#cameraman marzipan?

[ninoochat]

oh my god i love chameleon monogram sm

[borrowedbackpack]

Coming in hot

Hello blog fans! I am back and better than ever. Now, to pick up our story where we left off, on April 7th 2017. Our hero found herself, yet again, in the Oslo airport. She fixes her eyebrows and tries in vain to find somewhere to charge her phone. Only one endeavour proved successful. She boards her train to Oslo Sentrum. From there, she continues on a four hour journey to Kristiansand, a city in southern Norway, where she is set to be hosted by a family consisting of 6 Norwegian strangers, one Canadian/Norwegian stranger, and one American stranger. The train journey is strenuous, and she drifts in and out of consciousness. Train sickness, a close, but more serious cousin to carsickness, is becoming a a very real problem as the train winds through the mountain passes. The stuffy, hot dog scented air of the train is not helping. At long last, she makes it to Kristiansand, where she de trains, still fighting the urge to vomit on the fancy Scando ground. Luckily, she is greeted at the train station by one of her eight hosts, who is a doctor. She is taken to a fancy, giant Scando house, which sits perched atop a giant, rocky cliff. She takes a shower and tries to go to bed, but is foiled when the doctor offers her a hair dryer. A hair dryer? She has never once dried her hair! I have better things to do then spend 2 hours drying my hair! The doctor does not take no for an answer! In Norway, you must sleep with your window open. It is a Norwegian rule. Norway has many rules, and no one questions them, because they have a strong conformist spirit. She is led to the hair dryer, where they doctor begins to dry her hair. Okay, okay! She dries her own hair. But only a little. She is not Norwegian. She sleeps with a wet head.

Lørdag:

Back to first person. I am awake! I hear Norwegian screaming! I hear American talking! Hva skjer?! Oh right, I am in the Scando house. I go downstairs and eat Wheetabix. I meet Steven, the American Manny. I have work to do! My packing is inspected! Nothing is right! Where is all the wool?! What is this made out of?! Is this cotton?! (no, it’s not cotton, who do you think I am? Cotton kills, my dudes). I reveal my giant Icelandic sweater. Ah yes, this is the proper garment! Pack this! There is so much wool in this that it makes up for the terrible lack of wool in the rest of your packing. Wait, why is your backpack so full? Why do you have so much clothes volume?? Oh, idk, maybe it’s the SIX KILOS OF WOOL I WAS JUST FORCED TO PACK.

My next job is making the Norwegian matpakke. My first day in the Scando house and I’m already making the matpakke? This is pressure. I take orders from the Scando children. In case you ever need to make a matpakke, or want to impress a Norwegian, here is how its done:

1. BRØD:

Thinly sliced.

2. SMØR:

Thick layer. Butter:Bread ratio should be approximately 1:1.

3. PÅLEGG: (topping)

ONE per person. This is the Norwegian way. Common pålegger:

-Ost = cheese. Gulost and brunost are common.

-Skinke (ham)

-Salami

NB: If you choose salami or skinke, HUSK that you only get one piece. More than one piece is NOT Norwegian. i.e. if you’ve done it right, at this point you should have a thin piece of bread, a thick slab of butter, and one lonely circle of salami or skinke or ost or whatever. It looks sad. It’s supposed to look like that. Cut another piece of bread and do the same thing. Separate your two pieces with a special square of wax paper used for this purpose. Wrap the whole mess up in some parchment. Write your name on it. Enjoy it in a few hours when it’s all sticky and even sadder than it was in the first place. This is the Norwegian way. Do not question it.

Next we drove three hours to the ski trail we were to start from. Mama, papa, and the five kids rode in the van. Steven and I followed in the little car. Steven seemed very relieved to be without the kids for a few hours. I offered to scream the entire way to make him feel more comfortable. He didn’t take me up on it. On the drive, we were stopped by a group on the side of the road. Being from Saskatchewan, I assumed they were going to check to see if we were drunk. Instead, they gave us a tote bag with Påsketur supplies! Newspaper, bandaids, a buff, a small bag of chips, etc. What a country! In a few more minutes we had to stop at a grocery store, because a fight had ensued in the van over who was to get the chips. 

We stopped next at a scenic lookout, where we ate our matpakke. In my head, I questioned to Norwegian way.

We started driving again, saw a huge foss, and eventually arrived at the ski trail. After each child threw at least one (1) fit, we were on our way! It was a 6km uphill ski to our cabin, which is somewhat hardcore considering we each had a rather large backpack and were travelling with 5 kids ages 5, 6, 7, 9, and 11, as well as Steven, who was skiing for the second time in his life. There were several more fits along the way. After only three hours, we reached the cabin, Berdalsbu, which was already full of skiers, including four new fathers who were on a bro trip. They were real thrilled when our lot showed up.

Berdalsbu, hytte vår.

Søndag:

We awoke and ate (surprise!) more pieces of bread with butter and pålegg. Then I packed my matpakke. Everyone else packed hotdogs. There were some fits. We skied to a place and made a fire and some epic snow forts. There was so much snow that every time you stepped off your skis, you sunk up to your hip. Perfect for tunnelling. We made a snow bench and solte oss. It reached around 20 degrees in the sun. “Påskesol” is a very big part of the “påsketur”. It’s where you sit out in the sun and get a tan. Or the worst sunburn of your life. They have this thing called a Pullken, which is a sleigh you pull behind yourself with all your gear in it while you ski. It’s also good for hauling up the mountain and sliding down. Being from Canada, I am an expert slider. Sadly, my sliding partner did not believe me OR take my sliding advice. Guess who made it over the jump and avoided hitting a tree? The expert slider. Next we had a massive “snøball krig” and then cruised back to the cabin. At the cabin, I entertain myself by reading the guestbook. Shoutout to Lars for his great comic work and in depth interpretation of his and his homies Christmas vacation skitur in 2008. Good stuff.

Gaitors? Check. Backcountry skis? Check. Extra wide pole baskets? Check. Sunburn? Check. Suit of wool? Not check, dunno how I survived.

Mandag:

I awoke with the distinct feeling that my entire face was on fire. I looked in the mirror and tried not to scream. Although my face had looked fine the day before, today it was bright red and oozy, with a distinctive line separating where my goggles had been from the rest of my face. The sunscreen had been applied too late. I was sure this was the end. The doctor was shocked (never a good sign). Luckily, Ulrik, the oldest child, had suffered such a bad sunburn that his entire face had swollen up, which took some of the heat off me.

Topptur! We skied up a big mountain. Everyone made it! It was chillier than Sunday, and rather windy at the summit. I ate a Kvikk Lunsj while sitting on a rock because I am Norwegian now. Then we skied down. I remembered my ski school days, and made long, sweeping, back and forth turns for the first half, since I cannot telemark. It was quite fun. On my way down, I picked up Sigrid (7), who’s handene var “iskald!” Luckily, as a trained Jackrabbits coach, I was able to amend this situation by reminding her that mitts keep your hands warm, so maybe it would be a good idea to put them on. Then we skied the rest of the way down the mountain together, which was pretty cool, because what seven year old can ski up and down mountains?! The steepest section was quite densely forested, which was a bit sketchy, especially since Mark McMorris’s accident is quite fresh in my mind.

Back at the cabin, NRK (the CBC of Norway) is here to interview to Scandos for national news! This was very exciting for everyone, and we got to eat a lot of panekaker. There was also a lot of screaming. I will never forget the look on the NRK cameraman’s face when he shook my hand and wished me “lykker til med...dette” and then rushed off to his snowmobile.

Then we played endless rounds of confusing Norwegian card games.

Always reppin Sasky.

Tirsdag:

Another day, another summit. We got lots of fresh snow over night, so things weren’t as terribly icy as they had been the past few days. This was a really beautiful ski, pictures below. Unencouragingly, I saw a lot of bright yellow helicopters during this tur, which I did not take as a good sign. At the top of the mountain, there was a fight, so we had to go back down because mum was “fed up”...some things are international. On the way down, I saw Jared and Elvira, who were still on their way up on the mountain.

“Hvor er Steven?” jeg spurte.

“The hill cracked him” explained Jared (the calmest man alive) calmly.

I skied back down the mountain with Benjamin, who is six and did my best Norwegian encouraging. 

“Vi kan drikke varm skjokolade når vi er tilbake!”

“Bra gjørt!”

“Nei, det er ikke forlangt!”

And we made it. We built many snow castles and sat on our snow bench.

Learning to ski is a good idea, because your skis can take you to cool places like this.

Onsdag:

Packing and skiing back down the trail. Even with a long break for lunch, it took about half the time to get down the mountain as it took to get up. There was also a lot of fresh pow, which made it blessedly un icy. I even met a nice Norwegian lady who is neighbours with my arch enemy Kristin Stømer Steira and has skied in many places in Canada. 

Next we drove the three hours back to Kristiansand, for much of which I ate marzipan and tried to counsel Steven, who was riding the struggle bus.

Arriving back in Kristiansand, I had a blessed shower and tried to treat my sunburn with Polish moisturizer. We also made the gruesome discovery that the chickens had been brutally murdered while we were away (presumed perp = badger).

Ha det, Berdalsbu!

Bits and pieces from the rest of my time in Kristiansand:

Kristiansand is a very, very beautiful city in southern Norway. It has a very Norwegian feel, much more so than Oslo. There is a massive network of parks, hiking, and mountain biking trails within the city. Alt er stengt i Norge during Easter week, so there wasn’t too terribly much to do, however I did find some interesting things, such as many walks and runs, bike rides, a boat tour, and a Mormon missionary gathering. Steven goes to the Mormon thing every Friday night just to fit in/have something to do/meet people (the family is very mormon) so I joined him. The mormon-y part was very confusing and way over my head (I didn’t even know the “reason for the season” (easter wise) until last year when  I was shown an informative video), but they had really good food, cake, easter candy, and eggs to dye so it was all good. They even had fruit and vegetables! It was also fun because I felt like a spy. I didn’t know anything about the mormons before, but now I know that they’re those people with ties who come to your door and try to give you their favourite book! I had the opening number from the Book of Mormon stuck in my head for a couple days now. I also like how when you ask them what their name is they say “Sister Somebody” or “Brother Whoever” or “Elder Something”. Like bitch that ain’t your name! 

Since I was the only person who didn’t go to Mormon church on Easter sunday, I had to stay home and mind the lamb. I think I was successful.

Swans in Kristiansand.

Today I went on a really long walk/bike. On the way back, it starting snaining very, very heavily. The fattest snowflakes you have ever seen, except as soon as they hit you, they turn to the fattest drop of water you’ve ever seen. Rather unpleasant. Luckily, I at this point I have many techniques in my book of How to Stay Positive When You’re On A Longer Walk Than Expected in Worse Weather Than Expected. They include singing and thinking of “at leasts” (i.e. at least I’m not carrying the big fella right now! At least I’m not too hot! Ut på tur, aldri sur! (I was litt sur at this point...)”. When I finally made it back to the Scando house, I was soaked to the skin and rather cold. I ran upstairs, where I saw a note on the door. 

“Hi Anna!” it said “We turned the sauna on for you!”

Sarabi wanted to sauna.

Damn, they treat me right. No one was home, so I sat in the sauna for a long time and ate soup in there (I assume this went against some sort of Norwegian way...@cookths please don’t tell on me).

Eventually, I went to the bus station and rode to the airport, then flew to Oslo. And now here I am. Just nine more hours and 40 more minutes till my next flight.

Despite my sarcasm, I had the best påsketur and the best hosts. It’s not like I never threw a fit as a child. Fits keep it fresh. TUSEN TAKK for alt Norge. Jeg skal være tilbake snart.