’s father), and husband all stood up and gave them. After dinner, where I was once again (first time was Christmas ‘08) reminded of the Norwegian propensity toward cold food including scrambled eggs, there were some games and such.

The point is, I felt out of place because of the difference in customs. I was told that birthdays and birthday customs such as I witnessed on that day were passing into history as younger people don’t do such things anymore. It was strange to me, almost as though I’d been brought back into the past in some ways. Historical reading always illuminates how people used to take pleasure and comfort from each others company. How celebrations such as birthdays were spent talking and singing. The woman’s age, seventy, had plenty to do with it I’m sure, they did things differently when she was younger and she clings to that. It was very enlightening in any case.

The British Invasion- Cistercian Style

I’m not sure if you folks had noticed but there’s a new button along the top right (or there should be). It should take you to the photo gallery.

On the 24th of August Anne Marit and I went to the island of Hovedøya (Hovedøya; hoved = main, øya = island).

You wouldn’t believe it. My transit pass, the one that works for buses, trams, and subways is also valid for the ferry system. Oslo fjord has a number of islands (see the map) and there are a few ferries that run back and forth. I’ve included a photo of the map and schedule for the ferry we took, though I can’t remember if it was the 92 or 93. Anyway we hopped on after a fifteen minute wait and then got off on the island of Hovedøya.

The island is small but special in many ways, it’s ties to Oslo city are many. It has the ruins of a 13th century Cistercian cloister/monastery (photos). Christianity had reached the Norway c.1000 and “kirkes” were built since that time (no, I’m not sure if that’s the proper pluralization of kirke). So the island had an existing church already when monks arrived in the 1200s from England. They expanded the small church structure to make it a full monastery.

The monks brought with them a variety of plant species that were foreign to Norway. Those plant species, also in some of the photos, “escaped” the confines of the monastery and now grow all over the island, but nowhere else in Norway. At least nowhere that anyone is aware. The island is a microbiome in other words of foreign flowers and plants.

The island also boasts at least two historic ammunition depots (maybe more) from a much later time- 1800s I believe. They were built on the island in an effort to keep the explosive stuff away from the city proper, for safety I guess. The island is in the middle of the fjord and is very visible to anyone sailing into Oslo. For this very reason, the depots were painted white, as a warning to any incomers that Oslo was well supplied with ammunition.

Anne Marit and I also came across some Norwegian geese, so if you see the photos… those aren’t ducks. What the difference is, I have no idea but there you have it.

The monastery was demolished unfortunately, the stones were then used to build Akershus Fortress, the structure to the right in the photo. I’m going to go spend an afternoon there so there will be more photos coming. The brown building, in case you’re curious is is Oslo’s city hall. The bells ring every fifteen minutes and can be heard for quite a distance.

I apologize for my unusually lengthy silence. There’s lots to tell. My constant outings to Anne’s parent’s home for dinner have kept me from posting though. Not that I’m complaining, on the contrary, I don’t know how to properly show my gratitude. I’ve been fed dinners at their home just about daily and I’m beginning to feel as though I should somehow say thank you with more than just words.

The problem with paper

Anyway, a few days ago I was in the university bookstore picking up a copy of “A New Introduction to Old Norse.” If you can’t guess that’s the textbook we’re using in my Old Norse class. Walking the aisles it occurred to me that I didn’t have a single piece of paper to write on. I hadn’t taken any with me from Canada. I had no paper and no binders. For a student these are rather important. I set about the store looking for some. And you wouldn’t believe it but every single binder I found had some bizarre two-ringed configuration. There were only two rings, 1/4th and 3/4ths of the way down the spine. I couldn’t figure it out. I assumed these binders were for some archival purposes. For the kind of papers one files knowing they’re not going be looked at again until some microhistorian comes along and digs them up. I decided I would wait on the binder and talk to Anne in the hopes she’d tell me where I could buy real binders, of the three-ringed variety.

I moved onto searching for paper. I could use paper without a binder after all. No dice! They don’t seem to sell paper alone, it looks as though it always comes in some form of spiraled booklet, I hate spiral bound books, they always hurt my wrist. Not only that, once again I came upon the hole problem, they didn’t seem to sell regular three-holed paper either, every page in every spiral book I picked up had four holes in it. I discovered that Norway operates on a four-holed system. The paper here is also a different size, it’s not 8.5″ x 11″ as is common in North America, I’m told it’s the A4 paper size, it’s taller but narrower, and apparently more international. The issue ended when I spoke with Anne Marit asking her where the normal three-holed binders were and she replied: “How would you ever use a four-holed punch with a three-holed binder?”

Now I’ve got paper and a four-ringed binder in which to put it (I did manage to find a four-ringed binder, those two-ringed ones just seem ridiculous to me).

Government offices- every foreigner’s plight

Saturday (23rd) morning I had to attend the police station in downtown Oslo to submit my application for a student residence permit. They are clever enough in Norway to set aside one day at the start of the semester to help foreign students get residence permits, so the various government agencies (immigration, folkregistry etc.) and help services are all in one location at the police station. I left the house to be at the station about ten minutes early. As I rounded the corner I was feeling good, thinking the entire affair wouldn’t last longer than half an hour, I was only dropping off an application you see. However, upon rounding that corner I found myself looking at a hoard of people spilling out onto the street and rounding the corner of the block. With nothing for it, I got to the back of the line. Almost all services in Norway operate on the “take a number” system. It took me ten minutes just to get a number and then two more hours to talk to someone just so I could drop off the application. I was still fortunate though, I had number 219, I saw people with 450. The immigration officer was kind enough to tell me that the application looked fine. I should know in about three weeks time whether I’m getting deported back to Canada or not.

I’ve got lots more to tell you. Also for next time, photos from Hovedøya.

Today was to be my first lecture. However, it was canceled. No reason was given. It turns out that myself and two others didn’t bother to check the internet posting informing the students of the cancellation. The plus side: I met two people and learned that one of them is a Polish student from the University of Krakow in Poland spending six months here while doing his Ph.D. in Viking studies. See, I’m not the only one.

Aside from that, which wasn’t all bad because I had to buy a membership at the athletic club, more on that later, the introduction to Norwegian course I’m enrolled in has a schedule conflict with my required Old Norse course. I’ve emailed the department asking for direction on what to do about it. Well see what they say.

I’ve also decided that I’m going to do as I said I might; get rid of the “Current issues in medieval studies with focus on history 1 course” in favour of “Old Norse Palaeography, Codicology and Medieval Manuscript Culture.” Manuscript studies… c’mon can’t get cooler than that. Also, my desired thesis topic probably requires that I know manuscripts more than current scholarship. I’m planning to do work in Viking legal studies and a working knowledge of manuscripts would probably help. I’m also told that next year the University of Oslo is expecting to have a scholar (visiting or permanent, I’m not sure) who specializes in Old Norse legal manuscripts. When I heard that I didn’t want to pass up the chance.

I’ve also purchased a membership to the local gym/athletic club. 700NOK (137CAD) for six months. They’ve got tennis courts, a huge indoor gym, swimming pool, weight gym, etc etc. Apparently that 40% income tax and 25% sales tax on goods goes somewhere because students here get quite a deal. Since my classes all start around noon I’m planning on using the pool and weight gym before I start my day. The centre is almost exactly halfway between my place and the school (see map) so I don’t think it’ll be too difficult to convince myself to go. I’m also planning on playing lots of tennis before the snow comes.

That’s today’s update then, keep tuning in though, there’ll be lots to come, and as many photos as I can manage, I know I have none in this post but I do have a special treat. I was goofing off and shot a vid during a hike at Sognsvann. Have you ever heard a French-Polish-Canadian?. (vid)