Adventures in Norway

Easter in Lviv 19/04/2009

2010-07-07T10:49:00.009+02:00

We get to the train station only to be told there's no service until 17:00. It would have been nice if the lady working last night would have told us that when we asked about the train schedules. So marshurtka it is.

The marshrutka ride wasn't nearly as pleasant as the train ride. It took us through the ugliest parts of Ukraine. Plains that made Oklahoma look picturesque, decrepit homes with metal roofs that could have been in Texas Chainsaw Massacre, and the worst roads I've ever been on.

Once we arrived in Lviv city center, Alecander led us down streets that looked like World War II aftermath.

He wanted to show us a small store with Yiddish and Polish writing.

On the way to Lychakivske Cemetary, Klaudia pointed out a proto-vending machine. For 25 gryvnia you can use a communal cup to get water. 50 gryvnia gets you "juice" of some kind. Worried about hygeine? Turn the cup upside down and give it a quick water rinse.

One block before Lychakivske Cemetery is the Polish- built medical school. You could easily imagine 1950's medical students hurrying to class or studying on a bench underneath a cherry tree.

Lychakiske Cemetery was studding. Hills haphazardly piled with gravestones greeted us.

We made our way around the paths until we came to the Ukraineian memorial to its fallen soldiers in the war against the Poles.

While it's beautiful from a distance, as you approach it, you can see the price that was paid to have this memorial so close to the memorial for the polish soldiers.

I wondered how many bodies lay under the memorial and how many graves were disturbed to build this monstrosity. What was even more infuriating was there was a grave-free site less than 100 meters away. The Ukrainian government tried numerous times to have the Polish memorial destroyed, the Poles even had to rebuild it it a few times.

The Polish war memorial, now hidden behind the Ukrainian one, feels more like it was built to honor the fallen soldiers.

After the cemetery, we wandered around the city seeing the colorful, traditional dress worn by the locals for Easter. After seeing the ancient Armenian cathedral with it's haunting murals, we went over to the BDSM themed cafe, Masoch.

While it was cute and tastefully done, I was taken aback to see people bring their small children inside. I couldn't imagine what would happen if a child happened to stop to look at the wrong picture.

The waitresses wore their traditional shirts under their leather corset uniform. It was an interesting clash of cultures. The coffee was strong and the salads were DIY. The meat and veggies came on a wooden chopping block with a hole in the middle, elevated over a bowl of dressing. You chop up your meat and veggies, then dump them down the hole into the dressing bowl. When we were finished, our check came to us in a high-heeled shoe.

After that, we wandered the streets, were chased by an old woman who heard Klaudia's Polish accent, and searched (with no luck) for an open grocery store. We boarded a painfully slow tram to the train station. They waved goodbye as I boarded my first night train.

As I entered the car, I realized the woman at the train station had sold me a third-class, not second-class ticket. I was struck with fear at first. Lonely Planet had warned people not to use the the third-class cars. The train was also packed. I traded with someone for the top bunk and I surveyed the carriage to see if I'd have to stay awake the whole night or if I could sleep. I quickly realized that everyone was decent, if not totally drunk, and that Lonely Planet had greatly exaggerated the problems with third-class.

The temperature on the train slowly rose as we traveled through the night. At 6:45 the next morning, the thermometer claimed it was 73 degrees, but it felt like it was over 90. It was also very muggy in the train, making it extremely difficult to sleep. By the time we reached Kyiv, it was allegedly 78 degrees, but I was boiling inside my skin. It had to have been over 100.

Toddler Logic: Redux

2010-04-05T12:24:00.003+02:00

It's been awhile since I've written about the kids I look after. Mostly because a 1 year old is adorable, but doesn't have much to say.

Hannah, the darling two year old I care for, luckily has lots to say and a logic all her own.

Hannah goes up to her sister, the one year old Emma, and starts banging her on the nose and screaming, "Emma, Emma, Emma" in her face. Emma is screaming, naturally, so I tell Hannah to stop because Emma doesn't like that.

Hannah gives me a genuinely confused look and says, "Yes, Emma likes that."

I reply, "Sweetie, if she's crying it means she's unhappy."

Hannah thought about this for a moment, then nodded her head in agreement.

Spring Holiday

2010-03-27T11:57:00.002+01:00

I'm in Latvia and Estonia for the week. I'll be updating my Twitter feed regularly- http://twitter.com/RWgeek

Scotland Trip

2009-12-26T22:57:00.001+01:00

I'll be posting updates via Twitter for my Scotland trip. I'm leaving tomorrow (Sunday the 27th and coming home on Friday (1/1/10).
http://twitter.com/@rwgeek

New Photos from Kyiv

2009-12-14T13:41:00.001+01:00

I know these are massively overdue. It's been a very busy fall.

http://www.flickr.com/photos/rwgirl/sets/72157622007433335/show/

Photos from Berlin

2009-08-24T15:18:00.002+02:00

Finally organized and captioned:
http://picasaweb.google.com/shea.wills/Berlin2009#

Those are from my April trip.

Blog Update: New Photo Sharing Website

2009-08-20T15:34:00.003+02:00

I have nearly ran out of room with Picassa so I switched to Flickr. I have it set up slide show style. If you click "Show Info" you can see the captions of the pictures. I can change the format if anyone doesn't like it. You can also change the speed of the slides.

So, Odessa is up. I hope to have Kyiv up in the next few days.

4/18/09- Yaremche

2009-08-20T10:40:00.005+02:00

A marshrutka piloted by an insane or suicidal driver took us up into the Carpathian foothills. We passed villages that were either picturesque or something out of Texas Chainsaw Massacre. Like everything in Ukraine, they were one of two extremes.

We roasted the entire way since the old women in the marshrutka would shiver if we even cracked a window. Alexander told me they always do this, even in the heat of summer. He also told me his name for these old women: hamsters. In an odd way, they do resemble a hamster. They are all bundled up (despite the temperature) and they have bags in both hands which adds to their round, hamster-like profile. Try as I might, I can't get the comparison out of my head.

We survived our trip to Yaremche, and went about exploring the town. Soviet monuments were everywhere. The Ukrainians are very ambivalent about their past. In some places they've done their best to eradicate their Soviet past, in others it's still on display; either as a point of pride or due to apathy and practicality.

Behind this Soviet solider is a cross. Surely an unintended irony.

A block down the road was a memorial to the victims of the Soviets and the Nazis.

We walked up to the emerald-green Prut River.

This waterfall was once bigger, but the Soviets tried to destroy it with dynamite.

4/18/09- Ivano-Frankivsk and the Carpathians

2009-08-19T14:45:00.005+02:00

The train ride alone has made this trip totally worth while. I can't even begin to describe the beauty of the countryside. There's farmland, there's marshes, there's valleys all with silver and gold- topped Orthodox churches dotting the landscape. I tried to take pictures out of the train window, but most didn't turn out. I also caught my first glimpse of the Carpathian mountains. Mountains I've wanted to see since reading Dracula for the first time.

I met Klaudia at the train station, and after dropping my things at her flat we went to the Ukrainian market.

Rabbits with fur only on one foot (to prove they were rabbits? to show they were healthy?), chickens that were beginning to mummify, and quartered pig heads were all on display.

After the market we wandered around the downtown area before boarding the bus to Yaremche.

Home and Well

2009-08-19T14:40:00.003+02:00

I'm back from Ukraine and catching up with posts from my last trip before starting posts of my new trip. I have so many pictures, it'll be awhile before they are all organized and up for viewing.

I've been manually adding comments when you reply to my posts via email. Please let me know if you'd prefer me not to add yours.

I'll update as I'm able. Hopefully I'll get these stories out before my next trip! I know I'm so slow updating.

4/17/08- The People of Lviv

2009-08-19T12:41:00.005+02:00

A giggling girl took a photo of me while I was taking a photo of the cathedral. I've gotten many odd stares or people pointing at me since coming to Ukraine. There's nothing malicious or condescending in their stares or laughs, I apparently just amuse them. The people here really are fantastic, I do like it here.

I met two Americans, a Canadian and a Ukrainian for dinner. We ended up dining in the same place I had my lunch. Tyler, one of the Americans, had come from Krakow where he'd been teaching English. He was on holiday before packing up and moving somewhere new. Tracy, the Canadian, was a real sweetie. She'll be staying with my host in Kyiv the day after I leave. Nataliya, the Ukrainian, was incredible and super-intelligent.

Then there was Max, the other American. Max.... I don't know quite what to say about him. He was a total embarrassment to me as a fellow countryman. He claims to like Ukraine, but has nothing good to say about the country. He has nothing good to say about any of the Slavic countries, just that they recently "stopped eating rocks", and Ukraine would never go anywhere as long as "chess was a spectator sport." He insulted Nataliya's choice of degrees, saying that one of the problems with Ukraine is people are over-educated in worthless subjects. The night was a whole bunch of me burying my face in my hands and trying to steer the conversation into an area that Max couldn't insult.

I did pull a "John" a couple of times and snuck in a few questions I knew would betray his ignorance without him realizing it. I knew it would be pointless to argue with him, he'd only end up saying more things that would make me want to crawl under the table and start talking in an affected accent ("I'm really not American, I swear"). The next day I wrote an email to Nataliya apologizing for Max's appalling behaviour, assuring her that her degree was a good one, not all Americans are like that, and Max is an idiot.

My wish to disappear was partially granted when the power went out for about 30 mintues. Everyoe in the restaurant cheered when this happened. No one came to explain or apologize, the waitresses just brought candles to light the staircase and business went on as ususal. Welcome to Ukraine. As Klaudia says, "don't worry."

Salo

2009-08-03T20:11:00.003+02:00

Salo is raw pork fat. Lonely Planet alleges that salo is a Ukrainian favorite. According to the Ukrainians I met, it's not, it's only sold to gullible tourists. Unfortunately, I didn't find this out until after I'd eaten it. This salo was frozen and covered in chocolate. It tasted like chocolate- covered bacon and was the consistency of stringy, frozen butter.

Three bites into it my stomach protested and threatened a full systems reverse if I continued eating.

4/17/08: Exploring Lviv

2009-07-22T14:32:00.005+02:00

Lviv surprises me at every turn. These streets just aren't what you expect in a struggling, Eastern European country. The streets are clean, chess is being played in the park, kids laugh, the buildings are in good repair. I was hassled mercilessly by gypsies in Berlin, but there wasn't a beggar in sight here in the city center. With the constant reminders people gave me about the country, I wasn't expecting this.

Then I turn a corner.

This is the Lviv I was expecting to see, but it now came as a shock. These buildings should be abandoned, but families still live in them. The streets have been torn up, and no one has bothered to replace it. Despite the disrepair, it was still relatively neat and tidy. There wasn't any trash on the streets and people tried their best to keep the decaying buildings looking as nice as possible. It was another one of those times when looking at another culture brought mine into sharp focus.

I walk up to High Castle Hill, where there was no castle but it was a wonderful vantage point to look down upon the city.

To the south I could see the tops of churches and buildings both old and new.

To the north were the scars of Communism. Block housing rips haphazardly through the landscape and in typical Communist fashion there was little regard to aesthetics.

Unlike in Poland where the block housing is decorated with bright colors and shapes, it stands unapologetically as a testimonial to the country's history.

4/16/08: "Don't Worry"

2009-07-06T13:20:00.005+02:00

We are given a form to fill out detailing where we are going, who we are, ect. I leave the where I'm staying part blank. I'm not sure what I should put or how strict they'll be. I'll be in a hostel this evening and the next, but then I'll be with couch surfers. I'm a little nervous since I'll be leaving a different way than I came in, so I'm not sure what to write.

The woman comes back and in broken English tells me to write in where I'll be staying. I try to explain that I'm not sure what to write, that I'll be traveling around the country, staying with couch surfers. At this point I'm so flustered I can't even think to mention that I'll be staying at a hostel this evening.

"Lviv! Lviv! Hotel Lviv!" she starts yelling at me over and over. I quickly scribble this in while a smattering of snickers comes from the back of the bus.

After the border guard leaves, I leave the bus and meet two CSers. They ask me if I still want to find a bathroom and I get my first taste of Ukrainian life. They are students from Poland and two of the most fantastic people I've ever met in my life.

We still have a long wait and a long ride ahead of us, so she offers to help me find a bathroom. I get another taste of what life is like in Ukraine when we run into a very drunk customs guard who points us in the direction of toilets we are allowed to use. At this point I really don't know if I should laugh or be terrified.

"Don't worry," Klaudia tells me. This would be a phrase I'd hear a lot of this day.

Before we enter the bathroom she warns me about it. It's a squat toilet and not the cleanest one either. She tells me most of the toilets in Ukraine are the squat kind. She gives me a few pointers for successful peeing then waits for me outside.

I walk in and am immediately hit by a wall of stench. I don't want to mouth breathe because I don't want anything from the bathroom in my mouth. Not even microscopic things. I breathe shallowly and do my best to hurry. Everything in the bathroom is wet, so I'm also trying to maneuver around without making contact with any surfaces. Suddenly my mom didn't seem so paranoid when she uses a tissue to touch anything in a public toilet. I'd have done the same, but my backpack was on the bus which contained my emergency supply of kleenex. I decided instead just not to touch anything. I kicked open the stall doors with my foot until I found a suitable place to squat and didn't bother to close it. I was actually glad these were squat toilets and not the regular kind. It was easier to keep my body and my belongings safely away from the wet grossness.

I gave it the good old college try, but was unable to to make my trip to the dark, wet, stinking bathroom worth it.

On the way back to the bus, the CSers tell me about the bribery system here on the boarder. Drivers from "rich" countries, like Poland, are shook down. If the driver doesn't have any money, the border guard will take sausage, beer or anything else that strikes his fancy.

"Don't worry," says Klaudia.

After an incredibly long wait, we're on our way. The roads are scary. We barrel down this tiny, potholed road that is shared with pedestrians and tractors. In my experience, people in Central and Eastern Europe have an odd logic when it comes to driving. The smaller and more decrepit the road, the faster they drive on it. I remind myself that busses drive this road every day and I haven't seen one that's overturned and burned out on the side of the road. I'll be fine, and even if I'm not, there's not much I can do about it.

I distrace myself with the scenery and the conversation, which is easy to do. I laugh as my new friends tell me stories about life in Ukraine and I'm struck by the diversity of the scenery. We pass glistening, silver- topped Orthodox churches, midievel looking ruins, villages which are picturesque and others that are in shambles. Most of the signs are in Cyrillic, but a few kiosks sport signs with badly translated English.

As we are traveling, Kaudia points out the holes and hiding places people use to smuggle cigarettes. Cigarettes are dirt cheap in Ukraine and a popular way to make a living is to take these cigarettes to other countries and sell them.

We finally arrive in Lviv just after nightfall. The bus lets us out in front of the central train station which is a beautiful work of Polish archetecture and is surrounded by food kiosks. I help the CSers with their luggage and they help me buy a ticket to Ivano-Frankivsk, where I'll meet them in a day.

A man in his late 20's with a cut that runs from his mouth up his cheek joker-style stands behind me in line. I try my best to inconspicuously distance myself from him, but he just keeps moving forward (like people do when they are waiting in line). The guy is almost too surreal to be scary. He's wearing a paper-boy hat and clothes that make him look like he came right out of a 1920's gangster movie. The scar, however, keeps me from staring at him too closely. That's the kind of scar you can only get in a few ways.

The surfers helped me secure a ticket to Ivano-Frankivsk and now we were off to find my hostel. We hop on a tram that came from Eastern Germany circa WWII (don't worry), and off we go. We travel down cobblestone streets, past restaurants and night clubs. I have no idea what it will look like in the daylight, but at night Lviv was beautiful.

We get off the tram at the town square. Lviv's nightlife was completely unexpected. It was more like something you'd see in Eugene, Oregon, than something you'd expect to see in Eastern Europe. Young and old were hanging out, playing drums, there were fire dancers and everything was completely mellow. No hard partying, no craziness; just people enjoying life on a beautiful spring night in the plaza. I would have liked to have spend longer in the plaza, but the hour was late and I still needed to check in to the hostel.

We circle around a few blocks before Alexander asks for directions. The hostel is quite well hidden, but we find it. I get my keys and find out I have a room all to myself. The lady at the desk apoligizes for this several times asking if I'm sure I don't want to be in a more populated room. No, no I'm fine really. I only have one day Lviv and way too much to see. I need a good night's sleep.

4/16/09: The Wild, Wild East

2009-05-21T10:51:00.003+02:00

The passports have been returned and we're now waiting just inside the border. The customs officials need to go over every inch of the bus to make sure no one is smuggling anything into the country. The bus is packed with bug sprayers, laundry detergent and vegetables. There's an interesting mix of people on the bus. A few Polish students, several Ukrainian woman with big hair and black and gold shirts, and lots of alcohol.

One of the women re-sprays her big hair and does some primping in the driver's rear-view mirror. She then digs into her bag, pulls out a scrap of ham, then starts insisting someone try it. The two women in front of me keep trying to politely decline it. Finally, one of them takes the proffered chunk. She holds the pork like it's a used Kleenex and quickly searches for something to wrap it in.

Another woman starts complaining that she lost something. She looks in the air vents on the floor and the holes in the ceiling where the air conditioining and reading lights once were. She never did find what she was looking for.

Some of the passengers go off in search of a toilet. I join them, since I don't know when I'll find a toilet again. We get yelled at for going to an unauthorized area. All of us turn and leave except the pork woman. She argues with the border guard and keeps trying to explain that she just needs to use the bathroom, that she must use the bathroom. It's a funny sight, but I keep walking back to the bus. I do not want to get caught up in the ruckus.

Shortly after, the bus starts up again and I think we are on our way. Unfortunately we only drove about 20 meters before stopping again.

4/16/09: To Ukraine

2009-05-21T10:20:00.002+02:00

Warsaw:
It's almost 7:00 a.m. and I'm at Warsaw Central station. I am bloody tired. The woman who runs the Polish school kept me up until well after midnight. My repeated attempts to excuse myself for my long day ahead were useless. I hope I can snag some sleep on the train to Przemysl, I have no idea when I'm going to get to the hostel.

On the train to Przemysl:
My train will arrive at 14:20. This should mean I'll be in Lviv before nightfall. I'm really looking forward to crossing the border. It will be interesting to get out of the EU and Schengen.

I haven't seen much of the Polish countryside, I've mostly been traveling through the woods. The few glimpses I've gotten are anything from picturesque to decrepit.

***
The granny in the compartment with me is looking at me with curious amusement. Kind of like I come from another planet. I definately stick out here.

Przemysl:
Border crossing time soon. I didn't find one of those yellow busses, but that's okay. The bus I'll be taking says "Lviv", so it should get me to my final destination. This is a bit scary, however. No English anywhere. I've gotten used to at least young people speaking English, that doesn't seem to be the case in this part of Poland. It certainly won't be the case in Ukraine. I'm definately not in Kansas anymore!

Poland/Ukraine Border:
The customs official looks like he stepped right out of the Soviet Union, exchanged his red star and red hat band for green. I so want to take a picture of him, but I don't dare. He's already been eyeballing me. He doesn't seem to like my passport very much. I don't know if it's because it's an American passport or because I have blond hair in my passport photo. With everyone else, he gave their passports only brief glance befor collecting them. He took a long, hard look at me and my passport then asked me my birthday. I think my disticntly American English convinced him more than my answer.

He dissappeared with all the passports. It's pretty unnerving to be without my passport so far from home.

Illness Strikes

2009-05-08T19:00:00.002+02:00

I've just gotten over a nasty bout of food poisoning. I think it was salmonella. I have never been so sick. Ironically I think I contracted the bug upon my return to Norway. The only other thing it could have been was the water in Poland. It's unlikely, and I was specifically told that water was safe.

I've been uploading and organizing photos like crazy. Check the sidebars for new links. Stories are soon to follow.

Off on a New Adventure

2009-04-06T12:30:00.001+02:00

Berlin, Warsaw, and Ukraine. A trip I've been wanting to take for a really long time. I'm packed, ready, and just about to start my journey.

Aushwitz: Part 2

2009-03-27T09:42:00.003+01:00

Behind the gas chamber is the gallows where Rudolf Höss was hanged. He was the only person hanged in this gallows.

Höss was given the order by Himmler to devise a method of mass extermination of the European Jews. Höss turned Auschwitz into the most efficient extermination camp in the Reich.

Höss's house is directly behind me. I was unable to take a picture of it. They had fences up and were renovating it. He lived less than 100 feet away from the gas chambers with his wife and children. His wife described Auschwitz as the most beautiful place on earth and said she couldn't imagine living anywhere else.

We weren't allowed to take pictures inside any of the buildings. The buildings all had information and exhibits on Auschwitz. It was inside these buildings that I finally started to understand how many people died there. Piles of shoes, personal effects, and hair was a testament to the number of lives lost. What was even more incredible was the personal effects were only from people executed in the final days of Auschwitz's operation that weren't destroyed by the Nazi's when they left.

At one point during the visits to the exhibits my brain just shut off my emotions. At some points I felt physically ill. I don't have the words to describe the crime that happened and how it felt to be in the place that crime occurred.

Auschwitz and Birkenau

2009-03-07T16:54:00.002+01:00

The entrance to Auschwitz. Prisoners were made to march through these gates uner the words "Arbeit macht frei": "Work makes you free." As they marched in and out of the camp an orchestra played music to further humiliate the prisoners.

Auschwitz I was a concentration camp and was created before Auschwitz II-Birkenau, the death camp. The buildings in Aushwitz I are made of brick instead of wood. This is because Aushwitz I was orignally and old Polish Army barraks.

This was the first gas chamber and crematoria, which operated from 1941- 1942, was constructed by converting a bunker. The prisoners were made to strip naked out in front of the gas chamber before they entered. This gas chamber could gas approximately 700 people at one time and was quite small compared to the gas chambers the Nazis later constructed. After the contruction of extermination camps with much larger, more efficent gas chambers, this gas chamber was deconstructed and turned into an air raid shelter for the SS.

They Really Will Kill You

2009-03-06T22:17:00.005+01:00

The icicles hanging off Oslo's buildings are massive.

Strangely enough, building owners generally don't knock them down. They simply lean sticks against the buildings to discourage people from walking under them.

Norwegian Countryside

2009-03-06T22:06:00.006+01:00

I didn't manage to take a single picture in Stavanger, but I did take a few photos of the landscape while I was on the train to Stavanger. It was a stunning train ride, the second half of the journey through giagantic mountains with tiny villages nestled in their valleys was even more amazing. Unfortunately it was night time during that leg.

The Price of Food

2009-02-27T16:09:00.002+01:00

196 Kroner is about $33 at the current exchange rate. A medium pizza is a single serving pizza. This is a mid-range pizza place and on the lower end of restaurant prices.

Comments

2009-02-27T12:45:00.001+01:00

I tweaked the comment settings again. Let me know if you are still having problems posting.

The Price of Alcohol

2009-02-27T12:09:00.005+01:00

98 Kroner is about $16. These are regular sized drinks, they don't come in extra large glasses or with extra strong alcohol.

Norway has a huge problem with binge drinking. Actually, most people don't see it as a problem, "it's just the way it is." Daily drinking is considered a problem, but binge drinking is mostly thought of as a part of Norwegian culture. I don't think anyone thinks it's a good part of Norwegian culture, they just don't see it as inherently bad. It's quite bizarre to me that it's even acceptable to get black-out drunk at some corporate functions.

The main way the Norwegian government has tried to curb this behaviour is to raise the price of alcohol to exorbitant levels. The problem is that doesn't really work. Russia showed the world that doesn't work when they tried it for a time under Communism. It really only discourages people who aren't alcoholics from drinking. This is a country where literally everyone pays for the poor health choices of others since it has universal healthcare. One would think it would be in everyone's best interest to try something that works when it comes to the alcohol problem.

Lost In Translation

2009-02-26T18:34:00.004+01:00

It's apparently a rather exclusive brand available in several European countries.

Stavanger: Epilogue

2009-02-26T14:59:00.004+01:00

I spent nearly the entirety of that last Monday in my room. I was so tense and just ready to get out of the house. I decided to stay until they took me to the train station since the wife would be at work most of the day.

I spent the day writing a letter, I really needed some resolution in this situation. I didn't want it to sound angry, but I did have a few things to say. I recounted the previous 48 hours from my perspective, and said that while I couldn't apologise for what exactly I did I could apologise for the hurt and anger I caused. I never meant to cause any bad feelings. I also mentioned the good times I'd had working for their family.

My train left at 10 o'clock, but I told them it would be fine if they dropped me off sooner. They said they'd drop me off at 8:30, which turned into 8:00 which finally turned into 7:45. Fine, whatever. I really didn't want to be there any longer than I had to be anyway, and all I was doing was sitting in my room with a knot in my stomach.

The car ride was mostly silent, the wife made some small talk with me but that was it. After some awkward goodbyes, they left me at the train station. As the train pulled out of the station, the knot in my stomach finally started to subside. It was over.

On Tuesday, I received an email from the wife. She'd found my letter and decided I deserved an explanation after all. The email was long and rambling; I was accused of things like using up all the toilet paper "on purpose," still not doing enough work, not making enough of an effort to be part of the family, and secretly hating them. She felt I was pretending every time I was around them, and she "could see in my eyes" that I didn't want to be around them.

She didn't see that in my eyes, she saw that in my emails. She also mentioned that she overheard a conversation I'd had on Sunday about how they didn't like me because of my religion and wanted to assure me that wasn't true at all. The thing was, I never once said that because I don't feel that way. What she was referring to was a series of sarcastic instant messages my brother and I had exchanged.

Faking emotions is one thing I can't do. What I can do is separate people's actions from the people themselves. There were many good things about this family, and many things I enjoyed. I didn't just want to stay an extra week for a paycheck; I wanted to hear more of their stories, have more conversations, learn more about them and their culture. I chalked most of that Sunday up to irreconcilable cultural differences. The only thing I really judged them for was the racist comment, and that I considered to be a statement of ignorance and not a statement of hate.

Ultimately, the wife didn't want an au pair at all. She didn't want anyone living in the house and was looking for any excuse she could to justify getting rid of me. I think they also might have been looking for a surrogate daughter, and not just an English teacher. After my third day there they made numerous mentions of how I'm like a daughter and how we are a family. In my opinion, three days is a little to early for that unless that's what they were looking for from the beginning.

Stavanger: The Final Weekend

2009-02-24T10:50:00.005+01:00

The week was uneventful. I did my best to be as accommodating as possible and enjoyed what little time I knew I had left. Either way, this wasn't going to last more than two weeks. I enjoyed hearing their life stories, I enjoyed the cooking and I enjoyed teaching English. The rest was just too much to overcome, I knew I'd be getting resentful all too quickly over the amount of work I was doing versus my pay and having my freedom greatly restricted.

Friday I was relieved when the wife said we needed to talk and told me that things just weren't working out. There were too many cultural differences. I was told I could stay an extra week and she would pay me and that there were no hard feelings. I told her how happy I was that she brought this up, that I was feeling the exact same way. I was very happy that things were going to end so well.

The next morning we all had breakfast, and afterwards they went to town for grocery shopping while I went to the library. We agreed I'd be home around two o'clock so we could make dinner. Everything seemed fine, I felt like I had a huge weight off my chest because now I didn't have to worry about ending this business relationship.

Then I came home.

It's like an arctic blast had come through the house. I went to work putting away the groceries and did my best to ignore the change in mood in the house. When I was putting away the groceries I notice that they only bought be one half-liter of milk and one bag of oatmeal. I asked for two because I eat two a week.

Hoping it was a mistake I ask the wife about this, to which she first replies "I thought you only asked for one." I'm now a little irritated, and remind her that we had to go by the store mid-week to get me more milk and oatmeal and that I had written "two" on the list.

Then she tells me, "Oh, well you're leaving soon anyway."

I knew that's what it was about. I don't know what happened in the hours I was gone, but I knew something had changed before I had even taken my shoes off. I still had to ask, "I thought you said you'd pay me to stay an extra week."

With a look that could kill and in a tone that said "no chance in hell" she said, "We'll talk about it."

I spent the rest of the day trying to be both invisible and available to help out. By evening time the mood in the house had thawed considerably, we had a good meal together and then a language lesson after. By the end of the language lesson we were all laughing so hard we had tears rolling down our faces. I went to bed that night thinking I must have completely misjudged the situation that day. The cold front that had moved through must not have been my fault.

Sunday I decided not to get up early for church service for two reasons. I wasn't 100% certain I'd satisfied my requirements for notification and I was also going to meet a couchsurfer after. Also, I'd have a long time between church and the meeting time. One church service in Norwegian wasn't going to kill me, and I thought it would be best to toe the line for however much time I had left.

I talked to the wife before I left, she was surprised I hadn't gone to church. I said that I'd overslept, but I'd be going to a later Norwegian service. We also talked about when I'd be home, I said I wasn't sure but I could call her when I knew. She said that wasn't necessary, she just needed to know if I'd be home for dinner. I said I wouldn't and offered again to text or call her. She said no, that was fine.

I came home around eight o'clock that night. As I was heating up the leftovers the wife had left out for me, the husband came in to the kitchen. He asked how my day was and we chatted for a bit. He then asked me if I had another job yet. Not wanting it to appear like I'd been job hunting since the exchange the previous Sunday, I told him I had some good prospective families instead of telling him that I'd already been hired by one.

I mentioned that I really did need that extra week of work we had talked about, but that the wife didn't seem to keen on the idea anymore. He said that I could stay another week only if it was absolutely necessary but they really needed me gone as soon as possible. I asked him what had changed since Friday, but he refused to tell me. He told me that I was destabilizing the family, and that the wife had collapsed on the floor in a fit of rage earlier that evening. I asked a second time, saying I really wanted to know and that it was important to me that I received an answer. He said it was something his wife would have to explain to me, but he didn't think it would be healthy for her to talk about it.

This is about the time the warning bells started going off in my head and I really started to feel unsafe. Friday we'd all been in agreement this wasn't working out and I'd be out of there soon, yet things were still escalating at an alarming pace. I had maybe exchanged two dozen words with the wife before I left and I was gone the entire day, appropriately prearranged. How I could have caused her to become apoplectic during my absence was beyond me.

I started suspecting on Saturday that they had been monitoring my email and instant messaging, and now I was nearly certain. It was just too strange that twice I'd been gone and during my absence something had enraged the wife so greatly. I had been venting via email to my friends and family about my living situation, of course I was. I was angry about the racism, being treated like a young teenager, working well over my 30 hours when I'd been promised I'd be working less.

I booked myself the earliest cheap train I could, which left Monday night. I knew I couldn't find a couchsurfer on such short notice to stay with, and I couldn't afford a hotel room which would have started at $200. I also knew that leaving in the middle of the night could possibly be the thing that tipped everything over the edge, and I risked losing all of my luggage if that happened. I reasoned that I probably wasn't in mortal danger, that the most I had to worry about was her coming into my room in the middle of the night and screaming at me. At any rate, I kept my cell phone with the police department's number near by and I stacked my suitcases against my bedroom door. I didn't go to sleep until after they went to sleep and I made sure I woke up before they did.

The First Sunday: Things Start to Go Wrong

2009-02-19T10:50:00.004+01:00

I was happy to learn that there was an English- language service at a Catholic Church in Stavanger. I told the wife the night before that I'd be going to church and I left a note reminding them because I was leaving so early. Unfortunately, the bus never came so I never got a chance to attend church. From the moment the family woke up I noticed something was off. Things just weren't okay in the house. I did my best to stay out of everyone's way while at the same time not completely holing up in my room.

Finally, around 3:00pm, I took my bank details down to the husband so I could be paid. He utters those magic words one never wants to hear, especially after such a tense day: "We need to talk."

He doesn't want me to turn in my visa paperwork to the police just yet. He starts off by telling me that I'm not doing enough around the house. I took this news rather hard. I take my job quite seriously, there's nothing worse for me than being told I've been screwing up for a long period of time. I'd been asking for a chore list, and in no way had house keeping been part of the arrangement. I had voluntarily taken a 500 kr (about $100) illegal pay cut because all I was supposed to be doing was teaching the parents English. I picked up after myself, I didn't leave a mess, and I was still adjusting to this new family life.

Then comes the real shocker, they were upset that I had gone to church that morning. Telling them the night before that I was going to church and leaving a note telling them where I was going and when to expect me home wasn't enough. I received a long lecture about how dangerous that was, specifically, that I could "be raped by a Polish man." They also wanted 2-3 days notice before I left the house. I did my best to smile and nod. I know my temper all too well, and once the missiles leave the silos they cannot be recalled.

Stavanger: In the Beginning

2009-02-15T16:38:00.003+01:00

The train ride to Stavanger was beautiful, the beauty of this country really is amazing. Huge mountains, valleys with little villages nestled inside and the fjords. After over eight hours of travel I stepped off the train into weather several degrees warmer than I was used to. The family met me at the train station, and after a quick night- time tour of the city we were on our way to my new home.

The family was very friendly, and we talked the entire way to their house. My room was really small, but I figured I could make do. I was tired from my journey, but I stayed awake and talked to them for several hours. They really had lived an amazing life and I was eager to hear all about it.

They came to Norway with $20 in their pockets and worked their way up from the bottom. They both had university degrees, but found themselves with no other option but to take jobs washing dishes. While they were away at university, their home town was invaded by Armenians. There had been trouble for years, the wife had been home on vacation when the house she was staying at was bombed. Once the occupation happened, they had become refugees in their own country. They could no longer return home. They showed me their former homes on Google earth, there was nothing left but the foundations.

Their lives and struggles were things I couldn't even imagine. It was an absolute pleasure to speak to them every evening.

My Crazy Adventure

2009-02-12T10:06:00.003+01:00

I took a job two weeks ago with an Azari family in Stavanger. Stavanger is a beautiful city on the West side of Norway. Azarbajin is a former Soviet country on the Caspian Sea to the east of Turkey and the north of Iran. My job was to help these folks improve their English. Nice and simple, right? I even agreed to a salary that was less than the Norwegian minimum wage by 500 Kroner (approx. $100) because "I wouldn't be working all that much." We even had a month- long trial period to see if this arrangement would work. It sounded fantastic. I was going to be paid to talk to these people in English. Former Soviet nations really fascinate me, so basically I was going to be paid to talk to someone about my favorite subject.

This should have been a match made in heaven. Instead, everything imploded. It imploded so completely that I spent my final night in the house with my bedroom door barricaded by my suitcases. Granted, that might have been a bit of overkill, but things had spiraled so far out of control that I wasn't taking any chances.

Perogie

2009-01-19T18:36:00.003+01:00

Despite my best efforts, I was unable to find duck's blood soup in Poland. So my new food in Poland was fairly tame.

Perogie are similar to Ravioli, but stuffed a bit more full and pan fried. They have a variety of fillings, my personal favorite was the Russian style with cottage cheese and potatoes inside. I also had perogi filled with bacon and potato, and mushroom and cabbage. There's also a sweet variety of perogi in Poland that have fruit fillings, but I never located any to try.

The other interesting thing I tried in Poland was warm, spiced wine. It was a wonderful treat on those bitterly cold days. It's sweeter than coffee but not as sweet as hot chocolate. The wine has been boiled, so there's nearly no alcohol in it. The tastes that are left are just the tartness of the grapes, the other fruits and the spices.

Krakow in Photos

2009-01-17T10:18:00.006+01:00

I've thought about it, and I really don't have a narrative for Krakow. I have random stories and adventures, but nothing I can set into a sequential series of events. That's kind of how Krakow felt to me, however, so maybe that's the best way to write about it. Krakow is a very mellow and livable city. In some ways it's not unlike Western Europe, but it also has that unique flavor that's only found in Central and Eastern Europe.

Things are just a little off-center, just a little different. That's where Krakow's charm really lies. You walk through the streets and at first it feels like Anycity, Europe. There's good shopping, well- dressed people from every corner of the globe, and a mix of new and ancient buildings. And just as I get settled into the notion that this is a city like any other, I see something that makes me pause and smile.

*There's more pics from my first two days on the sidebar. There's also info in the captions of the photos in my album.

Processing Auschwitz

2009-01-15T19:27:00.008+01:00

I've been struggling with how to describe my journey to Auschwitz. It's a hard one to tackle, there is of course the simple narrative, but there's also so many feelings I had before, during and after. It's a struggle for me to comprehend all I've seen and come to terms with what I did comprehend. I've also become fascinated with other people's experiences with Auschwitz. It seems like everyone takes something different away with them from the site, but there's also the universal "Oh my God" when the Holocaust stops being just something we read about.

The thing I most connected with were the stories of the people who did good and heroic things in spite of all the horror, for example, Oscar Schindler. This was a man who should have never cared; he was a Nazi, a war profiteer, a run-of-the-mill greedy bastard who only cared about himself. He should have been the last person on earth to look around and go "Hey, this isn't right. I need to help these people." That he went broke saving the lives of Jews astonishes me. A mind boggling number of people turned a blind eye to what was happening, yet the most unlikely of folks risked their lives, safety, family and friends to save fellow humans.

I think in some ways I know I can never comprehend the why's of the evil that happened. That this mass extermination of human beings happened at all is something I will never fully wrap my head around. No matter how many ways it's explained to me I always come back to the same question, "Yes, but why?" This wasn't just a few crazy people doing a few crazy things, this was insanity on an unimaginable scale. Well- organized insanity at that.

I'll be slowly working through my Auschwitz experience over the next few weeks. I hope I ultimately find a coherent way to tell the story.

A Happy Birthday

2009-01-15T18:18:00.003+01:00

Today we officially celebrated my birthday. Yesterday I was home alone with the kids, and it was a very busy day. I only had time to sneak away with Magnus for a slice of cake and some play time at an indoor park. It was a fun interlude in an otherwise busy and stressful day.

Today Linda was home, so I actually had a proper birthday. She baked me a cake, and I realized it's the first time anyone has ever baked a cake for me. They sang happy birthday to me and gave me presents. All the kids helped with something, even Mathias who's been sick. This was really a fun birthday, I couldn't have asked for a nicer one.

"You Call Me Sweetie Peetie Right Now!"

2009-01-13T17:49:00.004+01:00

Magnus doesn't quite understand the concept of nicknames. He noticed one day that I call him Sweetie Peetie and tells me, "I'm not Sweetie Peetie, I'm Magnus." I tried to explain what nicknames were, but eventually just convinced him that "sweetie peetie" meant "big boy."

Tonight as I was walking along next to him while he was riding his bike, I made the terrible mistake of calling him "baby." He slammed on his brakes and looked up at me with a scowl on his face.

"I am not a baby, I am a sweetie peetie. You call me sweetie peetie right now!"

"Yes, you are a sweetie peetie," I told him in a very serious voice. "You are not a baby."

With that settled he happily went on his way.

Plague is the New Goth

2009-01-12T09:56:00.004+01:00

My Week

2009-01-08T20:21:00.003+01:00

So far this week I've been tear-gassed, layed-off and urinated on in anger. It's only Wednesday.

Best Apartment Ever

2009-01-04T12:07:00.004+01:00

At the risk of being borderline creepy and stalkery, I snuck around my CS host's apartment and took pictures of it. On my final day, I shamefully confessed my secret photography project to her. This is literally the most beautiful apartment I've ever been in. It looks like it came right off HGTV. My photos unfortunately don't do it justice, small areas are hard to photograph and the subtle coloring of the wood doesn't really come through.

That's the living room where I slept. My bed is just visible in the right-hand corner of the picture.

The bathroom was even beautiful.

I love this kitchen. The refrigerator and freezer are hidden inside those two long cabinets next to the sink. The drying rack is in the cabinet above the sink.

More pics are available in the photo album Best Apartment Ever on the sidebar.

Germans Ingenuity at its Finest

2009-01-04T11:29:00.010+01:00

As Vince says, "You know the Germans always make good stuff." With that in mind, let me introduce you to the German Poop- Shelf Toilet.

I first ran across this invention in Budapest. It seems that Germans and some Soviets felt the need to inspect their feces before flushing it. My Internet research not only uncovered the technique you need to successfully flush your poop after you've inspected it, but also numerous people who vehemently defend the invention.

In case you ever find yourself in a situation that requires using the GPST, let me explain the maneuver know as the Magic Carpet. You lay several layers of toilet paper on the shelf, then do your business on the toilet paper. When you flush, the water will flow under the paper and move it off the shelf and into the water below. These toilets are notorious for their low water pressure, so no amount of flushing will remove the poop from the shelf unless you successfully pull a magic carpet.

The toilet paper left in the toilet is a testament to the lack of water-pressure. Before you get all grossed out, let me assure you that it was only paper I blew my nose with. Three flushes later it was still hanging out and silently mocking me.

For more information on this wonderful invention, visit: http://www.banterist.com. The article made me laugh until I had tears running down my face.

Phew!

2009-01-02T19:07:00.007+01:00

Budapest stories are done. Links to the albums Budapest: Day 3, and Budapest Day 4 & 5 are new.

I also fixed the photo problems. All the pictures are now formatted so the whole photo is visible.

Email me if you notice any other problems/issues with the blog.

I tweaked the Comments again. It should be possible for anyone to comment, and I took off the word verification. The comments are still set to be moderated, which means I have to approve comments before they are visible. Let me know if this works or doesn't.

I've also found a cool little tool that will automatically email people when I update my blog. I will make use of this tool when I'm done writing about Krakow.

Now, it's time for me to start on my Krakow adventures.

Budapest: Farewell

2009-01-02T18:44:00.003+01:00

It was time for me to leave the boisterous, mildly disorganized, emotion-filled and colorful world of Budapest and return to the neat and orderly calmness of Norway. I really didn't want to leave, this place had gotten to me. This is a city that has seen the ravages of war, has been terrorized by secret-police, and the people here are so poor. You can walk down certain streets here and still see the bullet-holes from the 1956 Revolution or the gun turrets built on the roof-tops. But despite all this tragedy, the people of this city have a spirit about them. They are warm, extraordinarily generous, and take magnificent care of their amazing city. A city that feels like it shouldn't exist in real life. This is a city that lives in the pages of a novel or on a movie screen.

As an amusing epilogue to my journey, the train that took me back to the airport was the exact opposite of the train I rode into the city. This train was uncrowded and ultra-modern. This train was in better shape than any Amtrack or Norwegian train I've ridden on, and its only riders were well-dressed business men. Go figure.

Budapest Day 4: House of Terror

2009-01-02T18:08:00.004+01:00

The House of Terror at 60 Andrassy Utca is a museum that is located in the building that was home to the Hungarian Nazis then to the communist secret police. It was here that I first realized how horrible the crimes of communism were.

Comparatively, the Nazi crimes in that building were minimal compared to the communist's crimes. A prisoner of the Nazi's interred in Andrazzy Utca, for example, didn't have to worry about having his air supply shut off because the guard on duty was bored and in a sadistic mood. The reconstructed Nazi detention cells were lavish compared to the communist's sub-terrainian dungeons. Also, during the Soviet's time in the building, one never knew when he'd go from being an employee to prisoner. Even the highest ranking officials weren't immune to one day being led down to the dark cells they helped construct, tortured by methods they had approved, and finally hanged in the Soviet's own unique way. It was really shocking to see that the crimes of the communists were comparable to the crimes of the Nazis in this country. While the Nazi's were nothing if not pure evil, the communists brought their brand of terror to this country.

After the museum, I noticed my feeling was slowly returning to my mouth so I stopped into McDonald's for a quick meal, then I returned to Kata's.

First she took me to Tesco. I literally wanted to drop to my knees and rejoice at the selection! Tesco is basically the European version of Wal-Mart. One stop shopping! I can buy clothes, toothbrushes, and food all in one store! Toothbrushes for $1! Real anti-perspirent! Socks! Kat watched my revelry with quiet amusement. I laughed at the irony that a post-communist country had more selection than the happy and free land of Norwegians.

After this pilgrimage, we went back to her flat for another night of long conversations and plenty of tea.

Budapest Day 4: Extractions

2009-01-02T17:20:00.004+01:00

I barely arrived on time for my extractions. I was planning on a hearty breakfast, but realized I didn't have time. I figured I'd have time after my cleaning. I was scheduled to come back that evening for my extractions. After being escorted back to the dental chair I find out that plans have changed; this appointment is going to be both the cleaning and the extractions. I'm not all that distressed by the news, a few hours difference hardly mattered.

I try my best to relax as she injects me with Novocaine. She keeps telling me to relax as she's injecting lava into my jaw. If I hadn't had a large needle in my mouth I would have explained that I wasn't tense so much as I was in pain. After she was finished I tried futilely to explain that I'm not especially nervous, this is just how I look.

The cleaning was quite routine, now it was extraction time. She tried a few times to get me to close my eyes, I explained that I'm less nervous when I can see what's coming. She relented, and came at me with a chisel. She then started working on my lower tooth with a wide range of pliers. Over and over she kept telling me to relax, and I'm wondering what exactly I'm supposed to do. My mouth is open, I'm not squirming or crying. I tried to loosen the death grip on the chair and focus on my breathing leaving only my toes to curl in my boots. My lower tooth really didn't want to come out of my mouth, she had to call in her assistant to hold my head while she wrenched on my stubborn lower tooth using the headrest of my chair for leverage. All the while she keeps telling me to relax, like it's something I'm intentionally not doing.

After what felt like 20 minutes, I finally hear the crack and ripping of my tooth coming out. I commented that my tooth really didn't want to come out.

"It was because you were nervous," the dentist replied. "If you weren't so tense this wouldn't have taken so long."

I stifled a giggle as I imagined my nervous gums holding on extra tightly to the tooth. I wasn't being difficult, I'm certain of that. She only had to stop once to give me more Novocaine when I said I could feel pain. Then again, she had also told me earlier that I was shouting because I was listening to my iPod while I was talking to her. I tried to explain that no, it was off. That I was listening to a talk show and it would literally be impossible for me to form sentences when I had someone else talking in my ears. I never altered the volume of my voice, but from then on I removed my headphones before speaking. She never again complained that I was "shouting." It just goes to show that perception really is reality.

The second tooth came out easier than the first, but it was by far not a quick extraction. This time I knew I was finally relaxed, I was no longer gripping the chair arms or curling my toes. I knew I had enough Novocaine in me that she could break my jaw and I wouldn't feel it. During one of the plier exchanges I asked if there was anything I could do to help or if I needed to relax more.

"No, you're doing fine," she replied. "Sometimes wisdom teeth are just hard to remove."

facepalm.jpg

After more wrenching my upper tooth finally ripped free. As I was biting down on the gauze she was telling me what I could and could not do for the next night. No food or drink until I completely have the feeling back in my mouth. I ask how long that will take and she tells me it will take six hours minimum. I think about my lack of breakfast and what an error that choice turned out to be. I was also told I couldn't have dairy products, so there goes my ice cream.

So what is there to do in Budapest when you can't eat or drink and one side of your face is swollen and paralyzed? Go to the House of Terror of course.

Budapest Day 3: Kerepesi Cemetary

2009-01-02T16:52:00.006+01:00

This cemetery is indescribable. It's virtually a city with grave stones and tombs in all shapes and sizes. I was there for two hours and only saw a fraction of it.

Day three ended back in Kata's apartment where we drank tea late into the night.

*I've now added a link to my Day 3 photos in the sidebar. There's many more pics of the city and the cemetary in the album.

Budapest Day 3: Hungarian Dentistry

2009-01-02T14:42:00.009+01:00

Day three was the day of my x-rays and dental consult. I arrived early to the x-ray office, so I found a wonderful little coffee shop to drink my first Turkish coffee in.

My x-rays were an interesting experience. Not one person spoke English. Despite the language barrier, the entire process went incredibly smoothly and I was on my way to the dentist. I was a little nervous about my consult. It's hard not to be nervous about wisdom teeth extraction, and after my interesting encounters with Norwegian health care I was a little skittish about any medical/dental treatments in other countries.

My dentist was a very wonderful woman who put all my fears of inadequate care at ease. I made my appointment for the extractions without hesitation. By the next evening, I'd be a couple of teeth lighter.

Now that my business was concluded, I had the rest of the day to continue my explorations of the city. I decided to head toward the University Church and continue my tour of Hungarian churches.

About halfway up the escalator from the subway, I finally got my bearings in the city. My spidey senses were once again working properly, and I could now feel what was safe and what was dangerous. The essence of Budapest had finally penetrated my skin and I was now in tune with the city.

Even the Ordinary Can Be Nauseating

2008-12-25T18:08:00.004+01:00

I've now had a traditional Norwegian Christmas meal from the east and the west. In the west, they eat lamb ribs that have been salted and dried, then soaked in water to de-salt and puff up. The side dishes are boiled potatoes and mashed turnip-like roots. As bizarre as this sounds, it's actually rather tasty. The drying and re hydrating of the lamb makes it less greasy and very tender. The turnip-esque mash was actually pretty good too. This is traditionally served with a dark beer and a high- octane hard alcohol called aquavit.

Tonight we ate a traditional meal from eastern Norway; three different kinds of pork, boiled potatoes, sauerkraut and mustard sauce. God bless mustard, it's the only thing that got me through the meal.

The meal started off with bacon, or at least what I was told was bacon. In reality it was pig skin. Pig skin that was tough as concrete on one side and slime on the other side. It was so tough that I had to chew it well or I'm certain it would have sliced my esophagus open. I took a little more than a taste since I thought it was bacon, and bacon is yummy. Skin is one thing I can't eat. It turns my stomach to even think about people eating chicken skin, let alone watch people eat it. The other part of an animal I just can't stand is the fat. I can get through a small bit of beef-fat if I have to, everything else is a no-go. Now I have a rather large helping of pig skin I'm going to have to ingest. I can't just not eat it, the pig skin is considered to be the best part of this particular dish. Throwing it away would be terribly rude. I tried putting it in my mouth slimy side down, slimy side up, anything to make it more tolerable. I choked down as much as I could, trying to keep my face as neutral as possible. There was still more I'd have to eat, but I had to save it for later.

The next thing that came around was sauerkraut. I really hate sauerkraut, but not wanting to be rude I took a small helping. Little did I know this was the best food I'd be eating during the meal.

Next came the pork, or what I'm lead to believe was pork. It's called medister, and I can't find any explanation for it online. That might be for the best, somethings are better left unknown. All the pork was grey. There were fatty slabs of pork meat, pork cakes, and pork sausage. Mustard sauce also came around which I promptly drowned my food in. When I was cautioned it was quite strong, I made an "oops" face and then made a comment that I love mustard and must have gotten carried away. I didn't care how strong it was, I knew this was going to be one of the only things to help me through the meal.

The slabs of pork were marbled with fat, making it a bit of a challenge to eat. I just couldn't choke down any more fat. I carefully carved the lean meat out with my dull butter knife not really minding how long it was taking. After all, there was no other food I was looking forward to eating. The pork cake was acutally pretty tasty, or maybe it was just by comparison. I didn't mind it nearly as much as the meat slab.

Only three things left to finish on my plate: saurkraut, sausage and the skin. In a stroke of genious I mixed the mustard sauce in with the saurkraut and used the saurkraut to mask the skin. It actually worked, the mustard took the sting off the saurkraut and the saurkraut masked the taste and texture of the skin. I never thought I'd be thankful for saurkraut, but tonight it was my best friend.

One thing left, the sausage. Luckily sausages are relatively soft, so not much chewing is invovled. I powered through the sausage and drank long and hard from my wine glass. And don't forget, this was a meal with the extended family, so I also had to paste a smile on my face and make conversation.

I think I have PTSD from this meal, I'm mentally exhausted from eating it. I was fantasizing about the Hungarian stomach throughout this meal. I would have cried with joy for the ability to trade.

Budapest Day 2- Castle Hill at Night and Meeting Kata

2008-12-21T11:37:00.009+01:00

After emerging from the tunnels, I decided to walk about a bit before texting Kata to meet up. Buda at night is an absolutely surreal experience. The yellow-orange glow of the street lights reflecting off the untouched snow and the yellow, Baroque buildings made me feel like I was in a David Lynch film and not in the real world.

I could have walked around until my feet froze off, but Kata texted me asking if we should meet up. We agreed to meet up at the bottom of Castle Hill, I wanted just a bit more time in this place before I returned to the real world.

I made my way down the stairways of Castle Hill, this time unafraid since I was on the side I was familiar with.

Kata was waiting for me when I arrived at the square. She's a young doctor, and I instantly liked her. She asked me where I wanted to eat, and I said I was open to anything, but I'd really love to eat some real Hungarian food from a restaurant she likes. She said there was a small restaurant near her flat that she really liked.

On the way, I asked her questions about Hungarian health care and medical school and learned some very interesting things. I told her about the differences I noticed between Norway and the US making sure to highlight the good and the bad. I learned that Hungarian textbook writers get paid by the page, so they are rather long winded. Kata said she survived medical school by buying German textbooks and using those. They were literally half the size with the same exact info.

I could easily write a small novel on such fascinating topics as needle recapping and the Hungarian residency program, but I have a feeling I'd be the only one interested in reading it. Instead, I think I'll jump ahead to my Hungarian dinner. There were two Hungarian dishes she recommended at the restaurant. Potato casserole or stomach. I decided to live dangerously and went for the stomach with a side of potatoes and a cucumber salad.

I can now safely say it's a myth that everything strange tastes like chicken. Stomach tastes like stomach. I have nothing I can even vaguely relate it to. It has a seafood-like texture and is very chewy. I honestly can't say if I like it or not, it was so new to me that all I can say is I didn't hate it. After eating it another two or three times, it's either going to be my new favorite food or it'll make me throw up.

The cucumber salad was also interesting. It had a sweet-cream dressing which was an interesting contrast to the cucumbers that were slightly vinegary. It was like a salad and a dessert mixed into one. Tasty, but strange. I can easily say that will become a favorite of mine one day.

We went back to her place for tea and more conversation. She told me that her apartment used to be her grandparents apartment. They lived in this tiny one-bedroom flat with four children. They were also jumping for joy when they acquired it. Their previous apartment didn't have its own bathroom, there was one bathroom per floor that was shared with the other tenants. The apartment is perfect for one person, but would even be small for a couple. My mom, brother and I have lived in some small places, but they were veritable mansions compared to this flat.

It really hit home for the first time how fortunate Americans really are. The poverty I lived in as a child and a teenager was nothing compared to the middle-class life in Hungary under Communism.

Budapest Day 2: Into the Labyrinths

2008-12-21T11:26:00.006+01:00

The labryinths are just amazing, and I'm so glad Boro suggested I go at night. Exploring them with only a lantern was magical. The labyrinths are one of those places you believe exist as a child, but you realize can't exist as an adult. While exploring the tunnels, I imagined I was in a Legend of Zelda or D&D game. There were so many nooks and crannies with fun little things hidden in them, it was quite easy to suspend disbelief for an hour.

Budapest Day 2- To the Buda Castle Labyrinths

2008-12-18T15:00:00.005+01:00

The first thing I noticed in my Budapest travel guide was the Buda Castle Labrynths. I had no idea what they were, I just knew I wanted to go. Because of Boro's suggestion, I decided to go after 6pm. This meant I had to take the subway for the first time.

I've been avoiding the subway like the plague. Growing up with the horror stories of the New York Subways and not feeling entirely safe on the Olso subways, there was no way I wanted to ride the subways in some foreign country. This night I had no choice. I couldn't really ride the trams to my destination and I wasn't familiar enough with the bus system to take advantage of it. Much to my surprise, my fear was 100% unfounded. The subways were brightly lit, clean, and didn't have creepy people lurking about. The subways in Budapest are a joy to ride.

Unfortunately, the closest subway stop to the labyrinths was on the other side of Castle Hill, a place I haven't visited before. I emerged from the subway stop into a blizzard, I couldn't see anything. I ducked into a supermarket for a chance to consult my map after doing a quick walk around the block to get my bearings and the street names. Much to my dismay, I discover that there's no brightly lit public roads to the castle from my location. I have to go through the park. No website I visited warned of the dangers of the park, and it was only 6:30 in the evening, but I still wasn't all that crazy about walking alone through a park where I could be snatched away without anyone noticing. I don't like being in parks at night in my home town, let alone in a strange city. I didn't see any other choice available besides getting back on the subway and going back to Pest. I decided my best plan of action would be to walk along busy streets until I came to the park and make my assessment from there.

The park is long and narrow, so I didn't have a long way to traverse, it was also pretty well lit. I saw a gentleman get off the tram and start walking through the park, so I decided to follow him. A witness would help deter anyone from doing anything unsavory to me. I walk about eight paces behind the guy, enough distance that I don't freak him out but close enough he could hear me scream. About halfway through the park, the man starts picking up his pace and I realize I am freaking him out. Safety comes before politeness however, so I continue to keep pace with him. That he's a bit freaked by someone eight paces behind him concerns me even more, is this park really scary at night?

When we reached the other side he hurried across the street while I paused a moment to figure out my next move. There's no streets I can see that lead up Castle Hill, just a dark, stone stairway. Alrighty then, up the stairs I go. The good part about the stairs is they are quite narrow and I can see all the way to the top. The bad part is there's only two exit points, the top and the bottom. I hurry up the stairs as fast as I can, keeping an ear and an eye out for anything that looks suspicious. I reach the top only to find another staircase.

This staircase is in the open air, and I can see from pristine snow that no one has been up the stairs for the past few hours. The lack of people comforts and unnerves me. I'll easily be able to see or hear anyone coming, but there's no outs if someone does come. I'm not the best at running down steep, slippery steps. At this point there's only one course of action, onward and upward. When I reach the top of the second set of steps I recognise my surroundings and realize I've made it. I'm on Castle Hill, safe and sound.

I'm comfortable on Castle Hill, I know the layout and I've seen the faces of the people in that area of town. I know it's a friendly area. The park might have been just as friendly too. I hadn't read anything that would lead me to believe otherwise, but I don't like to guess. If I'm not sure of an area either at home or abroad, I treat it like it's dangerous. It's especially hard when I don't have a feel for the place and my spidey-senses aren't working properly.

Budapest Day 2- St Stephen's Basilica

2008-12-14T12:54:00.006+01:00

This church is home to the 1000 year old, mummified right hand of St. Stephen. Stephen I is commonly thought of as the founder of Hungary and was responsible for expanding Christianity in Hungary.

Outside the Basilica, I did a patently stupid thing, and checked my travel guide. I was hungry and couldn't remember where a good restaurant was. Up until this point, I'd been very good at ducking into a cafe, or even a grocery store to check my book. I figured I'd be safe from pick-pockets with my back to the wall and one eye always on the look-out. I also made sure I was within eyesight of the woman in the ticket office and the one in the souvenir stand. That's when a man approached me.

"Do you need some help?"

"Oh, no. I'm just fine. I just left the church," I start casually putting my book away. I'm very careful to not look like I'm worried or threatened, that everything is fine, this guy really hasn't been lurking around and isn't obviously not interested in the basilica.

He sees I'm starting to pack up and leave, immediately takes a step back "It's fine, you can stay here. That's no problem." Yes, I'm sure the leather jacket, track pants and Adidas shoes are part of the St. Stephen's Customer Service uniform. He's trying to set me at ease, which makes me all the more wary. "Where do you come from?"

Don't say America, "I come from Norway."

"Ah, I lived there before. God dag, god dag. Do you come from Bergen?" At this point I wonder if he's one of the beggars that are a frequent site in Norwegian streets. Nearly all the beggars in Norway are from Eastern Europe and Russia. With the cost of living, one of these people can literally beg for a few months in Norway and make more money than they would in their home country.

"Tusen takk," I reply and decide to switch to Norwegian. "Nei, jeg kommer fra Oslo. Hvor bodde du i Norge? (no, I come from Oslo. Where did you live in Norway?)" I have my doubts that this guy knows more than the two words he's just spoken to me.

"Ah, Oslo. That's a beautiful city," I knew it. "Are you lost?" The million dollar question.

"Oh, no. My friend wouldn't come with me to the church, so we agreed to meet in a hour at a cafe. I just couldn't remember the name of it," lying and not looking nervous have never been my strong suits. Fortunately, when my safety depends on it, I am capable of Academy Award- winning performances.

"Okay then, have a nice day."

He was most likely one of those people I'd read about on the State Department's website who lures unsuspecting travelers to tourist trap restaurants where you'll pay literally hundreds of dollars for a glass of wine. Still, it was enough for me to learn my lesson.

Toddlers are Wierd

2008-12-08T23:14:00.004+01:00

*This is a time- out from my Budapest stories. I promise, I'll finish them.

I'm in the bathroom and Magnus comes in.
"What are you doing?" he asks.
"I'm using the toilet."
He pulls up a chair and sits right in front of me, almost knee to knee.
"Are you pooping?" he asks very interested.
"No," I also realize that the toddler and I have gotten to the place in our relationship that being interrogated by him about my bathroom habits is no longer akward.
"I'm pooping."
Hoping I misheard I ask, "You need to poop?"
"I fart-pooped."
"Oh."

We're still at that lovely stage of toilet training where accidents happen.

Budapest day 2- Castle Hill Walk with Boro

2008-12-08T19:57:00.017+01:00

Boro and I decided on a walk around the city. She wanted to take me to Castle Hill. It's a touristy part of Budapest, but she said she also enjoys it. After seeing it, I understand why.

Castle Hill is surreal. It's like walking around in a movie. I don't know how else to describe the place. From the cobblestone streets to the Baroque architecture mixed with Art Nouveau, the place doesn't feel like it should exist.

She told me what she knew of the history of the city, and patiently fielded my endless questions about every interesting nook and cranny I happened across. She also shared with me her observations of cultural differences. She noted that German tourists are only interested in taking pictures of the famous landmarks and Japanese tourists mainly take pictures of themselves. I asked her what Americans take pictures of, and she said I was the first American she's shown around so she's not sure yet.

She also told me of one of the more interesting traditions in Budapest. Every year the university students must polish the balls on a bronze statue of a horse and rider. The student with the highest greades goes first, then the person with the next highest grades, ect.

After that, we walked over to Fisherman's Bastion. Absolutely beautiful and it's probably one of the best lookout points in Buda.

One of the interesting things Boro pointed out at these land marks was the small brass representations of the monuments. This is for blind people, so they can still experience these historic sites.

While we were up there, she took me to the Marzipan Museum. It's actually more interesting than it sounds. Hungarians are very creative with this confection.

Below Fisherman's Bastion is a park. Again I got a feeling of "this place just can't be real."

Keep in mind, this is winter. There's been several snow storms since I've arrived.

That sculpture is a depiction of characters from a Hungarial Fable. Boro tried to remember the name, but couldn't.

Out of the parks, she next led me up to the Mary Magdalene Tower.

This church was destoryed during an air raid in WWII. The remanents and reconstruction are left as a memorial.

After that tour, Boro took me on a wild bus ride to Deak Square in Pest. She was going to have to be going to class shortly, and she wanted to drop me off somewhere interesting. We said our farewells at the subway station at Deak.

It was an akward parting since Hungarians seem to say goodbye differently than Americans. I said my thanks and goodbye, yet she still stood there. I realized there was some social ritual I was missing, so I offered my hand for a handshake. I didn't know how she'd feel about a near stranger suddenly hugging her or if that was even what she was waiting for. She took my hand but still stood there, now starting to feel akward herself. I lightheartedly joked that Americans must not know the proper way to say goodbye. She laughed and waved goodbye as she left for the subway.

Budapest- Day 2

2008-12-06T19:25:00.004+01:00

After waking up and getting dressed, I headed out for the rendezvous I had planned with a girl from Couch Surfing. I originally figured I had time to walk to the Kerepes Cemetery and see the Foucault Pendulum before I met up with Boro. I got off at the wrong tram stop, but I was able to take some beautiful pictures and get a coffee at a local coffee shop.

This left me just enough time to walk up the street to the cemetery and take the tram back to the plaza. I was also unable to find the pendulum. The walk in early morning Pest was nice though. It gave me a chance to people watch. I also had a free minute to jump on the Internet in McDonald's and email some friends.

McDonald's is actually kind of neat in Budapest. It's a cross between a traditional McDonald's and a Starbucks with cheap Internet access. It's strange to be able to get a surprisingly good macchiato and a fresh-made croissant with your egg McMuffin.

Boro showed up almost exactly on time. After introductions, she took me on a tram to Castle Hill.

First Night in the Hostel

2008-12-02T12:58:00.004+01:00

I get back to the hostel fairly early, but I've had a long day. I'm ready for bed. I'd bought provisions at the supermarket for breakfast for the next few days and water since I'm not longer sure the water is safe to drink in this country.

I had read that the water was safe to drink in Hungary, but I noticed they didn't put ice in my drink when I ate dinner. I decided it was better to be safe than sorry, so I bought a large bottle of water. Hungarians seem to like fizzy water. This is a fact I was unaware of when I bought my liter bottle. Fortunately, their fizzy water doesn't have that weird salty taste like American tonic water. I figured I could live with it. I also figured it would go flat within 24 hours and I'd have regular water.

When I returned to the hostel, I was reminded of the owner's chain-smoking habit. Now that the windows were closed, the smoke was much more noticeable. Crap. I'm allergic to smoke. This was actually something I hadn't planned on encountering. I forget that not every country has the same anti-smoking laws that we have.

I closed the door to the room and opened the window to give the room a chance to air out while I gathered my toiletries and my night clothes. This was my first good look at the bathroom. The shower was better than expected, but I knew I wouldn't be getting into it until I was desperate for a shower. I did bring along baby wipes and a wash cloth just in case, so I'd be able to last a few days without becoming too stinky. Funky showers are the one thing I don't handle very well. I can sleep just about anywhere, eat just about anything, but I really have a hard time taking a shower in a funky place.

I don't really trust the lockers so I retrieve my bike chain so I can chain my backpack to the head of my bed. I also pin my passport and emergency credit card to my long sleeve shirt and put a t-shirt on over it. This first night, I also decide to leave my boots next to my bed. Just in case.

I laid down in my sleep sack and felt bed springs. They aren't uniformly poking up, however I have a huge spring poking me in the upper back. I look at the other beds. The look like they've got better mattresses on them, but I wouldn't be able to chain my backpack near my head. I could chain my backpack to the bedpost, but I can sleep through almost anything. I could easily wake up to a bike chain only if I sleep in one of those beds. I figure the top bunk mattress will be the same as the bottom bunk, so I don't even bother checking. Instead I curve myself into an S shape to avoid the pointiest springs.

The other person staying in my room arrived at some time in the night. She was a young Chinese girl who was more paranoid that I was. She woke up several times in the night and checked to make sure she had her keys around her neck and did several inventories of her locker during the night.

There was also a very boisterous French-sounding girl that arrived later that evening. She wasn't staying in the hostel as far as I could tell, and I also figured she didn't want a room since she didn't stay. I kept hearing her say in heavily accented English "And they told me to come back tomorrow?"

Between the frustrated French, the paranoid Chinese girl, and the springy bed I still managed to get a decent night's sleep.

Budapest- My First Walk

2008-11-29T22:12:00.006+01:00

My first stop on my trip was the Hungarian Parliament. Hungary is a Parliamentary Republic with a president and prime minister. It's the oldest legislative building and the second largest Parliament building in Europe.

There's several memorial statues in front of and to the side of the Parliament building in Lajos Kossuth Square. My favorite was the Károlyi memorial. He was Hungary's prime minister from 1918-1919 during a brief period of democracy.

I also took my first look at the famous Danube and the Margaret Bridge.

I wandered around Parliament a bit more before it started snowing hard.

I found refuge in the Ethnographic Museum where a holiday fair was happening. The Hungarians have a real talent for arts and crafts. Unfortunately, most things looked too fragile to survive the trip home.

The snow let up enough I was able to continue my journey.

I walked to, then across the Chain Bridge, the most beautiful bridge in Budapest.

On the other side of the Chain Bridge is the base of Castle Hill. The Palace is in the top, left of the picture.

As I'm walking I'm starting to feel safer. There's children out after dark, and the children are acting like children. There's couples braving the cold weather for a stroll along the Danube and several tourists.

By the time I reached the Margaret Bridge, the cold was too much for me tolerate any longer. I dined on Turkish gyros and went back to the hostel.

This is a link to the rest of the photos I took on my first day, complete with captions.

Budapest- The Hostel

2008-11-29T19:23:00.008+01:00

I was pleased to find out that the hostel was very easy to find and just a short walk from where I was eating. I was buzzed into the building and wandered up to the second floor where the hostel was located. A chain-smoking but pleasant guy is waiting for me in front of the hostel. He shows me in and to the room I'll be staying in.

I was happy to see the room was clean and there was only one other person staying in the room at the moment. I chose to stay on the bottom bunk of a bunk bed, then I was shown to the lockers in the other room. The hostel owner gave me a lock, which I didn't use, and told me I could pick any locker I wanted.

Upon close examination of the lockers I noticed they had cardboard backs that were held in place by staples. One locker had the back pried off it in the bottom corner. I chose the locker that was butted up against the wall, used my own lock, and decided I'd keep my valuables on me. I brought a bike lock to chain my backpack to my bed, and was now thankful for my preparedness.

After getting settled, I left the hostel for my first walk around the city.

Budapest- The Arrival

2008-11-29T17:15:00.004+01:00

I arrived in Budapest in the early afternoon, exhausted from the extraordinarily long travel to an airport less than 10 miles away from me. Apparently the Norwegians don't believe there is a need to operate the ferry across the fjord before 10 a.m. even though there's two very active airports on either side. Budapest Airport Terminal 1 is small and easy to navigate. I quickly exchanged my money, bought my train ticket and was on my way to the train.

Waiting for the train, I was a bit uneasy. I'm committed now. I'm in the country, there's no turning back. I'm also quite ready to get on with my adventure. I picked this tiny little country in the middle of Central Europe, I'm excited to see exactly what I got myself into.

The train arrives and I get on. I now realize I'm really not in Kansas. This train looks like it came straight out of Soviet Russia and it's crammed full of people. There's lanky Russian looking guys smoking in the entrance way, and people lining the hallway that's so narrow I can barely squeeze past.

I was to afraid to take out my camera and start taking pictures. I did, however, find a picture online of an identical train car.

The train I rode in was older, more decrepit, and smokier, but this pic gives an idea.

I find a place to stand next to a large woman in a white coat who doesn't look like the kidnapping type. I stand with my face to the window, my back to a wall between the compartments, and I'm glancing out of the corners of my eyes to either side looking for potential danger and escape routes. I'm grateful I brought my sunglasses along so my eyes now can't betray my fear. I figure the chances of being physically harmed are actually pretty low, but my chances of leaving the train with my backpack are very low as well. Ah well, I really don't need my digital camera and my iPod. My cash, debit cards and passport were safely pinned to clever spots inside my clothes so I'll be able to leave the country with minimum hassle and won't starve.

Eventually enough people leave the train that I can take a seat in a compartment. Now that I have a chance to actually look around at the people riding the train I realize that there's many non-scary people on the train too, old ladies with knitting, other travelers and young students reading books. I allowed myself to relax, but just a bit.

I arrive at the Nyugati Railway station and exit the train without incident. I don't want to look like I don't know where I'm going so I walk confidently out of the train station in search of food. The main roads in Budapest are very busy so there's underpasses for pedestrians to use. They also have subway access. I need a nice safe place to get my bearings, find out where the hostel is, and eat something.

A Burger King with indoor dining is in the underground area. Awesome, my first meal in this new country will be good 'ol American-style fast food.

Budapest- Prologue

2008-11-29T17:12:00.004+01:00

I've been uploading pictures of my trip to my Picassa account so I can share them. My hope is to share stories along with the pictures.

Oslo Graffiti

2008-11-28T19:22:00.002+01:00

This is another Banksy-esque graffiti I spotted in Oslo on the way to the bus station to begin my journey to Budapest.

Halloween in Norway

2008-11-28T19:11:00.008+01:00

Halloween is a very new holiday here. This is the first year the children carved pumpkins. I also showed them how to clean off and bake the seeds.

Traveling in Budapest

2008-11-24T09:43:00.000+01:00

This is my second day in Budapest. This city is really cool,very quirky and interesting. I will post pics when I get home.

PS I think I have the comment sytem fixed now so everyone can comment.

Snow Storm

2008-11-18T13:27:00.003+01:00

We had the first snow storm of the ear a few days before Halloween. The snow has long since melted. Fortunately, it hasn't been replaces by rain...

...yet

Tønsberg Cemetary

2008-11-18T13:15:00.004+01:00

I realize this makes me a bit wierd, but I love old cemetaries. I think they are really beautiful and peaceful spaces. I found this cemetary to be especially neat.

This can't be any more strange than my obsession with ugly footwear.

Out and About in Tønsberg

2008-11-18T13:06:00.004+01:00

It was a wonderful winter day in Tønsberg, so I cycled around the city and took some pictures.

This is the boardwalk along the fjord:

There's a neat little jazz bar along it that regularly has big bands playing.

This is a quirky little park that lies next to the cemetary. I have no idea what the log-creature is supposed to be, but I like him.

Aurora's Birthday

2008-11-18T12:57:00.004+01:00

Aurora had her sixth birthday.

She picked out her clothes for her brothers to wear to her party.

Magnus looked rather handsom.

Matthias looked rather colorful.

More Joys of Norwegian Healthcare

2008-11-18T09:25:00.003+01:00

You have to bring your own urine samples to the doctor, they don't have you do them at the office. So I'm cycling 4 miles with a sample in a diet coke bottle. Good times.

I have to say, it must be more embarassing for a Norwegian in the American system. I could only imagine the look on a doctor or MA's face when the patient hands over their sample.

I haven't updated in forever, I know. I promise, there will soon be more posts!

A Rose By Any Other Name

2008-10-23T07:49:00.004+02:00

I'm feeding Magnus yogurt for aftens (the 4th meal of the day). He tells me he wants "corni." I have no idea what corni is and he won't actually come get it, he'd rather give me directions to it. I finally happen upon the dry cereal cupboard.

"Oh! You want oatmeal in your yogurt," I say.

"No, corni."

The only other thing I can see that would work in yogurt is granola.

"Granola?"

"No."

I wander over to the table with the oatmeal to see if I can just pass it by him. Unfortunately he sees what I'm up to.

"No!!!" he exclaims as he pushes the container away.

"You're going to have to show me then," I tell him.

This time he gets up and goes to the dry goods cupboard. He looks and looks for his corni.

I show him the container of oatmeal one more time and ask, "Is this corni?"

"Yeah."

We wander back to the table and I put oatmeal on his yogurt. Oatmeal apparently isn't oatmeal when it's put on yogurt.

The Rules of Imaginary Worlds

2008-10-10T08:50:00.003+02:00

Magnus sometimes doesn't like to go to the toilet. He'll ususally go if you tell him there's fish in the toilet, or spaghetti, or cars.

He's in playschool, and he doesn't want to go. I tell them there's fish in the toilet, he still won't go. He asks if there's a helicopter in the toilet, and I tell him of course there is. He happily goes to the bathroom, opens the toilet, looks in, looks at me and says, "There's no helicopter in here."

More Toddler Logic

2008-10-10T08:43:00.004+02:00

Last night, Magnus wouldn't go to sleep. His reason? He was a big boy, five years old in fact, and didn't have to go to bed early. Linda tried to get him to just play quietly in his bed, knowing he'd soon get tired. He took this deal for a little bit, then he decided he didn't like it.

He hollared from the top of the stairs, "I don't have to go to bed! I'm a big boy! I'm five!"

Linda couldn't keep him in his bed for more than a few minutes. He'd be up again and proclaiming that five- year- olds don't have to go to bed early.

Next it was time for Aurora to go to sleep. She asked Linda to read her a story. Pretty soon Linda hears feet on the floor and Magnus saying, "I'm coming, I'm coming. Now I'm running."

He stopped dead in his tracks as he entered Aurora's room and saw Linda. He did a quick about face and ran back to his bed.

A few minutes later she heard the sound of feet again, "I'm coming, I'm coming. Now I'm running."

Linda calls out, "I'm still in here."

He makes a last minute turn and goes into her room. By the time she was done reading the story to Aurora, Magnus had fallen asleep on her bed.

Toddler Logic

2008-10-10T08:34:00.003+02:00

Magnus has recently had a step back in toilet training, so he's back in training pants. Monday, however, he wanted to wear his Lightning McQueen underwear. I explained to him that he couldn't, that he had to wear these.

"But I peed in these."

Thinking this wasn't possible since he just got off the pot I say "No you didn't."

"Yes I did. Look."

I look in his pull-ups and yes, he did. He then says, "Now I can wear my Lightning underwear."

And he happily strips off his pull-ups chanting, "wet, wet, wet." He rolls them up and throws them away, very proud that his plan worked.

He wasn't very happy when I got out a new pair of pull-ups and asked him to put them on. Curses! His brilliant plan was foiled!

I explained that he had to not pee in his pull ups for several days before he could wear his Lightining underwear again. Several days is roughly a year in toddler time, so this didn't smooth the situation over.

Letting him wear two Lightning McQueen shirts, however, did.

The Language Gap

2008-10-10T07:24:00.003+02:00

Matthias has been learning English in school. He recently brought home something I don't think he learned from the teacher. He brought home the good ol' one finger salute. He thinks the phrase "in your face" goes with it. He happily flipped everyone off in the house including the baby, proud of his new knowledge.

Flipping the bird doesn't have the same gravitas here as it does in the US. I can just hope this is something he quickly discards. I'm afraid that if I make too big a deal of it, it will only encourage the behaviour.

Update the 3rd

2008-10-09T17:12:00.003+02:00

I looked up the antibiotics I was perscribed. It's a member of the penicillan family. Yeah, this won't help.

My First UHC Experience (Pt 2)

2008-10-09T15:10:00.007+02:00

My plan to arrive at urgent care a few minutes before they opened was a success. I was in and out in no time at all. My goodness my doctor was young. I can safely say this is the first time in my life I've had a doctor who's younger than I am. It was quick and relatively painless. I only ended up paying $40 for the visit.

It was interesting trying to explain my conditions with the language barrier. Two were easy, the third... I'm not someone to get embarassed about explaining medical conditions, but having to explain and eventualy write details down for half the clinic to try to translate left me very red in the face.

I was able to get a refill of one of my US medications. I'm confused as to how future refills work. I guess I'll find out when I see my PCP. Lord, I hope they have refills here. They must. Right?

I was unhappy to find out that one of the greatest medications ever invented is unavailable in Norway. Even though it's insanely cheap in the US. No Diflucan here. Nevermind that the old fashion medication is almost triple the price.

This brings me to the topic of the pharmacy. Firstly, I was delighted at how quickly pharmacies fill perscriptions. With a cash only system, there's no need to wait for long periods of time for a perscription. The meds are also all pre-packaged in blister packs which further streamlines the system. I spend about $70 at the pharmacy for my three items. This was expected. Actually, my monthly perscription was cheaper than the gov't website said.

After I got home, I noticed something about my monthly perscription. I'm supposed to take half a pill twice a day. But they didn't give me pills, they gave me capsules. So, back I go to the pharmacy. The pharmacist tells me I should open the pills, divide the contents in half with a knife and carefully swallow half the contents two times a day.

Wat.

This will be fun. She then shows me the prices of the other drug strengths, and mentions that I might want to take two seperate pills in the future. Two pills a day will be an insanely high price for no discernable reason. One would think extended release would cost more, that's apparently not so. One would also expect a smaller dose to cost a bit less, again not true. Also, I found it interesting that the generic and the brand name were almost exactly the same price.

She then goes on to tell me that I have to be very careful not to bite the contents because it's extended release. Which was exactly what my doc didn't order for me. I'm sure the extended release will work just fine, I'm calling my US doc to double check, especially since I recall her specifically saying she wasn't giving me the extended release. This just seems like an accident waiting to happen, I walked out of the pharmacy with a different percription than my doctor wrote for me. No pharmacist came over to talk to me or double check the perscription. The person helping me certainly wasn't a pharmacist.

You Too Can Have UHC!

2008-10-09T09:39:00.006+02:00

My experience with universal healthcare thus far:

This is similar to an HMO, where you have a PCP that can't be easily changed. I chose mine because she was the only female PCP and you don't have the option of seeing a seperate GYN for your female needs.

I chose poorly.

I've been needing to see a doctor since I got here. I had to wait until Oct 1st for my docotr to be assigned. That's irritating, but understandable. Now that I have a PCP, one would think that I have access to healthcare.

Last week: Office was out all week. It was fall vacation here, and Norwegians do take their vactation time seriously. So whatever. I can accept that.

This week: Monday: Found out the hard way that there's very limited call in times. The phones are on from 9:00 to 11:00 and 12:15 to 1:30. Missed both windows.

Tuesday: Held the line for an hour. Finally gave up when I had to pick the kids up from school.

Wednesday: Joy! I got a hold of a real person! They can even fit me in today. Bad news is, I can't actually come in today. I need an appointment for Thursday. Can I make an appointment for tomorrow? No. I have to call back tomorrow if I want an appointment tomorrow. Wat.

Thursday: Only 28 min on hold. But they're not sure if they can get me in to the doctor today. Apparently my doctor only works 2-3 days a week so she's quite busy when she's in. Would have been nice to know this before I chose this doctor.

So now I'm waiting for a return call from the nurse to see if I can be squeezed in. Of course, I'm not holding my breath. PCP docs get paid when you're well, not for office visits (ala HMO).

It's also $60/visit. And I'll be paying more for my perscriptions here that I paid in the US with no insurance.

UPDATE: So the doctor's office did call me back. And it's urgent care or the ER for me. Good times. I did schedule an appt for 10/24, the soonest I could get in. I've heard that the wait at urgent care or the ER is 4 hours minimum. Urgent care opens at 2. I think I'm going to go there at 1:30 and stand outside the door until they open.

More Silly Norwegian Laws

2008-10-05T20:45:00.002+02:00

You have to pay an annual licensing fee for the priveledge of owning a TV or VCR. 2,103.84 KR (roughly $400) a year. This isn't for cable, nor does it matter if you have a VCR and no TV.

...

Fall is Here!

2008-10-04T18:34:00.003+02:00

The leaves are just starting to turn here. It's incredible.

Interesting Graffiti

2008-10-04T18:22:00.005+02:00

Definately someone inspired by Banksy. I should also mention, Norwegians see graffiti a bit different than we do in the US. There's actually been a pair of artists commissioned to paint on abandoned buildings here. It's neat, it adds character to the landscape.

The Strangest Things Grease the Wheels of Cooperation

2008-10-04T17:36:00.003+02:00

Sometimes the best way to get a kid to eat is to let them wear their shorts on their head. Magnus is actually a good eater, he was just a bit cranky this particular morning. He wanted to wear his Cars shorts, and wasn't terribly interested in food until his clothing issues were sorted. September in Norway is definately not shorts weather. I told him he could wear his shorts for a hat if he ate breakfast. This idea amused him so much that he instantly agreed.

I also told him he could wear his shorts over a pair of sweats to kindergarten. This quickly smoothed over the situation. It might of looked a little strange to grown ups, but darned if he didn't think he was cool.

Another Advantage of Smart Cars

2008-10-04T17:35:00.002+02:00

You don't actually have to learn to parallel park.

Tønsberg Slottsfjellet

2008-10-02T10:55:00.007+02:00

I visited the Slottsfjellet (Castle Mountain) last week, and just now have the capabilities to post my pictures.

This is a picture of a small harbor on the way to the castle.

This is the oldest settlement in Norway, and was in use from 871-1871.

A picture out over the fjord. In the very top right corner, trees conceal the runway of the dropzone.

Another picture of the fjord looking back toward town.

This is a view from the top of the tower. This is another view of the town with the fjord in the back. The large buildings in the center are the shopping center.

Another couple of views from the tower, this time of the ruins surrounding the castle.

My friend, Anna.

I love the rooftops here. They're either covered in gorgeous shingles or plants and trees.

A view of the inside of the tower. They renovated the buidling in 1971, that's why the brickwork looks relatively new. I'm not sure if the cross was left over from viking days or not. I didn't quite trust my Norwegian enough to ask an employee.

Gas Prices

2008-10-01T16:33:00.002+02:00

13.21 kr/liter for unleaded and 12.93 kr/liter for diesel. In American money at the current exchange rate it's $2.35/liter and $2.30/liter or $8.89/gal for unleaded and $8.71/gal for diesel. Yeah....

A Vacation and a Head Cold

2008-10-01T16:17:00.006+02:00

Due to internet problems, I haven't been able to post this past week. I did get out today. And I took some photos of more fine European footwear. I'll post some pics of Tønsberg and some more stories soon, right now I'll leave you with the photos.

Gold soccer shoes by Nike. For about $100 you can strut in style down the soccer field. It won't make you faster or play better, but it will make everyone look at you.

Primary color high tops. 1995, here we come!

More gold and silver track shoes. Totally hot. And another glimpse of the awesome hightops.

These shoes are the ultimate cool. First, there's the velcro. For the child in all of us. Available in either two-tone white or super shiny silver.

And finally. These shoes are priceless. Up top there's the shiny plastic Adidas. Available in high top or low profile. And down below we've got the best of the early 90's. My favorite are the ones on the left. DC has shown that one pattern will never go out of style: zebra print.

Fine European Footwear

2008-09-21T14:11:00.002+02:00

I don't have words for this.

The Rest of the Story (Part 2)

2008-09-20T11:08:00.002+02:00

Making dinner with three kids around requires multitasking. Especially when the kids have birthday parties to go to later in the evening. I'm cutting up vegetables, helping the oldest with homework, panfrying the hotdogs, grating cheese, keeping the baby away from hot things and sharp objects, and being followed around by the 5 year old who wants to make sure for the 15th time that I know when the party is and when we must leave. She also wants me to help her write out a birthday card.

All I'm hearing is the sound of food cooking, I'm listening for tell-tale sounds of the baby getting into something, and Aurora following me around going "bursdag kort, bursdag kort, bursdag kort..." I don't know the word for "later" in Norwegian so I list of to her the things that must happen first. Magnus has to pee and I have to finish cooking. Of course, I have to repeat this several times, with interruptions. So Magnus is standing at the sink and hearing "Magnus tysser, Magnus tysser" over and over. So he does what he thinks I'm telling him to do.

I turn around when I hear the noise. It's simulaneously the most hilarious thing and the most horrifying thing I could witness. I quickly swallow my laugh, and follow him as he runs happily away into the living room. I don't get mad at him, but we do have a talk about what the sink is for. It's for washing, not peeing. He agrees, but is still quite satisfied with himself.

We manage to get through dinner without incident (the hotdog and cheese pitas were a success), now it's time to get the older kids ready for their party. The older kids are getting on their party clothes, and it's dawning on the baby that he doesn't have a birthday party to go to. Reality really sets in when Aurora leaves for her party. And I can see in his face, he's completely crushed.

Crap. This is really bad. I creep into the room where Magnus is and I whisper to him to come over. He comes over to hear what I have to say. I tell him "shhh! You don't have a birthday party to go to, but you have something better." His face lights up immediately. I'm sweating bullets now. I'm hoping my plan, which I'm making up as I go along, actually delivers and I don't just manage to to get his hopes up to dash them even further.

"Okay," I whisper, "first we have to get you dressed in birthday clothes." I let him pick out his shirt from the nce button down shirts he has in his closet. I also find a pair of pants that haven't been worn. I tell them they are his "birthday pants." He's beaming now. He's got teeny-tiny wing tip shoes he also wants to wear, it's raining outside and I don't think that's the best idea, so I quickly tell him no, there's better shoes to wear. He's been dying to wear his brand new indoor shoes outside, so I tell him he can.

Now he's dressed and wants to know what we're doing. I'm still putting that part together in my head with limited luck. Do I take him to McDonald's? A different playground (gah, can't do that, it's raining)? So I tell him, with as much grandeur as I can muster, we're going to go get chocolate and he can pick out whatever he wants. He looks as me and asks if he can have two chocolate treats. Yes, I tell him grandly, he can have two chocoaltes. Now he's excited. Very excited. I secretly breathe a sigh of relief that I was able to pull together an evening that would make any toddler happy.

We drop off Matthias and then we go to pick out the chocolate. The whole way to the store he's chanting "to ookelade, to ookelade." I ask him if he wants chocoalte or chocolate icecream.

His face lights up again "I can have icecream?"

"Of course," I reply. "You can have whatever you want."

Now the chant turns into, "To ookelade is, to ookelade is..." I join him in the chanting.

We get to the store and I get him a toddler shopping cart. I stop by the soda isle to get myself some diet coke, and he asks "can I have a soda AND a chocolate icecream?" He says this as he points to the Coke Zero. This actually turns out to be a better option in my mind. A diet soda and a chocolate icecream is slightly better for him than two chocolate icecreams. I tell him that's what I was planning on having, and he could do that too. Now he'salmost dancing he's so happy. I have him help me unload the shopping cart and help me carry our treasure out.

At home he happily drinks his soda and eats his icecream. Afterwards, he has a bath with bubbles in it (shampoo makes the best bubble bath, thanks to my mom for teaching me that trick).

For the next several days he was telling everyone in kindergarten about his special day with two chocolates (everything sweet is chocolate in his mind) and his very special birthday pants.

I wish I could say the day ended on that happy note, but it ended with Aurora trying to tell me she was allowed to stay up until her mom got home. I told her that wasn't possible since her mom wasn't getting home until 1am. So then she just refused to go to bed. It took a phone call to her mom to get her in bed.

After that evening meal, I have an entirely new understanding of what my mom was dealing with as a single parent.

My Brain Functions Again

2008-09-20T10:42:00.003+02:00

The baby has been having 4-5 nightmares a night, which means I wake up every two hours or so. Luckily, he's quick to go back to sleep. He just needs to know someone is there.

The oven...

It's Saturday morning, all the kids seem to be quietly doing their thing. The oldest is on the computer and the younger two are watching cartoons upstairs. I think I'm safe to sneak away for a shower. Finally.

I'm about halfway through shaving my legs when I hear angry shrieking from the kitchen. Oh, no. I wrap a towel around me and poke my head out. The first thing I see is the 5 year old and the baby with their arms cocked to slap eachother.

I tell them they better not hit eachother, that I better not have to go out there and break up the fight in a towel. Advice they summarily ignore. So, taking a page from my mom's book of "How To Let Kids Know They've Really Done It" I march out in my towel, still dripping wet to break up the fight. Aurora gets quiet very quickly. The baby puts up a little bit of a fight when I take him off his stool and put him on the ground and take the thing they were fighting over, but he quickly follows his sister's lead.

That's when I notice the baby was protecting a frozen roll. Then I notice the oven is open. And on. With other rolls inside. They decided to cook themselves breakfast. I put the frozen roll in the oven and close it.

I return to the bathroom to quickly dress so I can have a calm conversation with the two kids about what they can and can't use without adult supervision. I make sure to remind Aurora that he little brother mimics her, so she needs to be careful what she teaches him. If he sees her using the oven, he might think it's okay for him to use the oven as well.

You Can't Take a Shower When There's Kids Around

2008-09-13T09:46:00.003+02:00

Otherwise they might decide to use the oven on their own!

Funny Things Toddlers Say

2008-09-11T21:50:00.004+02:00

*While crying in his room: Mom: "What are you doing in here?"

Magnus: "I'm crying"

*"I need to eat more so I can get fat."

The rest of the Wednesday story will be written, I just didn't get it completed today.

The Rest of the Story (Part 1)

2008-09-11T21:20:00.002+02:00

The morning, surprisingly, went smoother than I expected. Thomas was around for a little bit to help me get the kids ready. They were ready to go in plenty of time. We would have walked to school, but Magnus slept in. He'd had a series of bad dreams in the night.

Magnus was in a cheerful mood depsite his lack of sleep, lack of parents, and a hurting butt. He rode up to kindergarten on my shoulders since walking wasn't comfortable for him. We had a good walk. He spit in my hair, but not on purpose. He got a spider web in his mouth, and he forgot he had my head under him when he spit it out. He then tried to clean me off, which meant he mashed and rubbed the spit further into my hair. I thanked him for his help, and we had a fun journey looking for mushrooms and ducking under the low branches.

It was painting day in kindergarten:

The teacher suggested Magnus use the blue paint to make water, Magnus decided to see if it tasted like water.

My first real hiccup in the day came when I was planning dinner. Pig in the blankets are easy to make and a kid favorite, I figured I could make it semi-healthy with a side of a vegetable. I figured I might not be able to find Pilsbury Crecent Rolls, but I could find some kind of refrigerated or frozen dough that would work. No such luck.

What else to kids like? They've already seen the hotdogs and want something with hotdogs. With sheer luck I find frozen pocket pitas. It's all coming together in my head. Hotdogs, veggies, some cheese in a pita. More fun if they fill their own pitas. Awesome.

Now it's time to pick up Matthias and go cook before the kids' parties.

First Day Alone With the Kids

2008-09-11T10:00:00.004+02:00

High Point:

Magnus gave me a kiss on the cheek for the first time, totally apropos of nothing.

Also, watching Matthias be an awesome older brother to his younger siblings.

Low Point:

I'm in the kitchen, trying to finish getting dinner ready. All I hear from Aurors is, "Bursdag kort, bursdag kort, bursdag kort (birthday card)...." And then Magnus pees in the sink. Worse is the peeing was kind of my fault.

No Matter How Bad Your Day Has Been...

2008-09-10T19:57:00.001+02:00

...remember; no one has peed in your sink.

I Would Have Thought The Lesson Would Have Sunk In...

2008-09-09T22:10:00.002+02:00

Once again I forgot to always have a paper towel in my pocket. Magnus had a big oua and a big cry. Halfwya through the forest and he's got snot running down his face and onto my sweatshirt. Big, big shoe laces. I didn't know what else to do, so I had him use my sweatshirt as a tissue.

I also forgot about the toddler snot until after I'd been sitting in class for about an hour. I look at my shoulder and see this white stain. I guess it's a fashion statement of sorts...

...or a battle scar.

Norsk Class and Silly Norwegian Laws

2008-09-09T21:08:00.005+02:00

Today was my first Norwegian class. It was mostly review, but I did learn some new things. And more wierd language quirks- you live "in" a street and "on" a city (but not always). You also live "on" a castle, not in one.

I just got a crash course in Norwegian Tax Law. My goodness, it makes no sense.

So, I make too little to pay any tax on my earnings, but the family still has to take 5% out and send to the goverment. Even though I'll get it all back next fall. You don't get to choose your withholdings. And the government has to pay you back with interest. The best interest rate in the country no less.

So I guess it's good you don't get to choose your withholdings, because everyone would have everything they earned withheld. Why not, if you get paid back with good interest?

And they tax everything here:

*An advantage tax for owning a home. Not property taxes, those are seperate. This is a tax, just because you have the advantage of living in your own home.

*Company parking spaces. Does your company have a parking lot for you? You get taxed for that if you own a car. It's an advantage to be able to park your car in a company parking lot.

*Food your company provides. You get taxed on any food your company serves you. Even if you can't leave the job site. Even if you can't leave the job site because you are in the middle of the sea.

Apparently the running joke here is that Norway is the last Communist state.

Monday

2008-09-08T18:52:00.003+02:00

Not much excitement here. Just a typical Monday. I walked the kids to school and walked Aurora home. I made fajitas for the family tonight, they really enjoyed them.

Magnus is funny. I hear the typical sound of trouble, the fast steps of a small person and the scraping across the floor of that person's chair. I wander into the kitchen to find Magnus standing up on the counter getting into the chocolate. He sees me and smiles conspiratorially.

I ask him what he's doing and he giggles quietly, then says, "Shhhhh.... ookelade." I close up the chocolates he's eating- which he helps me do- then he leaps into my arms for a ride to the ground.

Here are some pictures I took of the houses on the way home from dropping the kids off at school.

It's been really gray here the past couple of days. I like it though, it reminds me of home.

Toddlers Are Wierd

2008-09-07T14:33:00.006+02:00

Magnus and I are standing at the kitchen counter, him on his stool, eating oranges. All of a sudden he turns to me and points; "Nei!" He says very seriously. He then sticks his fingers in between my lips and says, "Åpent!"(open). I open my mouth, and he snatches the orange out of my mouth and shoves it into his. He then moves the oranges out of my reach. I then ask him if I can have an orange, "Nei! Du kan ikke," (No, you can't).

I have no idea what that was about, but it was amusing.

More Progress With Magnus

2008-09-06T17:12:00.010+02:00

Magnus and I have had several major steps forward in our relationship.

First, he bumped his head on the cabinet door. "Ouwa!" he says and his eyes fill with tears. Indeat of running for mom or dad, he turns to be and says "blase" (blow). I'd fortunately seen Thomas blow on and ouwa earlier, so I knew how to do it. I blew gently on his head, then gave him a kiss. Everything was better.

Later that day he came and visited me in my room for the first time. I heard foot steps on my stairs, and was surprised to see Magnus's head coming up my stairs instead of Aurora's. With typical toddler x-ray vision, Magnus immediately saw the bag of candy that was behind me and my computer. "Og den?"(what's that?) he points and asks as he runs across the floor. He deserved a reward for coming to see me, so I took a strawberry foam squar out of my bag and handed it to him. He toddled happily down the stairs with his new prize.

This morning he came up to my room again. He actually came to visit me instead of his parents when he woke up. I showed him my stuffed dog. He liked thought it was hilarious that it was bigger than he was. He petted my dog, kissed it, and attempted to pull out it's tongue. He did listen to me, however, when I told him he should be nice to my stuffed dog and not hurt it. He then wanted me to spin him around in my red chairs and for me to read him a story.

Soon after, Aurora made her way up the stairs and the party started. We wrestled, we danced, we pretended to be different animals, and I gave "hest" (horse) rides. Lots of fun was had by everyone.

Moose Country

2008-09-06T15:59:00.000+02:00

Toddlers Are Awesome

2008-09-06T14:13:00.005+02:00

You can turn anything into a game. Including being quiet. Magnus snuck in a nap yesterday, so he didn't want t go to bed at bed time. I laid in his room with him on the big bed and we played the Quiet Game. As soon as his busy toddler body stopped moving, he started to get sleepy.

He's in a pretty good mood today. I helped him make his breakfast, and we played a bit. Hopefully he's getting used to me. Linda thinks Magnus also might be a bit resentful of me because Maria (their last au pair) is gone and I moved into Maria's room. Magnus loved Maria, and I'm the stranger that took her place.

My Norwegian has improved in the week that I've been here. I have added more words to my vocabulary and I'm begining to get the word tenses right. The word order is still a mystery to me. I'm also getting used to the small differences- you get "on" bed, not "in" bed; you go "on" the street, not "in" the street. I'm also not mixing my Spanish with my Norwegian quite as much.

I have noticed my English is deteriorating, I'm starting to speak and write in Norwegianized English unless I'm careful.

Today is my day off, but I think I'm staying in for most of the day. It's quite rainy out today. I'll probably go to the store a bit later for some Cola Light. Highly exciting.:P

Time to Take the Boat Home and More Construction

2008-09-05T20:24:00.004+02:00

Winter is coming here in the far north, so it's time to take the boat out of the marina and put it in the yard.

Magnus and I watch the operation after a boat ride across the harbor.

The best part for Magnus was the ride in the truck afterwards.

That's a two lane road, believe it or not. Some roads are even narrower. It makes driving a bit nervewracking.

Aurora is skipping rope in the street when we return.

Magnus watches from the safety of the trampoline.

Afterward the kids play on the new digging machine. Matthias "drives" while Magnus hitches a ride.

The digging part is done. Now it's time to fill in the hole with rocks. This, along with the pipes and plastic, should solve the leaky basement problem. We also have sewage again!:)

Now that big brother is off doing other things, Magnus takes his turn driving.

The Many Moods of Magnus

2008-09-05T09:31:00.005+02:00

Magnus was afraid of me again this morning. I think Magnus has figured out that when he's with me, his parents sometimes leave. This makes our relationship rather interesting. Sometimes he wants to play with me, other times he runs from me screaming.

Last night, I gave him a bath and put him to bed. He asked a few times for his mom, but he wasn't overly upset by her absence. I was able to distract him before any clouds burst. Thankfully, Magnus will go straight to sleep when put in his bed, so there were no crying fits in the night.

This morning, Linda wanted me to get Magnus ready for play group. Magnus refused to go anywhere without his dad. With much coaxing he let me dress him, but he refused to look at me. I tried to give him a sticker, and he angrily refused it. But he soon decided it would look nice on his backpack. We then made peace by playing with his Eyore doll. He stuck close to his dad until he was having so much fun he forgot he didn't like me.

Linda came with me to play group after she returned home. There was no way Magnus would go peacefully without her. Linda stayed almost the entire time. Magnus would sometimes play with me, and sometimes run from me. We ate lunch together with relatively few hiccups. He wouldn't talk to me, but he'd listen to me.

We walked home together alone. Magnus ignored me for a bit, but quickly warmed when I asked him to look for blueberries, mushrooms, and hop down the path. By the end of the walk we were holding hands and he was excitedly talking to me.

The rest of the day has been the same off and on behavior. He has been a little sick these past few days, I'm sure that doesn't help.