Saturday I was supposed to go to this chorus master class. Well--I was welcome to go, according to the chorus leader, but since I haven't officially auditioned yet I wasn't required to. Still, I thought I might check it out, until the mild sore throat I'd woken up with Friday morning turned into a really sore throat on Saturday morning, and I decided to spend the day getting well.
We had run mad on Friday, helping a friend move, running errands, and taking a two-hour trip to IKEA, where we bought a few more essentials for our flat. We then moved some more stuff in and, finally, spent the evening lingering over a beautiful and rich meal with Thorbjoern and Kristin, which may be why my throat began acting up again. So Saturday I was clogged up and throaty and hoarse, and fantasized about sitting in my pajamas all day reading. Instead Ben and I had an industrious morning doing house projects: recovering the kitchen chairs we'd gotten from Petter and Eldri that unfortunately stank of mildew, cleaning, organizing our work space/dining area. I topped off the afternoon with a nap, which was, I think, the key to my healing throat, and then in the late afternoon Ben convinced me to ride with him down to the Akershusslott og festning, the Akershus castle and fortress. It was a perfect late-afternoon trip. You get this nice view of the Oslo harbor (here's a fuzzy cell phone picture; it's actually quite pretty)--
and the castle itself is pretty charming, too:
A quintet was playing jazz, and it turned into a nice sort of dim cool evening. We rode to the store, picked up some stuff for dinner, and had a mellow night watching "Darjeeling Limited."
Mellow until 2:30 a.m., that is, when our old pal upstairs started his regular Saturday night routine. Pounding bass, shrieking babes, the whole deal. At 2:45 I went up to talk to him. I knocked as loudly as I could; he didn't hear me. Ben came up and really pounded, and that's when the guy came to the door. I decided to kill him with kindness. I asked him very nicely if he could turn down the music. I stressed how loud it was. He assured me he was sorry and would turn it down. I said thank you and goodnight, and for the next thirty minutes I was optimistic. Around 3:15, though, the music got cranked up even higher than before, and the racket went on for a solid hour and more. When it finally got quiet at 4:35 a.m. I silently thanked God, removed the pillow from my head, and managed to fall asleep until what I consider morning.
We met our new friend Arne at 11:30 a.m. in Tøyen, as planned, even though we were both sleepy and a little depressed. After such a nice Saturday (lørdag) polishing up our flat, it was feeling uninhabitable, and we were wondering if we should move out. I'll admit that feeling was slightly intensified for me after a several-hour stroll around Oslo's ethnic and indie rock neighborhoods, which are sort of one and the same and pretty awesome. Arne is a fabulous tour guide, and he took us into so many gritty bars and cafes and arty areas. We shadowed the river that runs through Oslo, the Akerselva, which as Arne says is more of a creek than a river. Nonetheless: jazz clubs, little flea markets, a tiny bit of street food (precious little of that in Oslo, I fear, but maybe I haven't found it yet), kebab shops, halal butchers, Asian markets, more cafes. I loved it.
So that was reaffirming, and when we parted ways with Arne (Arne, sideways:)
we came home and decided to go confront the asshole. We knocked gently, and woke him up (yesssss!). It was 3:00 in the afternoon. We had what seemed like a genuine conversation, in which we got him to agree to a) let us know when he's planning on having a party; b) turn down the music if a party happens spontaneously; and c) invite us, maybe. Sounded like a pretty great party, I must admit.
But I'm calling the cops next time, if I have to.
Just got back from dinner at Petter and Eldri's, a real family affair tonight. Kristin, who is now three days overdue to give birth, all of a sudden announced to everyone that we were staying for Christmas. Next thing I knew the entire table had erupted. "Fantastic! We'll have it here," Eldri says. "Thorbjørn can cook," Petter says. "Well and of course we'll go to church," Thor says. "In your traditional clothes, right?" I ask him. "Yes and now Agnes and Rannveig wear them too!" says Eldri. And the chatter continues, all while I'm shooting glances at Ben, since we haven't definitely decided we're staying for Christmas. I think we might, though. And how nice to be wanted. And what a nice experience, a Norwegian Christmas.
I love family dinner. It's the best meal we eat all week. And of course it makes me long for and miss my own family. But I'm trying to squelch those feelings for now, because I'm happier here in Norway than I was a week ago, and hoping to remain so.
Good week planned; I'm teaching Whitman and Dickinson, and in my online class, a Ray Carver short story. I'm having lunch with The Professor on Tuesday, which is nice--she invited me. Meeting a friend of a friend for coffee on Thursday. Hopefully auditioning for the chorus on Tuesday. And Saturday Ben and I are going on an adventure with a woman named Jen from the Fulbright program. We're hiking in an area called Bessengen, staying at a hytte the night before. I can't wait. It's fall here, now, all of a sudden. The candles are lit.
The view from our flat:
A funny couple pics I have to share before I sign off. Friday we borrowed a roll of foam ("skum") from Thor and Kristin, the better to cover your kitchen chairs with, my dear. We took it to our place in Petter's car, cut the foam, and drove it back in the car. Then we needed to get it the short distance from Petter's to Thor's...on our bikes. I was getting some pretty great looks:
Skum! Skum!
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